by Robert Beers
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!”
Neely found himself engulfed by a pair of very feminine arms, and his face covered with kisses. He gently disentangled himself from Charity, and coughed to hide his blush. “Uh ... yeah. Well ... glad to help, Miss Charity. The right thing ta do, you know. Gotta look out for each other.”
He reached a thumb and forefinger behind his wide belt, and pulled out three golds. He slapped them down onto the counter in front of Howell.
“I'll expect th’ packin’ to be done for us, you know.”
Howell inclined his head in a bow. “Of course. That is included in the service.”
He snapped his fingers, and a couple of young men detached themselves from the aisles and began putting together the items on the shopping list.
Howell stepped out from behind the counter, and indicated the adjoining room. “May I interest you in a late lunch while your supplies are being prepared for travel?”
The lunch was plentiful, if plain. Cold roast meats and wedges of white and yellow cheese were available along with thick slabs of a yeasty smelling nut brown-bread. A small bowl filled with creamy yellow butter sat next to one of a dark reddish colored honey with other, spicier, condiments such as mustard, piccalilli and horseradish. Jugs of clear water touched with lemon finished off the meal.
Charity dipped a slice of rolled meat into the horseradish, and tried a small bite of the combination. “Ummm. Try this sauce, Flynn. It's nice and spicy.”
Flynn shook his head. “No thanks, Miss Charity. Too hot fer me. You must have some Dwarf in ya to eat that stuff.”
He would wonder for a long time why that brought such a peal of laughter from her.
They ate their fill, and then left sire Howell to his overseeing of the Wayfarer House and the packing of their supplies.
The stableboy met them at the door to the large barn.
“Yer all packed up folks. I put th’ heavy stuff on the big'un there.” He pointed to Flynn's Clydesdale. It had two large canvas packs slung across its rump just behind the saddle.
Neely's Buckskin held two packs about half the size of the two on Flynn's horse, and Charity's Dapple held one large pack and two large quivers full of arrows.
Charity turned to the stableboy. “This isn't right.”
Alarm showed in his eyes. “Whatcha mean, mum? It's all there, I swear it!”
Charity shook her head. “That's not what I mean at all. These arrows,” She pointed to the quivers. “I was given only half that many. You'll have to take some of them back.”
“I can't do that, milady.” The stableboy shook his head no.
“You have to. I won't take something that doesn't belong to me.”
Neely rolled his eyes.
The stableboy remained firm. “Sorry, milady. Ya have ta take ‘em. Milord Howell said so. I ain't goin’ ‘gainst ‘im, no matter what ya do.”
Charity blinked. “Excuse me? You said Howell had something to do with this?”
The stableboy nodded his head rapidly. “Oh, aye, milady. He told me to put th’ arrows into th’ quivs, an’ I done just that.”
Charity put her hands on her hips. “Well, I'll be...”
Flynn chuckled. “Looks like Howell liked your shootin’ better'n you thought he did, Miss Charity.”
Neely barked out a laugh. “Our princess has herself another conquest, Flynn. Soon she'll have the whole county payin’ court with flowers and sweets.”
Charity slapped him on his shoulder. “Get off it. Howell's a sweet old man who did us a favor. I'm sure he had his own reasons for what he did.”
Her glare stopped Neely's next retort. “And I'm sure they're perfectly honorable.”
She mounted the Dapple Gray and rode out of the barn, her ears burning a bright red as Flynn and Neely's muffled chuckles followed her.
They turned onto the road and headed south. A small black shape detached itself from the shadow of the barn and followed them, flitting from bush to bush, keeping just out of sight. One of its paws shone white in the sun.
* * * *
“No, Jonas,” Ethan sighed, as he answered the question of were they almost there one more time. “It's a couple more miles, yet. We'll be ready for lunch when we get to town. Here.” He tossed him an apple. “Chew on this.”
“Maybe it'll stop the questions for a bit.” He thought.
