by Patty Jansen
She was probably halfway to finding that answer.
It was time to find some gin.
Chapter 13
ON HER WAY BACK to the barn, Nellie came past the quay where the carpenters were taking a small break from erecting the platform where the sentence would be carried out.
The wooden platform sat half over the water, held in place by a couple of weights in the corners. Nellie assumed that when all the people stood on the top, these would be removed, causing the platform to tip. The men had coated the top planks with wax so there would be nothing to hold onto.
Apart from this simple mechanism, the carpenters had also built a second, lower, platform where she assumed chairs for the Regent and other important witnesses would be placed on the day. She wondered who would be present to watch this horrible spectacle.
Shepherd Wilfridus usually attended hangings of criminals to bless their spirits as they left the body.
Sometimes people would cheer when a man who had murdered his wife or a child was hanged, and would protest any suggestion of forgiveness by the Triune. The shepherd usually preached forgiveness.
But who was there to forgive if the very act of carrying out an unjust sentence was wrong?
A couple of men were standing near the work in progress, watching, with their hands in their pockets. The carpenters were giving them sideways looks. Oh, they knew many citizens in town disagreed with this verdict. This was not the hanging of a criminal.
Nellie delivered her booty to the sea cow barn where the women were sitting around the fire tying together the lengths of wood that would function as shields against the inevitable arrows.
The work was starting to look quite good, and they stopped for a brief bite to eat.
“Rumour has it that it will be the day after tomorrow,” Mina said.
It wasn’t necessary to name the event.
Agatha said, “I’m saying it will be the day after that. Certainly, the Regent will want to stick to the old king’s rule that citizens have to be given at least two days to register their protest against any sentence being carried out.”
“I don’t see anyone traipsing up the steps to the palace to register a complaint,” Hilde said.
“That’s because they’re too scared,” Agatha said. “But he knows if he ignores that rule, it will be to his peril. Mess with food and punish people unfairly, and you have a rebellion.”
All in all, the plan for their own rebellion seemed to be proceeding quite well. The fisherman was going to bring the flat-bottomed boat into the barn in the evening under the cover of darkness, so they could attach the harness and attract sea cows with the mysterious supply of carrots.
Nellie needed to be present for that because apart from the fisherman she was the only one who knew how to handle sea cows.
The carpenter had already brought the beam. Nellie was surprised about that.
“When did he come to deliver the beam?” she asked.
No one knew. The women had been out when the beam had appeared in the barn.
“That was quick.”
Nellie hadn’t even paid him yet. She had the ham, but she had better arrange the second half of her payment to him.
But first, they needed to get started on training the cows to the harness. She instructed the others to tie the ropes that would be attached to the boat to the beam. Her hands still knew how to do the knots and how to tie the straps.
Then she told the children to drop some carrots into the water.
Attracted by the food, a group of sea cows came into the shallow area where the women then lowered the harness. This was a delicate operation, heavy and cumbersome as the thing was, and unused as the women were to handling it. But the beams floated so fortunately no one fell in the water.
“Put the carrots close to the harness so the cows know it means food,” Nellie said. “Then hold out the harness until an animal comes, like so.” She held the leather straps on the hook at the end of a long pole. A couple of the children also had these poles.
One boy managed to loop a leather strap around the body of a large female, and the creature let him scratch her fur.
“It’s very spiky,” the boy said.
A whoosh of sparks went over the water. The animals snorted and took off. The mature female was still in the harness and she pulled the rope with her, tipping the boy into the water.
With yells and shouts, all the women rushed to the water’s edge.
While the mothers fished the boy out of the water, Nellie grabbed the dragon box and chased the sparks around the barn, all along the edge of the water and into the storeroom and back again.
She yelled at the dragon, “Come here, get into the box. You’re not helping.”
The dragon tipped over the bag of carrots and several rolled into the water before Nellie could pull it back up.
“Hey! That’s our food for the trip.”
She glared at the swirling sparks, breathing heavily. What did this dragon think he was doing?
Down in the water, the sea cows chewed on carrots with much slobbering and blowing bubbles.
Nellie set the box aside and went to help the women to keep hold of the harness while the animals darted over and under it.
Several times, she was tripped up by one of the cats.
Eventually, they were all wet and exhausted from chasing, and they still only had one animal in the harness.
“We have to try again later, tomorrow maybe,” Nellie said.
She unlooped and unreeled the rope so that the animal could graze with the others.
“I hope that magic thing stays away,” Mina said.
“Yes, it spooks the sea cows,” Agatha said.
They were both looking at Nellie, but she had grown sick of arguing over the dragon and the suggestion that she could do anything to control his behaviour.
She also hoped the dragon could be enticed to go back into his box, but so far, he was ignoring her and she could do nothing about it.
No doubt the dragon would reappear at a most inconvenient time, but they would just have to deal with him. Hopefully, he remained interested in kittens and other animals and wouldn’t turn on any of his human companions.
