They parted ways, turning around twice to wave at each other. When Finn disappeared out of sight, Tristan raced away, running like the wind, all the way home. He managed to avoid Sissy’s wrath who, for some reason, was a bit more lenient than usual and after wolfing down a meat pie with a cider, he was at his post by the front door.
Later that night, when all had quieted down and Tristan got ready for bed, he asked Sissy the question that had been bothering him. ‘Are we like skimming stones?’
‘What do you mean?’ Sissy could not hide her surprise at the strange question. When Tristan explained to her what game they had played and what Finn had told him, Sissy smiled down at him. ‘Yes, my darling, I think so.’
‘Why?’
Sissy leaned over, tucked him in and planted a kiss on his forehead. ‘That, my dear, I will let you figure out for yourself.’ She blew out the candle and left the room.
Tristan wrecked his brain, trying to figure it out, but the day’s activities had tired him out, and he soon gave up. Happiness had been with him all through the evening for Sissy had agreed to let him help out the Sullivans, and with a smile on his face, he was soon off to the region of reverie, exploring once more, this time with his new friend by his side.
Chapter 4
Though Finn visited him at the brothel from time to time, it was Tristan who relished every chance to leave La Boutique, and since Sissy was happy for him to lend a helping hand to the newcomers, that was almost every single day. Eoghan Sullivan was thankful for that extra hand, and the Irishman quickly realised what a hard worker he had in Tristan. The boy did not shy away from any task, big or small, and he was quick of mind too.
Tristan and Finn spent the better part of their time gutting fish, most of which Eoghan would hang in his smokehouse out the back of the shop. Some days they accompanied him across the bridge to buy from the wholesale fish merchants at Billingsgate Wharf. It was here that Eoghan first noted Tristan’s knack for trading. He was caught off-guard when young Tristan suddenly started haggling on his behalf, peppering new merchants and old hands alike, from questioning the freshness of their produce to hinting that a better deal could be had only three stalls away. Initially, the lad’s attempted bargaining was met with a bombardment of obscenities from the sellers, themselves experts at abuse and ridicule, but it seemed to bother the young boy none whatsoever as Tristan usually got what he wanted. He gained the Irishman’s undeniable trust, and it was not uncommon for the two boys to visit the wharf by themselves if Eoghan had to attend to urgent business at the shop.
The Smoking Cod started to draw more customers every day partly due to Mrs Sullivan’s lovely pies and pottage that she sold at the shop and it was not much later in that same year when, upon enquiry from a few people and inns, that the two boys also started a delivery service. Towards the end of each day, they would pack a small hand-drawn cart with fish and pies, and start their daily delivery run.
Between cleaning fish and pulling the cart around town, they spent any spare time on the river with Eoghan’s rowboat. At high tide they set nets to catch mackerel and mullet, all of which ended up getting salted, then dried or smoked. Late afternoon they would set traps for silver eels feeding on fishy entrails from the shop, which flowed steadily into the river almost all day long. The slippery eels were collected early in the morning, cleaned and taken to Mrs Sullivan, who turned them into the most delicious eel pies, a favourite among many customers.
But it was not just the fish that kept Tristan and Finn occupied. In the meadows and forests southwest of Southwark, the boys also snared rabbits and red squirrels, trapped pigeons, or if they were lucky, pheasants and partridges. While they waited for the traps to do their work, they foraged for wild herbs, the secret ingredients to Mrs Sullivan’s pies. Finn taught Tristan everything he knew about trapping, but above all, Finn taught him to have respect for the animals that they killed – how to kill quickly and efficiently, and not to let an animal suffer for long.
Tristan was astonished by Finn’s love for the wild. Even as they skinned the animals, Finn would talk with pride about his hunting trips with his father in forests around Waterford, how they never wasted any part of an animal. Finn said that the animals were there to feed them and not showing the proper respect could lead to empty traps and hunger, perpetrated by someone called God.
