The Hermit of Lammas Wood

by Nathan Lowell

  Tanyth put her shoulder to the box and shoved it back under the cot. “We know it’s there. Best not let anybody else know we know.”

  “If we don’t get out of here soon, it won’t matter,” Gertie said, her mouth twisted to the side. “Somethin’s still missin’.”

  “What?”

  “Gold ain’t easy to handle.”

  “That’s why he’s got slaves,” Tanyth said.

  “And his own crew, too, but that’s not what I mean.” Gertie sat back on her haunches. “Gold in the ground like this? Down here? He’s gotta be mining a quartz vein that’s back under the cliffside.”

  “Penny and Rebecca didn’t. They just picked it up off the ground.”

  “Yeah. Nuggets like that happen. Prob’ly how they found it. Somebody picked up a nugget, and they got curious. That’s in gravel and along rivers and such. I got a good look at the tunnel mouth–they’re diggin’ out rock.”

  “How’s that help us?”

  “I don’t know yet, but he has to have a crushin’ mill somewhere down here to break the rock up, and a smelter, too, unless he’s shippin’ the ore somewhere else.”

  “He’d need somewhere to land it without the tax men finding him.”

  “Aye, and those boys have eyes everywhere. I keep expectin’ ’em to show up at the cottage some day to tax my cider.” Gertie swung her head back and forth. “No, he’s got it all here, which means he’s also got his blankin’ mill and coin press here, too.”

  “You’re talking, but the trees make more sense.”

  “One of the things that got me interested in rocks was makin’ coins. Ya have to find the gold, melt it down to take out the dross. Then you make it into sheets. Gold is soft so it rolls out easy. Makes pretty sheets. Then you use a blankin’ mill—it’s like a biscuit cutter for metal—to make the li’l disks. Punch out a bunch of them, and then press the king’s face onto one side and some pattern on the other. That’s a coin.”

  “Sounds like a lotta work.”

  “It is and it ain’t. You got enough gold to make a sheet, punching it out may be nothin’ more than one man with an iron punch and another with a big hammer. Place the punch. Bang the end. Poof! There’s yer blank. Pressin’ ’em takes a little more care, but not much.”

  Tanyth’s gaze went to the small iron chest under the cot. “So that’s prob’ly full of coins?”

  “That’d be my guess.”

  “How’s that get us out of here?” Tanyth asked.

  “I’m still cogitatin’.” Gertie tapped her lips with her fingers. “Once they’re coins, they’re money. Anybody can spend ’em.”

  “Sure.”

  “So our trustin’ Captain Malloy ain’t gonna let that coin get far from his control. He can have his people make the metal sheets and even punch the blanks. Ya can’t spend a blank coin. Show it to the wrong person and you’ll have the King’s Own in your small clothes faster’n a bedbug in a flop house.”

  “Is he pressin’ the coins himself?”

  Gertie shook her head again. “Not likely, but I bet he keeps the press close.”

  “Where?”

  Gertie shrugged. “Maybe he keeps it next door or somethin’.”

  They sat there in silence for what seemed like a long time. “How many mice down here?” Tanyth asked.

  Gertie chuckled. “Darned if I know. Prob’ly hundreds.”

  “Well?”

  “Well, what?” Gertie asked–and then her face lit up with a broad smile. “Why didn’t I think o’ that?”

  “We been kinda preoccupied.”

  Gertie scrambled to her feet. “Come on. Let’s go grab a chain in case somebody looks in while I’m busy.”

  They crossed the room, and each woman grabbed onto a loose manacle.

  “Close enough,” Gertie said as she closed her eyes.

  Time dragged as Tanyth stood and watched Gertie’s eyelids flicker.

  “Not as many as I thought,” she muttered. “Enough.”

  “Anything good?”

  Gertie shook her head. “Mostly bad.”

  More time ticked by. Tanyth measured it by the thrumming of blood in her ears.

  “Got a mouse in the passage outside. Same guards on duty,” Gertie said.

  “You’d think they’d change reg’lar.”

  “Prob’ly do. It just feels like we been in here a week.”

  “Good point,” Tanyth said.

  After another moment, Gertie grunted. “Found the coin press. Darkish room. Door.”

