Spice and Wolf, Vol. 10

by Isuna Hasekura

  “The blessings of God be upon you,” said the monk gruffly and then quickly retreated.

  No doubt he had candle lighting and nocturne to prepare for, but such treatment would hardly inspire average believers to come here on pilgrimage.

  “Now, then, shall we?” murmured Piasky, and the words left his mouth in a puff of white vapor.

  It was cold and well past the time to be enjoying wine, mutton, and merrymaking.

  Unlike Lawrence, Piasky had many friends here, and it was his busiest time of day.

  Lawrence nodded. Col was still silently praying, as was Holo; Lawrence nudged him, and they stood.

  The sanctuary’s high ceiling, from its entrance to the altar, gave the space a sense of grandeur, along with the august, divine majesty thanks to wealth accumulated over many years. If the embroidered curtain that hung down from the ceiling, faded by candle soot and cold winters alike, were pulled back, it felt very much that the past could be glimpsed as a golden, glittering land.

  “Brondel Abbey…the house of our almighty God…,” Col murmured, looking back after they’d passed the cloister and gone through a set of iron-barred, heavily fortified doors.

  Though they would call Col a pagan, he did not seem to particularly hate the Church.

  Perhaps he was struck by the majesty of this building that had been constructed here in the land of falling snow and had decided to let such small details slide, or perhaps he was simply fond of that verse.

  Under normal circumstances Holo would have made sport of him, but she continued to hold his hand when he stopped and joined him in looking back. After a moment like that, they both followed after Lawrence.

  “In truth, I would’ve liked to be able to invite you and your companions along as well, Mr. Lawrence…”

  “Not at all. I understand entirely. Though if this were a business negotiation, I’d have a seat at the table even if I had to invite myself.”

  “Ha-ha-ha, I appreciate your saying so. I’ll see you tomorrow, though.”

  “Indeed. Enjoy your wining!”

  Lawrence and company took their leave of Piasky there in the torch-lit sanctuary and then proceeded to the shepherds’ dormitories. At this late hour the streets were empty, even those around the sanctuary, and the only light came from the lanterns beside each building’s door.

  “I’ll just bet he’ll have good wining, I will,” said Holo.

  They had not prayed within the sanctuary very long, but the footprints they had left on their way in had been buried under the falling snow.

  “The wine in our wineskins is good enough,” said Lawrence.

  “Aye, but good wining means good food and good company as well.”

  “Just what are you getting at…?” Lawrence immediately assumed she was talking about him, but then realized otherwise. “Look, you—don’t say anything like that at dinner, understand?”

  Beneath her hood, Holo heaved a heavy sigh. Lawrence was certain that the whump sound of a foot stomping on snow was not his imagination.

  “Just how is one meant to enjoy their drink around one so scruffy and gloomy? Not only would he not give me a proper greeting, just when I wondered where he’d gone, he returned with a basket full of raw mutton. Just what is he thinking, drying it above the hearth like that? Is he making sport of me?”

  Shepherds departed early in the morning and returned only when the sun went down, so aside from dinner, most of their eating was done out of doors. To make matters worse, this was a place where snow was the norm. If the snow was too severe, a shepherd could be forced to find somewhere to stay at through the night. There certainly was no room in the dormitory for all the sheep. Preparing food for his comrades in the many stables here and there was part of his job.

  Rather than being deliberately unsociable, Huskins’s lack of grace was probably due to his being simply busy with preparations for the next day.

  Of course, it was less that and more the fact that he had the nerve to make mutton jerky right in front of her that bothered Holo so much. Worse, next to the string of jerky were links of mutton sausage.

  “If it’s jerky you want, there should still be some in the bag.”

  “That tough stuff suits my taste not,” said Holo, turning away in displeasure.

  It was enough to make Lawrence laugh. She was like an unreasonable child. But he knew he needed to be prepared for when she decided to truly press him. She had only given him trouble because the meat had been right before her eyes.