They were on the road to Bantering, a medium-sized town on the northern edge of the forest southeast of Ellona's cottage. They had a pleasant walk ahead of them. The day was warm without being sticky, and the rainy season was another month away. The main road to Bantering ran along the edge of the forest, so they had to walk through the downs. Heather and other wild flowers were in abundance and being tended to by bees and butterflies. Ethan had his hands full for the first half-hour keeping the children, Jonas and Sari primarily, in sight while they chased their chosen butterfly. Circumstance, true to form, stayed at Ethan's heels all the way to town.
“Well?” Ethan leaned forward as the cloth monger examined the skeins.
“Hmmph hmmm ... good tightness ... could be softer. Yes, could be softer.” The merchant peered up at Ethan through eyes rimmed with fat. “I can't give you top grade price.”
“I know that, fat man.” Ethan growled. He didn't like being worked around, and this one was no artist at it. “But what you're looking at there is still better than second grade, and you know it.”
He held up a hand as the merchant opened his mouth. “I know what I'm talking about, fat man. I grew up on the Wool Coast. Ever hear of a little town called Swaledale?”
The merchant gasped. “Swaledale? W..w..who hasn't? The finest wool in the country comes from there. Royalty wears only Swale Tweed.”
“My mother and father own a ranch that weaves Swale Tweed from the wool they produce.” Ethan's grin was pure ice. “I want a copper for each skein.”
“What? Are you trying to ruin me? A quarter, and that's my final offer.” The merchant's jowls quivered in indignation.
“You're trying to rob me. I'll let you steal it for three bits, and not a sliver less.” Ethan sneered.
The merchant slapped down a small bag that clinked when it hit the counter. “A half-copper each, and not a sliver more!”
Ethan spit in his palm, and stuck it out toward the merchant. “Done!”
“You're very good.”
“Huh?” Ethan turned to look down at Circumstance. “What did you say?”
The boy kept his eyes on the path as they walked. “You're very good. You wanted that merchant to offer you a half-copper each, and you led him right to it.”
Ethan stopped in his tracks, and looked down at the boy. Circumstance was full of surprises. “Just when you think you've got a handle on the boy...” He thought.
“You pegged me, Circumstance. Do you always watch people so closely?”
“No, but you're going to be staying with mama. I thought it would be good to know about you.”
Ethan was struck dumb. He'd never thought about it that way. Each day just seemed to flow into the next, kind of like when he was drinking. Sure, Ellona was a fine woman. Fine woman. Why did he just repeat that?
He looked down at Circumstance again. It looked like he wasn't the only one who bore watching.
“You got what?” Ellona stood on the porch as the news of their successful market trip was shouted to her in four voices.
Ethan stepped up onto the porch as the children ran into the cottage. “We sold them all! A half-copper per skein, and fat Gerkin bought them.”
“Oh, Ethan, That's wonderful!” Ellona gave Ethan his second shock of the day when she threw her arms around his neck, and landed a kiss full on his lips.
“Uh ... yeah. Sure. Glad I could help.”
Her laughter just added to his blush.
* * * *
“You sure he's dead, Bel?”
“Sure as I'm standing here.”
The tanner looked across his friend's should
er at the church house, and made the sign of Bardoc by tracing a triangle, point up, on his chest.
“Parish's without a priest, Durhan. What're we gonna do?”
Durhan shook his head. “Bad sign, dying like that. Right in the middle of a funeral.”
“He was old, Durhan. Been here as long as I can remember.”
“True.”
“So what are we gonna do? We're the Parish elders.”
“Guess we gotta send for a new one. Looks like Bantering gets itself a new Priest.”
* * * *
“C'mon, Flynn! Move those big feet o’ yourn.” Neely did not look over his shoulder, preferring instead to concentrate on putting as much distance between himself and his pursuers as possible.
“I'm comin'. I'm comin'.” The big man lumbered behind Neely. His breath huffed and whooshed, leaving small puffs of steam in the moonlit darkness.
Flynn looked back and gave a small yelp as he redoubled his efforts. They were almost upon him. Their hisses sounding like a steam pipe with a bad leak.
He looked forward, and relief washed over him like a warm bath. The wall! It was just a few steps away. A couple of more feet, and he would be safe from these hissing monsters.
