He was spared the necessity of choosing between circumventing Mrs. Slade’s rules and spurning the strangers by the arrival of Mr. Slade himself. He came through the door that gave onto the hall to the front room just as the old man finished speaking. The sight of the pair brought him to a stop just inside the dining hall.
“Woodsrangers,” he said.
The old man ignored the label. “I had just asked the lad whether it would be possible for my companion and I to have something to eat,” he said. “Are you the innkeeper?”
“I am,” Slade replied, “and the meal is long finished. You cannot expect to show up at any hour and be served as though you were lords of the manor.”
“There are leftovers, though. Some, anyway,” Hal put in. Why he intervened on behalf of someone who, a moment before, frightened him just by his appearance surprised him. The old man sounded gentle, however, and was being very polite. There had been little politeness that evening.
Slade growled at Hal. “Aye, there are leftovers and cheese. The boy can fetch you each a portion, but the price will be the same as for a regular meal.”
“Under the circumstances, it is a good deal,” the man said, plucking a small purse from his jacket. He counted coins into Slade’s palm to the latter’s satisfaction, then took a seat at the table next to Hal.
Slade waved Hal to come to him. When he did, the innkeeper threw an arm around Hal’s shoulders and drew him close to whisper. “Feeding them will likely turn out for the best,” he said as though it had been his idea. He hefted the coins in his palm briefly. “Bring them some of the bread and stew from the kitchen. Not too much, mind you, just enough to pass as a portion. Bring yourself another mug of beer and some cheese, too. I want you to keep them company until they finish. Just to make sure they leave as they came in, if you take my meaning.”
Hal needed no more specific instruction. Jack Slade was happy to take the full price of a meal for two ladles from the leftover crock, but he was not about to leave two woodsrangers alone in his inn. It would be for Hal to see that they went nowhere else and absconded with nothing. Hal wondered, as he pushed through the kitchen door, precisely what he was to do in the face of their swords should the woodsrangers have other ideas. It was the same situation Slade had given him with the soldiers before dinner. The cheese and extra mug of beer were inadequate compensation.
The food and expensive breakables having been put away, Mrs. Slade had left Mary alone in the kitchen to finish cleaning up. Hal felt some relief when he saw that. Regardless that the instructions had come from Old Jack, he had no stomach for trying to convince the tightfisted Mrs. Slade that he was not angling for a second supper. Of course, Mary by herself was a problem of a different kind.
“Hal, that was so brave of you in there tonight.” For the first time in weeks there was no rancor in her voice.
“Huh?”
She was smiling at him. “I heard how you stood up to Tewes. Mr. Slade told all of us to stay in here when it looked there was going to be trouble, but I heard.”
“Look, Mary, I don’t think I did all that much. Not really. And now, I just need to get a couple of small dinners for late guests.” He explained Slade’s instructions quickly.
“Just like a man to say he did nothing. I didn’t see Old Jack in there. Listen, why don’t we take these dinners out to the barn? Those latecomers can just go on their way, can’t they? Mrs. Slade’s gone to her room for the night. The last few weeks didn’t need to happen, did they?” She smiled now, the same way she had done when she first had flirted with Hal.
Oh, God, Hal thought. Not now. Not on top of this evening. He almost would rather have had her throw the stew at him. He stuck to his story despite her protestations and after a while had a tray with the food and drink. Of course, her hand lingered on his when he went to pick up the tray, much as she had done weeks ago. Hal managed a smile in return and wondered, as he left the kitchen, what Mary had in mind now and what he would be able to do about it.
Old Jack had waited for him in the dining hall, making Hal doubly glad he had not been tempted to head for the barn. Once Slade saw Hal arrive, though, he left without a word for the comfort of his chair by the fire upstairs. Hal placed a bowl of the stew and some bread in front of the man at the table and another setting just to the man’s left. Then Hal sat himself down directly across from the man, who was waving the woman over to the table from the entryway, where she had stood silently up to that point.
“Fons ten Eyck,” the man said, extending his hand.
“Hal Christianson.” He took the proffered hand and found himself in a grip like warm stone. Years of fencing had given Hal a grip he was proud of and the hard work at the inn had strengthened it further, but Fons ten Eyck could have crushed his hand had he wanted to.