  “If we do as Piasky did and put it in stew, it’ll turn nice and tender,” said Lawrence, which Holo looked up at, her lips curled in a derisive sneer.

  “Why don’t you just use the stewpot for a pillow from now on, hmm?”

  Lawrence replied with a sigh. “Are you saying it’ll soften my head?”

  Holo faced forward and did not deign to reply.

  Such was their conversation as they returned to the dormitory, the sounds of laughter and the scents of delicious food emanating from the rooms they passed. Holo was not the only one licking her lips at the smell of mutton.

  The rickety doors of each building would be easily broken with a kick. Holo peered through each one as they passed, trying to catch a glimpse of what was being eaten within.

  There were five rooms in the dormitory, with Lawrence and his companions occupying one of two rooms on the second floor.

  In total, fifteen shepherds were housed there, and there was even a kennel dedicated for the sheepdogs. Counting the barns that dotted the surrounding countryside, Lawrence guessed there were around thirty shepherds in total. Not all of them would know each other, as they alternated sleeping out in the barns and here in the dormitory.

  Of them, Huskins was the oldest, and he supposedly knew more about sheep than God.

  “We’ve returned.”

  It was not uncommon for travelers to rent rooms in the others’ homes while journeying. A good way to ensure a pleasant time for all was to greet the home’s occupants warmly.

  “It’s a magnificent sanctuary you have here.”

  Huskins gave only a minute nod, silently trimming tendons and fat from raw meat. Holo’s look of pleasure was no doubt thanks to his removal of the fat, her favorite part.

  Once Lawrence had seen Holo and Col back to the room, he immediately set about preparing for dinner. They were only allowed to stay there on the condition that they look after Huskins’s meals.

  Just as Lawrence picked up a stewpot, Huskins suddenly spoke.

  “…A fitting place for God to live.”

  Understanding that this was in reference to the sanctuary, Lawrence smiled and nodded.

  Lawrence borrowed some tools from Huskins to make a support for the pot, and then filled it with water, along with the ingredients in the proportions he had learned from Piasky.

  He knew Holo liked a slightly stronger flavor, so he put in a little extra salt. Likewise he had heard that shepherds, like their sheep, preferred their food salty. He added some of the tough jerky, along with the bread that had been reduced to crumbs in its bag, making what would be a very nutritious meal.

  Normally this would have been a good opportunity for some idle conversation, but Huskins was as quiet as ever as he continued his work. It was often said that those who spent their years with animals would soon become unable to speak with anyone else, and Lawrence could understand why someone would say so.

  “Dinner’s on.”

  Lawrence went over to the next room to call Holo and Col in, whereupon he saw that they had pulled a few pieces of straw out of the bed and were playing a childish guessing game with them, trying to guess the shortest one.

  Given the smile on his face, it seemed likely that Col was winning.

  Lawrence patted Holo’s head as he walked by them, and she very distinctly leaned toward him flirtatiously.

  She didn’t seem to be in very good spirits.

  “Thanks be to God for this meal.”

  As befit an abbey, they rec
ited the traditional prayer—something they did not normally do.

  With a smile on his face, Col started eating immediately, but Holo’s expression was a sour one, as though she really were a nun.

  This was partially because the stew had only jerky for meat, but also because her distilled grape wine did not taste good with the hot broth.

  Travel notwithstanding, now that they had reached their destination, Lawrence did not mind if she got drunk. He was sure he would hear her complaints on the subject, except that before them sat Huskins, like some sort of hermit.

  In order to keep up appearances, Lawrence had decided it was best for them to appear to be pious pilgrims.

  Their only acquaintance here was Piasky, and with the Ruvik Alliance lingering in the area, it was doubtful how much weight the Rowen Trade Guild’s name would carry.

  It would be best to seize the opportunity that staying with Huskins provided, given that although he was merely a shepherd, he had still lived in the abbey for a very long time. Like a jug filled with water, a taciturn person’s mind was filled with knowledge. The problem was figuring out how to remove the lid.

