Duilleog

by Donald D. Allan

  Once, some months ago, I had seen a rather fat merchant bite a gold coin and so I too bit my coin. It was hard and hurt my teeth. I looked at the coin and couldn't see if I had made a mark and so I wasn't sure if it had passed the test. I didn't care though; the coin felt so wonderful in my hand. It had such a surprising weight for something so small. I held it in my palm and flipped it over and over, staring in wonder. A brief flash of recognition went through me but I shrugged it off as yet another one of my annoying memories that would intrude at odd times.

  I hadn't seen many coins in my life, except for the occasional pence, halfpence or farthing in trade for my herbs, but this did not seem to be a recently issued coin. The symbol on the back, for instance, was not on current coins. Older coins typically held the cameo of the king, but those went out of favour after the war when the Lord Protector took over. Today coins bore the country of Belkin's coat-of-arms. So whatever the symbol meant, it must have been from a long time ago; probably from well before the war. I wondered how long it would take to wear down and elongate the coin over repeated rubbing and I was sure it was a long, long time.

  I doubted any merchant would accept the coin with it being so deformed, but it was still worth something by weight if I could find a gold buyer. A gold coin of this size was called a mark and was equal to nine silver groats and one groat was worth four copper pence. I had owned two groats once, payment for providing a significant amount of healing unguent to the Jaipers garrison captain last year. I was certain I could exchange this coin for a few groats.

  Excitement at my new wealth raced through me. Images of what I could purchase swam before my eyes. I could obtain new clothes and get rid of these rags. My clothes were fine in the summer heat but come winter I would be wet and cold. It would be wonderful to be able to stay dry and warm. Maybe I could bargain for leathers like the Reeve wore. I could get a nice oilskin cloak to keep the rain off—that was a certain purchase. Or a large leather backpack instead of the one I had painstakingly stitched together with scraps of leather and pieces of cloth. I looked forlornly at my poor backpack on the ground and shook my head.

  I soon added other items to my imaginary list and my head reeled with the possibilities. Then I imagined the Reeve finding out and looking at me with disappointment and my excitement came crashing down around me. I knew at once I should really return the coin to the Reeve. I would face too many questions if I suddenly showed up with gold in my hands after the murder. It wasn't mine, and people would naturally assume it was connected and not be wrong.

  I tied the second boot to my calf and stood up to test them. My feet felt so protected and I imagined this must be what it would be like to walk on the clouds. I thought of my trip to Jaipers and realised, even though it was only about three miles to the south gate, with these boots on I would make good time on the rough and rocky road. Delighted, I threw my patchwork backpack over my shoulders and started the downhill journey north to town and squinted against the sun, now well above the horizon and in my eyes to the east.

  By the time I reached Jaipers, the sun was well established in the sky, the heat already oppressive. The clouds had cleared during the night and now the sky was clear and blue. It was such a clear day I could easily see the snow-covered tops of the Turgany Mountains far to the west. My eyes followed the mountains down to the hills surrounding the large broad valley nestling the town of Jaipers. From where I walked on the road, I could now look down over the town of Jaipers and I watched it shimmer in the rising heat. Hoisted above the town was the Baron's flag but it lay sullen against the flagpole in the absence of any wind. With the sun now burning overhead, I had broken out into a sweat, my back was soaked against the backpack and I could feel sweat running down to the crack of my bum. It would be hot in town but at least it offered shade and the town well held cool water.

  Jaipers, like all small towns in Turgany County, was fortified with a wall made of massive logs sunk into the ground and cut to rough points at the top. Not all the towns had walls, but they reduced the taxes the town was required to pay each quarter. Walls also rewarded the town with a small garrison of at least twelve men and one officer; all supplied by the Baron of Turgany, Andrew Windthrop, whose flag flew over the town. The garrison was provisioned, barracked and fed by the town, but the Baron paid the men. I did not know if the tax savings offset the cost of the maintaining of the wall and feeding the garrison or not and to be honest; I didn't care one way or another. I did know Jaipers was proud of its wall and its garrison but that was all foreign to me. My home was with nature and not within the town.

  The town was round in shape and had been cleared of trees for a mile around to provide a clear line of sight in all directions, presumably for defence. Defence against what, I had no idea. The town had two gates: one to the north and one to the south. The north gate gave access to the river pier and to the road that travelled east to the next town downriver called Belger, located beside the lake from which it took its name. The gates were very sturdy structures and were double planked and reinforced with iron bands. Small wooden towers were built on either side of the gates and leaned out over the wall. The gates were closed at nightfall and guarded continuously by the garrison. Captain Gendred, the garrison officer, insisted on closing the gates each night at sunset notwithstanding the fact there hadn't been hostilities in the county since the war. He was a very stern and serious man but he was friendly to me. I had provided him with a few unguents that helped his men with aches and pains and this seemed to have warmed him to me. I grew to know his men as well, and I had no troubles with any of them.