When they released, Hal looked up at the approaching woman. She was a bit less than five-and-a-half feet tall, slender at the waist and through the hips but broader at the shoulders than he would have expected. Then she came into the light of dying fire and dim lamps. When Hal saw her face, he gasped. The right side of her face was like a patchwork quilt, with scars for seams. One wide scar ran from her ear to the upper lip under her nose. Someone had, inexpertly, tried to sew that wound together long ago but the upper and lower parts of the cheek did not seem to line up properly. The scar showed light pink, lumpy and ridged cord against tanned skin, with pink circles above and below showing where primitive sutures had gone. Another lumpy scar ran from the corner of her mouth down below the jaw line. It had tightened over time, dragging that side of her mouth into a permanent scowl. A wide white scar split her forehead vertically, its point of origin somewhere above the hairline. It ran through her right eyebrow and nicked the lid, but some quirk of Providence had caused whatever made it to miss the eye itself, and it finished in the cheek just above the first scar.
Hal knew he was staring at the ruined face, but he couldn’t move his eyes anywhere else.
“My companion, Bel,” ten Eyck said as an introduction, as if no one had noticed Hal’s stare.
She settled on the bench next to ten Eyck and reached across the table to shake hands with Hal. Her hand, although smaller than ten Eyck’s, was every bit as hard and calloused. Drying scabs over the first two knuckles testified to a recent, violent impact. Dark-brown hair had been hacked off in a ragged bob that fell across her cheeks when she leaned forward. She turned to ten Eyck and said something in a voice too low for Hal to hear. As she did, she turned the left side to him. It could have been a pretty face: smooth tanned skin, a pointed nose, firm chin. It was also a young face. She looked no older than Hal. Hal’s first thought when ten Eyck had introduced her as his companion was that she was his wife, a common-law wife perhaps. Now, he did not even think she was his daughter. Grand-daughter perhaps.
She turned back from ten Eyck and set the scarred side of her face toward Hal. She kept it that way, even as she ate.
“Are you the ’prentice here?” ten Eyck asked.
“No.” Hal’s reply was a little sharper than he intended as he tore his eyes away from Bel.
“Ah.” Ten Eyck paused for two spoonfuls of stew. “When we saw you sitting here, we thought there would be a good chance of having a meal. If you do not work here, though, we really owe you our thanks for your trouble.”
“Oh, but I do work here. It’s just that I’m not an apprentice.”
Fons ten Eyck frowned. “What do you do then? You do not strike me as a common servant.”
“I’m a hire-at-will.” Hal had become comfortable enough with the term for it to come out smoothly. “I do whatever Mr. Slade wants. When I reached here from the Delaware, I had no money and he needed help, so it was a good deal. I’ll be here until I can put enough money together to go to Nieuw Amsterdam. I have some business there I need to attend to.” It was all true enough, and Hal could say it without his expression betraying himself, and without inventing lies that might trip him up.
“Nieuw Amsterda
m is your destination, then?” ten Eyck asked. Hal nodded, grateful that they were not interested in what he had been doing across the Delaware.
“And if you are a hire-at-will, is your sword for hire as well?” asked the girl named Bel.
Her voice was low, but it was harsher than ten Eyck’s. It surprised Hal—frightened him a little, in fact. All of a sudden, she seemed the more dangerous of the pair.
He tried to cover it with a flip answer. “Well, I’m for hire, I’ve said that. I don’t have a sword, though, so it can’t be that.”
Her brown eyes bored, unblinking, into his, face still turned so he saw only the right side. There was not a trace of relaxation in her face.
“I think, Bel, that any sword-for-hire here would be with the merchants who just came in.” Ten Eyck’s words released the sudden tension in the room. “They are headed for Nieuw Amsterdam, are they not?”
“Who, Gustavus?” Hal asked. “Yes, he is headed for Nieuw Amsterdam, but even if I had a weapon, I doubt he’d be hiring me.”
“Why is that?” ten Eyck asked.
“Hell,” Hal laughed. “He’s got thirty men-at-arms guarding those wagons and they’ve got muskets and pistols, not just swords.”
