The Great Bounty
By J. Warren
The job was right up my alley, very much so. I was getting tired of these petty criminals, stupid criminals. I said to myself 'come now, let's have a challenge.' When it was announced in my home town that Mordo had been arrested, I was already preparing.
Our town of Chandler was notable for its smokeless lamp oil and its cheap ale houses. Mordo did not come to town often, but when he did he was associated with trouble. This was not apparent at first. He wore ridiculously large hats and would linger in the square. The merchants loved him for this and he was always welcomed by them. When the money was all spent something bad seemed to always happen. This was accepted as a coincidence of course.
My business of hunting fugitives often took me out of town. It was during a slow period between jobs that I began to take an interest in him. I was staying at my sister's house. She was always up on the gossip of the day. Her friend worked in Widow's Row, where all the alehouses were. Mordo had become an annoyance there. He was always making trouble, always instigating others. It had gotten to the point where when something would happen, he would be asked for. He'd been questioned as a witness a couple of times. And now it seemed he had finally done something obvious and impossible to ignore. 'This little fly is going to flee', I had said to myself when I heard what it was he had done.
I suppose natural curiosity is to blame for my special talent. I had always possessed a special inability to mind my own business. My lack of discretion made me the perfect hunter of men. From an early age I was always oddly confident. Mother had hoped that I might learn a trade, but this was impossible. I wasn't a moron; it wasn't that I couldn't learn. I was more interested in how people worked rather than how things worked. I always found out things I shouldn't and employers didn't like me because of that.
When I was a boy and someone went missing there was always a supernatural cause. Disease meant there were witches about. Capricious old wizards brought about famine. Dragons were the culprit when someone went missing. I didn't have any first hand knowledge of these things. However, my father had told me about having seen dragons when he was working in the fields, shown me pictures he had drawn of them. So I knew what they looked like and how they smelled and sounded. I knew that some stayed in their lairs most of the time and others migrated and this was when they were the most dangerous. Men with swords then had to go and kill them. They were called knights. "I could do that," I remember telling my father. It was fun to think of such things when I knew nothing of the world. Soon enough I began to learn about men and their many weaknesses.
The surety was especially high on Mordo as he was accused of killing a man. I should say strongly suspected as John, the cloth dyer had not shown up dead yet. Nevertheless, the posting was put in town. Curfew in Chandler had grown lax over the years. This may have had something to do with the recent proliferation of ale houses. They extended the town, sort of tacked on at the end of it and there curfew was all but ignored. I was not much for night life when I could avoid it and in general I avoided ale houses except for work.
Alehouse testimony suggested Mordo with a few pints in him was as much a danger to himself as others. In the days leading up to his arrest he had boasted of his crimes and of the ways he might escape. There were those who would hide him, who must hide him and I began to suspect that the things that happened here in Chandler were the least of his crimes. He must be looking to get up north, I thought where all of the wealth was.
Between the high bail and his willingness to wear a bracelet identifying him no one seemed to suspect he'd be a runner. The money was put up quickly, and quickly he disappeared. In town they raised a hue and cry. I knew this was useless. I set out immediately towards the prosperous north. I certainly could not have imagined how things would end up when I left my home of Chandler.
I knew my criminal and he was not so common as he was sloppy. He had connections to wealth and power. How did I know this? Well, he was just the type. His kind kept it clean and respectable at home and then came to little hamlets like ours to indulge his wicked side. He was no thief, but he had a taste for violence. He had the bravado to imagine he could do what he wanted without consequence. And he always craved just a little more than he had the last time. When he was brought in and arrested it was too easy. I had been told he didn't resist, didn't even seem to object much.
He was one of the ones you didn't touch. This was not my idea, but a bit of sage advice I had gotten in the early days of my career. No, as boastful as I have ever been I can freely admit did not learn all on my own. An old hat named Browny who couldn't do it anymore (in fact, those were his first words to me "I can't do it anymore") showed me the ropes. He told me these things.
