The Reeve showed me on the map where the farm lay and I memorised the details. He described a couple of landmarks to look for and, content that I knew where to go, he stopped and finally grinned at me. "His daughter is about your age. Her name escapes me though, 'C' something, long name..." He raised an eyebrow in thought. "My mate's a good man. Goes by the name Ben Rigby and probably still does, ha! We have a bit of history, he and I. Always did things together, and we were quite a team. Then he found a wife and started a family. And that was it. We parted ways."
The Reeve grew silent, and no doubt relived some memories in his head. I tried to imagine the Reeve as a young man with another life and failed. He could never be anyone other than the man he was today. So proper. So, so...I stared at him standing beside me and tried to grasp the essence of him and reached. A deep thrum sound filled the world. My eyes widened in shock. The Reeve still sat quietly brooding on his past. He had not heard or felt the sound. It resonated within me and made my back teeth feel loose in my mouth. The sound was startling and I felt suddenly as if someone was watching me. I looked round feeling foolish. We were alone in the Reeve's house.
I turned my inner gaze to the Reeve and took a measure of him. I knew without doubt that I could trust this man with my life. He had a rare quality about him that represented the best that people could offer. I wondered if all good men could be so easily read with my sight. Would I be able to tell friend from foe?
I must have been looking at him strangely, for when the Reeve glanced at my face, he scowled and smacked my shoulder. "What are you staring at me like that for?" he growled and then reached out for the map tube. "You'd best get some sleep. It'll be your last good sleep for weeks."
We rolled the maps back up and returned them to the scroll case. The maps would stay here but the Reeve had questioned me repeatedly until he was sure I had the route burned into my memory.
After that he stood up and glanced down at me sitting morosely beside him in my chair. He grasped my shoulder and squeezed it. Then he stood, turned and went to his bedchamber and closed the door without saying a word.
It was a little while later, after spreading the blankets on the couch and settling in, when I realised that I had reached without the use of the coin.
Ten
Jaipers, 900 A.C.
THE NEXT DAY when I rose I found that the Reeve had already gone about his daily business. I was hoping he was going to see me off, but that didn't appear to be the case.
I ventured out of the Reeve's home and went searching for provisions for the road. I spent a half groat just on dried meat alone. It was lovely, well-preserved meat, and it was heavily spiced and mixed with berries and nuts. It would keep forever, so long as I kept it packed in its waxed cloth to keep it dry. One of the merchants I knew surprised me with a gift of dried beans, peas and lentils. He refused my money and explained that he still owed me from the last herbs I had sold him. I smiled and accepted the generosity. Take it when you can, my mother had once told me. That thought stopped me in my tracks. I didn't ever remember anything my mother said to me and I wondered where that memory had come from.
At one point, I realised with concern that my hand–sewn backpack would not likely survive the journey. I soon found myself over at the tanner's shop. He was the best tanner in town. He owned a shop with a proud sign stating Sheridan Leathers outside. We all called him by his first name and so he was known as Tanner Ross. I had often provided him with quality pieces of fur in exchange for leather pieces. I explained what I wanted, and he grinned and disappeared into his back room. I browsed through his display of belts and marvelled at the quality while I waited. A few moments later, the tanner emerged carrying a leather backpack. He laid it down on the counter and waved me over. I reached out to touch it and I was rewarded with the feel of soft, supple leather. The backpack was a rich brown and covered in many pockets with leather cinch ties. The straps were padded and could easily be adjusted. I fiddled with a strange belt at the bottom of the pack and the tanner explained that you used it to tie the pack to your waist.
"To stop it moving around on your back. Makes it easier to carry a load," he explained.
I tried the pack on and the tanner helped me adjust it. I was stunned at how good the pack felt on my back. It was a marvel of construction and I told him so. He beamed at the praise. I took it off and placed it on the table with regret. There was no way I could afford something so exquisite and I told him so.
"Son, that's fine praise from a young man who makes such wonderful things with your herbs!" And he chuckled at my surprised look. He looked around to make sure no one was looking and pulled up his shirt to reveal a livid purple scar that ran across his pudgy stomach. I could sense that it still caused the man some discomfort, but that it was cleanly healed and not infected. I glanced inquiringly at him.
