The Devil's Workshop

by Donnally Miller

  She’s come to the hazels to meet one she knows,

  Full shapely her feet as she treads the ground near

  And oh, as she comes, the more my love grows.

  With a hey and a ho . . .

  We lie ‘neath the lindens, o’erloathe to awake

  Resting at noon-tide till roused from our sleep

  I gaze unmoving, held for love’s sake,

  Whilst wand’ring the fowls and restless the sheep.

  With a hey and a ho . . .

  O friend of my soul than which none can come nigher

  Thou art the sun’s kiss and the sweetness of May,

  I’ll follow thee o’er all the rocks and the fire

  For thou art my love till Earth waneth away.

  With a hey and a ho, and a nonny nonny no,

  My song is done, now must I go.

  He stopped singing and put his banjo down at the base of the masonry wall he was seated on. For a brief spell he contemplated the tumbling waves of Lost Bastard Sound. The strangely curious traveling man he associated with had deposited him here in the morning with instructions to await his return and had then mounted his pale horse and ridden into Kashahar. Fergus wondered, as he often had in the past, what that man’s name was. Names didn’t seem to stick to him. Fergus just called him Stranger, but there was still a problem.

  As they’d ridden the road to Kashahar the traffic had been very sparse, and it was like that again today, even this close to the city. There were tinkers and some small merchants on their ponies, or with donkeys pulling carts. Out on the Sound a few fishing boats were straining in the stiff breeze, and in the distance he saw gulls circling over Lost Bastard Island. He didn’t know what business had brought the traveling man here, or why he’d been dragged along. He’d been thinking of stealing off, heading back to Port Jay, but he had a funny feeling the black stallion he’d been riding was keeping an eye on him. So he sat there turning things over in his mind.

  He figured if the stranger had had a Ma and a Pa, then he’d have had a name; they’d have called him something. But maybe he’d never had a Ma and a Pa. For sure there was something strange about him, why he was called Stranger. But what other method was there of coming into the world, other than being born? That seemed to raise a number of difficulties. Maybe he should try to sneak up on him some night, see if he has a belly button . . .

  As he was thinking this a singular feeling came over him, like a shiver of ice dropping in the middle of the warm summer day. All at once he knew someone else was with him, just behind maybe, or maybe over there, but there was someone watching him, and from somewhere nearby.

  “Stranger?” he called. “You there?”

  It felt like the silence was angry he’d spoken, but no answer came back. Some of the shadows the trees were casting didn’t look quite right. Something rustled in the brush.

  “What are you doing here?” The stranger stood beside him.

  “You told me to wait.”

  “You do what I say?”

  “I guess.”

  “You’re stupid, Fergus, you know that?”

  “That’s what you keep telling me.”

  “Anybody with any brains would’ve run off. I have to work with fools because they’re the only ones aren’t smart enough to keep away from me.”

  “I knew I was right for this job.”

  “We may be in for some dangerous work today. I’m warning you ahead of time. There’s some desperate customers in town and they’ve got a jewel of great price. I had Crazy Dog’s pirates set to snatch it but he hasn’t shown. So maybe it’ll be up to us to stick our fingers in the hornet’s nest. All I know is, we wait much longer and the priests’ll show up and take it back. Where’s the fun in that?” He inhaled a good pinch of snuff and looked at Fergus. “Any questions?”

  “You bet.”

  “What’s your question?”

  “Have you got a belly button?”

  The stranger had to think about that one, it wasn’t an inquiry he’d been expecting. At length he said, “Depends on the day of the week.” He spat. “Now get on your horse, and let’s get into town.”

  At that same moment Barnacle Jack was concluding the sale of the Queen of Bel Harbor. Things had gone better than expected. He’d found merchants with ready cash who were willing to make a deal and who didn’t ask too many questions as to the ship’s provenance. The transaction was to his liking, selling her in such short order for more than half what she was worth, and he was counting the silver and gold and tying up the money bags he and Ramsey would be bringing back to Crazy Dog. To his mind, the only fly in this otherwise gratifying ointment was Ramsey himself. Barnacle Jack had taken a dislike to him the first instant he’d looked on him, and being unable to form a conception of an unreciprocated distaste, he assumed Ramsey held him in the like disfavor. So at this point, being in the mood for a bit of a frolic, and thinking he ought to test the man’s mettle, he took Ramsey to one side, and giving him a real hard stare, said, “There’s a deal here over what Crazy Dog expects.”