After a quick midday meal from the bread and cheese provided by Dora, Nellie left again. She had the ham, and now she needed to get the gin.
The commercial quarter where she had first gone to see Els and her monk friend produce illegal gin was in between the artisan quarter and the main part of town. It was quite a walk from the harbour.
Today, the streets in the artisan quarter were almost deserted, as both sellers and buyers were in short supply. Winter did not help matters. A lot of businesses were closed. Many displayed signs that they had run out of stock because of the troubles up the river. Many others were closed because the owners were gone.
Nellie spotted a sign in a window of a shop that was still open that said, Because the shop owner has been taken prisoner, we ask that you support his family by buying our produce.
Nellie had never felt quite at ease in this part of town, and her short time of living here had not changed that feeling at all.
With every step she took, she expected Zelda or some other wayfarer to come out and harass her. She expected that people were watching her from behind the curtains and that someone would call the guards on her. One of the alleys looked out onto the tents and wagons of a wayfarer camp on the edge of town.
Nellie found the side street and park where Mustafa the animal keeper used to have his exotic menagerie. That had been such a happy time, and she had not even realised how good life was.
On the other side of the empty lot were the two warehouses, one that built coaches for rich people, and one whose building had not even been finished, where Els and her friend plied their illegal gin trade.
Because it was getting cold and misty, the smell of boiling grain hung close to the ground. Once you’d smelled it, you’d recognise that scent anywhere.
Nellie we
nt up to the front door and knocked.
For a long time nothing happened.
She wasn’t sure if anyone was even in the warehouse, so she went to the alley, climbed onto a bin, and looked into the little window on the side.
She didn’t see anyone, but the vats were cooking, issuing steam into the air. The inside of the window was fogged up.
She went back to the main door and tried to open it.
It was unlocked.
Well, that was easy.
Inside the warehouse, the smell was much stronger.
The place where she entered was a little hall, made up of wooden boards to act as the reception area to hang up one’s coat or to shelter the activity in the warehouse from those who came to the door.
“Is anyone here?” she asked.
There was no reply, so she went into the main hall.
The floor was clean, and a couple of sturdy tables stood in the middle of the room. Rows of bottles were lined up on the tables, all cleaned, without labels. A box of corks stood nearby.
The labels were in a little box on a different table. They said Sailor’s Pride, with a picture of juniper berries on the tree underneath.
Still, no one had come.
“It’s me, Nellie. If Els is here, I would like to speak to her.”
Her voice faded in the large room. She didn’t believe there was no one there.
And then she heard a small scuffling noise. It could have been a cat, but a moment later a young woman came out from behind one of the cooking vats.
“Nellie?”
It was Maartje, the younger of the two sisters, and the less boisterous one. Nellie couldn’t decide whether she looked happy or disturbed to see her.
She gave Nellie an uncertain smile. “How are you these days? How did you know where to find us?”
“The people in the palace kitchens told me you haven’t been working there, and I happened to know where to find you, because I once spotted your sister entering this warehouse.”
“I don’t think it’s that much of a secret anymore. Most of the sailors know where to find us.”
“I came to look for your sister, because I want to ask her a question.”
“She went out, but I think she’ll be happy to hear from you. We heard you left the palace. She asked about you, but Dora said she didn’t know where you were.”
There were a lot of unsaid statements in the pleasantries. Nellie had left the palace because of the dragon, and Nellie, the paragon of virtue, had a dragon in her room—like that was something a kitchen maid just had in her pocket.
“I couldn’t work in the palace anymore,” Nellie said. “Apparently the Regent has been spreading the rumours that I killed Lord Verdonck, because I visited his room and he asked for herbs.”
“Really?” Maartje’s eyes widened.
“I did visit his room, and I brought tea, but he drank none of it.”
“Then why don’t you tell them so?”
“Because they won’t believe me. Like they don’t believe Wim and Jantien. Between us, someone will get the blame for the killing, whether they’ve done it or not.”
“It could have just been his health. He was not a young man.”
“Many people would like that to be the case. However, I saw him, and I know it was poison. We know that nothing that came through the kitchens was poisoned. We know the wine wasn’t poisoned. It had to have been something else because no one at the banquet got sick either. Anyway, I’m here to get a small bottle of gin.”
“You? I didn’t think you drank gin.”
“I don’t. It’s a payment for a favour by someone else. I thought it would be fair to ask because you two owe me some favours.”
“All right. Wait.”
She disappeared into a door at the back.
Nellie walked around the tables and installations, looking at, but not touching, all the equipment.
The fire under the big metal vat kept the huge space warm. Steam blew from a vent at the top.
Three lines of bottles stood on the table. They were all made from clear glass, but they weren’t all the same. Some were round and plain, others more elaborate with a stamp from the maker. Others again were square.
