by Albion, Rex
“Going to be a miner, are you?” Bert asked. “Are you soft in the head lad? You’re not taking it up full time I hope?”
“No, strictly planning to be an amateur,” Vandal said.
“Bloody awful job! Worse than the army, I say,” Fred agreed. “Places you Awoken go though, it don’t hurt to know how to dig up a valuable lump of ore. Tin on the other hand, is next to worthless so once you’ve got your eye in, you stick to the valuable stuff, lad.”
“What about you, Roxy?” Fred asked. “Are you planning to take up mining and regret it when your back aches the moment a storm cloud gathers?”
“I’m going to go and learn about gardening later,” Roxy said.
“Gardening, much more sensible way to spend some time,” Fred said. “You tell Flora at the guild that Fred sent you, and she’ll sort you out. She’s a bit sweet on me you see.”
“I’ll tell her you sent me then,” Roxy said.
“What! Flora’s my bloody wife, Fred,” Bert roared.
Fred laughed. “Yeah, that’s why Roxy needs to drop my name, to keep your Mrs in a good mood, mate.”
“Bah, sod you, you old bugger,” Bert said, waving him off dismissively.
“Well, bugger you, you miserable old sod,” Fred said, sticking his fingers up at his friend as he shuffled the cards and dealt another hand. Roxy and Vandal left them too it, as they happily bickered about their lives.
“You tell sweet Marjoram at the herbalists that Bert sent you, Roxy,” the old man called after her. “She always has time for me.”
“Bloody liar!” Fred shouted. “Marjoram is my wife, Roxy, and what she gives Bert here is thyme for his roast dinner, not time of day!”
Roxy turned around and shrugged. “I can’t tell who's spinning yarns or not! Have a lovely afternoon chaps, look after yourselves.”
“They were a couple of characters, weren’t they?” Vandal said, as they walked up the street.
“You didn’t hear the half of it. I got a few bits of information among all the exaggeration and nonsense though. Some of it might even be useful,” Roxy said.
“Well, I know tin mining now!” Vandal said.
“You didn’t think to learn kung fu?” said, Roxy, grinning. He smiled broadly. He loved that she’d got his reference.
“No, but I can find tin lodes, and know how to hit them with a pickaxe and extract the ore. Nothing at all like real mining, but take my word for it, that’s a good thing.
“Amazing, all our problems are solved!” Roxy said, jumping up and down waving her arms in the air excitedly. “Huzzah for Vandal, miner of soft metals!”
“I think it’s probably less interesting than your sarcasm suggests,” Vandal said.
“Do you want to go and learn how to chop down a tree next?”
“Why don’t we go and do yours next, they’re right next to each other anyway?”
“You just want to find out if Marjoram and Flora are real,” Roxy said.
“They can’t be, can they? Flora the gardener, and Marjoram the herbalist?”
“I don’t know,” Roxy shrugged. “Seriously, they told so many porkies.”
“Porkies? I don’t know that one.”
“Porky pies, lies.”
“Obviously,” Vandal rolled his eyes melodramatically.
“Let’s do the forester first though, and get it out of the way.”
That turned out to be a bit quicker, but only because they couldn’t actually get the training done at the guild itself. Roxy decided to join the guild too, reasoning they could gather the wood they needed faster if she helped anyway, and they needed more wood right now than other resources she could gather.
They paid their guild fee, bought two woodsman’s axes and two hatchets, and bought a simple pamphlet, which gave them very basic information on felling a tree. The guild officer said that they could practice on small trees anywhere in the forest, but recommended against it.
Instead, he said, they should travel to the guild’s nearest camp and pay a small fee to be shown by an experienced woodcutter, unless they fancied learning what happened when you dropped a tree the wrong way. It wasn’t hard for them to agree that it seemed like a fee worth paying.
New Skill: Woodcutting. You have been given a new skill because you joined a guild.
New Map Entry: New Forest Woodcutter’s Camp. 50 XP
Vandal was amused that he’d get to try the lumber business after spending his entire life trying to avoid getting permanently caught up in it.