“We had not looked,” Bel said. “I doubt they would appreciate having two woodsrangers take too close an interest.”
“Too true,” said ten Eyck. “It makes me wonder, though, why he has so many men. I know these lands. Even a small number of guards is enough to make robbers look for easier pickings.”
“Well, he has his daughter with him,” Hal said. Ten Eyck smiled, although Bel did not. “Also, he’s got seven wagons, fully loaded, judging by the number of horses pulling them. Maybe that’s enough to be extra cautious.”
Ten Eyck shrugged. “Caution is one thing, but I would be surprised if he makes enough on the goods to justify that many men and horses. Unless there is something special he is carrying.” When Hal only shrugged, ten Eyck went on, “Well, that is his concern, not ours!”
Hal immediately began to regret his words. The two of them were woodsrangers and, while Tom Pyke had been kind and helpful, decency was not the woodsrangers’ general reputation. The scarred girl was scary, at the least. Should he have spoken about Gustavus at all? About his daughter? Should he have told them the number of guards? With that many guards, would it matter? Damn the beer!
“I think, Bel,” said ten Eyck, “that our young Hal is concerned at having told us about the wagons.” Hal flushed deep red and hoped it was not obvious in the dim light. Had ten Eyck somehow read his mind? Bel’s gaze flicked over to ten Eyck, then returned to focus on Hal. She said nothing.
“I never said that,” Hal protested.
“You did not have to,” ten Eyck said. “It is only logical for you to think it. I’ve been a woodsranger for enough years to realize what most people think of such. No offense is taken. It is not necessary, however, for you to worry about Meneer Gustavus’ wagons. Or his daughter.”
Hal felt his cheeks burn again. He needed to talk about something else. “So, what are you doing here?” he said, then realized how that sounded. “No, wait, I didn’t mean it the way it sounds. I’m just curious about what you do. I’m sorry about how I said it.” Hal began to think he should have another beer.
Ten Eyck laughed, although Bel did not. “It would be a fair question, regardless,” he said. “After all, we are the strangers. I’m a trapper, primarily. Beaver is my specialty. It is late in the season to be bringing in pelts, but we had some difficulties this fall. Right now, we are just looking to make enough to see us through the winter.”
“Well, I hope you sell them for what you want.” Hal paused while they spooned up stew. Then, he asked, “Bel, are you a trapper also?”
She nodded quickly but said nothing.
Ten Eyck put down the piece of bread he had been eating. “Bel is not very talkative, I’m afraid. I should have said that we are trappers, although Bel is probably a better hunter. I’ve also been told that I more than make up for her silence.” He proved that true as he began to tell Hal how one went about trapping beaver.
Hal could have been quite comfortable chatting with Fons ten Eyck, or at least listening to him, but the scarred girl with a stare that never left his face kept him on edge. The meal was finished soon enough anyway. Ten Eyck mopped his soup bowl with the last bit of bread, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
“Thank you again, Hal,” he said. “The stew was very good.” He gathered his cloak around him and walked out into the cold. Bel followed him, still saying nothing.
No sooner had the hoofbeats of the woodsrangers’ horses faded off down the street than Slade was back in the dining hall. Hal quickly finished off the last of his cheese.
“They’re gone?” Slade asked. “Both of them?”
“Yes.”
“Good. No trouble?”
“None. They ate and we talked, or one of them did. Then they left.” Hal shrugged. In retrospect, the woodsrangers did not seem threatening. Even Bel seemed more odd than dangerous, now that she was out of the room. “They weren’t looking for any trouble.”
“Just because they paid for a meal and left without trouble doesn’t mean they won’t cause trouble later,” Slade said roughly. “I don’t trust woodsrangers, not unless I’ve dealt with them before, and even then I’m careful. The one who did the talking, what was the name he gave you?”
“Fons ten Eyck.”
“Fons ten Eyck,” Slade repeated. “And he’s traveling with that girl, the one with half a face?”
“Half a face?”
