The Fragile Fall At Tallow Bridge (The White Blood Chronicles Book 1)

by Mark G Heath

  Chapter Ten

  Thaindire rose early the following day, for despite his late night excursion to the alchemist’s, he had not slept well. He found trying to sleep on his back especially uncomfortable as a consequence of a sizeable lump at the base of his back. He had prodded it through the bandages and felt something hard beneath and attributed it to a layer of scabbed skin and the crust formed by the poultice creating a protective cover as the wound healed beneath. Whatever it was it made lying on his back impossible and he was forced onto his sides, unfortunately waking with discomfort every time he turned onto his back in his sleep. Notwithstanding the poor nature of his sleep, he found he was able to move with greater ease as the injury continued to heal with impressive speed. He left the Last One Inn noting that someone had pushed the section of timber raised last night, by the first tiny man, back into place. The wind eddied about him as he stepped out into the square, the air fresh and cool against his face. Across the square the various tradesmen were opening their stores.

  “ Good morning Master Thaindire.”

  Thaindire turned in the direction of the voice. A bald-headed man with a potbelly showing through his tunic walked towards him, from the direction of the seamstresses.

  “ Hello,” replied Thaindire.

  “ Hello, I'm Ailen Tumlinsen. I was told that I would find you at the tavern,” said the man.

  “ Yes, I am staying here,” said Thaindire.

  “ Are you enjoying it? It is an excellent tavern,” said Tumlinsen.

  “ I am well catered for, yes, thank you.”

  “ Good. I understand that you are a mapmaker.”

  “ That's right, I am.”

  “ Excellent, just what I have been looking for,” smiled Tumlinsen.

  “ I don’t have any maps for sale, if that is what you want,” began Thaindire.

  “ Oh, no, I don’t want to buy any maps. I want you to make one. You see, I have organised an expedition to head to the south into the depths of Centopani. There are six of us, with various skills and crafts, but we need someone to map what we find. It's very exciting. Nobody has travelled far to the south, it is uncharted territory. We stand to make a considerable amount of coin from the venture. I am financing the trek, but you will be well rewarded. Are you interested?”

  “ Ailen, Master Thaindire has no time to be wandering off into the forest, that is a fool's errand,” barked Benjamin Dromgoole who had appeared behind Thaindire.

  “ Ah, good morning Ben,” said Tumlinsen.

  “ You will never survive in the forest, it is idiocy,” said Dromgoole.

  “ Not so Ben, I have a fine band of explorers gathered, all competent with sword and arrow, as I am sure Master Thaindire is too,” said Tumlinsen.

  “Ailen, bugger off, Master Thaindire must stay at the village.”

  “ But,” began Tumlinsen.

  “ Enough. He has to stay in Aftlain,” repeated the landlord. Tumlinsen threw Dromgoole a sulky look and then walked away across the square towards the stores.

  “ He's got the coin but no sense that man. Ignore his wild schemes, Master Thaindire, the forest is a dangerous place and best left well alone,” said the landlord patting Thaindire on the shoulder.

  “ I have no wish to enter the forest,” said Thaindire.

  “ Good, that’s what we like to hear. Well I shall let you be on your way,” said Dromgoole and he walked back into the tavern.

  Thaindire turned right and cut across the northeast of the square, passing several houses and that of Captain Reznik which maintained a prominent view over both the square and the road to the bridge. He passed a couple of villagers clutching loaves as they returned from the bakery and they nodded a greeting to him. His stride lengthened, his cloak trailing behind him and soon he arrived at the track, which he had discovered the previous day when he had wandered up to Tallow Bridge. Thaindire stood at the top of the track looking down it. It was devoid of people, a handful of buildings lining either side before once more the ever-present forest embraced the thoroughfare. He followed the earthen narrow road, soon leaving behind the few houses whose inhabitants had seemingly not yet risen and he found himself walking between the trees once again as the forest flanked him. His route swirled with leaves carried by the wind as the track sloped downwards. He could see the ruts of wheel marks and footprints embedded into the ground. Thaindire paused and looked behind himself. The road stretched upwards and then curved around to the left, disappearing from sight cutting him off from the village. He resumed walking, following the bend in the road, the descent steeper than he had first envisaged until it began to level out and he could see a building up ahead as the track opened up into a clearing. The building, another property of a timber construction, looked solid, with a thatched roof. A couple of wagons were parked besides the house, but no horses were apparent. He walked across the clearing towards the front door and then saw the river beyond. It was wider than the stretch he had seen from the bridge. Ignoring the house for a moment, Thaindire made for the water’s edge. Unlike the gorge that he had seen by the bridge, he now stood with his feet level with the river’s edge. The torrent flowed past and Thaindire could see a massed wall of trees on the opposite bank. Some branches leant over and dipped into the water and Thaindire pondered whether the river could be swum across or whether it held hidden currents, which would drag a swimmer to a drowned death. A clanking sound caught his attention and he noticed that attached to the waterside of the house was a wheel, which was slowly turning, water spilling from it. In front of the wheel were a man and a woman who were busily engaged with long poles, which they held out over the river. A billhook was on the end of each pole and Thaindire watched as the poles dipped and bobbed in the water. Two barrels were placed besides the couple as they worked and he heard the man make a triumphant noise and then shift his grip on the pole so he began to haul at it. The wooden shaft slid through his hands and he pulled the end closer to him, the woman using her pole to maintain a grip on whatever it was they sought to bring to shore. The man advanced a few steps into the water splashing forward until he reached down and grunting plucked another barrel from the river. He turned and clenching the barrel between his arms walked awkwardly back to the riverbank. It was at this point he noticed Thaindire stood watching and he muttered something to the woman. She looked over and stood the pole upwards causing it to sway a little in the wind, such was its length.