Neely vaulted the wall without slowing down, and continued to run. “Hurry up, Flynn! Run, man. Run!”
Flynn reached the wall just as he felt a sharp pain on the back of his thigh. The pain pushed him forward, and he hit the top of the wall with his palms, and pulled himself over by shear strength of fear-born will alone.
He landed on the other side and rolled back to his feet. “Neely!” His stage whisper carried in the darkness. “Where are ya, man?”
“Over here, behind the oak.”
Flynn found his friend with his back against the said tree. His chest heaved as he drew in deep breaths. “Ohhh, I'm totally fagged. Couldn't run another yard if the keeper of the pit hisself was on me heels.”
Neely grabbed him by the arm. “Well, you can walk anyway, can't ya? Charity'll be waitin’ fer us, an’ we have to tell her there'll be no fresh chicken for th’ pot tonight. Gonna be field rations agin.”
Flynn rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I hope she isn't too upset.”
“Geese!?” Charity was nearly doubled over with laughter. You got chased by geese? Oh, what brave foragers you two are.”
“They was big geese, Miss Charity, an’ they bit hard.” Flynn rubbed his insulted thigh.
“Shoulda whacked their heads off an’ brung them fer th’ pot.” Neely muttered into his cup of hot tisane. “Great nasty gray things like that. Farmer oughta put up a notice. Oughta be a law agin that sorta bird.”
“Yeah.” Flynn agreed with his friend's grumping. “A law.”
“Oh, settle down, you two.” Charity tried to soothe them, but her snickers and giggles around her words did little to ease their discomfort.
Eeeaowww!? The sound whipped their heads around, and Charity's laughter died in her throat. She reached for her bow as Flynn and Neely eased their hands toward the pommels of their knives.
The source of the growled query stepped into the light of the campfire, and Charity squealed, her excitement driving her voice to a girlish high pitch. “It's my cat!”
“That ain't no cat, milady, that's a beast, an’ a big one, at that.” Flynn's hand stayed near his knife. His thigh still ached where the goose had bitten him, and he had little trust in a cat that was closer in size to a medium-sized dog.
“You sure you know it, Charity?” Neely stood up slowly into a fighting crouch, his knife in his hand.
She looked at them both, and pursed her lips in disgust. “Of course I know it! Adam and I rescued her from drowning when she was this little.” She indicated the size with her thumb and forefinger.
Flynn peered more closely at the cat. “What's that it's got with it?”
Neely sheathed his knife. “Looks like a couple o’ Conies.”
Flynn looked at Charity. “It brung us dinner?”
Charity crossed the campsite to where the cat stood. Sure enough, two rabbits, their throats torn out, lay at the cat's feet. The toes of the right foot confirmed Charity's claim. They gleamed white in the firelight.
She reached out with her right hand toward the cat, and it drew back as if unsure of her.
She kept her hand out and clicked her tongue gently. “It's me lady, Charity, remember? Did you bring those rabbits for us? What a good girl you are. Come on, my lady. Oh, I've missed you so. It's me, Charity.”
The cat stretched forward and sniffed Charity's hand, and then licked it with her rough pink tongue.
Charity looked over her shoulder at Flynn and Neely. “She remembers me!”
As if in answer to Charity's cry, the cat meowed in a loud pbleert! and jumped into her middle, knocking her backwards onto the ground.
Flynn and Neely started forward, intent on violence, but they pulled up short when Charity erupted into a peal of laughter and giggles.
The cat was purring loud enough to be heard outside the campsite, and butting her head against Charity's chin. Her front paws alternately kneaded the forest floor and Charity's heavy cloak.
“Ok, ok! I'm glad to see you, too.” Charity pushed the cat off her chest, and sat up.
The purrs continued as the cat arched her back luxuriously against Charity in a march that circled her entirely. As greetings go, this one rated high in extravagance and enthusiasm.
“Labad's ghost, but she like's you, Miss Charity!” Flynn goggled at the scene.
“Blimey! I'll say!” Neely sat back down and stirred the embers in the campfire.
He looked up at Charity again. “You wanna toss me those Conies?”
