The Wayfarers
BOOK REVIEW
By David Michael Dean
Mortal Conquests Of The Dark Ages
Contents
I. Bad Luck
II. Worst Luck
III. No Luck at All
IV. The Ludicrous Gallows Thief
V. On The Run Again
VI. A Major Decision
VII. The Evil That Men Do
VIII. Identical Problems
IX. Flight to Freedom
X. Sybal
XI. Do Unto Others
XII. Sybal’s Quandary
XIII. Teaching the Teachers a Lesson
XIV. Faerie Folk
XV. Takes Two to Tangle
XVI. Animal Magnetism
XVII. Courting Disaster
XVIII. North Hill
XIX. Emotional Entanglements
XX. Between a Rock and a Deep Place
XXI. The Crypt
XXII.
Credits
CHAPTER I.
Bad Luck
Do I have spirit? Yeah, I have spirit. You have to have that and spunk if you are going to survive in the streets of Haven’s Rest. Money and fast feet tend to increase ones chances, but since I have neither, I have to survive by using my wits. My name is Hezekiah, but I do not answer to it, and neither do I go by Plowsman, which was my surname until I found out it was not rightfully mine at all. To simplify matters, just call me Zeke, because that’s what everyone has called me since the day I was born.
Haven’s Rest is not very bad, unless you’re fortunate enough to live in the Inner
City. That’s the wealthy side. A side where self-
Imagine the moment I first saw this city in the distance. I was in awe and completely dumbstruck. I must have gaped at the massive city walls and towers for nearly an hour before finding the courage to enter the city gates. Now, put yourself in my boots when I enter the city. Things I’ve never seen before in my whole lifetime assail me. Everything these city folks just take for granted, stops me dead in my tracks. I am lucky to have survived simply walking down the street.
Ignorance is not bliss, though before coming to Haven’s Rest, I would have assumed we were at least keeping up with the times. Apparently, I was very wrong. Laughter would have erupted from my belly had anyone tried to describe to me any one of a number of things that is available in this city. My father had tried to, but since he is a minstrel, I had laughed at his stories, and regarded them as fanciful tales. Man was I dead wrong. I may have been born within this kingdom, but Haven’s Rest makes me feel like a foreigner visiting a new land.
There has not been time to do much sightseeing, but I have seen many things one does not see on the farm. Just last week, during the Festival of the Trees parade, I was able to see King Cado, and his personal guard, ride his magnificent steed through the city streets. It was glorious. Imagine my reaction when I first saw an elephant, a camel, or a dwarf for the first time. It was quite different from the vexed anguish I felt upon seeing shackled lines of weary slaves heading for the auction blocks.
I have also come to digest the unusual, and accept people who look, speak, and act much differently than I. It grieves me to know my father had been sincere when he told me his stories held truth, but simple minds are hard to convince. However, one cannot deny what I have seen with my own two eyes, nor will I ever doubt my father’s words again. If I could only recall a small portion of what he’d tried to tell me, I probably wouldn’t have been as dazed and ill prepared when I first arrived here.
Daily life in the city streets, markets, and shops can be very alluring, and because of this, I’ve spent too much of my precious money sampling an unending variety of food and spirits. I cannot help it, for every time I turn a corner, there is something new to discover. For instance, if I want to know what the future has in store for me, I can visit an exotic woman oracle over on Ash Street, and if I am feeling ill, the surgeon on Yew Street can bleed my sickness away with his leeches. The squeamish usually go visit the monks, or an apothecary to cure their maladies, and some still seek out the druids in the ancient oak groves. To me, life in the city is like a year round festival. On any given day in the streets, one is likely to encounter jugglers, glassblowers, artisans, illuminators, tumblers, flame blowers or men walking around on tall wooden poles.
Sometimes they block off the streets for events like foot races, cockfights, parades, and contests. At one such contest, I won a sceatta for eating more fava beans than the rest of the participants. Though I truly appreciated the money, I was just happy to get the free meal and have my belly full for a change. I am beginning to believe that if you cannot find it here in Haven’s Rest, then you are not looking hard enough, unless you are trying to find work, and that can be difficult for a boy who has as many problems as I do.
Today I wandered the streets trying to find a job, and several times, I had to hide from some thugs who are trying to find me. I am soaked to the skin, dogged tired and I only have three sceattas to show for my efforts. This morning, I helped to unload a wagonload of heavy crates for one sceatta, and around noon, I was able to retrieve two sceattas from the mud after a gang of boys plucked an unfortunate woman’s purse from her hand.
I had seen the coins fly out of the purse, and had waited patiently until the gang and the woman were long gone. Then, I casually retrieved them when nobody was looking. I feel a little bad about doing this, but the survival instinct becomes strong when you are in my situation. Crime does pay it seems, and though I have not fully stooped to this means of survival, this option is not altogether out of the question.
Miserably, I slink down Holly Street in the pouring rain, and the vendors all look at me expectantly. Some try shouting in an attempt to draw me in, but the more experienced merchants do not even bother. The zealous ones just want to make one last sale before giving up for the day, but my indifference lets them know that their sales pitch is in vain.