  “ Good morning,” greeted the man as he walked over to Thaindire, drying his hands on the front of his tunic “ Can I help you?”

  “ Just out walking,” answered Thaindire “ and wondered what was down the track.” He added, waving an arm behind him.

  “ Just us. The track you refer to is called River’s Descent. I am Hugh Maunsell, the miller and this is my good lady wife, Adelena,”

  “ Hello,” smiled Adelena.

  “ I’m Samael Thaindire,” he returned and the miller gave a nod as if he already knew.

  “ The mapmaker, from Lancester,” commented Adelena. “ You’ve come a long way to Aftlain,” she remarked and Thaindire gave a confirmatory nod.

  “ Yes it is quite a journey. At times, when I was travelling, I wondered if the village existed at all,” confessed Thaindire.

  “ What’s in the barrels?” He asked pointing at the one nearest the miller.

  “ Oh various elixirs of Ilberd Grimoult’s. They need to be kept cold so we pack them in barrels, which are weighted to the bed of the river on a length of rope. Ilberd needs them now. I only hope they haven’t been smashed as we brought them ashore,” explained Maunsell.

  “ I see. What type of elixirs?” queried Thaindire, recalling the array of bottled liquids he had seen inside the alchemist’s home.

  “ Buggered if I know. I just store them. How fare’s your back?”

  “ Oh it continues to improve thank you.”

  “ Good, good, I heard you suffered a nasty bite out on the Widow’s Way. Sounds like you nearly added to its na
me.”

  “ Not quite. I am neither married nor dead,” said Thaindire.

  “ Hear that Adelena, Master Thaindire has no wife. No wonder young Kathryn is taking such care of him,” the miller laughed.

  “ Doubt he will stay like that for long here then,” replied the miller’s wife.

  “ Aye, that’s true enough. Plenty of young ladies here seeking a man of station such as yourself,” added Maunsell.

  “ Kathryn will soon have Father Campion visiting you to arrange your nuptials,” commented Adelena in a tone, which was rather too matter of fact for Thaindire’s liking.

  “ Oh there will be some competition I should imagine,” said Maunsell patting Thaindire on his arm.

  “ I am afraid I haven’t come to Aftlain to take a wife.”

  “ Well, you might say that now Master Thaindire, but Aftlain will work its charm on you or rather its charms will work their way on you,” smiled Maunsell.

  “ Charms?” asked Thaindire. “ What do you mean? “

  “ Yes, it is a pretty village with pretty villagers, you wouldn’t be the first visitor who came here and found a wife.”

  Thaindire could see that the miller’s wife kept glancing anxiously out across the river as her husband and Thaindire spoke as if she was expecting something to appear. He followed her gaze but could see nothing but the swell of the river as it flowed along.

  “ Does the track end here?” asked Thaindire trying to see beyond the house and the wagons. He could, predictably see more trees, but no continuation of the roadway.

  “ Yes, it halts here at us. This is the only accessible spot to the river; the riverbanks are too steep elsewhere,” he explained. The miller took hold of the barrel before him and began to wheel it away. Thaindire looked again to the lady who had glimpsed out to the water. Thaindire copied her and momentarily saw a small head bob up in the middle of the river before dipping down into the water again.

  “ There’s someone in there!” exclaimed Thaindire.

  “ What?” answered the miller halting his movement of the barrel and standing up.

  “ Over there,” pointed Thaindire, “ I saw a face in the water but it disappeared.”

  Both the miller and the wife stared at the river as Thaindire made to the water’s edge.

  “ I can’t see anything,” said Maunsell.

  “ Quick, they must be drowning,” cried Thaindire releasing his cloak. The miller appeared besides him and grabbed his arm.

  “ You can’t go in, the river is deep and strong, no man can cross it,” he cautioned.

  “ But someone is in there,” insisted Thaindire.

  “ I doubt it, nobody from the village would be foolhardy to enter the river and if they had fallen in they would be dead already. It was probably a log; they get smashed up by the waterfall further upriver and can take on all shapes and forms.”

  Thaindire gazed at the water but there was no second showing of what he had seen. He had no desire to chance the cold, fast flowing water and reluctantly put his cloak about himself again. Adelena had walked away from the pair and moved around the side of the mill before she was out of sight.