If his family could see him now.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The thatched building of the gardeners was their next stop, and they did indeed find a woman of late middle age called Flora sitting on a bench, eating a sandwich. Her trousers had mud on the knees, and she wore a big straw hat to shield her from the sun, with a polka dot handkerchief tied around her neck to stop the back of her neck from catching it.
Flora swallowed a mouthful and stood up as they approached. “Good afternoon, what can I do for you?” she asked. “I won’t shake hands, I’m probably a bit dirty.”
“I wanted to join the guild and Fred at the miner’s guild said, I should introduce myself to you,” Roxy said. Vandal was slightly amazed that Flora even existed, but was anything else they’d said, true? He couldn’t wait for the response.
“Did he now? The cheeky old bugger,” Flora said. “As you can see, I’m just taking a quick snack, why don’t you have a seat while I finish up. I like to take my time, so I don’t choke. When I’m eating that is.” Vandal blinked. He wasn’t sure if he’d heard it correctly.
“Thank you, it’s a lovely day for some gardening,” Roxy said, sitting on one of the small wooden benches, placed around the lawn. Vandal cast his eyes about.
Flora pointed one out to him and swallowed her mouthful of sandwich to say something. Then looked a bit distressed and ended up slapping her chest hard to help her food down, which made her ample bosom wobble like jelly. She cursed colourfully, coughed a few times, and her face went red, but she didn’t actually choke. “Bugger. See what I mean? A lady needs to take her time swallowing, doesn’t she, Roxy?”
“It’s best not to rush it, I find,” Roxy agreed.
Flora gave a dirty laugh and pointed again, “What I was trying to say, Vandal, was try that bench over there. It’s built for two so your mighty frame shouldn’t give it any problem. What on earth do you feed him, Roxy? Eggs by the pound? He looks like he could knock out a camel if it spat at him.”
Roxy laughed, “I can’t claim to have had anything to do with that, but he is rather strong.”
Flora nodded while she slowly chewed another mouthful or her sandwich. Eventually she swallowed cautiously and looked relieved when there were no problems this time. “My first tip to you, new gardener, is get him to dig the flowerbeds. He’s built for it, and our job is to do the thinking and the drinking lemonade and choose what seeds to plant, not the digging.”
“Good idea. He’d probably work up a good sweat in this heat.”
“He’d ruin that shirt digging a good flowerbed,” Flora mused. “Make sure he dresses for it. The herbalists can sell you a cream to stop him burning in the sun, if you work him shirtless.”
“I’ll have to get some of that then, he does need plenty of exercise to keep himself in shape and I wouldn’t want him sweating all over his new clothes,” Roxy said.
Vandal wasn’t quite sure what to say but Flora was eyeing him up like a piece of meat, and he wasn’t sure he really minded. He’d picked his body for a reason, after all, and if a horny middle-aged woman with an impressive cleavage wanted to undress him with her eyes, he was fine with it.
“Actually, I am rather hot now, perhaps I should take this off and cool down,” he mused. Roxy smirked. “Yes, I’m sure Flora won’t be offended by your pasty skin.”
“No, not at all,” Flora licked her lips and finished her sandwich as Vandal stood up and slowly peeled off his shirt, revealing his glist
ening muscles. It actually was hot and did feel better without the shirt on, and this didn’t seem like a street where the cultists would try anything. It was much more up-market than the Eastside area. Flora sighed wistfully.
“Where are my manners? Roxy, do help yourselves to some of the lemonade in the kitchen,” she said, gesturing toward the cottage building. Roxy thanked her and scurried off, returning with two tall mugs of cloudy lemonade. Vandal took a deep swig of his and was surprised to find it was chilled. That was a luxury he wanted to find as soon as possible.
“It’s beautiful to look at, isn’t it?” Roxy said.
“Yes, it certainly is,” Flora agreed.
“Your garden is so lovely and colourful,” Roxy continued.
“Oh, yes, the garden. Well, you can learn to do this too. Any particular interests?”
“I want to grow flowers for the goddess, to brighten up the place. Amoria appreciates beautiful things, and flowers of all kinds. A vegetable garden to help keep us fed, and I’m going to join the Herbalists Guild too, so an area set aside for herbs is important,” Roxy said, counting her points off on her fingers.”