The world is lucky to have ones like us.
A bit of deception to apprehend a deceiver is but a small crime and its own reward.
If you want a long career remember there's a certain amount of decency you can insist on in the world and no more.
"I can't do it anymore" Browny on the third and final night of my education told me about the ones that you leave alone no matter how attractive the prize. Better a bit of coin from a dozen jobs is what he had told me. But, there had been so many jobs since then and so little failure. How could I possibly continue to follow such advice?
I did not know how and I did not know where he had gone. No matter. I always operated from what my gut told me about a man and the way that he tended to move. Thievery was not among the crimes Mordo was associated with. His preference seemed to be toward violent acts and whatever he did was done within the limits of his budget and with the promise of protection by somebody influential and powerful.
I needed to increase my power and influence as well. This brought me straight to an old friend, Nora. Her son had been in some trouble years ago. I must have felt pity for her, because I graciously looked the other way so that he might escape to go live with his father. She never forgot the favor and always greeted me warmly. This time was no different and as it turned out she was able to help. A cousin of hers cooked in the house of a wealthy merchant where one of the male servants there was being considered for work at the castle. The fabled city of High Bath had an order of knights. Evidentally, they were a little shy of squires. That seemed odd to me, but she had been told this sort of thing happened this time of year. I had a young face when I shaved and so we thought we could arrange for me to go in his place. This was no minor offense. It was out and out deception, but this didn't bother me. In this way I was provided entry into High Bath in service to the knights there.
How long ago was that day? I can't remember. Time has been stretched for me in an unnatural way. I did not know what sort of fate would Mordo have? No one could have devised a punishment worse than mine. Was he destined like me to awaken every morning to awaken to the constant, incessant noise and the smell? And, every evening to go to bed to the same? I had never before become trapped in so cursed a place.
The knights of High Bath had a reputation of tireless crusading against all things evil. They brought back exotic treasures, attested to by the amount of wealth that flooded into the city each year. Of course they were brave and just and fought for the protection of queen and country. All the information I had about them had come to me in such a way as to make them indistinguishable from any other order. On one point the description was more specific. That was the splendid looking and meticulously maintained scale armor they wore. It was not unusual, I was told to see knights coming home looking a little patchy. But, not the knights of High Bath. Always beards plated, helms shiny, and armor a fantastic green gold metal. It made for quite an intimidating picture. And surrounding their stronghold was the glorious city of High Bath.
This was a perfect place to hide for someone who had somebody willing to hide him. He had boasted of a place that it would be difficult to follow him to, and this would have been it.
But, it had all come to nothing. My hopes of finding and Mordo, the loose lipped killer/ escaped convict were fading along with what remained of my sanity. My existence had become a hell on earth. My only escape was sleep, which didn't last even long enough to permit me to dream.
The knights seemed to be much loved, for the wagons full of supplies that they received in my first days in service to them. All of our waking hours were spent in the inner ward. It was a turfless place where gravel stuck in your boots.
Slowly, but surely the confidence that I carried with me wherever I went was eroding. I had always been able to read men's thoughts and actions, to know their movements before they did. And here were men that I could not understand. The knights of High Bath were not like men at all. They seemed to go about in prescribed motions like living ghosts of brave men from another time. My frustration was compounded by the demoralizing living conditions. It was like being in a cursed swamp that would hold you, immobilize you but not let you drown, not ever give you up to merciful death.
My mind temporarily wandered to the days I had spent before coming here. I stopped at a tavern on my way to High Bath where I was given a good meal and treated well. Admittance to High Bath was so selective that the little tavern was the end of the road for most. New comers must have been few and far between. When I walked through the doors of the Tavern it seemed I was already known.
"You are a lucky, lucky sod," the tavern mistress had said. "Must've taken a shine to you. You have much to learn from them y'know." She beamed at me wearing bright green and smelling heavy of roses. "There's something special about you. I just bet one of 'em takes you under his wing."