The Banished Bard’s soggy banner comes into view, but I do not go straight away towards
it. The colorful banner depicts a Bard, cringing at the feet of a finger-
Thomas stops to wipe the sweat off his brow, and he gives me a friendly wave. Thomas is a runt of a man, very bald, and extremely thin. You’d outright laugh at him if he told you he was a smithy, but if you’re in need of a good door hinge or a cheap cook pot, Thomas is your man. I wave back, but a flash of lightening that strikes too close for comfort, drowns out my greeting. The following rumble of thunder rolls off into the distance as my eyes rove the street.
There does not seem to be anyone lingering about the Bard, so with a farewell wave to Thomas, I slowly cut across the street and try not to swill mud all over my trousers. Caution, another survival instinct, causes me to pause at the front window to look over the crowd. Satisfied that it is safe to go in, I head for the door and go inside.
This is where I call home. Well, at least until tomorrow. The typical evening crowd packs the place, and the stench of unwashed bodies is overpowering. Being new to life in the big city, I have learned to watch my step, and keep my mouth shut. It only takes one misunderstood comment, look, or misstep to entice someone into jumping on you.
The Bard has a rambunctious crowd this time of day, and stabbings happen to more
people by accident, than they do on purpose. Unlike the Inner City, the waterfront
is a place where the uncivilized converge. Sailors, puttocks, dockworkers, cutthroats,
vagabonds, swindlers, gamblers, and people like me, all tend to congregate in the
slums. Most of the people who dwell here are just one shanghai away from becoming
a slave, or one-
Water pools on the planked floor as I let my eyes adjust to the dimly lit interior. The sanded floor is beyond absorbing any more mud, blood, and vomit, but it is not the owners fault. The endless rain has prevented the Sand boys from delivering. When my eyes adjust, I barely get out of the way of a staggering drunk giant who looks very green about the gills. I clutch my purse as he goes by, and then ask myself why. A hustler would really have to be desperate to try to lift my pitiful pouch. Its hell being broke. I am not completely broke, but I am broke enough to have to make a choice. Do I pay for tomorrow’s room, or do I get something to eat and plow the froth off a couple ales tonight. My belly growls and I suddenly acquire a powerful thirst. Guess I will be visiting old man Gabriel down by the docks tomorrow night.
An empty table catches my eye. It is by an open window in the front corner of the room, and since I like to keep my back to the wall, I head that way. This is usually a good idea since the thugs trying to find me, would like nothing more than to catch me napping. I am also sure that the villagers who chased me halfway across the kingdom might decide to look for me here in Haven’s Rest, so it is a good idea for me to keep my guard up. It is really all my fault though, because if I could have controlled my temper, I would not be in this mess in the first place. It is very disheartening, but that is what you get when you accidentally kill your stepfather, and then let a Lord, who just happens to dislike my real father, dupe you.
I make my way to the table by sidestepping those who stumble into my path, and before the next player lets a dagger fly, I dash past the dagger board. Drunken laughter erupts as I pass by a crowded table of weathered mercenaries. “Will ya looky there, thought one had to have his pubes to be in here. Hey boy, I think your mammy’s callin’,” one heckles. I ignore the insulting remark, and hurry past the table. Sabrina spots me and I nod. She gives me a wink as I pull out a chair in the corner and sit down. It is hard not to stare at her as she hustles to the counter to get me a tankard of ale, so I shift my attention to my coin pouch. I begin to frown after I untie it from my belt, because it is in the same condition as my clothing, well worn and wet.
Sabrina sashays back across the room towards me, and dodges a pair of groping hands. Stopping a moment, she lifts the back of her dress up, and lets the man get a glimpse of what he missed getting his hands on. Misfortune is a curse that plagues me, for from where I sitting, I do not get to see a thing. Her bravado causes a deafening mixture of hoots, whistles, and crude comments, and I can feel my ears turning crimson. I am not sure why I find her so fascinating, or why I get tongue tied when she fastens those pretty green eyes on me. She is just very easy to look at, and since I am starting to go through those changes a young man goes through when he sees an attractive woman, it is a good thing I am sitting down.
A ferret-
Sabrina arrives, and leans across the whole breadth of the table before setting the frothy tankard of ale down in front of me. The top of her dress yawns open alarmingly, and I get a good look at her bosom. Not trusting my ability to speak, I give her a shy smile, and try not to stare at them while I’m dumping out the last of my sceattas from the pouch. I press a couple into the palm of her hand, and she teases me by taking her time straightening up. I can feel the heat in my face when she turns away with that crooked little smile that says she knows I was looking. Being that I am very impressionable and susceptible to her charms, my desire for her is escalating into a crushing and loving affection. It is nearly as hard to hide these feelings, as it has been to hide from my enemies here within the city.
Unwittingly, I have made a powerful enemy here in the city, but the start of my difficulties occurred long before laying eyes on Haven’s Rest. My troubles began when I killed my drunken stepfather a few months back. I did not mean to kill him, it just happened. To make matters worse, nobody knew that he wasn’t my real father, and for that matter, he didn’t know it either. He’d been tricked into marrying my mother so the family wouldn’t be shamed by her illegitimate pregnancy.
The deception was a necessity, because being lowborn did not excuse the social disgrace an entire family would suffer if anyone had known of her situation. Since she had not yet begun to show, my mothers parents thought it was best that my stepfather remain in the dark about her situation. Therefore, she was quickly married off to him after my real father got the wanderlust fever, and disappeared.
