Hatter

by Daniel Coleman

  Hatta stepped aside as Brune stalked past muttering under his breath, “This tweedle has coin to travel the kingdom while I’m stuck here…”

  Finally in his room, Hatta was able to relax. The innkeep’s confrontational helper would make his stay uncomfortable, but there weren’t any other options in Shey’s Orchard. He situated his bag at the foot of the cot then sat down on the floor with his legs crossed.

  “My fancy gave her eyes of blue,

  A curly, auburn head;

  I came to find the blue a green

  The auburn turned to red.”

  The verse cleared his road weariness and buoyed his spirits. After reciting a few others, Hatta sprang to his feet and retrieved his green-checkered town hat. As opposed to his purple traveling hat with the turtle shell pattern, the town hat was more stable – more suited to spending some time in a single place. Setting it just right, Hatta ventured into the awakening town.

  As with other small towns, people greeted him warmly enough. Most either raised an eyebrow or stared openly after he passed. No one was aggressive or demeaning and the street was a little brighter in his wake. On the second street he found a group of children playing with a kickround. Hatta joined in naturally and helped each team score points before seeking out Master Aker. Once he had some sort of income he could focus on creating again.

  The mirror shop’s doors were closed, but the adjacent house was bustling. One woman, carrying dark blue flowers, passed without acknowledging him. Hatta didn’t want to interrupt, so he followed her into the house.

  In the modest home the activity centered on a young lady in a white dress. The lack of color did not appeal to Hatta, but she looked absolutely radiant. In contrast to the bright red ribbon in her hair, she wore a similar, but faded, ribbon around her wrist. Women surrounded her, trying various flowers in her hair and around her neck. A man in the far corner noticed him and approached.

  Before the man could speak, Hatta said, “That’s the only exquisite shade of white I’ve seen. I prefer bright colors, but the person who made that fabric is quite an artist. What would it be?”

  “It’s linen. Are you a tailor?” The man inspected Hatta’s attire without openly staring.

  “No, but I care for artistry in any form.”

  “Yes, I see that. I don’t recognize you; are you here to help with the preparations for the wedding?”

  For a moment Hatta forgot why he was in the man’s house. “No I, I just arrived in town. I’m pleased to introduce myself. Hatta.” He smiled and made a half bow.

  The man appeared perplexed, which set Hatta at ease. At least I’m not the only one.

  “My name’s Aker, I’m the—”

  “Yes of course! Master Aker, mirror maker. Rhyming helps me remember, but doesn’t always work.”

  An almost imperceptible smile showed on Master Aker’s face.

  “I’m a very hard worker and I learn quickly. I have seventeen skills, but mirror making isn’t one of them.”

  “If you’re asking for work, that’s an odd way to do it.”

  Hatta was sure he’d already mentioned employment. “Yes, I am. Asking for employment, that is. Not odd. The innkeep with the wooden shelf mentioned your daughter’s wedding and so forth, and so forth. Telf, or Tellef. Yes, that was his name.”

  Master Aker’s smile widened. With a nervous glance at the women, he whispered, “I’ve sworn to not even talk about the shop for the next two days, but come by the day after. I’ll give you work for at least a couple days until I see what you can do.”

  “I’ll be very appreciative and you’ll be undisappointed. Or delighted, I should say.”

  He extended his hand and was relieved when Master Aker accepted his grasp.

  Hatta spent the rest of the daylight getting to know the town. He introduced himself to the most approachable people and smiled and tipped his town hat to the rest. The bakers, Coles and Hettie—rolls and bready to remember them—provided a warm lunch and more information than he could ever remember. If he tried to recall half of what they told him it would just come out jumbled.

  Other than the bakers’ names, Hatta tried to absorb three things. Tjaden jousted Jabberwocky. Talex’s tools are only for fools. And stay far away from bandersnatches; two had been seen near town over the last year or so. He shouldn’t need a trick to remember that one.

  By the time Hatta returned to the inn, the sun had set and the air turned chilly. He could see his breath in the air and stood outside studying it. The ability to produce mist with something as simple as breath had always fascinated him. When he breathed on his fingers he half expected them to freeze in the frosty breath, but it was surprisingly warm. He picked up a twig and tried freezing it, but the wood remained supple. Another puzzle to figure out.