Flora whistled softly. “I was joking just now, Vandal, but she really will need help for all that.”
“I’ll do my best to give it to her.” Vandal gave the gardener a big wink and she laughed heartily.
“Will you be here in Tinshire long, before you return to your temple? You have a lot to learn to do everything you want so you’ll need to get regular lessons close to home. I can tell you where the closest branch of the guild is for you,” Flora said.
“We’re going back in a day or two,” Roxy said. “Vandal, can I explain?”
“If Flora can keep a secret until we’re ready, of course.”
“I can keep a secret, as long as I know I need to,” Flora said.
“Well, as you can probably tell, we only recently became clerics of Amoria, and our temple is close to Tinshire, so this is our local town,” Roxy said.
“Only, it’s not ready for worshippers yet so we’re trying to get it in a fit state for a congregation before anyone finds out about it,” Vandal said.
“A temple of Amoria, close by?”
“Yes, not far at all. We walked here quite easily but it’ll stretch your legs if you don’t have a horse or a wagon,” Roxy said.
“That’s wonderful news! You didn’t tell Bert and Fred, did you? They’re terrible gossips so I’m afraid the secret won’t keep if you did,” Flora asked, her face crinkling in concern.
“No, I could barely get a word in edgewise with their tall stories,” Roxy said. “Like you being married to one but sweet on the other?”
“Hah, and which one was trying to convince you I was sweet on him?” Flora laughed.
“Fred, and Bert said, you were his wife, but that Marjoram was Fred’s wife, and she was sweet on him.”
Flora chuckled. “They’re incorrigible. You must believe everything they say, and best to avoid them until you’re ready to open the temple. I’m so happy to have met you.”
“It’s nice to meet you too,” Vandal said.
“We’ve only told a couple of people, but I must say you’re the most excited about it, Flora,” Roxy said.
“Well, of course, I would be.”
“Why’s that?” Vandal asked.
“I’ve been a worshipper of the goddess since I was first tupped one mid-summer’s evening, years ago,” Flora gushed. She reached deep into her cleavage and withdrew a pendant, holding it out at arm’s length for them to see. Vandal could sense it was a sacred object the moment he saw it and Roxy drew a sharp breath too. It was carved from ivory or bone, and details were picked out with gold and silver.
It was Amoria, just as she appeared in the temple, only standing, and with lovers entwined around her in tight embraces. Their lips pressed to her body, and hands caressing her all over. The detail was exquisite.
“It’s nice to meet a fellow worshipper at last,” Roxy said. “The pendant is beautiful.”
“I found it, that midsummer’s eve. When I stopped being a maiden. That’s how I became a follower of Amoria,” Flora blushed. “But you don’t want to hear an old woman’s stories, especially after listening to those two silly old buggers.”
“Not at all, Flora. About listening to your stories, not the two silly old buggers,” Roxy said. Flora slapped her thigh and laughed at the last bit. “And you don’t strike me as old at all.”
“I’m forty-two, dear but it’s kind of you to say. My best days are behind me, and my aches and pains are with me all my days now. It’s the scrapheap for me, one day soon. Raised flower beds should give you a few more years of happy gardening. I wish I’d known that, but I was younger than you when I started and nothing at all hurt.”
Roxy chanted her healing spell and Flora’s hand flew to her mouth in surprise. The woman took a deep breath and looked refreshed and then Roxy hit her with a Blessing of Amoria too and she was quite taken aback. “Oh, I didn’t mean to suggest you should waste your time on a silly old baggage like me, dear. I would never presume to ask for your magic. I feel better than I have in years though. Marjoram gives me tonics for my back, but they don’t work quite like that. You’re too kind.”
“I hardly think the goddess gave us her magic so that we could hoard it, Flora,” Roxy said, “it is a gift to be shared with people. Most especially her devout followers.”
“Of course, I just don’t feel worthy. I’ve read the scriptures, as best I can, and I pray to Amoria, but those of us who worship her in Tinshire, have never had the benefit of a temple or a priest. Or even a congregant with more experience. I’m afraid we’re a poor start to your flock, Roxy,” Flora said. “We do our best to gather for worship but sometimes life gets in the way, and we miss a month without gathering. We must seem awful to you.”