‘Da says God has a way of emptying one’s traps if one doesn’t show the right respect to the animals he’s created,’ said Finn.
‘Who is this God?’ asked Tristan, his mind always eager to learn more.
‘I dunno. Da says he makes everything and everyone.’
‘Is that so? Even you and I?’
‘Aye. That’s what da says and what he believes anyway.’
‘And you? Do you believe in God?’
‘I believe da.’
‘Mmm.’ Even though he had many more questions, Finn’s explanation was good enough for Tristan.
All the meat from the hares, squirrels and birds they caught, supplemented by additional game and offal that Eoghan acquired from a nameless source, were turned into steamed puddings, and Thursdays at The Smoking Cod quickly became known as “pudding day”, where crowds of customers, even from across the bridge, lined up to get their hands on the tasty meals.
The rabbit and bird feet were sold to an apothecary from across the river. The scary old man used the bird feet to make the “most marvellous rejuvenation elixir”, and the rabbit feet were paired with a bundle of sage leaves to produce the “most powerful lucky charm in London”. All animal furs, skins and feathers were sent to an acquaintance of Eoghan at the skin market on Maid Lane, and in return, the man arranged for The Smoking Cod pies and pottages to be sold at his brother’s tavern on Borough High Street. It was just like Finn had told him. Nothing went to waste.
While the trapping of game equated to poaching, an offence in the eyes of most aristocratic landowners, Eoghan’s operation made it impossible to track down the origin of the meat. It was the boys who needed to take care during their excursions, and he constantly reminded them to watch each other’s backs, but he was not a worried man. He could see a special bond develop between the two and knew the unfolding friendship he was witnessing was of the everlasting kind.
They usually spent their days when they had little or nothing to do at La Boutique. Behind the shed, they worked on ways to make better traps or sometimes they would set up targets on which they could practise their slings.
There was time for mischief too, like when they played tricks on the ladies, leaving a dead bug or small creature in a neatly made bed, waiting with nervous anticipation for the abrupt screech and stampede of feet as lady and customer hastily fled the grisly scene. Or if they felt brave enough, Miles and Giles would be on the receiving end too, like the time they crumbled dried sheep droppings into Miles’s tobacco and watched with bated breaths as he called on Giles to also try the rancid leaves, which both brothers soon referred to as “foul” and “off”. With disgust on their faces and nauseous coughs, they continued to puff large plumes of smoke as if they needed to test each lungful, much to the delight of the two young onlookers.
It was a time when Tristan and Finn could discuss important things, like the perfect shape for the best skimming stone, who was the better shot and why boys looked different from girls. The perfect skimming stone was tested on water and to determine the best shot, a target and five round stones were all they required. But as for the question about boys and girls…for that they required a stealthier approach.
They were whispering, waiting patiently in the dark pantry while all the kitchen staff were on other duties. Tristan had shown him the secret place where one could sneak a peek and settle the dispute once and for all.
‘I tell you now. It is not like that.’ Tristan was sure of himself. In fact, he was dead sure for he knew what he had observed.
‘Well, I’ve seen ma bathe me sisters and tell you now…there’s nothing to see!’
‘Shhh. You’re going to get us caught and believe me, you would not be able to sit for days if that happens.’
The bathroom door suddenly opened and silenced them both. They quickly leaned forward and peeked through the tiny crevices in the wooden wall to get a better look. It was Lucy, who had just seen off a regular customer of hers.
Both boys barely breathed as the woman disrobed, disappointingly with her back to them, and they had to twist their necks for a better view when she offered them a sideways glance before sliding into the cool water. The two boys watched on with fascination as the woman washed herself, soaping up her big bubbies, but it was when she stood up to dry herself with a white linen towel that they both giggled out loud, wondering what had happened to her dangling bits for in its place was just a mass of auburn hair.
‘Tristan Conway, is that you? And is that young Sullivan with you? What are you two naughty boys up to?’ she shouted, pretending to be angry, and when she heard the scurrying of small feet followed by a kerfuffle as one stumbled over a crate banging his head against the door frame, she had to bite her tongue so as not to burst out laughing.