  Jaipers was not a large town. There were about four hundred people living within its walls. Another eight hundred to a thousand people lived near the town in small hamlets and farmsteads and they regularly came to town to trade and barter for goods and provisions. The nearby Potsman River had a working mill and a lone sawmill that provided valuable resources to the town and to the county. More importantly, the road I was now on led south-west to the western seaport, named, with little imagination, Port West.

  Port West and this road allowed critical goods to travel from the west coast of Belkin to Jaipers and then over one hundred miles downriver by barge to Jergen, the port city on the east coast. From there, goods travelled north to the capital city of Munsten and then supposedly onward to the rest of the country. The market in Jaipers thrived on this trade route. The market was centrally located in the town and had a few semi-permanent structures for those merchants who could not yet afford to purchase a full store in the small commercial district.

  Due to the walls constraining the town size, real estate within the walls was limited and expensive and it could take merchants many years of hard work to be able to afford a store and pay the additional taxes required through ownership to the Baron. As a result, many merchants set up shop outside the town walls between the river pier and the far north gate. These makeshift dwellings were supposedly illegal and the garrison could without warning demolish any structures found outside the walls, but no one could remember that happening in many years. Everyone knew, though, the best merchants would be found inside the town, but everyone also knew the merchants outside the wall typically specialised in those items that were hard to get or illegal to possess—such as weapons and armour. Since the war, no commoners were allowed to possess weapons or armour, other than small personal knives. The irony that it was the commoners who won the war was not lost on most people, but the law remained nonetheless and people obeyed, for the penalty was severe and often death was the judgement for violations.

  Outside the north gate was where the large warehouses were built where the river, road and town all converged. Barges lined the nearby piers, with stables placed in proximity to provide shelter for the large, hairy workhorses ponderously pulling the barges up from down the river. Barges were a constant sight, coming and going from the piers, offloading and loading their steady stream of goods—the route downriver being the luxury route. Little of
the goods stayed in Jaipers. Most were destined for the larger towns and the capital city of Munsten. A few merchants chose to use the road skirting the river, despite the risk of highwaymen, and often I sat and watched them line up their carts and rumble down the road, bristling with hired armed guards, and disappear over the horizon.

  Sometimes I wished I could go with them but my promise to my mother kept my feet safe in the woods and out of sight. The town knew the Baron had men of the Army of the Realm policing the road but they couldn't be everywhere and every so often tales of highwaymen raiding caravans would trickle into town. I would listen to these tales and be glad I remained safe to the south in the woods and hills outside the valley. Most merchants preferred the barges: they could carry more, and they were safer on the water than on the road, but they cut into the profits and still required men to guard the goods when the barges moored for the night.

  The road leading up to the south gate was deserted at this time of day. I approached the gate and was relieved to enter the shade below the wall and fully open my eyes. I blinked and rubbed my eyebrows; they were sore after squinting for so long. The sentry guard positioned outside the gate looked bored, hot and tired. He knew me well enough and greeted me pleasantly by name, nodding toward the open gate to let me know I could enter. As I passed through the gate, I smiled to myself as the town opened up in front of me.

  The sounds and smells of civilisation always seemed to overwhelm my senses after so long by myself. The smell of so many people living in proximity was foul. Their noise was a loud drone obscuring any other sounds. People filled the areas where they lived with their presence. I always felt disconnected when I entered the town and today was no exception. Except—perhaps today, after all that has happened—a little human companionship would be welcomed. And, I admitted to myself with a smile, coming into town meant I got to see my good friend, Daukyns.

  I could only stay in town for a few days before I knew I would find my feet taking me back outside to the peace and quiet in the woods and hills. But for now, I was happy to return and my stomach growled with hunger. I had not broken fast this morning, and I now regretted it. I also had a terrible thirst and the town well beckoned me.

  I had a route I always liked to take in town: first to the inn, then to the common hall, and lastly to the merchant square to sell my herbs, potions and unguents. Afterwards, I would head back to the inn for a hot meal, a bath, and a warm soft bed. It was a comforting routine, and it allowed me to minimise my time around people.

  Somehow, not long after I entered Jaipers, word would get around and I would find myself providing advice to those with ailments. They would seek me out and sometimes surround me. They suffered from ailments real and imagined but all of them would look for cures from me. I had a sense of illnesses; gained from long discussions with Daukyns and through my knowledge of herb lore. I dimly remembered that my mother, too, had a gift for healing and I seemed to have the same gift and that pleased me. And so I helped people. Daukyns would break it up when people grew too adamant with me. It was all strange and wonderful.

  I tossed these thoughts aside and smiled as I cleared the gate and stepped back into the sunlight of the town. A few people nearby waved to me in recognition and carried on with their business. The town seemed almost deserted but I knew they were somewhere sheltered in shade from the oppressive heat of the day.

  Thankfully, all three of my route destinations were centrally located in the town just past the garrison barracks and their stable. As I passed the barracks, I watched three new guardsmen being outfitted out front by the garrison Quartermaster. The Quartermaster waved at me and the three new men glanced at me without interest. I waved back and stopped at the nearby well.

