If he could learn something about the flow of coin in this village, he might be able to do some business here, he thought to himself.
In any case, there weren’t any other merchants here, which by itself was a state Lawrence liked.
He couldn’t help but grin at himself. Here he was on a journey that had nothing to do with business, yet his mind drifted there all the same.
Just then, from outside the window, came the sound of a door creaking open.
The sound stood out clearly in the quiet morning. Lawrence looked through a crack in the window. It was none other than Evan.
But he was not entering the church as before—he was leaving it.
From his hand dangled a bundle of some kind, perhaps a meal.
As before, Evan looked around carefully, then trotted away from the church.
After he’d gone a slight distance, he turned and waved to Elsa. When Lawrence looked over at Elsa, he saw her smile and wave back in response—she couldn’t have looked more different from when she had dealt with Lawrence.
Lawrence found himself feeling a bit envious.
He watched Evan recede into the distance.
I see, he thought to himself, finally realizing why Evan was angry over the dispute between the church Elsa managed and the one in Enberch.
But Lawrence was a merchant; his vision was hardly so narrow as to regard what he’d seen as nothing more than an amusing scene.
What his eyes captured was nothing less than an understanding of what people stood to gain.
“I know where we’re going today.”
“Mm?” Holo popped her head out from under the blankets, looking at Lawrence curiously.
“It’s your home we’re searching for, and yet why am I the one working so hard?”
Holo did not immediately answer, instead flicking her ears rapidly as she sneezed and then rubbing her nose. “’Tis because I am that important, nay?”
Lawrence could only sigh at her shameless answer. “Would it kill you to spare me such talk from time to time?”
“You’re such a merchant.”
“Large profit requires large purchases. Nothing comes of buying small.”
“Hmph. What about your small courage, eh?”
It was a good comeback; Lawrence had no response.
Lawrence closed his eyes, at which Holo chuckled and then continued. “It’s harder for you to move when I am with you, is it not? This is a small village, and eyes follow us wherever we go.”
Lawrence couldn’t manage so much as an “oh.”
“If I could take action, I would—but all I would do is go to that impudent girl at the church and tear her throat out. Please, go and find the location of the abbey, truly. I may seem lazy, but I want nothing more than to go there and hear what the monk has to say.”
“Understood,” said Lawrence to calm the flames of Holo’s emotions, which burned like a sheaf of straw set ablaze.
Though she was sometimes utterly transparent with her feelings, other times she concealed her passions beneath a veil of apathy.
She was a troublesome companion, but nonetheless, her words were right on the mark. It was because she was important to Lawrence that he did all this.
“I’ll be back by midday at the latest,” said Lawrence.
“Bring me a souvenir,” came Holo’s muffled voice from beneath the blankets. Lawrence’s only reply was his usual rueful grin.
He descended the stairs and greeted the pale-faced innkeeper as he walked by the counter, then headed around to the stable, taking a sack of wheat from his wagon’s bed before going back outside.
Even without farmwork to do, people began to rise once the sun was up. Here and there were villagers tending to their vegetable patches or taking care of their pigs or chickens.
While yesterday he was greeted with only suspicion, a few people now looked at Lawrence with smiles. The night of revelry seemed to have had some effect.
A few others couldn’t manage a smile, owing to their hangovers.
But in any case, it seemed he had been more or less accepted as a traveler, which came as a relief.
The increased recognition would make it harder to move, though.
Holo’s impression had been correct. While Lawrence was impressed at her insight, he also felt a twinge of jealousy.
His destination, as he mulled such thoughts over, was naturally Evan’s water mill, where he planned to ask about Elsa.
Lawrence was not Holo. As such, he had no intention of trying to discover the nature of Evan and Elsa’s relationship.
But in order to win over the touchy, reclusive Elsa, it would be faster for Lawrence to speak with Evan, who seemed to have a better understanding of her circumstances.
As he walked down the path he had driven his wagon over the previous day, Lawrence nodded a greeting to a man who was plucking weeds from a field just outside the village.
Lawrence didn’t have any memory of the man, but apparently he had been in the bar last night as he smiled and returned the greeting.
“On foot, eh? Where’re you headed?” the man asked. It was a reasonable question.
“I was thinking of having some wheat ground.”
“Oh, the mill, eh? Careful you don’t get cheated!”
It was probably a common joke when going to the miller’s to have wheat ground. Lawrence smiled by way of reply and continued on to the mill.
A merchant was hardly ever trusted by anyone, save another merchant. Yet there were occupations that were still worse off.
While Lawrence himself had no questions about the God of the Church, who claimed that all trades and occupations were equal, he remembered that the people of Tereo had no love for the servants of that God.
The world simply didn’t go as one might wish. It was filled with hardship.
With the harvest over, the wheat fields he passed as he walked the path between the hill and the stream were rather desolate, but soon the millhouse came into view.
Evan seemed to hear the merchant’s footsteps as he approached and popped his head out of the entrance. “Ah, Master Lawrence!”
He seemed cheerful as ever, though being called “master” after having met the lad only a day earlier irritated Lawrence.
Lawrence raised the sack of wheat and spoke. “Have you a mortar free at the moment?”