I killed my stepfather because he got drunk and began beating on me for no reason at all. My best friend Turncoat tried to defend me, but my stepfather struck him down savagely with his cudgel. Turncoat was my dog; a very faithful companion, though his name would imply otherwise. As you can imagine, I got very angry. Blind with rage, I began beating him with my fists. I honestly cannot remember how long I continued to hit him after he fell upon the ground, but when I finally stopped, he was definitely dead, and the bloody cudgel had somehow found its way into my hands. Turncoat was in a very bad way, and though I did not want to leave his side, my mother talked some sense into me. My brother had run to the village to summon help, and since my mother was smart enough to know what would happen when that help arrived, she begged me to run for my life. Entreaty your fathers help, she had pleaded, so I listened to her advice and fled.
Within days of my sixteenth birthday, I was on the run, and trying to make my way to a city that was halfway across the kingdom. The journey had been long, cold and arduous, and it had taken several months for me to get here. Those who pursued me had not given up easily. They had come close to capturing me several times along the way, but I am sure either I threw them off my trail, or they had simply given up the chase because it was nearly time for the spring planting. Traveling across the land had not been as fun as I had imagined it would be, and much of the journey had been extremely dangerous. People are not very friendly to folks traveling the roads these days, and at some places, I did not get a chance to speak before they decided to keep me moving along.
A fight breaks out, but Dirk is quick to break it up. Dirk’s a huge breed bouncer who has more scars than teeth. There’s no telling what’s in his blood lines, but nobody would deny that he’s a brutishly ugly creature. I am willing to bet his family tree has more branches than the Camel River, and that his family gatherings are one nightmarish affair. Despite his unpleasant appearance, Dirk’s one you would want watching your back if all hell broke out, and with this in mind, I have made every possible effort to keep on his good side. When they refuse to break it up, and judging by the way Dirk cracks their heads together, I am willing to bet they suffer a very bad hangover come morn.
The onlookers return to their merriment, and Dirk drags both men to the door. Without much effort, he tosses them into the street, wipes his hands off on his apron, and strides back to the bar. Returning to my reflections and having yet to touch my ale, I recall my first few days in the city.
When I arrived, I had looked like something the cat had drug in, and though I tried
to clean up a bit, I still resembled a back hills dirt farmer. My down-
My luck was still heading south, though I thought for a moment it was improving, because the Captain of the guard actually took the time to look at the documents my father had given me. The documents were supposed to help me make a smooth transition from farm boy to respected nobility, but that did not happen. Instead, I spent several days in jail. Lord Byre, who coincidentally is the overlord of the area I’m from, was the man who secured my release.
Lord Byre was friendly enough, and at the time, I had actually wondered why folks hated him so much. Granted, most folks think of him as an overzealous young aristocrat, who would probably ascend to the throne by way of deception, but I failed to see how his ambitions would affect me personally, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt. His attitude towards me changed dramatically as soon as we were in private, and at that point, everything went awry. Just when things couldn’t have gotten any worse, my luck really flew the coup.
Lord Byre didn’t take me to my father. Instead, one of his knights took the liberty to hit me over the head. When I awoke, I was bound to a horse that was heading away from the city, and six knights were my escort. My father had never told me that Lord Byre hated his guts, so my stupidity had afforded the Lord an opportunity to get back at my father. To make a long story short, I escaped, and I have been dodging Lord Byre’s hirelings ever since. Unfortunately, I was not able to escape with my important papers, and without those papers, I have no way to prove who I am until my father returns.
Foam tickles my nose when I get the courage to take a swig of the obnoxious brew this establishment offers as ale. I do not particularly like their brew, but it is better than drinking the water. Somebody walks past the window, drawing my attention, and I look out to see who it is. Lightening lights up the rain drenched street, and I get a good look at the man. Its Wiggot the Magician. He’s just trying to get back to his shop before it becomes completely dark. Nobody wants to be in the streets past sunset, unless they want to find themselves shackled to a rowing oar, or tossed in an alley with their throat slit. I use the wet sleeve of my tunic to wipe the foam from my mouth and hide my vexation as the bitter brew burns holes in my belly.
I have been hiding in the docks district now for a few weeks. I must admit that it has been a learning experience. People in the city do not treat strangers much differently than the people I encountered along the journey here, and sometimes they treat you worse. Other than just trying to survive, I have been trying to learn of my father’s whereabouts so I can send him a message. I’ve had very little success up until a few days ago, and that’s when being in the right place at the right time paid off.
Staying longer than usual in the main room of the Bard, I happened to overhear a man mention to another man, the name Seth Kingsman, which is my father’s name. Listening acutely, I realized they were having a political discussion about things I didn‘t understand. As soon as the conversation ended, I was quick to make his acquaintance to see if he had any news of my father.
I spent nearly all my coins to buy him a few drinks to loosen his tongue. My ignorance regarding city politics did not last long, and I knew more than I ever wanted to know before he left. Nevertheless, during the time we talked, I had asked subtle questions regarding my father, and was able to learn a few things about him that I had not known at all.
The man had asserted that my father was a tad bit more than a lowly court minstrel. In fact, he admitted that my father was one of the king’s most trusted advisors, and an important foreign relations diplomat. I also learned that my father was not even in the city, and that it would be a long time before he would return to Haven’s Rest. As fate would have it, he was in the north negotiating peace with King Tutagual of Alt Clut.
II.