"Don't talk so familiar, Darla," her father said
"It's alright father," she said.
'Now, don't get his hopes up, Darla," her father said. They whispered to one another and the father said something like that I was just a boy.
I left the next morning with my pack full of wine skins and good cheese from the over generous tavern mistress and made my way to the city of High Bath.
The city was even more wonderful than I had been told. I was immediately expected, admitted and escorted. The road was like something out of a fairy tale. There was no midden heap, none of the usual smells of decay. The road was laid with fine round pebbles, no gravel or dirt, and every twenty paces or so was inlaid a medallion composed of colored glass and shells from the far off sea. I stopped to look at one of them. The guard stood patiently as if he seemed to approve. In the middle of the eight pointed star was the crest of the knights' order, the order of High Bath. I pulled myself away and we walked on. Nothing and no one impeded us as we walked under a high and cloudless sky. Dark blue velvet curtains fluttered from a home above. I decided that should I make friends there I would find an excuse to come back.
It was by way of deception I was permitted to see this marvel. It was a magical place and it didn't even make any sense that it should exist, yet it warmed my heart to be there.
As I walked on I noticed even the alleys were paved with pebbles. I was escorted through town by a guard whose cloak was trimmed in ermine. Townsfolk stopped to give me hard looks to determine if my presence there was warranted. They were suspicious, but not in an unkind way. Up ahead, a man was tending his garden. He was wearing a great big purple roll on his head. 'Mordo?' I thought. Sometimes it was just that easy. It was unexpected and I struggled to ready myself. As if feeling my look he turned around. He had a painted red mouth. As I continued to stare, realizing this was definitely not Mordo he flashed me a beguiling smile. Mordo was eccentric by my standards, but this man was downright odd.
The city continued to unfold before us like a book. In the square there were other men, some with painted lips and young women who carried delicate chains attached to small exotic animals. There were no merchants yelling, no pushing no shoving. There were only small gatherings of people, being entertained by minstrels no less!
Finally, the road widened, becoming steeper and curving slightly to the left. Soon we were standing in the shadow of a great and imposing wall. Flames danced in the niches on either side of the enormous doors. Shields decorated the ivy covered stones, shining still in the late afternoon. Higher up and harder to make out were some words and other decorations. There were so many distractions. It was as if the whole city had been designed to strain my neck.
The knight that greeted us at the door was tall with a great golden beard. Unconsciously, I followed my normal procedure of looking a man square in the eye upon meeting. If I had remembered how to show the proper respect I would have avoided the swift smack to the head delivered to me by the guard. Having had my eyes averted for me I noticed his plated armor which was somehow green and gold and copper all at the same time. He seemed satisfied although he did not say a word directly to me.
After being admitted, I was given a quick tour of their stronghold, a large circular structure like the bottom third of a tower. On the inside it was a bit more rustic than I had thought. What I thought to be the inner bailey was in fact a hollow structure which housed the beds. Connected to it on one side was a single multistoried tower. Upon entering this space we were immediately faced with another door. This was open and led to the inner ward. In the center of this space was another round wall like a bullseye. Far off to the left was a small well. This was a most awkward design I thought.
When I got inside they put me to work straight away. The round wall was the first thing I was shown. It was about the height of a man and had apparatuses and steps wheeled up to it so that I might see over the edge. It must be an arena for training I thought.
"Water, water, water!" Their cries were always for more water. I was directed to a cistern to fetch it where. I learned from the smell that water meant anything and everything liquid. I overcame my nausea and worked as quickly as it was in my power to do so. There were no other servants, just me.
And I watched with a mixture of sadness and confusion as the great stone circle I thought I'd be watching sword fighting and jousting in while I tried to identify my fugitive was turned into an enormous cauldron of refuse. I thought of fetching mutton and wine while the knights trained. Instead, good ale and freshly killed meat were thrown in with carts full of unidentified things not even having been taken out of the sacks they came in. Apparently, there was not enough time.