“Eh? I do, but…are you leaving already?”
Lawrence handed the sack over to Evan, shaking his head.
It was reasonable to assume that if a traveler was having his wheat ground, he was making preparations to leave.
“No, I’ll be in Tereo for a time yet,” said Lawrence.
“Ah, you must! Just wait a moment, then. I’ll grind this into flour that will rise beautifully, you’ll see.”
It occurred to Lawrence that Evan might be trying to butter him up in order to win a chance at leaving the village. Evan seemed to give a short sigh of relief as he went back into the millhouse.
Lawrence followed him in and was immediately surprised.
Despite its dingy exterior, the inside of the mill was clean and well kept with three grand millstones.
“This is quite a mill,” said Lawrence.
“Isn’t it? It may not look like much on the outside, but I grind all the wheat in Tereo,” said Evan proudly as he connected the shaft that turned the mortar wheel to the shaft coming from the waterwheel.
He then extended a thin pole out the window, undoing the rope that prevented the waterwheel from turning.
Immediately the wheel creaked to life, moving the stone with a deep rumbling sound.
Checking that everything was moving as it should, Evan poured Lawrence’s wheat into a hole at the top of the mortar.
Now all they had to do was wait for the flour to collect at the plate underneath the stone.
“I haven’t seen wheat in quite some time. We’ll weigh it out later, but my guess is that the fee will be maybe three ryut,” said Evan.
“That
’s quite cheap.”
“Cheap? And here I was worried you’d find it too high.”
In places with heavy taxes, Lawrence wouldn’t have been surprised at Evan’s figure being tripled.
But perhaps three ryut seemed high to someone unfamiliar with the market.
“The villagers are a tightfisted lot when it comes to grinding. But if I don’t collect in full, I’m the one to bear the elder’s ire.”
Lawrence laughed. “That’s true no matter where you go.”
“Were you a miller, too, once?”
“No, but I once did work as a tax collector. It was for the butcher tax on meat. Things like how much tax they owed for slaughtering one pig, you see.”
“Huh, so that is how it’s done, eh?”
“Cleaning meat and bones taints the river and creates a lot of garbage, so it’s taxed in order to pay for the cleanup—but of course nobody wants to pay.”
Taxation rights were auctioned off to the highest bidder by town officials. The bid went directly into the town’s coffers, and the winner could then go collect taxes at will. The more tax one could collect, the greater the profit—but if the tax collector wasn’t successful, he risked great loss.
Lawrence had done this twice when he was starting out as a merchant.
The effort collecting took and the money it yielded were totally out of proportion, he found.
“In the end, I would have to cry and beg to get people to pay. It was awful,” he said.
Evan laughed. “I surely understand!”
Lawrence knew that this story of shared hardship would go far toward winning Evan’s trust.
Well, now, he thought to himself as he laughed with Evan.
“Incidentally, you did say that all of Tereo’s grain is ground here, yes?”
“Yes, it’s true. There was a big harvest this year, so it’s hardly my fault it took so long to grind, yet they yell at me constantly!”
Lawrence couldn’t help but imagine Evan staying up all night, tending the mortar.
But Evan laughed at the memory of it, apparently happy, then continued. “What, then—have you changed your mind since yesterday? Are you planning to do wheat business in Tereo?”
“Hm? Oh well, depending on circumstances…”
“I’d counsel you to give it up,” said Evan flatly.
“Merchants are particularly bad at giving up.”
“Ha, spoken like a true merchant! But you need only go to the elder to understand. It’s been decided that the village must sell all its grain to Enberch.” As he spoke, Evan checked the progress of the mortar, carefully brushing the flour into the stone plate with a boar hair brush.
“Ah, is Tereo part of Enberch’s fief, then?” If that was true, it would make the leisurely lives of the villagers even harder to explain.
Unsurprisingly, Evan looked up and spoke proudly. “We’re their equals. They buy our wheat; we buy other things from them. What’s more, when we buy wine or clothing from Enberch, we pay no taxes. Impressive, isn’t it?”
When he passed through Enberch, Lawrence had seen that it was a town of some size.
The term poor might have been too harsh for Tereo, but the village certainly didn’t seem up to the task of confronting Enberch.
It was impressive indeed, then, for such a small village to conduct commerce with such favorable terms.
“What I heard at the tavern was that Enberch levies heavy taxes on Tereo, though.”
Evan chuckled. “That’s ancient history. Want to know why?” He folded his arms like a boastful child. It was more amusing than irritating.
“I’d love to,” said Lawrence, opening his palms in invitation.
Evan suddenly unfolded his arms and ducked his head. “Uh, sorry. I don’t know myself,” he said bashfully. “B-but still—,” he hastened to add. “I know who’s responsible for making it this way!”
In that instant, Lawrence felt something he’d not felt in a long time—the pleasure of being one step ahead of another. “Father Franz, wasn’t it?”
“Ah! Er—how did you know?”
“Call it merchant’s intuition.”
Holo would no doubt have grinned unpleasantly at him if she had been there, but sometimes Lawrence wanted to have a bit of fun. Since meeting Holo, he had always been on the receiving end of her teasing. It had been some time since he’d had the opportunity to dish it out.
