by B. K. Parent
Nana’s still house is on the leeward side of the cottage, which was good since the prevailing winds coming off the sea swept the smells of brewing herbs and medicines away from the cottage and yard. I left the cottage by the side door and rapidly walked towards the still house. I was about halfway down the path when I heard a sound. Carz swiftly padded in front of me and assumed a defensive position. The sound came again, and it was a low moan. I moved quickly to the side of the door, my back pressed against the rough stones of the still house. My heart was beating so hard it felt like it would pound right out of my chest. I slid my body down the wall until I was in a crouch and then looked around the door frame into the still room. Lying on the cold stone floor was Nana, and the moaning sound was coming from her.
I rushed in calling her name. “Nana, Nana, oh please Nana, be alright.”
At the sound of my voice, Nana’s eyes came slowly open and she struggled to sit up. “Your Da, have you seen your Da?” Nana managed to whisper.
“No, not so far,” I said. “What has happened here?”
“Two men and a woman came up from the dock. They must’ve come in a small boat. Your Da saw them coming and a very strange look came over his face. He told me to go to the still house and lock myself in. I didn’t understand but I did as I was told. I was in such a rush that I tripped on the sill, and that’s all I remember. Last I saw of your Da was him heading for the back left corner of the smithy.”
As I helped Nana up, I realized that the still house had not been torn apart like the cottage and the smithy.
“Nana, the cottage and the smithy are a mess, as though someone was looking for something, but they didn’t touch either you or the still house. Why, do you think?”
“Most folk know it’s dangerous to mess with anything in a still house unless you know what you’re doing. Most everything here is in plain view and clearly labeled. Those who are less intelligent and more superstitious still think we who work with herbs and medicines are witches and will place a curse on anyone who interferes in any way. It’s hard to say, Arial, but I am thankful they didn’t mess with what is in here. Most is harmless, but some ingredients if combined in the wrong way can be poisonous, toxic, or at the very least, noxious. Now help me up, child, and let’s go look for your Da.”
Chapter Two
It was well towards dawn by the time Nana and I had finished putting the cottage and the smithy back to rights. We had searched the grounds for Da, but there was not much we could do about searching further afield in the dark. It would have to wait until it was full light, and then I would go to the village and ask for help.
While searching for Da, I had retrieved my cart. Fortunately scavengers had not found the meat pies or the soup bones, so after Nana and I had cleaned up the mess in the kitchen, we sat down to eat. Neither of us felt much like eating, but Nana insisted that we needed to fuel our bodies so we could keep going. I went out to the smithy after that and began to sort out Da’s tools and put things back where they belonged. I did not want him to come back to a mess, and I was sure he would be back by morning. I did not want to think that something bad had happened to him or that whoever had torn the cottage apart had harmed or taken him. At one point during that long night, I sat on the rough floor of the smithy and just let the tears come. I was tired and cold, scared and angry. My feelings overwhelmed me, and so I sat with tears running down my face. Carz crawled on my lap and let me cry into his fur, at least for a brief moment. Then he shook himself and made a murreef type of sound, which sounded both sympathetic yet commanding at the same time. It was as if he were saying, “Ah, there, there lass, it’ll be alright. Now quit your bellyaching and get on with the business at hand.”
I walked into the village at first light and went straight to Thomas’ pub. He quickly sent his children around to the other houses to sound the alarm, and soon a small crowd was gathered in front of the pub. Thomas motioned I should talk to the villagers, but somehow nothing came out. He then spoke up.
“Arial’s Da’s gone missin’. Their place was ransacked by three strangers who came up from the sea late yesterday. Arial’s Nana, Mistress Joransdatter, wasn’t harmed, but both are worried about Arial’s Da. They need your help searchin’ for him. Let’s divide into three groups. You, Jonas, take one group, spread out and search west of town to their place. Mabel, dear wife, why don’t you take all of the children and go from the north of their cottage to the end of the cove? I’ll take the rest and search from the east of town to their place.”
“I’ll not be wantin’ to be pilin’ bad ideas on top of what’s already happened,” said Erik Fishmaan, “but have you thought of lookin’ to the sea, if’n that’s where the strangers came from?”
“Let’s hold off on that until we’re sure he’s not on land anywhere,” Thomas replied.
Erik had a thoughtful look on his face, as if he were trying to remember something while trying to listen to Thomas at the same time.
“Now don’t you fret, Arial, we’ll find him if’n he’s here,” Thomas stated with more authority than he felt. He had a very bad feeling about what had happened. Their small village rarely even had a fight, or anything else for that matter, that disturbed the peace. How could something like this happen? He could scarcely believe it. “We’ll meet up at Arial’s place. If anyone finds her Da, send runners to the other groups so we can pull in the searchers. We had best get goin’ for it looks as if a storm is headin’ this way and will be here by mid-afternoon.”