Worst Luck
Now that I have to wait for my father to return, I’ve decided to press my rotten luck by staying here in the city. Work is hard to come by, and anything that pays well is tough to find when your work histories as short as mine is. There is not any need for plowboys here in the city. I order another tankard so I can get one more peek at Sabrina’s bosom, and while I wait for her to get it, I glance out the window.
Movement draws my attention, and I see a hooded figure lurking in the shadows of an alley next to the Tanner’s Shoppe. The hood seems content to stand there in the pouring rain, and this unusual behavior causes my heart to thud in my chest. Have they found me? Just when I am about to make tracks for my gear, hoods twin saunters up, and so does Sabrina. Distracted by the need to observe what these two are doing, I toss two sceattas at Sabrina, and mumble my thanks without as much as a look at her. Miffed, she snatches the coins off the table, and stomps off with a toss of her hair.
The hoods converse for only a moment and then begin walking down the street. They stop in front of The Paradise, but they do not go in. The Paradise is not your typical drinking establishment, and I found this out the hard way when I was looking for a room. I also learned not to ask a group of drunks where to find lodging. The price of the room had shocked me, but once I figured out that the room also came with a scantily clad woman, I realized why those drunks had been laughing so hard when I walked away.
The hoods walk down to another tavern, but this time they go inside. Judging by their actions, they are probably just a couple of cutpurses hoping to make an easy score on a disoriented drunk. It is not safe to sit here in the main room for too long, so I drain my tankard, and head towards my room. I dread having to stay in the cramped space that is my room, but if I don’t want Lord Byre’s hirelings to catch me, I had better quit taking chances like this. Besides, I have been neglecting my harp, and I need the practice. When I get up to leave, a scurvy looking sailor with snake tattoos running down both arms seizes my table. He gives me a cursory nod, and pushes my empty tankard to the middle of the table.
I was jostling my way through the crowd when somebody grabbed my elbow from behind. Whirling around defensively, I stayed my hand from drawing the dagger at my side when I realized it was Sabrina. Seeing me reach, her eyes grew wide in surprise, but she quickly regained her composure and leaned in close when I dropped my hand away from it.
“What’s got you so jumpy? Have I done something to anger you?”
I can see she’s still upset at me for ignoring her, but I’m also a bit pleased that in my doing so, it had affected her in a way that let me know she was interested in me.
“No, not at all, I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
My words bring back her smile, which turns into a pout when I state that I am going to my room. Shouts for service are erupting from all around, and an overanxious merchant begins banging his empty tankard on the table. Sabrina hastily withdraws from me to avoid a reprimand from Jolene, but before she walks away, she gives me a mischievous smile. Now what was that all about?
My belly grumbles out a reminder that it takes more than cheap ale to keep it happy, so I head towards the back counter to order some food. Jolene is behind the counter shouting out orders, and pulling out her hair, which is always how she gets when the tavern becomes this busy. Sabrina had told me that Jolene had been a timid woman until her husband keeled over a month ago, and put the burden of running the place solely upon her shoulders. Seeing me standing in line, she points down the hall. I nod, and she hollers to the cook to fix me a platter. I do not have to say what I want because I always get the cheapest meal she offers, and I always eat the food in my room. I catch Sabrina glancing at me with a playful grin as I go down the hall to my room, which makes me wonder what she has up her sleeve.
Habit has my dagger slipping into my hand before I open the door to my room, but when I open it, the room is empty. I light the candle that I leave by the door when I expect to be in late, and place it on the chest, which also doubles as a chair. Then, I cross the room to check the shutters. The last part of my inspection is the opening of the chest, which contains all my worldly possessions. Everything seems to be the way I left it, so I relax.
The rooms not much for size and the amenities are scarce, but it’s better than sleeping in an alley. On the floor is a woven straw mat that is nearly free of bugs, and a small chest is beside it. The lock on the chest actually works. In another corner of the room is a small stand with a pitcher of water and a bowl for washing up. An empty chamber pot is beneath the stand on the floor, and though I rinsed it out; it still gives off an unpleasant odor. I cannot lock the door, and there is very little room to move around, but cheap rooms are hard to find, so I tolerate the inconvenience.
Since the door doesn’t have a lock, I bar it by sticking my dagger into a floorboard crack that runs along the bottom of it. I just get my boots off when there is a knock at the door. Sabrina’s husky voice follows, letting me know that my food has arrived.
Pulling the dagger from the crack, I open the door. Instead of handing me the tray, Sabrina slides right past me, and enters my room with a disturbing backward glance.
“Please forgive me for just barging in Zeke, but I need your help,” she exclaims in a voice that doesn’t match her worried expression.
I glance out the door to make sure that whatever has her upset is not right behind her, but the hall is clear, so I shut the door and reset the dagger. She gives me a good long look at her shapely backside when she bends over to set the heavy tray on the floor, and the longer she fusses over it without straightening up, the harder it becomes for me to concentrate on anything else.
Her close proximity in the small room has me feeling stifled and unsure of myself. I wait for her to tell me more about her problem, but she seems more interested in making herself at home. She takes a seat on the floor, and then helps herself to a piece cheese. Her casualness has me confused, so I break the silence.
“Sabrina, what kind of help do you need? Are you in trouble?”
She chews a piece of cheese and swallows before answering.
“It’s probably nothing Zeke, but Westminster’s pestering me, and I don’t feel safe going home alone when he’s around. There’s just something about him that frightens me.”