  Huskins continued to eat his meal, silent, offering neither comments nor thanks.

  Given that the dinner was a contractually obligated one, expressing any criticism would likely lead to a conflict, so his silence was undoubtedly the correct approach.

  Unfortunately, this also meant that Lawrence had no opportunity to begin to pry the lid off. He would have to wait for a chance to present itself.

  Lawrence thought it over as he continued to eat, and finally Huskins stood.

  The contents of the pot were nearly gone—all that was left was to divvy up the remaining thick broth.

  Holo grinned openly at the prospect of having one less person to have to share with, but her grin disappeared as he sat back down.

  Huskins casually took a piece of jerky that had been drying on a strap and dropped it into the pot.

  “…It’s nice, eating with a group for once.”

  His voice was like a burned-out log collapsing in a campfire, but to Lawrence and his companions, each of whom had often eaten alone, it was a warm and friendly greeting.

  Holo’s mood immediately improved, and she was already eating some of the meat, which had not yet had a chance to properly boil.

  Just as Lawrence was going to thank Huskins, he saw the old man offering him a small bottle.

  As far as he could tell from the whitish substance around the lid, it seemed to be some sort of liquor made from sheep’s milk.

  Lawrence finished the wine in his own cup, then gratefully allowed Huskins to pour him some of the proffered drink.

  “There’s a taste I’ve not had in some time.” It was a flavor one either loved or hated, and for his part Lawrence was none too fond of it.

  And yet he understood that this was a gesture of friendship from Huskins, made in spite of their short stay.

  Lawrence made a great show of savoring the stuff, such that Holo was surely laughing inwardly at him.

  “So, Mr. Huskins…” Lawrence pretended at being prompted to speak out of drunkenness and stopped short to take in Huskins’s reaction.

  Huskins was cutting a piece of the boiled meat with a knife, which he put in his mouth and chased down with a drink of the milk liquor before looking at Lawrence.

  “…You’ve been here long, have you?”

  “…A few dozen years now. Since the time of the abbot before last.”

  “I see. I’ve been traveling since I was a boy, doing business all the while. I can barely imagine what it must be like to have spent so much time in one place.”

  Huskins said nothing, and sensing that he was still listening, Lawrence continued.

  “Incidentally, I’ve heard there are three things that never change in the Winfiel kingdom. What about you, Mr. Huskins—would you say that’s true?”

  At these words, Huskins’s knife froze in midslice in his bowl. His eyes looked far into the distance, as anyone’s did when they were searching their memories.

  “…The arrogant nobles, the beautiful plains…”

  “And the flocks of sheep!”

  As Lawrence finished the sentence, a faint smile flashed across Huskins’s face.

  “…It doesn’t change much, this land.”

  “It sounds lovely.”

  “…You think so?” Huskins’s voice was quiet but clear, as though he had seen through all of Lawrence’s flattery.

  Lawrence could feel Holo look up at him from under her hood, a bit of meat in her mouth.

  His words were clear enough.

  But Lawrence neither panicked nor cowered. He was a merchant and had no small amount of experience himself. “I use the same words any time I return somewhere after a year of travel and business.” Lawrence smiled and continued, “Things never change.”

  “…”

  From beneath the long, gray eyebrows, those animal yet human eyes focused on Lawrence. The powerful gaze felt somehow like Huskins was looking at him good and hard for the very first time.

  The old shepherd then brought the cup of sheep’s milk to his lips and nodded. “This place doesn’t change, either. Reckon it’ll stay that way, too.”

  “No doubt. This is Brondel Abbey after all.”

  Huskins nodded; then after nodding, he wordlessly poured Lawrence some more liquor.

  Lawrence got the feeling Huskins had taken a liking to him. He could not stop himself from wishing that the wine were actually tasty.

  “Thought not even a stone wall can resist the changes of the passing days,” said Lawrence.

  “…You mean those merchants? Are you lot any different?” This sarcastic manner of asking was particular to the region.