I wanted to head out with the search parties, but Thomas suggested that Nana should not be left alone and someone needed to be at the cottage to await word with her. I persuaded him that Mistress Bromhild would be better suited to that task and he agreed. Even though I had just turned ten and seven years and was no longer a child, I joined Mabel’s group. I quickly stopped in at the cottage to see that Mistress Bromhild was settled in with Nana and then ran to catch up with Mabel and the children. We had decided to follow the path to the end of the cove and then work our way back towards the cottage. It would be slow, rough going since the shoreline cliff and land inwards from the cove was rocky, and the closer you got to the sea, slippery. As the land sloped upward away from the sea it eventually became too steep to climb, forming a tall cliff. The distance between the sea cliff edge and the land cliff was not very wide but it was covered with large boulders, scrub pine, and sea brush. We spread out in a long line and began the slow trek back to the cottage. I had wondered if it had been wise to ask the children to help, thinking they would soon tire of the undertaking and begin to play and run around, but they stayed on task and were very serious about their responsibility. I had known Da was well-liked in the village but was still surprised by everyone’s quick and total response to help.
All too soon we were back at the cottage and had found nothing. The other two search parties were there also, and I could tell from the looks on their faces that they had not been any more successful. Some of the villagers were heading back to the village and said they would look to the south, but they did not look hopeful. Erik Fishmaan told me he would head out on his fishing boat and look along the shoreline. Other fishers said they would look also and check with other boats to see if they had seen anything unusual.
Suddenly, Erik slapped his forehead with his hand and had a look of disgust on his face. “You said that the folk who tore apart your cottage came up from your dock?” Nana nodded a yes. “Johan said somethin’ to me yesterday, now what was it?”
Johan trawled the waters outside the cove as they are rich with cod and other fish. He moved up and down the coast, trawling, salting his catch, and storing it in barrels, which he then sold in the larger towns down the coast. While not of our village, he often anchored in the cove overnight.
“Struck me odd at the time. Now, let me see, we were talkin’ about how the fishin’ was, and if’n I had pulled all of my crab pots out yet, a
nd . . .” Erik took off his hat and scratched his head. “Oh, right. He mentioned he’d seen two small sailin’ vessels late yesterday, and not ones he recognized. The first one was headin’ out of the cove and west. Then, he said, maybe an hour later he saw another small skiff headin’ south at a dangerously high clip, heeled over almost to the tippin’ point. He didn’t know quite what to make of it since it was such a small boat to be headin’ out to sea, especially up here with our turbulent spring weather and sudden storms. Don’t know if’n this has anythin’ to do with your Da disappearin’ though, Arial. I had best get to my boat and do what searchin’ I can before the storm hits. I’ll talk to the other fishers and any of the trawlin’ folk, and alert them to keep an eye out. I’ll let you know if’n I find out anythin’, lass.”
Disheartened, I thanked Erik and all the other searchers, and waved to them as they headed back towards the village. Nana stood next to me with her arm around my shoulders, and we drew what comfort we could from each other.
“Come on dear heart,” she said to me when the last of our friends and neighbors disappeared from sight around the bend in the path. “Come inside now and we’ll brew a little cuppa tea.”
Nana thinks a cup of tea will fix most anything, but I did not think it would work this time. Neither of us made it to a second cup of tea. After being up all night, a night filled with worry and no sleep, we both decided to take a short rest. It seemed like I had just pulled the covers up over my exhausted body when I sat straight upright, awakened by a loud boom of thunder. I jumped from my bed and ran to the window to shut the shutters before they banged off their hinges. The wind was howling in from the sea, and the sky was the dark, dark gray of a heavy storm. I could hear Nana shutting more shutters as I raced downstairs and out through the pounding rain towards the smithy. I felt so stupid that I had not thought to let the shutters down and seal up the smithy before going inside. I had known the storm was coming. It would not do to let all of Da’s tools and supplies get a good and thorough soaking and have him come back to everything covered in rust. I had gotten there mostly in time, so I took the time to wipe off what had gotten wet and then headed back to the cottage.
Nana met me at the kitchen door with a dry towel and an admonishment to get out of my wet clothes before I caught my death of a cold. No argument from me. The wind held a touch of ice and had managed to blow into every possible opening in my clothing. I was shivering, and my teeth were chattering so violently I thought they might all crack to pieces. I hurried to change and then stood for a very long time in front of the kitchen fire, roasting first my front side and then my back side. Carz, who had not left his place curled up by the hearth, opened one eye, gave me his “humans have got to be crazy to go out in wet weather” look before he put his paw over his nose, and went back to sleep. As I stood by the fire trying to get warm, I finally had time to think about the last twenty-four hours. Da was still missing and who knows what had happened to him, the house and smithy had been torn apart by strangers who seemed to be looking for something, Nana had knocked herself unconscious but otherwise was unharmed, there was a huge nor’easter pounding at our shutters filled with ice and fury, and Carz thought humans were crazy. He may be right.
What had those folk been looking for? If it had just been Da, would they have torn the house apart? They certainly had been thorough, or had they? They had not searched the still house.
“Nana, is there anything besides herbs and medicines and your equipment in the still house? Did Da leave anything with you?”
“No, not that I can think of. Your Da was very careful to stay out of the still house as a matter of fact. Gave me my due, he did. Honored that it was my place. Can’t even remember him stepping foot in there once everything was hauled in,” said Nana. “He always stood at the door if he needed something. He was always running out of balm for small burns and cuts, but he never just came in and took what he needed. Always asked, he did.”