"Sliced myself," he said simply as he laughed and held up a hand in mock protest at my frown. "No, seriously! It happened about three weeks ago. Did it to myself – foolish thing to do. A little deeper and my guts would have spilled out. Good thing I'm a little thick around the middle, eh?" And he laughed again, lowered his shirt and patted his midriff.
"Daukyns helped sew me shut – with my own thread, mind!" He laughed deeper. "And then he gave me a pot of your unguent, young man!" He smiled as understanding dawned on my face.
"Ah! Good! I'm glad it helped you, Tanner Ross," I replied.
"Helped me?" he asked in a stunned tone. "Helped me? Son, it cured me! I would have been dead if not for that little pot!" He shook his head in remembrance. "I had a fever through the roof. The pain was something terrible! Daukyns spread that on the sutures and it felt like a cool breeze on a hot day. I almost fainted with the relief! Helped me?" And he shook his head in remembrance. "Son, I owe you my life!" With that, he grabbed the backpack and thrust it into my arms. I gawked at him.
"Take it," he said simply. "It would mean a lot to me. A way to make up for what I owe you."
"I–I can't take this!" I stammered and tried to give it back to him. This was too much for one little pot of unguent. This backpack was a work of art, lovingly made, and worth a fortune. I couldn't accept it but he refused to take it back. "It's far too much, sir!"
"Nonsense!" he said with feeling. "It's already yours. I didn't know it until you walked in here and asked about a backpack. It's almost as if it was here waiting for you! I hadn't even put it out for sale! It sat in the back room."
I stared at him wanting to say yes so badly, but feeling guilty all the same.
He reached out and patted the backpack. "This is what I was working on when my knife slipped. Strangest thing, too. I never work a knife that way – too dangerous!" Tanner Ross chuckled again. This man liked to laugh and his belly laughed with him. "Yours! Done and done!" And he clapped me on the back.
I remembered my mother's words and accepted the gift and thanked him profusely. Then I asked him if it was all right if I transferred my belongings over to it in his shop. He didn't mind and even helped me. When he loitered over a few bundles of my herbs, I left him with a few samples and some suggestions for their use. I pressed a jar of my unguent into his hands and wordlessly, he looked at it for a bit and then nodded once. That made me feel a little better. I hoisted the new backpack onto my shoulders and could feel the ease of the weight on my shoulders compared to my older pack. The tanner helped me adjust the straps more securely and tied the waist belt around me. I walked around the shop and loved the feel of it. It fit and balanced perfectly, and I felt I could walk for days and days with it on. Then I laughed when I remembered it would be months.
I thanked the tanner and was about to leave when he reached out and grabbed my arm to stop me. His face paled, and he stared at my boots and then looked up at me.
"W–where did you get those boots?" he asked hoarsely, his eyes white around the edges.
"My boots?" I replied, looking down at them, worried that he would figure out where I had obtained them.
; "Yes, your boots!" he demanded and tightened his grip on my arm. "Tell me! What cordwainer made those?"
"I have no idea! The Reeve gave them to me!" I answered with truth. I did not want this man to know that they came off the man who had murdered Bill Burstone. The tanner searched my eyes and satisfied with the answer, he relaxed somewhat and released my arm.
"Take them off, please. Let me see them," he said with some authority in his voice. "There'll be a mark – a maker's mark – I need to see it to be sure."
Knowing there indeed was a mark, I shrugged off my pack and sat on the wood floor of the shop, untied my right boot and handed it up to him. The tanner eagerly took the boot and moved to the light coming through his front window. He pried back the leather of the boot and peered inside.
"Oh my Word!" he muttered. "How can this be? Here in Jaipers of all places!" He turned to me and beckoned me over to join him at the window. He showed me the maker's mark and I nodded. I had noticed it before. "See this? This is the mark of the cordwainer in Munsten. A triangle with three lines passing through the points and intersecting in the middle" He looked at me for any sign of recognition but I could only stare blankly back at him. The tanner grumbled and started pointing at parts of the boot.