  “ Just a log,” repeated Maunsell with a shrug.

  “ I guess you are right,” replied Thaindire. There had been neither shout nor the waving arms of someone drowning and perhaps he was mistaken.

  “ If you’ll excuse me Master Thaindire I need to get these barrels on the wagon for Ilberd, I can’t risk them getting too warm.”

  “ By all means, yes,” he replied and nodded. The miller returned to the barrel and began turning it on one side, making towards the wagon. Thaindire stood staring at the river, his eyes sweeping left and right in the hope of seeing the head again, but all he saw was the river. He looked to the mill house and watched the miller slowly rolling a barrel up a length of wood onto the back of one of the wagons, his wife still absent. He toyed with trying to examine the contents of the barrels but had observed that they were well sealed when he had been talking with Maunsell and decided that he would be better served by inspecting the elixirs, indeed the whole array of unusual items he had seen, at the alchemist’s at some juncture. For now, he was content to record that Maunsell and his wife provided storage and recovery of the elixir for Ilberd Grimoult. Pushing his hair away from his face, Thaindire turned and walked away from the mill house and made for the track, not eager to experience the steep ascent as it returned him to the village’s centre.

  Slightly out of breath and feeling a dull burn in his lower back, he reached the cobbles of the bridge bound road and made a right turn to head towards the bridge.

  “ Samael!” a voice cried out and he looked across to see Kathryn exiting the apothecary opposite. She trotted across the road, basket under arm, and a huge smile on her face. Thaindire halted as she drew level and patted him on the arm. Even with the wind he was able to easily discern the scent of pine that she wore. She lowered the hood on her cloak allowing the breeze to lift her dark hair.

  “ You are up and about early,” she remarked, showing no embarrassment from her naked encounter with him of the previous night.

  “ Yes I didn’t sleep well, couldn’t get comfortable,” he admitted.

  “ I would have helped with that, you should have come to my door,” she entreated.

  “ I managed.”

  “ Well, I have just collected the tincture from Alyssia,” she raised the basket, “ you are strong enough now for that, so that should help. I will change the dressings when I see you at the inn.”

  “ Oh I will be fine, I am getting stronger by the day,”

  “ Nonsense, you need the tincture otherwise your treatment won’t work properly,” she chided, “ where are you going?”

  “ The church, to see Priest Campion.”

  “ Very well. Fare well,” she smiled and kissed him on the cheek before jauntily walking away towards the square.

  He watched her for a few moments wondering if he had been too quick to judge her, for other than her foolish flirtations she had only sought to aid his recuperation and tend for him. He felt a slight pang of guilt but brushed it aside as he wheeled on his heel and walked onto the bridge. Thaindire passed the two knight statues, following the rise of the humpback of the stone bridge down the other side. On the far side of the bridge Thaindire saw a cart and a man was stood, chipping away at a piece of stone that sat on the back of the cart. With chisel and hammer, he skilfully cut the stone and then stopped as he saw Thaindire draw near.

  “ Ah, Master Thaindire, good day to you,” said the man waving at Thaindire to come over to him. The man was of a sturdy build, with short greying hair and large round eyes. He held out a hand in greeting and Thaindire took it, the stonemason's vast hand engulfing his.

  “ Off to church?” asked the stonemason.

  “ Yes.”

  “ I like the church. Very calming. You will see some of my work there, I repaired the outer wall. Aindrew Liden,” said the man by way of introduction, extending his hand again. Thaindire politely shook the large proffered hand.

  “ You've turned up just at the right time. I should have brought young Michael with me to help, but he is off with his brother James somewhere about the village. I thought I could manage on my own, but I need someone to hold this stone in place while I secure it,” he explained.

  “ Certainly,” said Thaindire.

  “ Good, thank you. Bear with me.”

  Liden moved to the wall of the bridge where there was gap. He plucked up a bucket and began dolloping large amounts of a yellow-white paste around the gap. Once this has been ladled, he picked up a trowel and deftly smoothed the substance.

  “ Strange kind of mortar,” commented Thaindire as he watched.

  “ Oh, it's not mortar, it's tallow, hence the name of the bridge,” Liden explained.

  Satisfied that sufficient tallow had been layered on the surrounding stones he put the bucket down and then placed his arms around the stone.

 
“ Can I help?” asked Thaindire.

  “ No need, I just need you to hold it. I will put it in place.”

  Liden grunted and lifted the stone, setting it down in the gap.

  “ Right Master Thaindire, if you could hold it there, press down hard, so it sticks and I will slap on the rest of the tallow.”

  Thaindire duly obliged and placed both his hands on the smooth stone as Liden applied more of the tallow sealing it in place.

  “ All done,” smiled the stonemason.

  “I can let go?” said Thaindire. Liden nodded.

  “ I owe you a flagon of ale,” remarked the stonemason.

  “ Oh, that's quite alright,” said Thaindire.

  Liden examined his work and satisfied, placed the bucket on the cart and bid farewell to Thaindire, trundling the cart back towards the main body of the village.