  “Well then, he’ll be jolly glad to get it,” said Ramsey.

  “That he will,” said Barnacle Jack and stared him down again. Then he said, “Perhaps you weren’t fully understanding me. I was thinking if he didn’t get all of it, why, how would he know? So long as what he did get was what he’d thought might come his way.”

  “But he’s going to get all of it . . . I’m new to this pirate business, but the merchants I worked for were men of their word. And so was I.”

  “I see.”

  “I’ve always found it’s best to be honest. Especially with people I don’t trust.”

  “You don’t trust me?”

  “I trust you well enough.”

  “Then you’d not be honest with me, is that what you’re saying?”

  “You’ve a way of twisting a man’s words. I never said I’d not be honest. Not with you, or not with any.”

  “You’ll not be honest.”

  “I will be honest!”

  “Well it took you long enough to say it.”

  “It’s taken you long enough to understand it.”

  “Maybe you’ll make a pirate yet.” He laughed. “I was only joking with you.”

  “Yes, I thought that.”

  They returned to the others and the bags of money. There were seven bags, so they distributed them among the men, each taking one except Mr. Chips, whose arm was broke, and Barnacle Jack, because he was in charge. Then they trudged off to make their rendezvous with Crazy Dog.

  It ought to have been a simple task to get there, but walking down the next hill one of the seamen saw Vincenzo wasn’t carrying a bag, and he stopped him and asked where his bag was, and after some discussion and dispute the bags were counted and it was found there were only six. Barnacle Jack said this was a queer thing, and how could one of the bags have disappeared just as they’d turned a corner and walked down a hill? Vincenzo said no one ever gave him a bag. There must have been six to start with, or who was doing the counting? “Well I know for certain a bag of money could not vanish into the air between here and where we started,” says Ramsey with a tremble and a quiver. “So let’s retrace our steps and I’m as certain as can be we will find it.” So they went back the way they’d come and were careful to look at every paving stone and every plot of grass along the way, but there was nothing for it. The missing bag was not to be found.

  So Barnacle Jack said, “Alright, maybe one of us thinks to play a joke. But I know of a joke or two myself. Now here’s what we’ll do. We’ll put all the bags again together like they were, and distribute them as we did before, and maybe the joker that’s joking with us will have thought better of his joke and there will be seven bags again.” So every man put his bag in and they counted them, and there were five. Well Barnacle Jack’s face got as black as could be and he looked at all the men and he said, “Alright. Who’s the whoreson clown not putting his bag in with the rest?” He searched them
all, Vincenzo, Mr. Chips with his sling — and his sling also was inspected — Diego, the four other seamen, Ramsey, all were searched, but nowhere could the missing bags be found.

  So at this Barnacle Jack takes Ramsey aside once again, and he says, “Alright, you’re having it out of me, are you? About being an honest man?”

  And Ramsey says, “No I’m not. I thought you might have a joke with me, but never would I joke with you.”

  “Then where are the two other bags of money?”

  “I cannot tell you.”

  And here Barnacle Jack gave him his grimmest look, because he was certain now Ramsey had a trick and was trying to steal from him, and he said, “I promise you, you will hang from the yardarm if you are stealing from me and Crazy Dog. We are not the men who will forgive you.”

  And here the tears ran from Ramsey’s eyes and he could not endure any more. He said, “I’ve done everything you told me. I navigated the ship into the harbor. I unloaded the goods. I helped you sell her. I added many lies to make her worth more than she was. I counted the money. I hid nothing. I have been honest. I don’t know who’s taking the money.” And he broke down and fell to the ground. “It’s the ghost of Brutus. It’s him that’s haunting me. His spirit walks beside me and tortures me still.”