  As he reached for the door a bout of laughter erupted inside the inn. It must be a popular place on these nippy evenings.

  It wasn’t just busy, it was overflowing. Hatta barely had room to enter. The handful of tables were crowded, and twice as many men stood as sat. The room was warm, though no fire was lit. In front of the empty fireplace stood two young men, a couple years younger than Hatta.

  The shorter one had an arm around his stout, blushing friend and a bow over his shoulder with the string across his chest. He seemed not to notice the large weapon. The story he told about his companion’s soldier training had the attention of the whole room.

  Hatta excused himself quietly through the throng, pondering on how underutilized hats were in Shey’s Orchard. He had almost reached the safety of the stairs when the innkeep with the shelf—Tellef, that was it—put his arm around him.

  “Won’t you join us, Hatta? Tjaden’s the lad I said was to be married and we could use more help celebrating.”

  “I’m obliged for the invitation, but if it’s no trouble I’ll just go up to my room.”

  “Nonsense! I insist.” He forced a tankard into Hatta’s hand.

  Offending the kind innkeep seemed worse than escaping the raucous crowd, so he didn’t resist.

  “Perchance would you have tea?” he asked Tellef. “Spirits tend to affect me rather strongly.”

  “Aye,” said Tellef, and waved to Brune.

  Hatta had no trouble recalling Brune’s name. It was always that way after a confrontation, no matter how small.

  Tellef said something to Brune, who nodded and pushed his way toward the kitchen’s swinging doors. Hatta followed so Brune wouldn’t have to navigate the crowd again, and found himself at the back of the room. The evening would be easier to bear in this inconspicuous spot.

  When Brune came out of the kitchen with a teacup, Hatta tapped him from behind. Brune politely offered the cup and said, “This is a local tea. What do you think of it?”

  Hatta blew on the tea to test the heat and managed a sip. It was strong orange and mint, not a very pleasing flavor, with a kick he hadn’t tasted in other teas. Brune waited expectantly.

  “I find it…unique,” said Hatta, forcing a smile.

  “I’m glad you like it. I’ll prepare another cup when I have a chance.” He returned the smile and returned to his duties. The tea was unsavory, and it burned a little even after it cooled. But at least it helped smooth whatever problem Brune had with him earlier, so he sipped at it.

  Just as he was finishing the first cup, Brune appeared with another. Hatta tried to act appreciative. He didn’t dare refuse and risk offending Brune just as they were starting to get along.

  The fellow with the bow finished talking and more men followed, both praising and embarrassing Tjaden. The Jabberwocky was mentioned repeatedly, and Hatta longed to find out more about the creature.

  Brune, who still stood near Hatta, said, “Would you like to know some of the traditions here in Shey’s Orchard?”

  Hatta’s head was spinning from the distance traveled, the busy day meeting new people and the large gathering in the inn. He was glad to have some guidance and nodded anxiously. Minor conflicts arose sometim
es due to ignorance of local customs.

  “It’s customary for the men in town to offer a gift to the betrothed on the night before the wedding. It starts with the person who is least familiar with the man of honor and continues through the group until his closest friends and family present him with their gifts. Since you just arrived today, everyone is probably waiting for you so they can start.” He looked at the teacup and Hatta forced a long drink.

  “I’ve come unprepared. What sort of gift would be customary?” Hatta was definitely in a muddle and glad to have Brune to guide him.

  “Articles of clothing are perfect. Tjaden’s a soldier, so I know he likes blue.” Someone motioned for more ale and Brune excused himself.

  Blue, thought Hatta. He cares for blue.

  He set down his almost empty teacup and looked himself over slowly. His head was spinning and he had to concentrate. The only blue clothes he wore were his pants.

  How fortunate there are no ladies present this evening.

  Hatta knelt and unlaced his boots. He emptied his pants pockets, placing a marigold, a spool of saffron thread, a purple string, and an assortment of colored pebbles in various pockets of his coat. Using the shoulders of the men to steady himself, he pushed through the crowd to the front of the room.

