by LeRoy Clary
Camilla stepped closer and said, “Excuse me, do you work here?”
The woman smiled and paused her sweeping. “I work here harder than any other because I’m the owner, and the only employee,” she laughed at her joke. “If you’re looking for an inn, there are three right down the street; you’ll see them soon.”
“But you do rent rooms?”
“I do. By the day, or ten-day, which is less. But I only rent rooms. The inns provide good food for a fair price, so I see no sense in cooking for strangers.”
“Two rooms. Do you have them, how much, and are they in the rear where we can watch the ships?” Camilla said.
“A full copper scat a night for each room, and I don’t care if you double up in one to save money, but I insist on quiet, and yes I have a room in the back. Two, in fact.”
“We won’t be doubling up, but will take two rooms, if you please. We’re not sure how long we’ll be here, but probably at least three days.”
“In advance.” The woman held out her hand.
Camilla looked at Shell as if waiting for him to pay. He didn’t know what a copper scat was, or any other names for the coins he had in his purse beside calling them copper, silver, or gold. He pulled a small silver coin and passed it to her, ready to pull another to join it, if needed.
The woman shook her head and almost took a small step back as if afraid of the coin. “I can’t make change for that!”
Shell cast caution to the wind and opened his hand, displaying five coins and acted as if he was selecting one of them. The woman snatched one of the smaller copper coins and held it up. “This pays for two rooms. Five days. If you leave earlier, I’ll refund you two scats a day. Fair?”
“Fair,” Shell said.
The woman opened the door and escorted them inside. Shell and Camilla exchanged grins. Inside was a seating area, clean and cozy, with a fireplace. Directly ahead of the front door were stairs. Standing aside, the woman pointed to them. “Four doors at the top of the landing. The two in the back are yours. Come and go as you please, but I lock the door after dark, so knock, and I’ll let you in. The outhouse is behind, fresh water in the pitchers for drinking or washing.”
It struck Shell that she hadn’t given her name, had probably repeated the same spiel about the rooms hundreds of times, and didn’t bother listening to her words. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, the same exact words probably fell from her lips like magic. He wondered if she ever walked inside and said them by accident.
Camilla thanked her and climbed the narrow staircase. A square landing with a thin carpet over the plank floor gave them a place to stand beside each other and look around. The four doors were closed. Camilla stepped forward and knocked softly on one at the rear. When nobody from inside objected, she opened the door.
Shell followed her inside. A small window provided a limited view of the port, ships, and activity. A raised bed, the first Shell had ever seen, stood against one wall, a set of drawers beside it, and pegs on the wall for hanging coats or whatever.
Camilla said, “Nice. Clean. I like it. Why don’t you check out your room and give me a few minutes to myself, and then we’ll explore?”
The second room was much as the first, but slightly larger, with a bigger bed that had more lace and frills. There were twice the drawers, and while Shell needed only one, or two at the most, he grinned that he had managed to get the better room. It also smelled of flowers, and he suspected at least one woman had rented it before him.
His window was the same small size, lace curtains hung to shield the room against the setting sun, and heavier ones were there for sleeping in the daytime. He threw the window open and let the breeze off the water flow inside carrying more strange scents, odors, and smells, along with the myriad of noises, most of them unfamiliar. The chants of sailors, the curses of landlubbers, and orders shouted by anyone in charge of another jarred him. Horses hooves clomped on pavestones, wagon wheels squeaked, venders shouted about the quality and prices of what they sold.
Another street lay below on the slope, nearer the ships. The seaward side held docks, piers, and sheltered warehouses. Nearly every dock held a ship. Men swarmed, loading or unloading, sometimes both, as if the very life of the ship depended on getting it ready to sail again.
Camilla knocked softly on his door. He let her inside, determined not to mention the differences in the rooms. She glanced around and said, “A chair or two would be nice.”
“Use the bed.”
Shell went to the door, peeked outside to make sure they were alone, closed it. He went to where he’d dropped his backpack and sat on the floor, back to the wall, knees pulled to his chin. “Okay, we’ve arrived. What now?”
She smirked, but kept her voice soft, “Are you asking how you and I are going to defeat the enemy?”
He laughed. She had a way of deflecting his conversations, but this time he wouldn’t have it. “No, but we need a few simple plans from the start. First, we have a lot of money. Remember how the woman downstairs reacted to a small silver coin? From her reaction, I think we have more money than a hundred people hold in their lifetimes, maybe more.”
“So?”
“So, carrying it with us is stupid. A robber will take it from us. Where can we put it, so it is safe?”
Camilla said, “You’re right, of course. We should set up a sacrifice stash.” When Shell didn’t answer, she continued, “We each hide a small amount of money in our room, some coppers and a small silver, more than what a thief thinks we’d have, and we put it where it will be found. A thief will grab it and escape, thinking there is no more to steal.”
“I like that. We hide the rest in a better location.”
“More than one location. Just in case. Always put valuables in more than one place.”
Shell nodded with appreciation at her suggestions. She obviously knew more about being sneaky than he did. “How do we choose locations?”
