by B. K. Parent
“Now don’t you go mooching at those tents, you rascal. I know your ways. These folks don’t know you like the villagers back home. Besides, we are trying not to be too noticeable.”
Carz gave me a look which suggested I had just insulted his intelligence, and perhaps I had. It had not occurred to me that while I had changed the look of the homewagon, my look and name, I had not given thought to the fact that a hunting cat is not a usual companion. Traveling with dogs or cats is commonplace, but traveling with a hunting cat is not. Not unheard of by any means, but still not ordinary. Well, there was no help for it. Hopefully if anyone discovers I have left the village, they might not know about Carz, and connect a young rover named Nissa who travels with a hunting cat to Da’s daughter named Arial who has a hunting cat as a companion. There was no sense in fretting about that now. Besides I would not have left Carz at home, and I have the sense that he would not have stayed there if I had left him.
The advantage of having a home on wheels is soon apparent when stopping for the night or leaving in the morning. It takes very little to set up or break down camp. I pulled the homewagon in close to the pine trees and set about getting the horses settled. After pulling the homewagon for almost a day and a half straight, I knew they had to be tired and sore. I checked them to make sure the tack had not rubbed either of them raw in places and checked their hooves for stones or cracks. Despite their soft living over the past few years, they lived up to the promise of their sturdy breed. I put them out on a long tether, groomed and watered them, and gave each several handfuls of grain. Once they were cared for, I found my turf shovel, peeled back a square of grass, set it aside, and scooped out a fire pit. I lay a fire but did not light it, for I had other chores that needed to be done first.
Before I looked to my own comfort and hauled water for cooking and washing, I headed up a path that led to the cottage of the man the gatekeeper had called old Farmer Josh. I remembered that rover tradition stated that if you camped on someone’s land, you offered payment for the privilege. Not so much in coin of the realm, but in work or trade. An older man was sitting on the porch of his cottage, rocking gently back and forth, petting the cat on his lap.
“Are you Farmer Josh?” I called from his front gate.
“Aye,” he answered, continuing to rock slowly back and forth.
“I’ve come to thank you for your kindness in offering a place to camp and to see if there is anything I can do to repay you.”
“You see all those folks camped below in my field?” he asked, pointing a gnarled finger in the direction from which I had come. “Not one of them has been up this hill to bring either thanks or offers of help. These new travelers and day traders don’t have the manners of a goat. Glad to know the rovers stick to the old ways. Come on up here lass and set a spell. You can repay me by keeping an old man company and listening to me ramble on about the good old days. You any good at brewing a tasty cup of tea?”
Listening to an old man ramble can be very educational. I learned about the personalities of the village, who to get the best berry tarts from at the market, who to avoid, and a run down on others in the campsite. I was beginning to understand why rovers would be good information gatherers. I stayed about an hour, fixed Farmer Josh several cups of tea, and left with a promise that I would be back the next day. I thought when I returned I would bring back a berry tart for him. It would not be hot, but even cold it would be a treat. I thought I might bring Carz up with me for Farmer Josh might enjoy meeting him. Carz might help rid his place of any vermin his house cats found too big to handle.
By the time I left Farmer Josh’s porch, the way back to the campsite felt longer than the way to his porch had been. It was then I realized how very tired I was, which was not surprising since I had been up more than a full day. I responded to the friendly greetings of several of the other campers as I walked by their cook fires. After locating the spring and hauling water for the horses, topping off the water barrels on the homewagon, and bringing a bucket up to use as dishwater and wash water, I lit a small fire and cooked a hot meal of vegetable stew. Carz took care of his own meal, for which I was grateful.
I washed up and headed in to bed, this time not needing a reminder to let down the Neebing door. As exhausted as I was, sleep did not come easily, and it was not until the campsite had settled down to scattered quiet conversations that I drifted off to sleep. I awoke to the sounds of the camp stirring at first light. Once I had dressed and washed up, I began to think about Carz. What would be best for him? Would he be better off here at the homewagon or with me at the market? Standing there leaning against the homewagon drinking a strong cup of tea, I happened to glance up at Farmer Josh’s cottage and could see him sitting on the porch. Seeing him reminded me of the idea that had occurred to me the night before.
“Carz, my friend, how would you like to earn our keep?” I said, as if I fully expected him to understand. “You could spend the day with Farmer Josh, catch a few rabbits that are plaguing his garden, and keep him company. What do you think?”
To my amazement, Carz stood up, stretched his front legs way out, arched his back as if stretching his spine, and began heading towards Farmer Josh’s cottage. After I picked my jaw up off the ground, I quickly hurried after him.
“Nissa,” Farmer Josh called out as I approached. “Didn’t expect to see you ’til after the market closed. Who’s your friend here? I thought I had seen a flash of silver fur last night, but these old eyes can play tricks on me. Had me a hunting cat friend when I was about your age. Ah, that brings back memories.”
“Farmer Josh, may I introduce you to Carz?” I said. To my amazement, Carz walked right up on the porch, sat in front of Farmer Josh, and put a paw on his knee. “I was wondering if Carz might spend the day with you.”
“I’d be delighted to spend the day with Carz if he wishes to stay. Now don’t you worry none, he and I will watch over your homewagon and have us a fine old time. You have yourself a profitable day now, and we’ll see you later.”
I headed down the hill with very mixed feelings. I was glad Carz was going to spend the day with Farmer Josh, and yet I felt just a little bit jealous that Carz would so easily leave me to spend the day with another. Then again, I did not own Carz. He had chosen to spend his short life with me so far, but that did not mean he would always do so. That was a sobering thought. It was time, however, to go see if I could earn my keep. Though I was on the road to find Da, I needed to really be a rover and make a living in order to keep Carz, the horses, and myself in food and supplies.