Finally, there was enough water. Then kindling was shoved into the holes underneath and set fire. Gigantic bellows were brought out to fan the flames. This went on until the stuff inside came to a furious boil. This was maintained day after day. The fans that were brought out seemed to me a feeble attempt to disperse the awful smell. It didn't work.
"He will come, won't he? Yes, he always comes," was spoken by a red bearded knight. I considered myself lucky to have caught this bit of information. This was my only lead at all so far, so from then on I watched him closely.
I should have felt encouraged by this except that the days that followed were much the same as before.
Every night we made our beds within the circular structure of the stone stronghold and ate whatever was spared from being thrown in the great pot outside. Inside it was possible to walk all the way around looking at the knights by the light of the small windows.
All of them seemed to sleep comfortably in full armour. In the moonlight they glittered with an iridescent sheen, regal like ancient edifices in a catacomb. My fugitive would not be accustomed to sleeping so uncomfortably. I considered the possibility that this was a dead end, that Mordo was not among these knights.
I had found a lute I had amongst all the donations. It was my idea to entertain the men at dinner. I strummed with confidence and great enthusiasm for close to an hour. However, the looks on their faces suggested that they either did not care for my form of entertainment. This could have been due to my less than great singing voice or perhaps the fact that the lute was missing a couple of strings. Anyway, the lute was the next thing to go in the bath.
I myself had been struggling for days against violent urges. Again I thought of Mordo. I thought to sneak away somehow, to take my leave of them.
However, I soon abandoned my plans for escape because there appeared a sign that something was about to happen. One day there was a wind that hadn't been there before. This seemed to get the knights very excited. They butted helms and laughed mightily into each other's faces. They set to the bellows even more now and fanned with even more enthusiasm.
Soon the wind was accompanied by warmth.
"He comes!" They shouted. "He comes!"
At this announcement there was a great bustle of activity. I was not asked to assist as the knights rounded up all their possessions and seemed to forget that I was even there. To add to my confusion they began to dismantle the bellows and the fans. They gathered up all the benches and tables and headed toward the stone wall with them. Yes, everything was being moved inside. In addition, they were setting about to nail up planks of wood to cover the small windows. Who was coming? What was coming, I wondered, to drive their whole operation inside? I was hoping that one of them would say something, let something slip or any clue as to what was happening. I thought briefly of my loose lipped fugitive.
Soon everything had been brought inside with the exception of their shields which they were deliberately placing in a row near the well. Clearly their plan did not involve defending this fortress. What cowards!
Instinct told me I should be on the outside of that wall when the doors closed. Quickly I ducked behind the row of shields. I heard no sounds from inside as I waited for whatever was supposed to happen.
The shields clattered against one another as the wind gained strength. Gradually, it began to get warmer, and warmer. The spade shaped shadows at my feet disappeared with the sun, as if storm clouds were suddenly gathering directly overhead. In a few minutes it had cleared. I was about to emerge from behind the shields to have a look when the storm gathered again. Then over the bubbling I could hear something that sounded like a far off scream, but not an ordinary scream. Then I knew exactly what it was, the only thing that it could be.
Father had been right after all. The shields clattered against each other threatening to expose me. I could only make guesses as to the great mass of the creature gliding closer and closer to the ground. I could guess by its crash to earth that it had great talons had scarred the ground. I began to hear all sorts of things, most notably a slow and rhythmic noise like a lake being dredged. It was clearly enjoying the meal we had been preparing for it. Its screams of pleasure while it ate were like a violent wind. There were crushing sounds, tinkling sounds and all things metallic. The noises hung in the air and stung my ears. Specks of these things fell all about me like rain.
I didn't think much of my hiding space. Deciding that the creature was distracted, I left my little hideout. Cautiously, I slunk around the low wall of the well. I fought the urge to turn around and get a look at the creature. I banged on the board covering the window nearest me. After three knocks it was removed and a face appeared.