It’s not every day a pretty girl barges into my room needing help, and since I’m no hero, I’m wondering why all the sudden she’s chosen me to be her knight in shining armor. I have seen Westminster many times in the tavern, but we’ve never spoken to each other. He is the quiet mousey type that always seems to have plenty of money, and many friends. It is funny how the two go hand in hand.
“Well, you don’t have to guard the door. It’s not as if he will come in here to defend my maidenly honor. Come on over here and sit down.”
I know my face is bright red when I sit down cross-
One does not let problems stand in the way of eating if one does not have to, so I stuff the cheese into my mouth, and pull out my eating knife. Sabrina sets a trencher down in front of me and I use the knife to stab a chunk of meat. It quickly goes into my mouth with the cheese. Sabrina asks to borrow the knife, and after I hand it over. Chewing slowly, I use the time to think, and cast uncomfortable looks in Sabrina’s direction. Swallowing the meat, I reclaim my knife, and share my thoughts with her.
“Sabrina, I can walk you home. I do have a sword, though I never carry it because I get mean looks from the guards when they see me with it.”
I can see she is impressed, and she leans in until our shoulders brush. This familiarity makes me acutely aware of how close we are sitting. Goose pimples ripple across my skin, causing me to shiver.
“I don’t want you to make that kind of trouble for yourself, Zeke. Westminster is not one you would want for an enemy. I usually ask Dirk to walk me home, but I have heard he has something to do tonight. He likes me, so I will tell him about the problem tomorrow. He does not mind helping us girls when patrons give us a hard time, and I am sure he will intervene on my behalf when I tell him about it tomorrow. I was just hoping you would let me stay here with you tonight.”
I nearly choke on the cheese I’m trying to swallow, and hastily grab my tankard to wash it down. When a pretty maiden invites herself to stay the night with you, choking is permissible. Sabrina misinterprets my strangling noises to mean I am fine with this idea, so she throws her arms around my neck to show her appreciation. For some damn reason, she also slides the platter away from us, though we have barely eaten enough to fill a mouse. I turn my head to tell her I am not finished eating, and that is when I get another surprise. I am not sure if she just meant to give me a quick kiss on the cheek, or what, but when I turn my head, our lips meet instead.
When the kiss ends, and before I can even catch my breath, she’s all over me like a hummingbird on honeysuckle. I’ve never had the pleasure of sharing intimacies with a woman, though I have taken the liberty of trying to kiss a few, so I now find myself in an awkward position. My experience is sorely lacking in this area, and nothing inspirational is coming to my head, so I do what comes easy. I let her have her way with me. Some experiences just sneak up on a person. They do me. Some are good, and most are bad. This experience turns out to be exceptionally good.
I am just over six feet tall, no giant, but I do have a near Herculean build. I would
not win any beauty contests, but I am not very bad looking either. A pale line, about
a forefinger in length, runs down the left side of my cheek, a scar I got when the
biting end of my stepfathers riding whip struck my face. It does not add character.
Most girls say they like my eyes, which are a sea green with golden highlights near
the edges, and some girls say they like my wavy brown hair, which falls to just below
my shoulders. Overall, I fare pretty well in the looks department, though I am still
self-
Sabrina is a waif of a girl that is always full of life, and I am no judge of woman,
but when I look at her, my chest gets tight. She stands about even with my shoulders
in height, and probably weighs a quarter of my weight. Her eyes are green like mine,
but more emerald, and her hair is a jet-
Somewhere between the floor, and the move to the straw mat, our clothing disappears.
I find this very appealing, and make a mental note that clothing is over-
Having risen to the occasion, Sabrina begins to fill in the gaps where my education is lacking. I am a fast learner, and Sabrina is a good teacher. Satisfied with my progress so far, she begins riding me like a ship caught in a tempest. I weather the storm, but the squall does not last long. Sometimes being fast at something is not always that good. She’s patient, my education resumes, and my performance improves. Somewhere in the wee hours of the morn, we fall asleep exhausted.
I awake the next morning to find her gone. I am a little sore in the saddle, so to speak, but I am eager to begin the day. Sabrina’s nails have left me something to remember her by, and I only discover this when I put on my scratchy shirt. That is all I need, more scars. I review the events that have led up to my lost virginity as I piss in the chamber pot, and somehow the loss does not bother me. After dressing, I gather up all my belonging in case I am unable to make enough money to pay for another nights stay, and prepare to leave. Just as I am about to exit the room, I hear someone whispering outside my door.
Warning bells go off in my head when I realize that they are not moving down the hall. I press my ear to the door, and discern that their hushed conversation regards me. They have found me. Rushing over to the window, I remove the bar from the shutters, and throw them wide open with a clatter that starts someone kicking at the door. Tossing my pack out first, and praying that nobody is below, I follow it out in a headlong dive.
My body strikes the ground with a force that rattles my teeth, but I roll with the impact, and scramble to my feet. A quick glance left and right tells me that the alley is empty. To my relief, they had not thought to place a guard out here. I hear the door to my room bang violently against the wall, indicating that my dagger has given in to their relentless assault on it. The noise spurs me into action, and without a backward glance, I grab my pack and start running down the alley at full speed. Shouts follow, but I do not stick around to see if this is a case of mistaken identity. I have a bad feeling that it is not.
III.