  “Where is it?”

  Gertie shrugged. “Can’t tell.”

  Tanyth shifted her weight, and the chain clinked against stone.

  “Oh,” Gertie said.

  “What?”

  “Clink again.”

  Tanyth rattled the chain.

  “Yep. Just like I thought. It’s nearby. Mousie heard the metal clank.”

  “Sharp ears,” Tanyth said.

  “Yeah.”

  “We just need to know where.”

  “He’s runnin’ around the room. Stone floor. Stone walls. Heavy wood door. Smells of machine oil and somethin’ else.” Gertie tilted her head to one side. “Corridor lit up outside the door.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Short legs. Give ‘im a minute.” Gertie’s head straightened up. “One wooden wall.”

  “A wooden wall? Under ground?”

  “Yeah. He’s got a little squeeze hole in it, and there’s light on the other side.”

  Tanyth glanced across the room and gasped.

  “What is it?”

  “A wooden wall,” Tanyth said.

  “What?”

  “Behind the cot. It’s a wooden wall.”

  “Oh, my. That’s the one,” Gertie said.

  “What? Can you see it?” Tanyth looked on Gertie’s head but saw no mouse.

  “No, dearie, but my mousie can see us.” She flickered her fingers in a wave.

  They crossed to the alcove again, and Gertie leaned down to the floor. A small gray mouse leaped onto her outstretched hand and clambered up her sleeve. “There. This li’l squeek has agreed to be my eyes for now,” she said. “Now let’s see if we can find the door.”

  “What makes you think there’s a door?” Tanyth said.

  “You think Captain Malloy entertains his guests by letting the others see them movin’ back and forth down the tunnel?” Gertie jerked a thumb at the chains on the wall.

  “Why move ’em at all?”

  “Maybe he just likes company,” Gertie said. “Besides, why have a wooden wall here if there’s not a door in it.”

  “Kinda obvious hidin’ a door in a wooden wall,” Tanyth said.

  “Not that obvious. We never noticed it. I s’pect his other guests all have somethin’ else on their minds, too. Like survival.”

  Tanyth grunted. “Good point.”

  “If I was a door latch, where would I hide?” Gertie said, her quiet mutter just barely audible. She pushed and prodded the wooden panel with her gnarled fingers.

  Tanyth stepped back to look at the wall. A smudge on the wood next to the stone caught her eye. She walked over to the smudge and stared at it. “Dirty hands,” she said. She pressed on the smudge and felt a click in the wood.

  “What was that?” Gertie said, turning her face toward Tanyth.

  “I think I found it.” A crack between two of the vertical planks seemed marginally wider than it had before. She pushed on it, and the door swung into the next room.

  “I think you did, too,” Gertie said as she stepped through the door.

  The scent of machine oil mixed with something else filled the room with a faint musk that made Tanyth’s nose itch. “What’s that smell?”

  “Fear,” Gertie said as she walked around the room, holding her head still at various points. “This is the press,” she said.

  A solid wooden frame stood in the middle of the floor. Two simple uprights held a narrow iron table with a dent in the mi
ddle. Tanyth stepped forward and ran her fingers over the dent, feeling the impressions at the bottom. “One side of the coin?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Toss a blank in there. Put the top on...” She pointed to a round metal bar hung on a lanyard from the top of the frame. “Then pop it once with a hammer. Instant coin.”

  Tanyth started to reach for the metal bar but stopped and looked at Gertie. “Hammer?”

  “It’s gotta be here somewhere.” Gertie’s grin glowed in the light coming from the other room.

  Tanyth looked around the frame. “Has ta be here somewhere. Tied down, prob’ly.”

  “Got it,” Gertie said. “Was in the shadow over here.” She hefted what looked like a five-pound hammer on a short handle. “Stout cord on it, too. How’d you know?”

  “Malloy wouldn’t want his helper to hit him with it.”

  “Ah,” Gertie said. “Of course.”

  “Now, how do we pound on these locks without bein’ heard?”

  Gertie’s brow furrowed as she looked from the hammer to the manacle on her wrist. “And how do we get a clean hit without crushin’ an arm?”