“The scarface, boy, what did you think I meant? They were together?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.” Slade rubbed at his temples as if he was trying to coax some memory out of hiding. “I thought I’d heard something. Maybe, maybe not. It really doesn’t matter. That one has a bad feel about him. I’m sure farther east, he wouldn’t dare show his face in town, nor she what’s left of hers, and they wouldn’t be here if we had more than the miserable excuse for law the Provis have left us. What did he say he was doing here?”
“They said they were just in town for a few days to trade. Beaver pelts.”
“Trade, he said?” Slade hissed the words. His eyes narrowed and he gripped Hal’s bicep so tightly Hal was sure there would be a bruise. “Let me tell you what we’re going to do tomorrow. You go down to the town center as soon as everyone’s opened and you see what they’re trading. Buy something, if you like, and show it to me. Tell ’em it’s Jack Slade’s contribution to their swift journey. But if they’re not there trading, I want to know about it fast. Understood?”
“Of course, Mr. Slade.”
9
The Beaver Pelts
IN THE PRE-DAWN darkness, it was even colder than the day before the Swedes arrived. Hal put an extra coat on before he went out to get the logs, but the moment he stepped out the door, he turned, went back in, and added an extra wool cap under the one that he was already wearing. Even with the extra layers, he was chilled bringing in the firewood. So, when he had the fire going in the front room, he stood in front of it for several minutes flexing his fingers and rubbing his cheeks. Absorbed in this process, he did not hear steps behind him. When Slade clapped him on the shoulder, he jumped.
“Didn’t mean to startle you,” Slade said. “You remember what I said last night about those woodsrangers, about knowing what they’re up to, I mean?” Hal nodded. “Good. I’ve been thinking about them. It’s late in the year, there’s damn little traffic in town now, just local business. We’ve got a wealthy merchant and his wagons at the inn. Think. If there’s going to be thieving, it’s going to be here and that won’t be good for us.”
“You think they’re thieves?” Hal asked.
“I don’t know,” Slade said, “but I want to find out. Here.” He handed Hal a small purse.
Hal hefted it and heard coins jingle. He opened the drawstring and spilled the coins into
his hand. They totaled forty-five guilders.
“Do you know how to value beaver?”
“No.” Hal shook his head.
Slade raised an eyebrow. “I would have thought that living across the Delaware you would have learned, but no matter. That’s not important now. A decent pelt should bring twenty to twenty-five. A really good one could go as high as forty to forty-five. I want you to try to buy two pelts. I doubt they have any good enough to ask for more than twenty-five, but if that’s what they’re asking, pay it and just bring back one. This time I don’t care whether it’s a good bargain or not.”
Hal put the coins back into the purse, then tucked it away in the inner of his two coats. “It’s too early now,” he said. “No one is open but the baker and I can’t imagine any woodsranger would be looking to trade before all the shops are open.”
“I know that,” Slade replied. “I’ve just had it on my mind and wanted to be sure it was done. You go do this when the shops are open. And if you see that Tom Pyke, you ask him about them, too. He’s been around town again and he’s not a bad sort and you know him fairly well. Now, you’ve got work to do around here, don’t you?”
It was a rhetorical question.
The sun was barely up in the sky when Hal left for his walk to the town center. The sunlight made it easy to see where he was going, in contrast to his pre-dawn trips to the baker, but it did nothing to ease the bite of the cold. A brisk wind made it feel still colder and, worse, bit through even the two coats he wore. The two woolen caps did keep the wind off his head and ears, but they itched. At least the felt-lined boots kept his feet warm and dry.
The street was filled with trampled, now dirty, snow. Hal trudged down the center where the snow had been packed down, his eyes down to watch for horse droppings.
He stopped where the street met the square of the town green, now snow-covered as well. The square was almost deserted, probably a consequence of the bitter cold. Only one man was in sight, a shopkeeper sweeping snow from his entryway. It was simple to assume that the woodsrangers would have come to the town center to trade, but no one was out in the cold and he was loath to walk into each shop asking for them. Where would woodsrangers stay when they came to town? Hal had no idea. Pyke had never spent money to stay at the inn and had never told him where he slept. It had not seemed important at the time, but how could he buy something from people he couldn’t find?
Accidental Warrior: The Unlikely Tale of Bloody Hal Page 8