"See the sole? The triple stitching here and here? The triple stitching here? The unique way it is secured to the upper thigh? These are all the design of a unique man. And not just any cordwainer, son. This is from the cordwainer in Munsten. He makes the most marvelous boots and shoes in the entire land. It is a family business that goes back generations! Generations! It is the Cobbler family." And he looked at me as if I should know the name, which I didn't, and he continued. "But they don't make these particular boots for just anyone. These are special. They are Trinity Boots. The triangle, three lines, and triple stitching throughout, yeah? The Trinity. Three, three, and three.
" The Cobblers make them for the Church. A special part of the Church and it's said they're the ones that do the dirty work for them." He looked at me for some kind of reaction. I could only stare back at him in surprise. The man who had murdered Bill Burstone had shoes that belonged to the Church? That seemed completely improbable. Unless he killed the previous owners; it seemed likely.
"The Reeve gave you these, hmmm?" He seemed satisfied when I nodded. He handed me back the boot and watched as I started to tie them back on.
"Then you are a lucky young man. Those boots alone cost more than my entire store." He laughed when I gasped and stared at him for confirmation of what he said. "Yes, yes. Very expensive boots! Highest quality you can find. You'll find that they will not wear out. Remarkable, no? Because of that they are passed from owner to child and so on. Those are probably decades old."
"How can that be? They look brand new!" I replied, not really wanting to believe any of this as I stared at the boot on my foot and the one in my hands with alarm.
"I don't know. I really don't. The secret for making boots like that are only known to a few. It's guarded and protected by the families that know." He shook his head and grimaced. "Not my family! The best I can manage is that backpack you have there!" And he laughed anew at my look of guilt. "No, no, young man! No regrets! That is yours! Yours! Enjoy it – and you did admire the quality! Spread the word around town! Make sure everyone knows of Sheridan Leathers!"
I finished lacing up my last boot, stood and guiltily avoided promising him I would spread the word. Instead, I thanked him profusely for the gift and the knowledge and I turned to leave the store when he caused me to pause with a look.
"Something you should know about these boots..." he started to say then stopped, as if unsure of what he should be saying. "They, umm...this is hard to say or believe! My Word!" He grimaced. "You may find that they leave little in the way of marks on the ground. You understand?"
I didn't but nodded anyway. He seemed satisfied with that and he escorted me to the shop door.
I spread the falsehood that I was leaving Jaipers and heading west to expand my market for a year. He seemed to accept it easily enough and clasped my shoulder and wished me a safe journey. I turned, now anxious to leave, and started toward the exit.
"One last thing, young man," he said softly and I looked inquiringly over to him. He looked so very serious. "I wouldn't flash those boots around too much. Not many would recognise the make except those that already have a pair. They run in families and your boots are perhaps, ah, not one of them, eh?" He smiled to soften the words and when I nodded in understanding his smile turned sad as I made my way out to the street. "If I were you I would avoid wearing them in town or at least cover them while walking around, hide them with simple cloths. You understand, eh?"
I nodded again and quickly walked out the door, ducked in behind the building and shrugged off my backpack. I rummaged through it and found my old foot wraps. I looked from them to my new boots and felt a bit sad. My first real pair of boots and now I had to hide them. It only took a moment to tie my boots up in my old wraps. I stood and tested them and they felt strange. I thought about perhaps taking the boots off altogether but I had grown used to having my feet so snug and secure and opted instead to suffer the wraps while in town.
I emerged from behind the building and looked at the bustle of shopping activity. Cries from vendors filled the air with a sound I had come to be accustomed to. The smell from food stalls filled my mouth with spit and hunger. I love this town, I realised with a pang. I'm going to miss it more than I thought. Somehow I have changed from a lone hermit of the woods to a man who finds comfort in towns.
I reached out to the small flower box the leather worker's wife must've placed in front of the shop and I coaxed the flowers to brighten. They cheered me up and I pushed my way into the throng of people strolling by.