  “That part’s easy.” Tanyth held up the eye bolt, still threaded on the chain between them. “Just need someplace to rest the manacle on. Line up the bolt. Bang! We’re done.”

  “We need two bangs,” Gertie said. “That’s the problem.”

  “Act’ally, I think that’s the solution,” Tanyth said.

  Chapter Thirty-six:

  Break Out

  Tanyth scanned the room. “I could wish for more light,” she said.

  “If you can see it, they can,” Gertie said with a nod toward the door.

  “I need a knife. Somethin’ to cut this cord. Morris took mine.”

  “Mine, too.” Gertie fished in her pockets. “But he left my rocks.”

  “You got a pocket full of rocks?”

  “Not full, dearie,” Gertie pulled her hand out and held a flat flake of gray stone in her palm. “Just enough to be useful.”

  “Flint?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We startin’ a fire?”

  “Nope, gimme a minute.” Gertie braced the flint against the wooden frame with just a bit of the edge hanging over. She grabbed the hammer and choked up the handle until the heavy metal head rested on her fist. She took a deep breath and just nudged the edge of the stone with the heavy hammer.

  Tanyth heard a quiet click as a piece of the stone fell off onto the floor.

  “Get that flake,” Gertie said. “I can’t see well enough to find it in this light.”

  Tanyth crouched down and felt around on the dark stone floor. A glint of gray near the foot of the framework drew her notice, and she picked up the small piece of rock.

  “Don’t cut yourself,” Gertie said.

  Tanyth pressed the flat piece of stone into her palm and tilted it so the light from the next room illuminated it. “Will it cut the cord?”

  “It’ll gut a rabbit and skin it, too. Stop askin’ questions and get on with cuttin’.”

  The flint blade made short work of the cord holding the hammer to the frame. She handed the hammer to Gertie. “Hold that.”

  Gertie took it and glanced out at the other room. “What are you doin’ now?”

  Tanyth sliced the cord holding the metal rod and rolled it in her palm. “Makin’ sure he can’t make any more coins.”

  Gertie took it and slipped into one of her pockets. “Get the other one.”

  “How?”

  Gertie leaned down to look under the table. “Oh, here.” Something snapped, and the dent in the table became a hole. Gertie came up with the other die in her hand. “You want it, or should I keep them both?”

  “I’ll take the hammer. You take the dies. We just need to get my staff from the other room, and we’re ready to go.”

  They scurried out and back, being careful not to scrape the chain as they went.

  “Now what?” Gertie asked.

  “Now we need to figure out how to see in the dark.”

  “If we could do that, dearie, we’d be owls.” She turned her face toward Tanyth. “I don’t suppose there’s an owl down here?”

  Tanyth snorted. “If there was, I don’t have time to find it. We need to move before they change the guard.”

  “Fire,” Gertie said.

  “What?”

  “We start a fire.”

  “In here?”

  “Yeah, but I was thinkin’ more about in there.” She pointed back through the door. “If they’re all busy puttin’ out the fire, they’re not gonna see an extra light under the door, are they?”

  They went back and Tanyth tried to pull one of the torches out of its wall bracket.

  “It won’t budge.”

  “Why didn’t he use a lamp?” Gertie said, her mouth puckered. “Short-sighted on his part.”

  “Get some papers from his desk. We can light ’em on the torch.”

  “Machine oil,” Gertie said.

  “We can light it on machine oil?”

  “No. Come on.” Gertie dragged Tanyth back into the other room and walked around the clutter of goods scattered against the walls and in the corners. Every so often she sniffed. “Here,” she said. She reached down and came up with a large clay jug. “Lantern,” she said.

  “Looks like a jug.”

  “That’s what a lantern looks like.” Gertie dragged Tanyth back to the alcove and worked the cork out of the top of the jug. She sloshed it around a little, then announced: “About half full. Plenty. Grab that blanket and cut a piece off with the flint. About that long.” She held her hands a foot apart. “Don’t need to be too precise.”

  While Tanyth attacked the blanket, Gertie sprinkled a bit of the oil onto the bedclothes.

  Tanyth came up with the strip of cloth.

  “Good, now take the cork and cut a notch in it while I make the wick.”