  “Oh, what are you going on about? Just give me the money!” yelled Barnacle Jack, punching and kicking him into the ground. Ramsey kept saying, “I didn’t take it,” while Barnacle Jack kept insisting, “Yes you did. I know you did.” After Ramsey had been reduced to a whimpering, puking ruin, Barnacle Jack returned to where he’d left the men, only to find the four seamen from the Seahawk sitting with knives in their backs, and Vincenzo, Mr. Chips and Diego gone, and the bags of money with them. He let out a roar and set off in pursuit, leaving Ramsey moaning over his broken ribs.

  Not far away Crazy Dog was trying to remember how the light had fallen on his mother’s face the last time he’d seen her. Although a psychotic cutthroat, he was yet a man of great sentiment and he treasured the memories of his youth in the old country. He would cheerfully castrate a man while looking him straight in the eye, yet he harbored a soft spot for orphans and other unfortunates. This unevenness in his temper had frequently led others to misread his intentions in ways that had resulted in regrettable outcomes. The memory he was treasuring at this moment was that of his mother’s last words to him before he departed on the road to his fortune, the very road that had eventually led him to where he sat now. Her words were, “My son, if there is one lesson I would instill in you, it is this. It’s a lesson your unfortunate father never learned. Many philosophers tell us the ultimate force that governs the world, that sets the stars in motion and drives the hearts of men, is love. They are mistaken. The ultimate force is fear. Fear will overcome love every time. A man loves at his own discretion, but fears at yours. So as you go forth, remember this: put no faith in the power of love, it is weak and fickle. Put some faith, but just a little, in things that are more lasting, such as wealth and power. However, if you place all your faith in the generation and the constant maintenance of fear, you will never lack for success. You will find that those who fear you will place their wealth and their power at your disposal, something those who love you will never do. Those who fear you will perform the most dreadful and the most humiliating acts, acts which those who love you would never dare contemplate. I am proud to say I have lived my entire life without ever having been loved by any, except, perhaps, for a little, by you, and you hardly count. I have watched those women who sought to be loved. I have seen what becomes of them and I rejoice that I have never shared in their delusion. So go forth and take my words to heart.” When she had concluded her remarks Crazy Dog strangled her and made off with the silver she’d kept in a box under the floor of her kitchen. Never looking back he’d found employment as a cabin boy and gone to sea. Now he was awaiting the return of Barnacle Jack with the proceeds of the sale of the Queen of Bel Harbor before proceeding to the brothel where he expected to consummate the seizure of the eye of Maddibimbo. Returning his thoughts to the present moment, he looked at his second mate Ruby, who was seated at his side. Now it was not a common thing for a woman to be a second mate aboard a pirate vessel. There have been more than a few, but practically all have gone under disguise as men. Ruby, however, was openly female, in fact she flaunted it. Crazy Dog himself had lain beside her, though he had not allowed others the privilege. But now he asked her would she await the arrival of Barnacle Jack while he went to gather the holy gem of Slothikay?

  “I will await you here,” she said. “But be not too long. The tide is like to turn.”

  So Crazy Dog picked six of his best to go with him and went down to the inn where he’d been told Stampour was waiting with the gem.

  At that same moment Kanbold the Lame, mounted on his powerful steed Tessephon, was drawing near to Kashahar. As he jogged along in the pleasant summer sunlight, he was preoccupied with his inner contemplations. His religion taught that the greatest moments, those that composed the very summit of existence, were those moments completely devoid of thought, when the soul was totally vacant, empty of all desires, and that the only goal of meditation was to bring the soul closer to those moments. And as he thought this, he reflected that he must have experienced many such moments, although since these moments were altogether void of any mental content, they could not be remembered. They were the moments that did not exist; that never existed. So long as one could still say be here now, one was not there yet. And he rejoiced in this understanding since it expressed so perfectly the nature of happiness and the constant striving to achieve it, that the struggle was a constant one because when one reached the goal one would be unaware of having reached it, since the goal was a state of unawareness. He considered the many parables and conundrums he’d employed in his attempts to impart this wisdom to his devotees, and how all of them seemed to fall short, and how his disciples constantly appeared to learn something else, something just a little different from that which he taught. They said such things as, the goal is the voyage not the arrival, not realizing that it is precisely the voyage that is not the goal, and will never be the goal, and that at every single moment of the voyage the goal had been reached already, but that it was impossible to state this fact because, by its very nature, it was not a fact, it was only something that could be known. He was interrupted in the midst of these contemplations by an acolyte who tapped him on the leg and said, “We have arrived.”