  The well was the only one in town and was fairly large with a roof structure built over the top. It was a marvel of engineering and the town was proud of their well. A thick rope with a pulley and handle mechanism lowered and raised an enormous bucket for when large quantities of water were required, but usually, people just threw down the smaller bucket on a rope. At night a large wooden cover was lowered and locked over the opening but during the day it lay propped up against one of the building's corner supports. As was typical, a few children were hanging around to pull up the smaller well bucket for people and looking for handouts in return. As I approached, they handed me the rope and said hello. They knew me well enough to know I had nothing to reward them with and therefore I could do the lifting myself. I dropped my backpack beside me in the shade offered by the well cover structure, grabbed hold of the knotted rope and hauled up the bucket. I pulled the bucket out of the well, rested it on the stone wall and grabbed one of the large tin ladles tied to the support beams, scooping out water and dousing myself with it. The cool water hit me like a balm and washed the dust and heat of the road from my body. I gulped a second ladle and then a third to slake my thirst and finally refreshed, handed the rope back to the waiting children who eagerly dropped the bucket back down into the well, looking for potential customers. I frowned at the faintly odd taste in my mouth but I shrugged it off and laughed as I wrung the water out of my hair, relishing the brief respite from the heat and taking the time to look around the town.

  South of me was the gate I had just come through. West of the gate was the garrison barracks and the attached stable house for their horses. The quartermaster was still outside with the new recruits except now they were talking and looking over at me with interest. They were no doubt discussing my healing salves, and I hoped it would mean more business for me. They turned away when they saw me looking back at them and so I ignored them too. Across the road from the barracks was the small Reeve office with a tiny gaol inside. I hadn't seen the Reeve when I walked past and that was fine with me; I had more important errands to attend to before I could spend time with him. I also wasn't ready to discuss what had happened last night and the thought of answering questions from the garrison captain worried me.

  The well was positioned southwest of the town's crossroad. North of me was the Woven Bail Inn, a tall three-story building that towered over the town; here would be my first stop today. Across the road from the inn was the town common hall. This would be my second stop and the one I looked forward to. The common hall also served as the home of my good friend, Daukyns, who ran the town's Word community. Down the road toward the north gate was the central open market and near that was the commerce area comprised of a half-dozen merchant stores. Near the stores were the town storehouse and the granary building; both were maintained and stocked by the garrison for times of conflict. They could be empty for all I knew but knowing the garrison captain as I did, they were probably meticulously maintained. West of the well, the road led to the housing area where the wealthy people in town lived; mostly the merchants and guild representatives. The Reeve told me about twenty families lived there, but I had never gone down the road to see.

  Down the road to the east was where the remainder of the town's sixty or so families lived. Despite the separation of families by wealth, the children mixed and played and fought in the centre of town. It was a simple matter to tell the children apart from the quality of their clothes and by whether they wore shoes. I glanced at my boots and wondered what people would make of me now. I knew what my friend Daukyns would say: “All people are equal regardless of their wealth or success”. I swear the Word had more quotes than the old religious church once had. I think both the rich and poor would consider me an upstart and glare at me.

  I said farewell to the children at the well and wished them good fortune as I shouldered my backpack and headed over to the inn. They didn't even spare me a glance. One of the children started to cough as I walked away and I was surprised to hear how wet it sounded. Colds like that rarely occurred in the middle of summer. I made a mental note to look for him later once I was settled.

  I turned my attention to The Woven Bail Inn ahead of me. It was the largest building in town, providing rooms mostly for the richer barge captains
and the caravan leaders. Outside the town was a larger hostel housing the crews of the barges from out of town. It was a cheap imitation of The Woven Bail and I avoided it. The Woven Bail Inn was a towering three-story affair and held at least a dozen rooms of varying quality. It boasted a large common bar and a room with a bathtub. More importantly, it had a kitchen that the inn was famous for and this is where I headed. My business with the kitchen was what provided me with a free room when available and often a free bath, too.

  The kitchen entrance was around back and as I approached, I called out and Dempster, the cook, opened the door and greeted me like an old friend which for a solitary person like me always seemed a strange thing. Dempster was a very tall and very fat man. He had little hair left on his head, his face was typically bright red, and the apron stretched across his girth was stained with all manner of food, grease and who knew what else. The owner of the inn was always telling him to stop eating the profits and Dempster would laugh his rumbling, deep, laugh and claim a fat cook meant a good cook and that he should be pleased. I secretly craved any of the food this man prepared. He cooked from the heart and you could taste it. He was the reason the Inn was famous, and the owner knew this. So did Dempster, and he always got what he wanted from the innkeeper. Sometimes it was hard to tell who ran the inn.

  The smells from his kitchen wafted out into the still air around me and I smelled fresh bread. It was white bread, if I was not mistaken, not the tough whole grain kind most people ate. My mouth instantly watered. White bread was like clouds on my tongue. Soft, fluffy clouds.