"He is not within?" was the knight's question to himself. The board was replaced.
I knocked again.
"Can someone go to the door and let me in?" I asked.
"No."
"Can you at least throw a sword through the window so I can defend myself?" There was a brief pause.
"No."
I slunk back down and paused behind the well. Instinct had saved me. The creature was belching fire now. Flames rolled up around me and the row of shields was finally toppled.
This went on and on and although I desired to imprint every detail in my mind for the sake of posterity soon I was beset by a new peril. I was getting sleepy, dangerously sleepy. Days of haphazard sleeping patterns were combining with the heat. Peacefully, I succumbed to unconsciousness knowing my fate may lie here while somewhere Mordo was free.
I do not know what went on or how close I came to death while the dragon had its way with the inner sanctum of the knights' stronghold. I only knew this. When I woke up it was to blissful silence. Some of the shields which hid me were black and deformed. I got myself a ladle full of water from the well. The fires had pretty much died out from not being tended to and at last the horrible bubbling was no more.
Eventually, the doors opened and the knights began filing out. Their attitude suggested that nothing out of the ordinary had happened. This was of course until they saw me.
The red bearded knight looked at me darkly.
"He was not within," was all he said.
All the water was gone and what was left was an oily mass of black and grey gunk.
Quickly, they got to work and brought out great screens to sift through all the muck. Disgusted as I was by this spectacle, I was reminded that I was still sworn to secrecy.
There were scales it had sloughed off while it was eating. I noticed they bore a striking resemblance to the material of the knights' armor. There were many, many coins and all sorts of metallic things. These too they began to collect up. Nothing was left out. Even the creature's feces were found and gone over for treasures. Soon the tables were brought out for sorting all of this.
Anything that did not stand out as being a precious metal was given for me to go over. Then I saw something, an object that seemed significant to me. At first I thought it was just a cup without its bottom. It was a cylindrical piece of metal definitely thicker than a cup. I washed it off in a trough of muddy water. It was a prisoner's cuff.
I wondered just how Mordo had met his end. Maybe he knew the city got rid of its trash, but didn't know just how. Certainly, if he had been hiding in one of those unidentified sacks of refuse, hoping he and it would be carted outside the city walls and to freedom he had been misinformed. If he was alive when he was thrown in the pot surely no one heard his screams over the gurgling stew.
I did not find out how the knights happened upon this unique method of treasure gathering. I did not know how long it had been this way. I did not care. It was after that night that I realized my desire to learn things I did not know had left me forever.
The news since then has not been good. Following a night of feasting and celebrating during which the knights displayed their scarred shields to the public I found I was unable to leave. Probably owing to what I have witnessed I have been retained here permanently. The knights never are far from me. I have tried to be a better squire but I get the feeling they are considering what they're going to do with me that I might not be a problem for them.
Now that I know the awful secret I am a virtual prisoner. They haven't got so far as to lock me up. I am permitted to read in the tower library. What I do with my time now might appear as the final acts of a doomed man determined to have the last laugh. For I linger in the tower writing in lemon juice in the margins of the books illustrating their great deeds. But, during this time I have had to myself has begun to restore my confidence. I have not changed my mind about my career. I am retired.
I will escape from here. When I do I promise myself this. I will take Darla in my arms (my beard's grown nicely now and I don't see how she could refuse me) and, after collecting my bounty whisk her away to a far off town. We will settle into an average life as average tavern owners. I will forever hate stew. And, but for the writing of this memoir I will never speak of nor hopefully ever think upon the illustrious city of High Bath.
The End
Jennifer says:
I like the combination of the western/medieval feel to this story, and I like the knights' method for gaining treasure. You take too long getting the story going, however; its momentum gets lost in too much description. Tighten it up and punch up the action a bit.
Plot - 20
Characters - 18
Mechanics - 19
Enjoyment - 20
TOTAL - 77
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