“You put the bait, the sacrifice, in your top drawer, under your things, as if you were trying to hide it. Wrap it in a shirt or something. The rest of your stash will be better hidden beneath a floorboard, or a hole in the wall or whatever. Most thieves will be looking to get away as soon as they find the smaller stash.”
“That’s clever.”
“We also separate the gold coins and hide them even better, for instance, we toss a few on the ground outside the outhouse and kick dirt over them. Who is going to dig there?”
Shell wrapped his arms around his shins and pulled his knees high enough to rest his chin on them. “What are we going to do then?”
“It’s what we’re not going to do. We won’t mention the name of certain other places, the families we belong to, or anything else to do with our reason for being here. We are just killing time while waiting for Uncle Jack’s ship to arrive from Racine. We will eat at the inns, and listen to what people talk about. We’ll watch the ships unload, and act just like any other brother and sister. Uncle Jack has arranged for the wagon and mules, and we are here to help him drive the seeds home. Simple.”
“What are we trying to find out?”
“Anything that relates to the invasion or how we might sail across the sea. We may have to travel all the way down to Racine, where the others left to board a ship, but the first days are just to gather information.”
Shell closed his eyes and thought for a few seconds. “What you’re really saying is that you have no more of an idea of what to do than me.”
She flashed the brilliant smile that distracted him every time. “Exactly. Why don’t we go find somewhere to eat after we hide your money?”
“Mine?” he asked, confused as to why she called it his.
“Yes, silly. Mine is already split into three parts, and two are well hidden.”
Together, they removed the coins from his backpack and made piles. One, mostly smaller copper and two small silver, were placed in his purse, with the silvers inserted into slits in his waistband. His backpack
was emptied, with a single silver and six coppers of different sizes hidden in a wrapped shirt underneath the others, and at the back of his drawer with the other contents of his pack. All his belonging were placed in two drawers, the very first place a thief would search. The coins might fool burglars or thieves into believing they had found all he owned.
The rest were in two piles, one hidden behind a board they pried from the wall, and the second above the widow, where a small opening they made and covered with the curtain. They went down the stairs and outside where people milled or strolled, a social engagement for many, and more than one young girl swayed down the road attracting the attention of boys their age, and of Shell.
“See anything you like?” Camilla snarled when she noticed where his eyes tracked.
“Well, now that you ask, I do.” He didn’t move fast enough for her elbow to miss jabbing his middle. He had decided before she got snarky again, he’d move out of range.
She said, “There is a road ahead that takes us to the waterfront. Let’s go down there.”
Shell pointed to a sign over the door of an inn. “Eat first.”
They headed for the inn, went inside to find a large area filled with benches, tables, and chairs, all haphazardly placed in groupings by the last patrons. The ceiling was low, the timbers black, but the walls freshly whitewashed and the floor clean. A dozen people sat, some eating, others with only mugs in front of them. All eyes turned to the newcomers.
The attention made Shell nervous as if he’d done something wrong and all in the room knew it. He hesitated and Camilla gave him a gentle shove. She said, “That table looks good.”
There were others free that were closer to the door, but she chose one situated between an occupied table and a bench where two men sat at a long wooden table. The conversation began to buzz in the room again as a woman wearing an apron from chin to floor appeared at their side.
She smiled, “Never been here, have you?” When they shook their heads, she continued, “Best food for the copper in Fleming, as least that’s what my boss says to tell everyone.”
Camilla said, “We’d like to eat.”
“Right. You can have stew and bread. Or you can have slices of roast beef down the street at the Anchor Inn, but not here. Here you get stew and bread. Chicken at the Lucky Duck tonight, but they overcharge for everything. Stew?”
“Stew,” Camilla confirmed. “And lots of bread.”
“Ale?”
“Wine and water,” Camilla said. “Red wine.”
The woman slipped away to the kitchen, pausing long enough to speak to a young man eating alone. He responded and smiled, and she disappeared. But his eyes kept returning to look at them. Looking at Camilla was understandable because she was so pretty, but Shell caught him looking his way more than once.
The waitress returned with two bowls, a plate piled high with coarse brown bread, and three mugs, two of them half-filled with wine and the third full of water. She positioned herself between the curious man and them, and as she bantered and placed the food in front of them, she whispered, “Beware of the man behind me. He already asked about you.”
Then she stood and laughed as if one of them had said something funny, and flitted off again. Camilla said, “That was nice of her.”
“I got the impression she knows more about him than she could say.”
Camilla said, “After we eat, I think we should go down by the ships. That’s why we’re here. I also think we should stop talking and listen.”
“And I think that when we pay for our meal, we should leave an extra coin for the woman who warned us. I had already noticed that man, but it makes no difference.”
They ate in silence, while trying to pick out the different conversations, all of which seemed to be concerned with buying, selling, or shipping goods on the ships. Several bragged about their profits; a few moaned about their losses, and others talked about what they hoped for the future. All but the one customer who sat and watched them with veiled eyes.