  Lawrence swallowed more liquor and smiled, chagrined. “I am indeed a merchant, but my aim is a bit different from the others flocking here.”

  “…Oh ho. Coming all the way out here and bringing God’s little lambs with you…”

  “I’m here on pilgrimage to inquire about a holy relic here at the abbey.”

  Lawrence did not mention the wolf bones.

  An abbey as large as Brondel would certainly have a few holy relics, and many pilgrims would surely come to view them.

  Huskins appeared momentarily surprised but soon seemed to accept the story. He worked his mouth as though murmuring something and then nodded. “…There are many reasons to travel. Such brings color to a drab world.”

  Coming from the mouth of a minstrel, such words would have been mere affectation, but from Huskins they had the ring of truth.

  Lawrence smiled and nodded, giving Huskins the greater portion of what delicious, savory broth remained in the bowl.

  The next morning, Huskins left before dawn broke.

  Through the window, the energetic barking of the sheepdogs could be heard as could chattering human voices, which suggested he always left around this hour.

  Lawrence shivered at the frigid air that crept in under the blanket and clung to Holo’s tail—she was under the same blanket—trying to hold on to the happiness of warmth just a bit longer.

  When he next awoke, a good amount of time had passed. The sun was already well in the sky, and several rays slipped through the cracks in the window.

  No sooner had he mused upon how complacent he had grown, having done no business in a while, than he realized what it was that let him sleep so soundly.

  It was very warm under the covers—and Holo had slept in the same bed all night.

  “I surely am handy to have about.”

  And surely it was pleasant to awaken to a beautiful maiden sleeping upon one’s chest—though not perhaps when her mouth was full of jerky.

  And not when her breath stank of liquor.

  No doubt she had wanted to avoid being scolded, and furthermore, she hated the notion of hunching over next to the fireplace to drink alone. Even Lawrence avoided drinking alone—and it was warmer under the blankets, as well.
/>   “…Where’s Col?”

  “I know not…He tended the hearth for a while, but once the sun rose he went off with the shepherds and their staves.”

  A shred of jerky hanging from her mouth shook as she spoke, and from its color, Lawrence was sure it was part of the meat Huskins had been drying the previous day.

  But criticizing her would be more trouble that it was worth. He would simply have to hope that Huskins didn’t notice.

  “So it’s sunny outside, eh…?”

  The winter often kept people shut up indoors for one reason or another.

  If it was fine out, there would be more people out, with the blooms of their conversation more lively.

  “Aye. Just a moment ago the dogs were scampering about. And it seems as though a certain someone seems to be thinking me one of them.”

  “Better than drinking wine first thing in the morning. Come, move aside. I’ve got to go out and see what’s afoot.”

  He nudged Holo’s shoulder, but she seemed completely disinclined to move. He heaved a heavy sigh and crawled out of the bed.

  While the sun had been up for some time, cold was cold.

  He wanted to return to the bed where Holo continued to gnaw on her jerky, but such was the devil’s temptation. Lawrence opened the window wide.

  That moment the sunlight reflecting off the snow stabbed into his eyes, rendering his vision temporarily ineffective.

  “…Whew. Still, what a sight.”

  “’Tis cold.”

  “It might not be the same as when you looked out over the ocean, but the view does make me want to run about a bit. Look, even Col is over there playing with the sheepdogs.”

  The barn was just beyond and downhill from the well, and beside it was none other than Col, around whom four sheepdogs jumped and frolicked.

  Lawrence then realized his error with an “ah.” Holo could hardly play with the sheepdogs the way Col could.

  He laughed soundlessly at this, which earned him a suspicious glare from Holo.

  “He’ll return soon enough, with lips white from cold. You can tease him all you like then.”

  “…”

  She did not seem interested, but her wagging tail suggested she did not find the idea altogether displeasing.

  When he went into the next room, he found that there was still charcoal in the hearth and then understood that Col had made it ready before going out. It went without saying that he had also fetched water.