“A-amazing. You’re a man to be reckoned with, Mr. Lawrence.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere. Is my wheat done?”
“Oh, er—yes. Just a moment.”
Lawrence smiled slightly at Evan’s haste, then sighed to himself.
It could be dangerous to stay in Tereo for too long.
He had seen from time to time places like this village and its neighbor Enberch.
“Ah, yes. It will indeed be three ryut. But since there’s nobody here, if you’ll keep mum about it, you don’t have to—”
“No, I’ll pay. A miller’s got to be honest, don’t you think?”
Evan held a measuring container with the newly ground wheat flour in it. He smiled helplessly and accepted the three blackened silver coins Lawrence offered. “Make sure you sift it well before you make bread with it,” he said.
“I shall. By the way—,” began Lawrence. Evan had already begun tending to the mortar now that its work was finished. “Do the church services here always begin so early?”
Lawrence expected surprise from Evan, but the boy was only curious as he turned around. “Hm?” He then seemed to understand the implication behind the question and smiled. “No, hardly. It’s not bad in the summer, but I’m sure you’ll agree it’s far too cold to sleep in the millhouse in the winter. I sleep in the church.”
Lawrence had already inferred as much, so it was easy for him to affect a natural “Ah, I see.” He continued. “Still, you seem to be quite close to Miss Elsa.”
“Hm? Ah, well, ha-ha-ha…”
If you mix pride, happiness, and embarrassment, add a bit of water, and knead until soft, you would wind up with something like Evan’s expression at that moment.
Such a recipe would certainly rise well when baked in the fires of jealousy.
“When we visited the church yesterday to ask for directions, we were treated with no small amount of disdain. She simply wouldn’t listen to anything I said. Yet this morning, she seemed as kind and gentle as the Holy Mother. Quite a surprise.”
Evan laughed nervously. “Well, Elsa’s quite short-tempered for someone as timid as she is. Her shyness makes her like a wild rat when she first meets someone. If she really wants to follow in Father Franz’s footsteps, she’ll have to stop.” He disconnected the waterwheel from the mortar and adroitly refastened the rigging to the waterwheel.
His smooth, competent movements combined with the words he spoke made Evan seem older than his years.
“But still,” he continued, “it’s been some time since she’s been in such high spirits. I suppose your timing was bad. By yesterday evening, she was quite happy. Still…it’s odd. Why didn’t she mention you had visited? That girl usually tells me how many sneezes she’s had that day.”
While Lawrence knew that Evan was only making idle conversation, he really had no interest in this.
But if he wanted to get closer to Elsa, he needed to get Evan on board.
“Surely it’s because in the end, I’m also a man,” he said.
Evan was stunned silent for a moment, then burst out laughing. Finally he managed, “So she was worried I would get the wrong idea! That silly girl!”
Lawrence looked at Evan and realized that he had much to learn from the lad despite his younger age.
Problems of this sort were more complicated even than business.
“But what would’ve made her so cheerful after being so irritable?”
Evan’s face darkened. “Why do you ask?”
“My own companion’s moods change more often than the mountain weather,” said
Lawrence with a shrug.
Evan paused, recalling Holo from his memory. He ultimately seemed to accept Lawrence’s statement.
He flashed a sympathetic smile. “It must be quite rough going.”
“It surely is.”
“Sadly I don’t know how much I can explain. It’s simply that in Elsa’s case, a persistent problem has calmed down.”
“Meaning?”
“Well—,” Evan began but then cut himself off. “I was told not to talk about it to people from outside the village. If you simply must know, perhaps you might ask the elder…”
“Ah, no, if you can’t talk about it, that’s fine.”
Lawrence withdrew easily, but of course, there was a reason for that as well.
He had already gathered more than enough information.
But Evan seemed now to be worried he’d somehow aggrieved Lawrence. His face was suddenly apprehensive. He cast about for something to say. “Ah, but—I can say that if you go now, she’ll probably talk to you. She’s really not a bad person!”
Given that even the village elder had pretended ignorance of the abbey, Lawrence doubted the problem would be so simple. But it would a good opportunity to go and talk to Elsa once more.
In any case, he now had a plan.
Assuming his predictions were correct, it would work.
“Well then,” he said. “I suppose I’ll go talk with her again.”
“I think you should.”
Deciding that there was nothing further to be gained here, Lawrence said, “I’ll be off, then,” and turned to leave.
“U-um, Mr. Lawrence!” Evan called out hastily.
“Hm?”
“Is…is it hard being a traveling merchant?”
Deep in Evan’s uneasy eyes there was a determination.
Lawrence could not bring himself to snicker at the boy. “There’s no job in the world that’s not hard. But…yes, it’s quite nice at the moment.”
Lawrence admitted to himself that it was nice in a completely different way since he’d met Holo.
“I see…I guess you’re right. Well, thank you!”
Though being a miller required honesty, there was a difference between honesty and artlessness.
If Evan became a merchant, he would probably be quite popular, but actually turning a profit would take hard work, Lawrence knew.
Spice and Wolf, Vol. 4 Page 6