No Luck at All
I took up refuge with Gabriel down by the docks. He has a little shack on a strip of land overlooking the sea, and it affords a commanding view of the ships in the harbor. There are a small number of shacks on this rocky neck of land, and all have sole occupants, like Gabriel, who have done their time on the high seas, but have become too infirm to sail upon its waters anymore.
Gabriel is an ancient and withered man, who claims he’s sailed on every vessel in
the harbor, been to every known port in the world, and has bedded every kind of woman
you can imagine. Unfortunately, poor Gabriel isn’t adjusting very well to being dry-
The day I first saw Gabriel, I was helping to unload crates from a ship that had come in from the Mediterranean. Unexpectedly, Gabriel sauntered up with a sack slung over his shoulder, and began strutting around issuing orders to the crew. Our association came about when the ships captain began having problems trying to keep Gabriel from boarding his ship. I learned that Gabriel sometimes also had trouble with his memory, and at times, he still believed he was the mate on one of the ships he had worked on in the past. Since I was handy, the compassionate captain paid me two silver coins to escort Gabriel safely home, and make sure he stayed there until the ship sailed.
When we arrived at Gabriel’s home that day, he seemed disoriented to a point where I became worried that he would go right back to the docks as soon as I left him, so I spent the night with him. He did not seem to mind the company, so I took the liberty to clean up the place, and make him a decent meal with what little food he had in the house. Thereafter, I began checking on him daily, sometimes just giving him somebody to talk to, and sometimes making him a good hot meal. Ever since that day, our friendship has blossomed to the point where I knew that he would take me in if I ever needed a place to stay. Because of Gabriel, I also earned the Harbor Masters friendship. This helps because he sometimes puts in a good word for me when they need dock workers to unload a ships cargo.
After escaping the Banished Bard, I’ve managed to stay clear of the hounds pursing me, and get to Gabriel’s shack safely. Entering, I found him in his bed feeling poorly. He didn’t ask me any questions when I asked him if I could stay for a while, though I suspected he knew I was in some kind of trouble, and for this, I was grateful. He seemed very glad to see me, and though I did my best to make him comfortable, he passed away a few days later in his sleep. He had never mentioned having kinfolks, and nobody else at the docks new of any, so I spent the last of our money giving him a dignified sailor’s burial. I am now completely broke, but things could have been worse. I still have the use of Gabriel’s shack, as long as I can pay the rent, and there is enough food in the cupboards to last out the week. Little rejoiced is my good fortune in the aftermath of Gabriel’s death, and now that he’s gone, loneliness plagues me once again.
The day after the funeral, I manage to find not one, but two steady jobs. The Harbor Master hired me to hang from a rope scraping barnacles off the sides of ships in the harbor, and in the evenings, I help clean fish for a monger who just recently lost his arm in an unusual rigging accident. Is it not funny how your luck can do a complete turnaround in the blink of an eye? The money will not make me rich, but at least it will pay the bills, and keep me busy until my father returns.
My struggles to survive may have lessened, but I still cannot shake the ache I feel inside when I think of Sabrina. I dare not return to the Bard, but loneliness wins out, and I decide to take my chances. After work one evening, I do my best to disguise my appearance, and I return to the vicinity of the Banished Bard to have a look around. Strolling past the Bard’s windows, I am able to confirm that Sabrina is working tonight. Just seeing her fills me with intolerable longings. I confirm that no one is watching the street, and content myself with watching her work from the safety of an alley across from the front of the Bard.
This went on for several days, and my yearnings for her increased to an unbearable level. Then, my luck changed. Returning to the dock from scraping barnacles one afternoon, I spot her across the boardwalk, overlooking a monger’s display of lobsters and crabs. My heart started pounding fiercely, and I was about to call out to her, but decided to sneak up and surprise her instead.
An ox cart nearly runs me over as I hurry across the street, but the driver swerves just in time, calls out a few undesirable declarations about what he thinks of me as a human being, and resumes his course. Fortunately, the disturbance didn’t attract her attention, and I was able to sneek up behind her while she was still intently negotiating the price of the crabs she’d picked out.
Winking at the merchant, I reach around with my hands, and place them over her eyes. I am suffering through a malady with my voice right now that happens to boys my age when they are emerging into manhood. It has the bad habit of breaking up and changing while I am speaking, so with this in mind, I try hard to fool her by making my voice sound deep and manly when I address her.
“Guess who?” I growl.
The merchant seems very pleased that he has a role in the surprise, and gives me a wink back. Sabrina has to think for a moment before answering.
“Zeke!” she asks tentatively before turning to look.
Oh, to hear her say my name fills me with great pleasure. Flying into my arms, she begins whispering into my ear a number of questions of which I am still too untrusting to answer. Actually, I had forgotten that she would ask me to explain my hasty departure from the Bard, and that she would also want to know why those men were looking for me. Love has a funny way of making one forget these minor details.
I’m sweating like a fat man in a bathhouse, so I buy some thinking time by suggesting that she finish her business with the merchant. The merchant refuses to take her money. Instead, he insists that she take the items free of charge. Muttering nonsensical something’s about love and romance, the merchant ties up the crabs with a string, and hands them to her. Thanking the merchant for his generosity, we walk off hand in hand, and her questions start anew. I am not one to lie, but I don’t want to lose her, so I lie anyway.