Neely held the rabbit leg with his thumbs and forefingers, and bit into it with ill-disguised relish. “Mmm.”
“Good, huh?” Flynn, busy nibbling off the last of his portion, looked across the fire at Neely.
The rumble of the cat's purr added a steady background sound to the crackle of the fire.
“Damn straight it is. Nothing better than keepin’ a full belly an’ your plums warm, I always say.” Neely bit another huge chunk out of the leg.
“Mighty good luck, that cat of yours showed up, Miss Charity.” Flynn looked over to where she was petting their new traveling companion.
Charity looked up at him. “I don't think luck had any part in it. I think she was waiting for me all the time I was in the palace. I wonder why she didn't come in to be with me?”
“ Prolly knew it would be too dicey.” Neely mumbled around a mouthful of rabbit. “Better'n a dog.”
“Near as big as one, anyhow.” Flynn cast an eye on the cat.
She was nestled against Charity's left leg, her paws gently kneading the ground in front of her as Charity ran a hand down her back.
Charity looked up at her friends again, and leaned forward, resting an elbow on her knee. “So, where do we go from here? Any ideas?”
Neely tossed the bones of his dinner into the fire. The cat watched them fall with faint interest; her belly was already full.
“Ain't goin’ back to Berggren, that's for sure.”
Charity's smile was ironic. “Tell me another. Flynn.” She focused her gaze on the large fellow. “How about you? Any idea where we might go that's fairly safe for people like us? I also want to find a place that may have a way to earn an honest living.”
Neely winced at the emphasis on honest.
Flynn scratched the back of his head, and then examined a well-chewed thumbnail. “Well now ... There's Grisham. I hear there's plenty work there.”
“Can't go to Grisham.” Neely spat into the fire.
“Why not?” Charity picked up the cat, grunting a bit with the effort, and placed her in her lap.
Neely looked a little embarrassed. He muttered something under his breath.
“What? I couldn't hear you.” Charity leaned further forward.
Flynn clapped him on the shoulder. “C'mon, man. Ain't nuthi
n’ to be ashamed of.”
“All right. All right.” Neely scowled at them from beneath his brows. “Grisham's out ‘cause there's a small matter of me not wantin’ my neck to get stretched. Ok!?”
Charity and Flynn just looked at him, saying nothing. The cat began to wash herself.
Neely picked up a stick and began pushing the tip of it around in the coals of the fire. “You're gonna make me tell it all, ain't'cha?”
They both nodded.
Neely threw the stick into the fire, sending a cloud of sparks crackling and flaring into the air. “Bound to come out sooner or later.” He muttered.
“Ain't somethin’ I'm proud of, mind you.” He sent a sharp glance their way. “But a man gets hungry, y'know?”
Flynn's timely belch brought a dark look from Neely.
Charity tittered, and then smoothed her face. “We're sorry, Neely, but I think we'd both really like to know your tale. It's not like there's much entertainment going on in these woods right now.”
Neely looked at them for a moment longer, and then his shoulders sagged. “All right. Here's the tale, for what it's worth. You know I was once a soldier of fortune and a tracker?”
They nodded that they did so.
“Well, a number of years ago. This was before you an’ me hooked up, Flynn. I had me a position guarding th’ goods a merchant shipped ‘tween Grisham an’ Ort. He sent ‘em down th’ highway, y'see. Long smooth road, easy on th’ horses, an’ a seat for me on th’ cart.”
“That fat little man made hisself a pack of gold on those runs, an’ on occasion he tossed a taste of it me way.”
“What was he shipping?” Charity stroked the cat's ears. She responded by increasing the volume of her purr.
“Ah! Therein lies th’ rub of me tale.” Neely poured himself a mug of tisane.
“He wouldn't tell me. Said it wasn't my job to know what I was guardin'. It were just my job to see it safe to market, and then to see his gold safe to him.
“Now, I'm not sayin’ there wasn't th’ odd scrap here an’ there. I've a few scars that would call me liar iffn’ I did. There's some rough country ‘tween Grisham an’ Ort an’ rough fellows interested in easy gold, only they found out Neely's charge weren't so easy.”