Nana quickly turned away, but not before I saw a tear slide down her cheek. She began grabbing pots and vegetables and asked if there was still water in the jug. When Nana gets upset she cooks, and from the size of the pot she had grabbed, she was very upset. The soup she was starting could feed half the village.
“I need potatoes and rutabagas. There are some in the root cellar,” Nana said as she began to chop up onions. “I’m going to make some vegetable pies too.”
Root cellar, she had said. Why had not we thought about the root cellar before now? Had the strangers found it? Was Da down there maybe hurt, and we had not even looked there? Nana realized what she had said just as I did, and we both rushed to the pantry and tried to enter the door at the same time. It did not work. I eased back, and once we were both in the pantry, we looked to see if the trap door had been disturbed.
“Look,” Nana said, “when they cut open the bags of oats and barley, in their haste, they spilled grain on top of the trap door and covered it up. When I cleaned up in here yesterday, I was so tired and worried, I completely forgot about the root cellar.”
The root cellar trap door was easy to overlook, since it had been cleverly designed and the latch was invisible under a wood covering. I moved the covering, grabbed the handle, and pulled the door up. I went back into the kitchen, got the one remaining lantern that had somehow survived without being broken, and lit it. Making my way back into the pantry, I was half afraid of what I might find down below and half afraid of what I might not.
“Get on wit’ you gel, yah canna’ stand there all day,” Nana chided, making shooing motions with her hands. When Nana gets tired or upset, the north country way of talking slips back into her speech.
The climb down was easy. The sturdy ladder went down about ten feet before reaching the stone floor. The root cellar had been carved out of the native rock, and then the cottage had been built over it. Even on the hottest days of summer or the coldest days of winter, the root cellar maintained an even temperature. Bins of potatoes, turnips, onions, rutabagas, carrots, and other tubers lined one of the walls. Barrels of apples, pickles, dried cherries, plums, grapes, and assorted fruit lined another wall. One wall held shelves of canning from the garden, tomatoes, beans, peas, jellies and jams, and a number of bottles of various wines Nana made. The fourth side of the cellar was taken up with a well which was covered. We had never had occasion to use it. I had never even looked in it, so I was surprised, when I glanced that way, to find the cover was slightly ajar. Peeking out from under some burlap bags on top of the well cover was a puzzle box.
I do not think the well cover had been ajar several days ago when Nana and I had been down here taking inventory of what we had left from the winter stores. I know the puzzle box had not been there. I remembered Nana putting the empty burlap bags on the well cover after we had counted them. You would think she might have mentioned seeing a puzzle box on the well cover at that time.
“Nana, can you come down here?” I called.
“Did you find something?” Nana called back.
“I’m not sure,” I replied.
Nana came down the ladder and came to stand beside me. “Do you remember the well cover being slightly off when we were down here the other day?” I asked.
“I don’t think I even looked,” answered Nana, “but while I might not pay attention to the well cover, I certainly would have noticed the puzzle box. The well cover was clear when I laid the bags on it. I don’t remember you bringing a puzzle box down here.”
“I didn’t. When I finish one I put it in the attic, and that one is not one of my newer designs. Actually, that doesn’t look like one of my designs at all.”
Puzzle boxes are boxes that hold a secret compartment within them, usually made of wood. Moving a series of pieces on different sides of the puzzle box in a certain order opens the hidden compartment. I made the puzzle boxes with intricate designs of varying woods. When we were still traveling, I wo
uld sell them at village markets and town fairs. When we stopped traveling, Da had encouraged me to continue making the puzzle boxes, along with the other wood items I carved or turned. He had suggested that one day perhaps we would take them to a few of the towns south of us and attend a fair or two.
I walked over and picked up the puzzle box. It was an old one, plain in design, about twelve inches by three inches by three inches tall. It might look simple in design, but I could tell that this puzzle box would not be easy to figure out how to open.
Chapter Three
While Nana chopped rutabagas, carrots, potatoes, and other vegetables for the pies, I sat at the kitchen table working on the puzzle box.
“Don’t you have that puzzle box open yet?” asked Nana.
“This one looks simple but is actually more complex than the ones I make. I’ll have to make a pattern, once I figure it out, so I can make others like it,” I told Nana, as my fingers continued to move and shift the pieces of the puzzle box around.
The puzzle box was made of plain wood and did not have any inlaid design. What made it twice as difficult to open was the fact that the seams were so hard to distinguish because they followed the grain of the wood. Also, just when I got five or six of the pieces shifted and thought I had it right, the next move started the pieces moving back into their slots rather than moving other pieces. I was becoming frustrated when it suddenly struck me that maybe I did have to move some pieces backward before going forward again. Perhaps this puzzle box had some double back different move forward progressions in it. I was still working on that theory when Nana put a big bowl of soup and fresh warm bread in front of me.
“Eat! You need to feed your brain as well as your body. Take a break for awhile and then come back to it. Sometimes a break gives you time to rethink what you are doing or think about a different way of doing something,” she said.