I tell her my father owes some money to those men, and that they’re not too particular about who pays the bill. She accepts this explanation without question, and then tells me how bad events were unfolding in her life. She starts by telling me she is moving into a room at the Banished Bard that very evening.
“Why?” I ask in disappointment.
This news is definitely bad.
“Zeke, I can’t afford the increased price of the room where I’m living at now, and Jolene suggested I move into the Bard. It’s really more convenient for me. So, where are you staying?”
I make a mental note to start hating Jolene and her bright ideas. I would like nothing more than to ask her to move in with me, but something holds me back. I’ve been suspicious of everyone since my incident with Lord Byre, and though I would like nothing more than to have Sabrina in my bed each night, I decide to err on caution, and wait until she earns more of my confidence. From the look of expectation on her face, I suspect she hopes I have a place of my own, and that I will ask her to stay with me, and since I don’t want to tell her where I really live until we get to know each other better, I tell another lie.
“I’ve been staying wherever I can afford a room, Sabrina, and when I can’t afford a room, I stay in whatever alley I can find empty.”
Her disappointment shows, but as I think on it while we walk, I come up with a good plan. I cannot enter the Bard by the front door, but I know I can climb into Sabrina’s window without being seen, so I suggest this to her. Sabrina seems to like the idea, and agrees.
“Let’s make it tomorrow, Zeke. I still have to move all my things over, and I have to work tonight. Let me get settled in first, and get some rest.”
Understanding, and feeling a bit guilty about having to deceive her, I wholeheartedly agree with her request. We spend a few more hours in the market, sneaking kisses and holding hands like young lovers are apt to do, but then she has to go. In parting, Sabrina makes me promise that I will come to her tomorrow night. This strikes me as funny, since the hounds of hell couldn’t keep me away, but I reassure her, and promise. Sadly, I do not end up keeping this promise.
After the encounter with Sabrina, I went to work in very high spirits for Patrick,
the fishmonger. He notices the obvious changes in my behavior, and by guessing that
the change in me might involve a woman, he tricks me into telling him about Sabrina.
Of course, this subjects me to a lot of good-
Before going home after work, I have to do a bit of shopping. I head for the market with a fresh pike tucked under my arm for supper, and a new bounce in my step. Patrick gave the pike to me with my pay, and also suggested a new way for it to be prepared. I memorized his careful instructions on how to prepare the fish, and how to prepare a special green sauce that sounded divine, but I am missing some of the ingredients.
It takes several stops to acquire the costly ingredients, but that doesn’t take very long, so I hurry home to prepare the meal. On the way, I try to whistle out a tune to an ode I’d heard being recited by a group of pila playing street urchins earlier in the day. I thought I might be able to put music to the catchy little verse, but I am having little success in the attempt. The ode is about porridge, and it went something like this.
Pease-
Pease-
Pease-
Nine days old
Some like it hot
Some like it cold
Some like it in the pot
Nine days old.
I give up thinking about the rhyme upon arriving home, and begin preparing the fish and spicy green sauce for my supper.
First, I cut off the fish’s head and boiled it. I will eat it first with the zesty green sauce, a bit of cheese, and a piece of flat bread. Next, I wrap the tail with a piece of linen soaked in salted water, and roast it by bringing the fire to bear evenly beneath the middle of the fish as Patrick had instructed. I will eat this last with leeks, and a boiled turnip. Then I melt butter in a pot until it is very hot, and take the fish straight away from the fire and place it into the pot to fry with the leeks. While it cooks, I prepare the green sauce by grinding together the herbs and spices of pepper, cinnamon, ginger, clove, nutmeg, parsley, sage, and a small clove of garlic.
To thicken the sauce I add ground-
After cleaning up my supper mess, I try to concentrate on my harp, but Sabrina’s visage keeps clouding my mind, and I start thinking. It is not something I am prone to do much of, but there are occasions. Too much thinking is not good; it leads to bad decisions, and this is one of those occasions where my thinking leads to a bad decision. Unable to focus, I set the harp aside, and go look out the window. A few minutes pass, and I see a man and a woman come strolling down the beach, hand in hand. They stop, and begin kissing in the glow of the fading sun. Their intimacy causes me to head straight for the Banished Bard.
Upon my arrival, I spend the next couple of hours waiting for Sabrina to get off work. I watch to see which door she enters when she finally goes to her room, and I am unable to resist the temptation of sneaking down the alley. I carefully count the window shutters as I go, not stopping until I am under the one that should be her room. Before I tap on the shutter, I start having an inner battle with myself, and serious doubts about continuing this course of action.
It takes nearly a half hour before my heart wins the battle over my head, and after taking a deep breath, I hesitantly tap on the shutter. The tap starts a whirlwind of movement inside, and I become fearful that I may have tapped on the wrong shutter.
Gathering myself for a mad dash down the alley, I’m brought up short by the sound of Sabrina’s voice, and someone else’s. I cannot make out what is being said during the hushed argument, and since it seems safe to do so, I wait. I would never have thought that she might have a visitor, especially one who sounded like a man; so many things began to flood my thoughts.
My sudden arrival isn’t being well received by her visitor, but the closing of her door indicates that she’d been successful in hasting his departure. I grin, though my thoughts are still causing me turmoil. Finally, I hear her soft inquiry, and I answer just loud enough for her to hear my voice. When the shutters open, I hastily climb in. By the surprise on her face, I can tell I’ve caught her at a bad time.
