GRANDFATHER RAN HIS knobby fingers through his bushy gray hair as he shuffled down the short hallway from his living quarters to the chilly storefront.
“Brrr, cold day. Where is that boy with the water for tea?” he muttered to himself, as he pulled his thick woolen shawl closer around his stooped-shoulders. “Ah! There he is, taking his time.”
A slight boy of twelve, straining under the weight of two wooden water buckets, stumbled through the doorway.
“Torix, my boy, what has kept you? Why you’re soaking wet! Let me take one of those buckets. Come, come back to the fire.”
Torix gladly handed one of the heavy buckets to his grandfather. Struggling with both hands, he heaved the other to the cozy room at the rear of the store, where a crackling fire welcomed him.
“It’s those blasted Roman soldiers again, Grandfather. I was almost to our door with the water when a pair of them bumped me to the ground and spilled my buckets. On purpose, Grandfather!” Torix stormed. “They walked away laughing their fool heads off, calling me Brittunculi, wretched little Briton. I had to go back to the trough and wait in line again.”
“Ah, I see,” Grandfather replied, nodding his head thoughtfully. He removed his shawl and wrapped it snugly around the boy’s shoulders. “We are both blessed and cursed by the Romans, that’s sure.”
Torix sliced barley bread and cheese for their breakfast while the old man ladled water into the kettle to heat for tea.
“Everywhere I go, Grandfather, I have to look out for them. I dodge down side streets if I see them. I avoid walking through the plaza square. I hide behind oxcarts like a scared rabbit. So I’m small. Why is that so hilarious to them? They’re bullies, you know that? Huge, thickheaded bullies who can get away with anything just because they’re Roman!”
After a moment of silence, Grandfather said, “One friend, you know?”
Denne historien er fra November/December 2017-utgaven av Cricket Magazine for Kids.
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Denne historien er fra November/December 2017-utgaven av Cricket Magazine for Kids.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
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The Tale Of Paddy Ahern
THERE ONCE WAS a lad named Paddy Ahern who trod the green hills of Limerick, Ireland, offering to help farmers with their chores in return for food and lodging.
The Pedestrians
EACH TIME HELGA Estby looked over her shoulder, the big cat was there. Crossing Wyoming’s Red Desert on foot, in the dust and heat of August 1896, was tough.
The Magic Gifts
A Basque Folk Tale
The Dragon's Scales
“THREE YEARS I'VE been waiting, when Torquil promised he’d return them in three days. I’m not waiting three more days to get back what’s mine!” The dragon punctuated his remarks with a smoky snort and a lashing tail.
The Water Bucketre
A Chinese Folk Tale.
Between The Pages
One rainy night, while alone in the castle library with her talking gargoyle, Marcus, Princess Audrey finds a book with the odd title Finding Angel. Meanwhile, in modern times, a girl named Angel is celebrating her thirteenth birthday.
Swim Buddies
I LEAN OVER the side of the catamaran and peer into the crystal blue water. This is my last chance, I think.
The Bushwhackers
I CAN’T ABIDE living one more day in this pigpen!” I groaned and rolled out of bed to pull on my dress.
As American as Appleless Pie!
NOTHING IS MORE American than the humble apple pie. There’s even an old saying to prove it: “as American as apple pie.” So it may come as a surprise that many early settlers who forged the trails of our expanding nation were often without apples to make this most American of desserts. As pioneers headed west in pursuit of territory and gold, they had to leave many things behind, including apples. Not only did life on the trail make fresh fruit like apples hard to carry and keep, apple trees were native only to the east coast, which made finding apples in the West nearly impossible.
The Man Who Built A Better Leg
THE CIVIL WAR was only a few weeks old when seven hundred and fifty Confederate recruits gathered in the fields around Philippi, Virginia. It was early June 1861, and as yet there had been no real battles. The men had eagerly volunteered, but most had no training as soldiers. Their only weapons were the ones they brought from home— old-fashioned flintlock muskets, cap and ball pistols, and a few shotguns.