They were still running down the street, worried that someone had given chase, when Tristan yelled, ‘I told you!’
‘Aye, but I was right too. She had no pintle.’ Finn was still rubbing the throbbing bruise on his forehead.
‘Then we’re both right. It wasn’t as if she had nothing. There was hair, and lots of it…red, and as thick and curly as that on your head.’
‘Are you saying I have the hair from a woman’s cunny on my head?’
‘Aye! Sure looks like it.’
Finn shoved him hard, so hard that Tristan almost lost his footing and he returned the favour a few strides later. Both of them twittered out loud, excited about their most recent learning, and ran even faster so that it almost became a race down to the river. Once there, they could find a secluded spot to discuss their newfound knowledge more thoroughly and hope that Lucy had not mentioned anything to Sissy. Later that afternoon when Tristan returned to La Boutique, all was still well, and when a normal breakfast ensued the next morning, he finally felt proper relief.
It was a few weeks later when they were on their way to snare game in a secluded forest west of Southwark when Tristan first raised the idea. On a flood tide, they took the rowboat up the Thames until they got to an enclosed park that held a fair amount of game. They beached the boat and pulled it into the short brush close to the river’s edge, just out of sight.
After they had retrieved their carefully concealed snares from underneath the fishing net and old canvas, Finn scaled the six-feet-high rocky wall on the northern side and sat on the top while Tristan threw him all of their gear. Once everything had made its way to the other side, the boys did a quick inspection of the grounds, looking for anyone or anything that might spoil their day. They were alone, and after the traps had been set, they started killing time by foraging mushrooms and herbs for Mrs Sullivan, and fallen pinecones, searching out the tasty morsels inside where the forest creatures had not already gotten to them.
‘’Tis a good idea, Finn,’ said Tristan again, and flicked another pine nut into his mouth. ‘Lucy told me about a clan of strong warriors in a country far away who does it. The Hungari-, the Hungry-, the Hungry Ones. That’s it!’
‘The Hungry Ones? What sort of clan is that? And how does it work, anyway?’ Finn liked his best friend very much, but he was a bit sceptical about Tristan’s proposal.
Right then, Tristan shared with him all that he knew about blood oaths. ‘They say it makes brothers of strangers when the blood mixes. And you don’t have a brother, and neither have I, so we should do it.’
Finn still was not sure, but it sounded exciting, having a real brother.
Tristan saw the hesitation on his friend’s face and grabbed the hunting knife. ‘I’ll go first.’ He bit on his teeth and dragged the blade across the palm of his hand. Nothing happened at first. Then he felt the blade bite into his skin followed by a sharp burning pain that shot up his arm.
He pulled the knife away, and the two boys looked at the small cut as blood started to well up. Tristan handed the knife over. Finn still had reservations, but he could not let his friend suffer by himself. He repeated the process, and a sharp intake of breath signalled that blood had been drawn.
‘Now what?’ He looked at Tristan.
‘Take my hand.’ Tristan stood up and held out his hand which Finn took, both making sure that the two wounds lined up roughly.
They did not truly understand the significance of the oath, but they did not care, for they stood there as brothers and savoured the moment. For a long while they just stayed still, gripping each other’s hands, their hearts beating in their chests, waiting for something unexpected to happen.
Eventually, it was Tristan who broke the silence and the grip. ‘We’re brothers now. Forever.’ He sat down on a fallen tree trunk and looked across to Finn, showing him his hand. ‘See? Our blood has mixed. You have mine, and I have yours.’
‘It should be our secret. I won’t tell anyone,’ said Finn while looking at the crimson mess on his hand. A darker crust had already begun to form around the edges. The grin on his face mimicked that of his friend’s as they shared the eerie yet exciting, and most certainly, unforgettable moment.