Wait—she remembered seeing a bottle like that in Lord Verdonck’s room. It had been empty and there had been a label with a goat on it.
The labels Els used were different, but no one had mentioned that bottle.
“Here you are.” Maartje put a small round bottle next to Nellie on the table.
“Thank you so much.” Nellie slipped the bottle into her basket. Then she hesitated. “There was a bottle of gin in Lord Verdonck’s room. It was empty.”
Maartje’s eyes widened. “My sister doesn’t sell anything to the palace. They only buy from the official distilleries. We don’t sell bad gin either. If we did, all the sailors in the harbour would line up to kill us.”
“Do any of the gin suppliers in town use a label with a goat?”
“I don’t know. It’s not ours, that’s all I know. You’ll have to ask my sister.”
“Do you think someone could put poison in gin, maybe just one bottle?”
She looked at the bottles that stood on the bench.
“I’m sure that could be done. A lot of the poison tastes foul though, so you would have to mask the taste, and you’d have to use something that doesn’t have a colour.”
“Gin has a strong taste already.”
She shrugged, uneasy. “I know little about it. My sister has been running this plant, and I’m just helping.”
It sounded like half admission to Nellie, but she didn’t want to press any further. Maartje was only thirteen and knew little of her older sister’s machinations. And when Maartje said Els didn’t sell to the palace, Nellie believed her. Oh, those two girls were up to their ears in mischief, but it probably had little to do with the palace.
“So are you still working at the palace at all?” This gin-selling business could go nowhere good. It was only a matter of time before the Regent’s attention would shift from magic to the next thing to be declared illegal. Contraband gin was always a popular black sheep to target.
“We’ll try to go back to work, if it’s safe enough to return.”
“But if you have nothing to hide, then wouldn’t it be safe enough already?”
Once, Nellie had tried to do everything in her power to make the girls abandon this risky path. They had a whole life in front of them. They couldn’t start it by doing illegal things. Before they knew it, they would be stealing and breaking in or whoring and then they’d end up in prison. But Nellie wasn’t doing so well herself, so she had no right to tell others to do things she couldn’t do herself.
Maartje hesitated, then her expression turned defiant. “I don’t think it’s safe. Wim had nothing to hide. He was just doing his job. It’s just that someone didn’t like him. As far as I understand he is in the palace dungeons. Should I return to a place where people get locked up for doing their jobs? Me, I’d like to stay as far away from those guards as possible. That’s the safest place for us to be.”
Oh, she sounded so much like her sister when she said this.
Thirteen years of age, and full of street smarts.
And Nellie would do best to stop telling her what to do. All she could try to do was be there when they needed help.
“Thank you for the gin. I can bring you some fish, or carrots or anything else, except money.”
“If you can, bring juniper berries. Don’t worry too much about giving something in return. You’ve done a lot for us, but don’t tell my sister that I gave this to you.”
“All right, I won’t tell her.” Nellie looked around. “Is this installation all hers, or is it someone else’s?”
“Oh no, it belongs to the other girl.”
“The one who dresses like a monk?”
“Something like that.”
She didn’t meet Nellie’s eyes.
Nellie could ask
many questions—about Els’ relationship with Gisele, about Gisele’s past, about her intent to go through life while pretending to be a monk.
“Look, I don’t want to do either of you any harm. I helped you and offered you a job at the palace. But a man has died, and I am one of the people they may accuse of the murder. Like Wim, everyone who worked in the kitchens during the banquet could be a suspect. I visited the dead man’s room to bring him tea, so I’m even more likely to be wanted for questioning. If I can, I would like to find out what happened, because the murdered man’s son is determined to find out, and he’s holding threats over the Regent’s head. So if you happen to know who sells this gin with the goat label, I’d be happy to hear it.”
“I said you’d have to ask my sister.”
“When is she coming back here?”
“I don’t know. She took some of her stock and went to sell it this morning.”
“All right, I’ll come back later.”
But Nellie didn’t have time to wait that long.
Chapter 14
ONCE SHE GOT to the harbour, Nellie was dismayed to find how many taverns there were. She thought she knew the one where Els’ mother worked most of the time, but she had never been inside. This was not the type of establishment that respectable women entered. Unlike in some other places she had heard about, there was no official rule that women couldn’t enter a tavern, but people thought poorly of those who did. She had to admit that the prospect of facing drunk men frightened her somewhat.
Although there shouldn’t be anyone drunk at this time of the day, should there?
There were several visiting ships in the harbour, most of them moored on the far side of the pier. Nellie walked past the taverns a few times, thinking about an excuse to go in, but with all her might she could not think of one. Her newfound boldness only went so far.
She was cold, it was drizzling a bit, and if she stood here long enough, people would wonder what she was doing.
So she gritted her teeth and went up to the door. She pushed it open and stepped into the tavern room beyond.
The room was dark, and my, it smelled bad in here. No wonder these men were so unhealthy.