  Dismounting he found that the inn was a hive of bustling activity. There were several groups of gentlemen amusing themselves with watching a harem of young harlots, many dressed in velvet and wearing masks, who danced with lascivious abandon atop the cluttered tables. Another gaggle of buccaneers was busy knocking on doors and breaking into rooms. These were Crazy Dog and his men, who’d arrived shortly before the priests and were now searching for the thieves who held the jewel. One of the gentlemen in a room on the ground floor had taken objection to being disturbed and was engaged in swordplay with the pirate who had interrupted him. Meanwhile on the second floor a scuffle had broken out in one of the rooms the pirates had barged into and Kanbold’s attention was drawn to this affray when one of the fighters, garbed in priestly robes, leaned over the railing and shouted to him the sacred words “Oloye! Ufthay!”

  Not tarrying to await the arrival of the rest of his retinue, Kanbold immediately hustled his acolytes up the stairs to the rescue of this priest, whom he recognized as one of those that had been sent ahead to retrieve the gem. Limping, he followed his men and watched as they attacked Crazy Dog and his pirates who, having disposed of the two other priests in the room, now turned to meet these new assailants.

  “Halt!” shouted Kanbold. His acolytes paused, swords in mid-air. Crazy Dog’s men froze with their sabers held in attitudes portending menace. Stampour, still bound to his chair, looked cannily about. Demetrio, unfortunately, looked nowhere, having succumbed during the priests’ intense interr
ogation.

  “Who are you?” asked Kanbold.

  “I might ask the same of you,” said Crazy Dog.

  “I am Kanbold the Lame, high priest of Maddibimbo, come to reclaim a sacred and a holy gem which was stolen from our temple by this verminous dog.” Here he indicated Stampour. “The gem is mine by right. It is sacred to the worship of the great monkey god Maddibimbo. And now I will repeat my question, who are you?”

  “I am Crazy Dog Talbot, leader of the Free Brethren of the Coast. I am here to take possession of that gem of which you speak in the name of the King. It is my duty as a loyal subject of that –“

  “You are a thief! Just like him,” indicating Stampour. “The gem is the eye of Maddibimbo. However, I will show mercy, and I will allow you to depart. I will not even ask for the recompense to which I am entitled for the lives of these my two brethren whom you have slain,” indicating the bodies of the two dead priests. “But go now and leave me this one,” here he pointed to Stampour.

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that. I’d advise you to return to wherever it is you came from. All the riches of this land belong to the King and I have with me five strong men who will enforce the King’s will. Don’t trifle with me. I’m a dangerous man.”

  “I also have five strong men,” said Kanbold, indicating his four acolytes and the surviving priest. “Also, I have my entire retinue who have traveled here with me and who are now entering this inn. So in a matter of minutes you will be outnumbered. You have dallied too long in converse with me and if you do not immediately yield you will be crushed. I said I would show mercy, but the time of my mercilessness will be soon.”

  Crazy Dog had noticed that the one seaman that had been left behind on the ground floor fighting a duel had escaped out the front door of the inn during this conversation, so he hoped to stretch their talk a little longer yet, to allow time for that one to get to Ruby and the rest of his men. “You don’t scare me,” he said to Kanbold.

  “Then you are a fool. Kill them!” he ordered his acolytes. At once the blades, which had been still, flashed back into action and the fight was renewed, Crazy Dog’s pirates against the priests of Slothikay. Kanbold and Crazy Dog engaged each other, their swords almost flickering with the speed of their cutting and thrusting blows.