  A man who looked like a much older version of Tjaden, perchance his father, was speaking. He stopped when Hatta approached, and the room as a whole watched Hatta, waiting.

  They must be anxious to start giving their gifts.

  “I congratulate your impending wedding, Jabberslayer.”

  Did his speech sound slurred? The jumble in his head was thicker than usual. Everyone watched curiously, probably wondering what he would offer as a gift. He fumbled at the laces of his trousers, managed to remove them and offered them to Tjaden. The young man accepted them, but apparently didn’t know what to say.

  Having fulfilled his responsibility, Hatta, in his striped socks and red undergarments, walked toward the stairs. The crowd began sniggering, and it grew into open laughing by the time Hatta reached the foot of the stairs.

  Brune stood there, suppressing a smile.

  “I thank you, Brune. Your advice surely saved me from looking the fool.” He meant to say it quietly, but it came out loud enough for most of the room to hear.

  Before Hatta stepped onto the first stair, the innkeep—what was his name again? Something to do with a ledge or bookshelf—said, “Wait!”

  He tramped toward Hatta and Brune, face as red as a…a…

  Something was definitely wrong in his head. The innkeep’s enraged face made Hatta’s stomach knot and he felt like vomiting. The angry man stormed up to Brune and demanded in a quiet but terrible voice, “Did you put him up to this?”

  Brune shrunk and looked around for someone to rescue him. But he stood alone. “I was just trying to liven up the party. Have a little fun.”

  The innkeep swore, forcing Hatta to lean against the wall and Brune to cringe.

  “I didn’t think he’d be idiot enough to take off his pants.” Brune’s words shot across the silent room.

  The innkeep stormed to the kitchen door and picked up Hatta’s cup. He sipped it and swore twice. Each curse struck Hatta like a blow.

  “And you put orange liqueur in his tea!” He slammed his fist into the table, rattling tankards. “Get out! Get out! I tried to help you because your father’s worthless, and this is how you repay me?”

  He was moving toward Brune, but the young man didn’t wait to be tossed.

  Before Brune reached the door Hatta spoke up. “No.”

  Brune froze then turned. A puzzled expression showed on his face.

  “Please not on my account,” said Hatta to the innkeep. “Most likely it was all in fun. Please.”

  Brune wore a hopeful expression, a puppy trying to avoid being sent out into the cold.

  All eyes were on the innkeep. Only a muffled belch broke the silence. The innkeep’s face returned to a normal color as he looked between Brune and Hatta.

  After a dozen or more breaths he shook his head and said, “No. I can’t forgive this. On your way, Brune.” He pointed at the door but didn’t watch the departing young man.

  Hatta would never forget the sound of the slamming door. Tears came to his eyes and he held his stomach in hopes of keeping his gorge down. “I’m sorry, Jabberslayer.” He swallowed back the sick. “I’m sorry, townsmen. It was the last thing I wanted.” Any more words would give way to the vomit.

  As he turned to climb the stairs, he heard. “No, it’s alright. I’ll see to him.”

  In another step the innkeep was under one arm, providing a steady shoulder on the difficult stairs.

  “Master Hatta, I hope you’ll accept my apologies. You never should have been subjected to that.”

  The last thing Hatta cared about was himself. “And Brune? Does he have where to go? What about the Jabberslayer and his ruined celebration?” He couldn’t control the hot tears that ran down his face.

  “Don’t worry about Tjaden, he’s been through much worse than that.” Somehow there was a smile in the innkeep’s voice, but it faded in the next sentence. “And as for Brune, he has a history of cruelty. I’ve given him too many chances and it’s time for him to learn a lesson. Anyone in town would agree with me.”

  Not me. But Hatta wasn’t about to make another enemy by arguing. This night was already the worst he could remember.

  The innkeep helped him into bed. “I’ll get your trousers and leave them outside your door. You’re not Brune’s first victim. Tomorrow will be a new day.”

  Hatta just nodded. As soon as Tellef was gone he staggered to the chamber pot and threw up. The tea burned again coming back up, but his gut finally felt calm.