“Flora, we’ve only been followers for a few days you know. The goddess offered us a chance to serve her, and we accepted the honour. We aren’t here to judge the depth of your faith or your practices so far,” Vandal explained, trying to help the poor woman calm down. She was struggling to accept that she hadn’t done anything wrong.
“Just a few days,” Flora sniffed, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief she pulled from her sleeve. “And you’ve already started work on a temple, when we’ve never had one in Tinshire. We should have done that, but we worship in our homes. A shrine in the forest, or a building dedicated to Amoria in Tinshire should have been our duty, I suppose. We let our goddess down.”
“Nonsense. We only spoke to the goddess briefly, but I’ve been reading the scriptures and I’m sure she wouldn’t judge you so but love you for all your qualities,” Roxy said.
Flora’s eyes practically popped out of her head. “You spoke to the goddess?” She kissed the pendant she still clutched in her hand and whispered a prayer.
“Yes, we did but it wasn’t a conversation really, Flora. We’ll tell you the story when the temple is open, which we hope will be soon. We just need to gather materials to get it ready. It won’t be long, we hope,” Vandal said.
“Speaking of stories, would you tell us how you came to be a worshipper, Flora?” Roxy asked, nodding to the pendant.
“It’s hard to explain without being a bit colourful,” Flora giggled.
“We both enjoy colourful times, so you won’t shock us. Please, tell the story how it should be done,” Roxy said, encouraging the gardener to go on.
“Well, stop me if I bore you,” Flora said, and took a big gulp of her lemonade.
Vandal noticed it was empty and dashed to the kitchen to bring more.
“Thank you dear, this might take a little while and I’m parched,” Flora said.
“Amoria would want us to hear this,” Roxy promised her.
“Then I’ll begin,” Flora said.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“When I was coming to the end of my eighteenth year, the king made peace with his enemy and the war ended. Tinshire wa
s mourning their fallen sons and daughters, but we celebrate the return of those who had taken the King’s Shilling,” Flora explained.
“That was when I met my Ricky, at the festival held after they arrived back here. He was twenty-eight, and in his prime and looked so handsome in his uniform. I had a head full of dreams and saw him as a brave, manly fellow who’d gone to fight for his King’s honour. His armour shone like a mirror, and his uniform fitted his muscles perfectly and was crisply starched.”
Flora smiled wryly. “That’s what I saw, at least. Later I realised he wasn’t a muscle-bound hero, like you Vandal. He was wiry and tough, and half-starved truth be told. His feet were in terrible shape from the muddy water, and even the patches in his clothes had patches of any cloth or scrap of leather they could find.
His uniform hadn’t seen starch since it was bought and probably not even then. The King wasn’t a great hero, he was an angry prick who got our boys and girls killed over a dispute about deer hunting rights. Can you imagine it? But that’s not what a naive young woman sees, and my Ricky soon became my hero.”
“But that’s just the setting, you see? So, you know that when he courted me, I was head over heels. He was a gentleman, in his own way, kind and patient with me. He didn’t push me or try to take things too quickly. I knew plenty of men and women my age who gave themselves to the returning soldiers and they were cast aside, like used rags. Because war isn’t good for people, it doesn’t make them all heroes or virtuous. It’s hard on them, and those who survive it come back changed forever. Ricky had nightmares and used to wake up screaming, clutching for me in the night, sheets drenched in sweat. For years afterward,” Flora said. “Sorry, that’s the reality, you see but he was lucky enough to have me, and friends and work to do and he made it. Not all of them did.”
“Before that though, he courted me all winter, and spent any time he could with me. Finally, by the summer, I was ready, and he was too. He’d spent his youth at war for ten years, and was a virgin just like me. When spring came, to get away from prying eyes, we would take long walks in the forest. Ricky wasn’t afraid of anything out there, not after the war, and he had his sword to defend us if it came to it. The forest is usually quite safe mind you, but we tell the kiddies not to go in there, and that it’s full of monsters to keep them from getting hurt where no-one can find them. When there still were kiddies, that is.”