  Gertie laid the piece of blanket on the bed, spilling oil along its length and getting a fair amount on the bedding as well. She sloshed the jug again and nodded. “Should be enough.”

  Tanyth handed her the cork.

  Gertie stuffed the piece of blanket down into the jug and then wedged the cork in beside it, carved notch aligned with the fabric. She held it up and nodded once. “It’ll smoke like crazy, but it’ll do for as long as we need it.”

  Gertie headed for the nearest torch and held up the makeshift wick.

  “Wait,” Tanyth said as she dragged Gertie to the desk. She pulled open the middle drawer, pulled out an accounting ledger, and grabbed a handful of papers from the desktop. Holding them up to the nearest torch, she smiled grimly as flames licked the edges immediately and began to spread. Then she held the burning papers out to Gertie, who thrust the oil-soaked wick into the flame for a moment. It was a long moment, but at last the wick caught. Tanyth dropped the handful of papers onto the desk.

  They scooted back into the alcove, stopping to light the oily bedding with the lantern on the way.

  Tanyth pressed the door closed and heard the latch snap. “All right. Let’s get these locks off.” She dragged Gertie over to the table, where she positioned her manacle over the hole where the die had been and took the hammer. “You hold, I’ll strike.”

  Gertie lined the point of the eye bolt against the lock’s hasp. “Don’t miss,” she said with a grin.

  Tanyth lifted the hammer and brought it down on the eye bolt with a loud snap.

  “How can that be?” Gertie said, looking at the lock, scratched but not broken.

  “Did you hear that?” The guard’s voices in the corridor carried clearly.

  “I heard something, but I smell smoke,” another voice said. “Look.”

  They heard the door crash open in the next room. “What the—?”

  Shouts rang out up and down the corridor. “Fire! Fire!”

  “Well, we missed our chance to get out while they were busy, but...” Tanyth swung the hammer, bashing the lock against the
metal flange on the coin press. The lock popped open on the first blow.

  Gertie held her own manacle in position, and they broke her lock just as quickly.

  Running feet and shouts of “Fire!” echoed in the tunnel outside.

  “I don’t think they heard that,” Gertie said, her grin illuminated from below by the makeshift lamp. “Now, how do we get out of here before that wooden wall goes up?”

  “You got a mouse in the tunnel?”

  “Not at the moment, but I will.”

  “If you can get eyes outside the door, I have an idea.” Tanyth flung the chain over her shoulders and took up her staff. The weight of it felt good in her hands.

  “All right. There’s a bunch of them green shirts bein’ mostly useless in the tunnel.”

  “Anybody outside this door?”

  Gertie cocked her head to one side. “No. They’re all lookin’ the other way.”

  “Time to go.” Tanyth cracked the door a bit and peeked out. “Nobody in sight.”

  Tanyth led the way down the tunnel away from the conflagration. Gertie grabbed the back of Tanyth’s trousers and kept watch behind them.

  “We’re goin’ the wrong way,” Gertie said after they’d made another turn.

  “I know, but there’s no branches here and we can’t get back through that herd.”

  Tanyth turned another bend in the tunnel, trying to keep track of where they were, and ran smack into a broad chest covered in green twill fabric.

  “Oof,” he said, and wrapped heavy arms around her torso.

  When Tanyth looked up, she saw a smiling face. “Arnold?”

  “I know you, lady.” He looked over her shoulder where Gertie still clung to the back of Tanyth’s trousers with one hand. “And you’re that hermit lady. With the rats!” He smiled at both of them. “You really made Malcolm mad. He hollered and hollered.” He released his arms and stepped back, letting Tanyth stand on her own. “What you doin’ down here? If Malcolm sees ya, he’s gonna be really mad.”

  “We’re tryin’ to get out. You should be, too,” Tanyth said.

  “Why’s that?”

  “There’s a fire in the boss’s room. He’s gonna be really mad when he gets back. Would you like to come with us?” Gertie said. “We’ll keep you safe from Malcolm and the boss.”

  Something happened in the man’s face, the light in his eye went out and his cheerful smile crumpled. “You’re tryin’ to ex-cape,” he said.