‘Me too,’ Tristan replied. We’re brothers now. A void had been filled, and an inexplicable feeling of contentedness came over him. He went into the forest with a friend and would walk out with a brother, and he was proud because not many people could say that.
Later in the afternoon, they loaded the boat with the animals and plants they had gathered, and started the journey back home, in silence, each absorbed in his own thoughts. The idea of having a brother was new and foreign, yet it sat comfortably with them both.
That night when Sissy treated his wound, he told her that he had cut himself with a knife. She did not ask how and just told him to be more careful next time. He was glad that he did not have to lie to her.
As people started flocking to Eoghan Sullivan’s shop on Pepper Ally Street, albeit from word of mouth or the delicious smell of smoking fish billowing from the smokehouse all day and night, the business grew beyond the Irishman’s wildest dreams, and with more customers came more deliveries. Eoghan compensated the two boys well for their hard work, and between the fishmonger and his doorkeeper duties at La Boutique, Tristan’s coin pouch, still safely tucked away under the floorboards of his room, grew fatter by the week.
With deliveries taking place on both sides of the bridge now and more frequently than in the past, Tristan and Finn soon concluded that they needed extra help. They earned enough to afford it, and they found that help in the form of Timothy O’Reilly and an older boy named Ralf Webb. Timothy was the son of a local blacksmith while Ralf was the son of a husbandman who, after two years of failing crops, had sent his family into the city to find work while he had stayed behind on the farm to salvage what he could.
To ensure the two newcomers upheld their high standards and understood the importance of their job, Tristan and Finn officially formed the Hungry Ones gang. Ralf and Timmy soon had cuts on their right hands as they too were sworn to secrecy, promising they would never steal and always be true to their other brothers. In return for their help, Tristan and Finn shared a percentage of their earnings with the other two, and the pact between the four boys grew strong very quickly.
The delivery boys became known as a trustworthy bunch, and before long, they had another employer – Mr Furse, the butcher on the corner of Foul Lane and Green Dragon Court. They did a splendid job for him too, and for their service, Mr Furse rewarded them well, mostly with coin but sometimes with meat, and neither the boys nor their families complained whenever the latter happened.
After Mr Furse came Mr Aldsworth, a wealthy banker who also happened to own two bakeries. One was situated in central London, close to the bread market, and catered for London’s upper class. The s
econd one was on Red Lyon Street in Southwark, and from there he supplied many of the inns and markets around Borough High Street. When the businessman learned from the butcher about the delivery service that the Hungry Ones offered, he too acquired their help to spread his baked goods all over London, and when the moneyed man started spreading the word, the gang soon had more work than they could handle.
It was not just deliveries. Before long, some customers started placing orders, which Tristan and Finn had to coordinate with suppliers to have the goods ready for delivery on certain days. Their business was flourishing, and it prompted Tristan and Finn to purchase more carts and hire more help, and soon the two boys had a delivery network that spanned across all of Southwark and some parts beyond London Bridge. They employed eight other boys, who also worked in pairs, and they all had one thing in common – a cut across the right palm.
By the time he was nearing his ninth birthday, Tristan was a well-educated boy who had learned most of his important lessons from the school of life. He was wise beyond his years and was regarded by many as a young man, not a boy. He had experienced, witnessed and heard things most children of his age would not even dare to dream about, not even those growing up in the wealthiest parts of London. From the bawdy conversations and acts within the four walls of La Boutique to dealing with people from all walks of life as part of the delivery business, he had borne witness to much.
There was one lesson that stood out above all – the value of a coin. A coin, whether copper, silver or gold, could get you anything and everything. It could also get you killed, when you have it and when you do not have it. For Tristan, it was a game played with grown-ups in a grown-up world. He did not care much for the money but instead loved the challenge to outwit another. It was he who had dreamed up the delivery scheme to its full glory, and it was he who used his skills, gained at the market, to negotiate the best delivery rates with Mr Furse, Mr Aldsworth and all the others.
The Fire Within Page 5