“You scared the hell out of me, Zeke! Do you know how much trouble you might have just got me into? I thought you had better sense than this,” she scolds, seeming very agitated with my sudden appearance.
A blanket is loosely wrapped about her, and where it parts down the middle, I can see she’s naked as the day she was born. Jealously seizes me, and I become upset with her disheveled appearance.
“Who was that man I heard in here with you.”
Without batting an eye, she answers me quick enough to calm my anger.
“Zeke, that was the man who was renting me the room I just moved out of. He was arguing with me that I should pay for a full week, despite that I only owe him for two days of this week. I had just gotten undressed to take a nap when he showed up, and the cad insisted on barging into my room despite me being garbed only in my blanket. Besides, for someone who doesn’t want to be found, you sure do take some risks.”
Mollified, I take her in my arms. She doesn’t pull away from me, but neither is she being very responsive to my caresses.
“I’m sorry, and your right, I do take too many risks, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I just had to come.”
She relaxes in my arms when I begin stroking her soft tresses.
“I’d light a candle, but the one in here has burned down to nothing. Silly me forgot to bring one to the room when I got off, so we’ll just have to put up with being in the dark. Besides, you can only stay a little while. Jolene needs some help in the kitchen, and since I need the money, I told her I’d help out. I have to be back to work in less than an hour.”
Feeling a bit callous for my intrusion, and knowing she needs her rest, I release her.
“Look, I’ll come back tomorrow night, and let you get some rest. I should have listened to you. Please forgive me.”
The words are no sooner spoken when an abrupt change comes over her that catches
me flat-
Unfortunately, my stamina doesn’t last much longer than it did the first time she went wild on me, and our quick frolic comes to an end. Sabrina shoves me off of her, rolls out from beneath me, stands up, and pulls me to my feet. Fumbling around in the dark, I locate my garb, and dress while she brushes out her tangled hair.
“Zeke, I hate to rush you like this, but I promise you can stay all night tomorrow night, if you want.”
Her invitation is music to my ears.
“I’ll be looking forward to it,” I assure her after several more heated kisses.
With nothing more to say, she urges me out the window, and blows me a kiss as I turn to leave. I’m as happy as a clam at high tide as I make my way towards home. It’s a quiet evening, and almost everyone’s off the street, and my only encounter along the way is with a small dog that growls at me from someone’s doorstep. When I arrive back home, I find I’ve become a bit chafed between the legs, and my crotch is itching most unbearably.
Wondering if I must be growing out of my trousers, and groaning because of the additional expense, it isn’t until I light a candle that I figure out what’s causing my malady. To my dismay, I find that the trousers I’m wearing are not even mine! What in the nine hells is going on? It doesn’t take a hammer between the eyes for me to put two and two together.
The following evening, and with nothing better to do, I find myself outside the Banished Bard. Gone may be the illusion of love, but I cannot seem to resist the temptation of Sabrina’s charm, which draws me here like a moth to a flame.
A street merchants stall acts as cover while I try to catch glimpses of her at work, and battle with the turmoil that rages inside me. At this hour, the street is bustling with shoppers buying their evening meal, so it’s easy to blend into the crowd. I buy a hotcake from the merchant to put him at ease, and he doesn’t seem to mind me lingering around while I eat it.
Taking delicate bites of the sweet cake, I notice two hooded men walking down the street. I hadn’t thought to ask Sabrina what the men who had kicked in my door had looked like, so I’m unsure if I should be wary of these two. Not wanting to take a chance, I casually avoid being seen by them as they go by; but they don’t go by. Instead, they stop outside the swinging doors of the Banished Bard.
Peering around the stall, I see hood one beckon to someone inside. In astonishment, I watch Sabrina step out and begin to converse with the two hoods. She appears jittery and unsure of herself as they talk, and I begin to wonder if she’s in some kind of trouble. One of the hoods unrolls a scroll and shows it to her. I nibble nervously at the edge of my cake, and wait for Sabrina’s reaction.
To my dismay Sabrina shakes her head up and down indicating that she recognizes the face drawn upon the scroll. Since I’m close enough to make out the face on that scroll, her response causes me to groan inwardly. Panic sets in. It seems Lord Byre has come up with a new tactic to find me, for somebody has painstakingly drawn a fairly good portrait of me upon that scroll.
It’s a remarkable likeness, and under any other circumstances, I truly would have liked it. At this moment though, I do not like it, nor do I like Sabrina giving me up like that, but Sabrina isn’t done adding insult to injury. My displeasure increases as I watch her show the two hoods where her window is, and even more when she accepts a heavy looking coin pouch before they walk off.
I’ve lost my appetite, and drop the unfinished cake on the ground, much to the merchants chagrin. Why would she do this to me? Rattled by her deception, my mind tries to search for an explanation, but nothing seems to make sense anymore. What’s the going rate of a puttock these days? I know it’s a hell of a lot more than I can afford, but not as much as it’s going to cost me to buy a new pair of trousers. Fool.
With a heavy heart, and cursing my damnable luck for deserting me once again, I return
home feeling sorry for myself. One thing is for certain, since I entertain thoughts
of becoming a minstrel, this evening’s tragedies will not become a song or a tale
that I’ll be willing to share with anyone, anytime soon. (Click the link below to
read Chapters 4-