  The best thing for him was sleep, but Hatta was too tense. Even the alcohol wasn’t enough to soothe him. He tried reciting verses, but the words scrambled in his head. He spent an hour rocking on the edge of his bed. The room had a small window and eventually he stood and watched the men file out, many clinging to each other for support.

  At least the entire celebration wasn’t ruined.

  He cringed as he recognized some of the men who had witnessed the confrontation. Rolls, no, Coles the baker. Master Aker mirror maker. And eventually Tjaden the Jabberslayer and his bow-carrying companion. It was a good thing Tjaden was so stable because he practically had to drag his friend down the road.

  The road cleared, the lights went out, but Hatta remained at the window, staring into the moonlit street. Some time later, hours perhaps, a silhouette came into view. Hatta straightened when he realized it was Brune. He had a bag slung over his shoulder and was heading out of town. He wore a plain coat and hat, and his bag was bulky enough to hold a blanket. At least he wouldn’t freeze, even if the weather turned colder.

  Brune didn’t look at the inn as he passed. His head hung and he trudged along with shoes that slapped against the dirt road. Hatta wondered why they were so loud and looked more closely. The soles were loose, and even in the moonlight Hatta saw that Brune wore no socks. Each step revealed bare heels.

  Without hesitation Hatta ran to his door and threw it open. His boots and blue trousers were situated neatly in front of him. He put the pants on as fast as possible, tying them hurriedly, and picked up his fine leather boots, then ran down the stairs and into the street.

  Clouds blocked the moonlight and most of the stars, so Hatta could see very little. Even at his quick pace, his besocked feet made almost no sound. Just after passing the last building in town he heard the pa-fwap, pa-fwap, pa-fwap of Brune’s worn out shoes. He slowed to an unhurried jog, silently following the sound.

  When Brune’s outline came into view, Hatta stopped and set his purple boots in the middle of the road. He reached into his coat and took out four coppers, placing two in each boot. He retreated a couple dozen paces toward the town and took cover in the mesquite trees that lined the road.

  Once he was situated he forced out, “Brune!
”

  The faint shoe sound stopped and Hatta yelled again.

  “Who’s there?”

  Hatta remained silent and the sound resumed, more slowly but growing closer.

  “Who is it?”

  Pa-fwap, pa-fwap, pa-fwap.

  “I’m warning you, this is not a good time to provoke me!”

  Brune came into view and reached the boots. After staring at them for a moment, he kicked them as if expecting a viper to emerge. He looked around and asked, “Where are you?”

  Silence.

  When Brune picked up the boots, the muted jingle of coins rolled into the dark morning. Hatta saw Brune reach into the boots but couldn’t make out the expression on his face, so he imagined a genuine smile. And maybe a slight nod of appreciation.

  After rubbing the purple leather with road dirt, Brune unlaced his worn out shoes, removed them and put the boots on. With sideways glimpses, he cleared his throat and said quietly, “Thank you.” Properly shod, Brune walked into the darkness.

  The purple boots had done it! No, purple wasn’t a potent enough description. “Purpleful,” whispered Hatta. “Yes, the purpleful boots have done it.”

  Hatta tried counting fifty breaths, but got sidetracked by his excitement, so he focused on the faint mists for a while. Confident he was alone, he stood and walked in the opposite direction with a whistle on his lips.

  Hatta had nothing but good feelings for his fellow men, and they for him. The dark night held a bright yellow tinge of hope. All was right in the world.

  Chapter 3

  Orphans

  When Hatta awoke he lay in bed trying to remember where he was. The sun was well up, and he eventually recognized the room of the inn. Shey’s Orchard. Before rising, he took a moment to practice the names from the previous day. Using memory tricks, he came up with Tellef, Tjaden, Master Aker, Coles and Hettie. And Brune. The events of the evening came to mind and he rose with a mind to offer Tjaden a more formal apology.

  As he rose to dress, the sight of his blue pants brought on a wave of nausea and a headache. Whether aftereffects of the alcohol or the conflict he couldn’t tell. How long until he felt comfortable wearing the blue pants he was so fond of? The apricot pants would have to do in the meantime. A lavender shirt, maroon jacket, and town hat completed the outfit. He wore the same red and brown striped socks, but had no shoes or boots. It only took a moment to recall the fate of the boots.