After leaving, they headed out to the street and looked for the lane that would take them to the one below. After reaching it, the foot traffic was less, the people more hurried, and most of them working one way or another, some carrying tools or supplies. A few pushed barrows, rolled barrels, or pulled carts.
Camilla and Shell moved to the side and tried to keep out of the way. They noticed terraces or patios that contained benches and tables. People sat in the shade of small trees or umbrellas and watched the activity on the piers while sipping ale, beer, or wine. Some ate snacks or meals.
As they took a seat at the nearest, Camilla watched and commented on the unloading of a ship, speculating about where the cargo came from and what it might be. While she watched and talked, the tiny hairs on the back of Shell’s neck stood on end. He casually adjusted his chair, allowing his eyes to roam the other patrons and people on the street.
A man drew his attention. Without seeming to, Shell looked and recognized the man from the inn. He thought of Pudding and knew the wolf was too far away, but within contact. His next thought was of the Red dragon, but he quickly tried to erase that thought before the Red came diving out of the sky, spitting acid and screeching while trying to rescue him in front of the entire waterfront.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Camilla said, “Are you even listening to me?”
“No, I’m watching that man from the inn. No, don’t turn around. He’s trying to hide behind the corner of a building, but it’s him.”
“Why would he follow us?”
Shell said, “To rob us?” He shrugged, “Or he suspects who we are? Or he wants something from us. Since we don’t need anything from him, I can’t see how he can help us.”
A boy with an apron that had been white at one time appeared at their table. “Two red wines and water, please,” Camilla said. Then when the boy departed she said, “You and I can sip wine, sit in the shade, and see how long our follower stays there. After our wine is finished, I think we should move down the street to another outdoor café and see if he follows.”
“If he does?”
“We may have to talk with him. I’m sure one of these strong, brave men unloading ships will have a husky friend, and between them, they can encourage that man to talk to us on our own terms. It may cost a copper or two, but I think it may be money well spent.” Her tone was conversational, without emotion or stress.
The ease of her statement pulled Shell back to reality. He peered at the expression on her face to find if she was joking and decided she was not. The ruthlessness of her idea surprised him, but then another question came to mind. How was it that she was so willing to do what was necessary to succeed in a conflict and he was not? Hadn’t he come all this way to fight a war? But she was much more adept at it.
The wine arrived, and they watched the activity on the piers, pointing out interesting aspects neither had ever seen. Shell continued to keep an eye on the man watching them while pretending to look at Camilla. The man didn’t move, speak to anyone, or conceal his presence.
Shell had never seen the ocean and knew Camilla had on a previous trip. The ships were large enough to carry cargo and a number of crewmen, but when he looked at the vastness of the water in front of him and tried to imagine that same scene in all directions, his mental capabilities failed. He simply couldn’t imagine such a thing.
A tall, arrogant, man wearing an expensive hat and shirt paused, introduced himself and offered to guide them about profitable purchases if they were investors and could afford his considerable influence, payment in advance. Both laughed and Camilla made short work of the explanation that said they were merely waiting for their uncle. The man quickly moved on when he understood they had almost no money.
A small man in rough clothing stopped at their table and stood in almost the same spot as the first. He removed his hat politely and waited to be recognized. Shell faced him. “Yes?”
“I believe you are new to Fleming and I’d like t
o offer my assistance—for a small fee.”
“You know Fleming well?” Camilla asked.
“This has been my home for more years than I care to remember. I own a small house and have set aside enough to get by, but I enjoy meeting and helping visitors.”
“The last man wanted to earn a fee, too. We have almost no money.” Camilla said.
Shell kept quiet, learning from both the small man and Camilla. She had not sent him packing, and that interested Shell.
He said, “Of course, I would appreciate you handing me a gold coin or two for my services, but I offer my help and friendship. If you allow me to help you, when it is time to leave Fleming you may leave me a small token of your appreciation, that would be nice, but if you cannot afford a coin, perhaps we’ll become friends and on your next visit you’ll search for me when you are in better circumstances.”
Camilla smiled and said, “We were thinking of moving to another of the outside terraces to watch the ships. Can you suggest one with reasonable prices, good wine, and an interesting view?”
He nodded as he smiled. “You’ve already chosen one of the best, but my personal favorite is down the street where the smaller ships unload. The wine is cheaper, of better quality, and if you request, they bring small loaves of fresh bread and jams for no extra charge.”
Camilla caught Shell’s eye. “Perhaps we should try that place. Shell, would you keep a keen watch while we relocate?”
He understood she was telling him to watch the man from the inn, who still lingered at the edge of the alley. “I will.”
Camilla stood as tall as the little man and ignored his rough shirt and baggy trousers as she took his elbow as if they were old friends. “Please show us the way, and would you be kind enough to share a glass with us?”
Her words and actions were so smooth that Shell lost track of the danger she posed for an enemy. They strolled down the street looking at businesses catering to the ships, past sailors, carpenters, sailmakers, cooks, dancers, and longshoremen. A pleasant chatter surrounded them, as they passed several other places to sip refreshments, watch, and conduct business. Nearly all provided shade from trees; canvas strung across poles or wood roofs.