I spent the next couple of hours wandering around the open market, spreading my story of leaving for the south for an extended absence from the town to all the vendors I knew. Some took it very well and others expressed concern and urged me to return quickly. The honest concern of the town's people and their genuine feelings of good will toward me was a lovely feeling but it saddened me knowing I was being less than truthful.
Some gave me small tokens of thanks, such as pieces of leather, threads and two needles, cloth, and even a small pair of worn scissors that still worked. I tried to decline the scissors, but the owner insisted and she pressed them firmly into my hand.
I hadn't truly realised how well liked I was in town. In fact, everywhere I had walked this morning people were nodding toward me, smiling and wishing me a good day. I found this to be very strange behaviour; normally I was not noticed by anyone except the few who dealt with me regularly. I wondered, as I finished my shopping, if this was an aftereffect of having healed so many of them. I too felt a connection to these people that had not been there before.
After a time, I tired of spreading my falsehood to the town folk. I completed my purchases by buying a second water skin for the road and headed to the town well to fill it. I knew water would be crucial to survival on the roads. Despite the Reeve's assurances that there were many sources for water on my route, I felt better knowing I would never be without if I could do something about it.
As I arrived at the well, the local children clambered around me and even raised a bucket of water for me and accepted a pence for thanks. I filled the skin and secured it to my pack next to my other, smaller one. Despite all the additions of weight, my new pack seemed less heavy on my back than my old one. It was certainly larger than my old pack and I had a large amount of food packed in there; I still had my hard cheese and all the supplies Dempster had provided me plus the added luxury of such wonderful items as beans, lentils and flour. The pack would grow lighter over the days and maybe one day I would be missing the extra weight. The children noticed my pack and commented on it; they even reached out to touch the soft leather and oohed and ahhed over the feel.
I loitered at the well for a spell, hoping to see the Reeve one last time. I glanc
ed repeatedly over at the Reeve's office and the adjoining gaol but it was vacant and remained so. I could hear the garrison captain arguing with the quartermaster nearby at the barracks over some accounting discrepancy. I closed my eyes and listened to all the familiar sounds of the town that droned quietly in the background. It hit me then I would dearly miss the town of Jaipers. It had been my refuge and my tenuous link to civilisation over the past four years. And I had made good friends here. I glanced over at the common hall and felt a pang of grief at not being able to see the familiar figure of Daukyns sitting out front with his wine and stained robe. I could almost hear his ringing laugh in the air and my eyes stung with the threat of tears.
The corner of my eye caught Dempster coming out of the inn to stand in the doorway mopping his brow with a rag. The heat was already stifling, and the sun was only just a few hours over the horizon. Today would be a scorcher, I knew, and the road would be unforgiving. Dempster spied me, waved to me and I waved back and tried to smile. I would miss the large man and especially his food. I watched as he turned back inside and disappeared.
No matter. It was almost noon, and it was time to leave. I only wished that I could have said goodbye to the Reeve. I secured my pack, said farewell to the children and turned to the gate. This was it, I thought. The start of my life and my adventure. Who knew where the roads would take me? All I can do, I mused, is place one foot in front of the other and see where it all leads. Resigned and pulling my confidence up over my shoulders like a cloak, I started moving.
As I approached the south gate of Jaipers, two guards appeared from either side of the road and moved to stand between me and the gate. I recognised who they were: the new guards the quartermaster had been providing with gear just the other week. They stood staring at me in their new garrison leathers with the recruit look that came from white, un–tanned skin around their necks and on their skulls from freshly shorn heads. By the sallow cast of their skin, I knew they had likely also been one of the sick I had cured in town recently and they had lost weight. Thinking of the sickness, I remembered then they had noticed me when I paused for a drink at the well. And now they were showing more than a casual interest in me. No one was ever stopped leaving the town without reason. As I drew closer to them, a strange feeling overcame me and I slowed my approach to clear my head. Part of me was filled with the urge to run and I tried to hasten my way as I made to pass around them.
Leaf and Branch (New Druids Series Vol 1 & 2) Page 16