The short walk into the village was enough time for me to shake off my melancholy. It was time to set up the booth and get to work. The cart converted easily into a booth. I quickly attached the canvas awning to the side of the cart and propped it up with poles I held in place with guy ropes and stakes. I pulled boards out from under the cart and attached them to form an L-shaped countertop for the display of goods. In the open side of the L-shaped countertop, I set up my turning lathe. Working on a project often attracted customers. During times of no customers, the work helped the hours go by and helped restock my wares.
I hung out my sign, artfully placed samples of my wares both wood and herbal on the counter, and sat down to wait. During the previous afternoon and evening more booths and sales tents had been set up, filling the village green. Besides dry goods, there were food tents, and a farmer’s market featuring honey, early tubers, and other products including seeds and flowers. After the long cold months, this first market day of the spring took on the feeling of a festive fair. Soon the air was filled with the sounds of haggling and the smells of roasting meat and sizzling fruit tarts.
A number of folks came by the booth. I really did not expect to sell any of the puzzle boxes for they were more likely to catch someone’s eye at a large fair or in a large town where coin was more available. Folk in small villages lived closer to the bone
and looked for more useful and practical items. Where coin was scarce, barter was the more usual way to make a transaction. The tavern owner stopped by the booth and brought several tankards to be repaired in exchange for the evening meal and a bag of meat scraps. I sold a bowl for coin and the baker exchanged a small bag of flour for several packets of Nana’s dill and rosemary. One of the farmers offered a bag of barley for two beautiful bowls. Said he wanted them for his daughter’s hope chest. All in all, a much better day than I had expected. The market closed late in the afternoon. I packed up a little early, hoping I could still get a berry tart or two for Farmer Josh and myself. I got the last four and still had a bit of coin left to jingle in my pocket.
I stopped in at the tavern to get an evening meal and deliver the repaired tankards. The tavern owner was pleased with my work and settled me at a small table in the corner with a huge bowl of venison stew and a large hunk of fresh bread. As I ate, more folk wandered in. At first I paid little attention to the conversation swirling around me, but suddenly I overheard the talk of two men sitting several tables down.
“You see those three that were in the village yesterday?”
“Aye, pretty fancy dress for hereabouts. Strange sort, don’t you think? Seems like they were looking for something.”
“More like somebody, I’d say.”
“Saw them talking to the blacksmith and then they left town in a hurry. Most curious.”
Just then a large group entered the tavern, and the noise level rose so I could not hear the men anymore. The two men finished their dinner and departed. I could not help but wonder if those folk they were talking about were the three riders I had seen on the road. What had they learned, if anything, from the blacksmith that had sent them from the village so fast? I did not think it prudent to ask the blacksmith. That might draw more attention to myself than was safe.
I thanked the tavern owner for a fine meal, stopped by to check that the cart was secure, and headed back to the campsite. It was fairly quiet for most of the others looked like they had stayed in town. I headed up to Farmer Josh’s. He was where I had left him that morning, seated on his porch with Carz at his feet.
“Brought you a couple of those berry tarts. They’re cold but still good,” I told him in greeting. “And for you, Carz, some fine meat scraps, thanks to a good repair job and a generous tavern owner.”
Farmer Josh ate his berry tarts with relish and said it was a fine end to a great meal. He had had roast rabbit, thanks to Carz. Farmer Josh had roasted a second rabbit and wrapped it good he said.
“You take it with you. You have it for tomorrow. Sure have enjoyed your company and I’ll be sorry to see you go. If you get to the village of Bransbury, you ask for Farmer Ned Fairwalker’s farm. You tell him you’re a friend of ol’ Josh and he’ll give you a safe place to camp.”
I stayed with Farmer Josh ’til well after dark before heading back to the homewagon. I think my heart settled back into place when I opened Farmer Josh’s gate and Carz slipped through first, leading the way down the path. I had worried just a little bit that he might have wanted to stay with Farmer Josh. Now all I had to do was check the Neebing doors before going to bed.
Chapter Ten
Before heading into the homewagon, I checked on the horses and packed my cook gear up. I wanted to be on the road as early as possible the next morning, so I shoveled in the cook fire, put the turf back, and packed it down. I pulled up the back steps of the homewagon, fastening them in place, closing the back door behind me. I then went directly to the front of the homewagon and cranked up the Neebing tube. I opened both doors, fully expecting to find nothing once again, and was just about to look when I heard a commotion outside the homewagon. Someone was pounding on the side of the homewagon and yelling.
“You, rover, show your face, we know you’re in there.”
I grabbed Carz by his neck ruff for he was crouched next to me, a deep growl coming from his throat. “Wait,” I said, giving him a reassuring stroke. “Wait.” I climbed the stairs to the front door and peered out. Two men in long dark cloaks were standing at the front of the homewagon. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself before stepping out and asking, “Is there something I can help you with, good sirs?”
“What’s your name, rover?” the taller and older of the two asked.
“Who would be needing to know?” I inquired.
The older taller man, who seemed to be the spokesman of the pair, pointed to a crest on his cloak, which I had not noticed, and said, “We represent the Regent and by his authority I ask again, what is your name?”
“I am Anissa Anissasdatter, good sir,” I answered in as steady a voice as I could manage, amazed that I remembered my new name. “How may I help you?” I was hoping that the sides of the homewagon would hide my knees that surely were knocking together so loudly that even if they could not see them, they would hear them.
“Who do you travel with, rover?” the spokesman asked, saying the word “rover” as if he had a bad taste in his mouth.
“Only my cat, good sir,” I answered.
“Where are your parents?” he asked in a gruff voice.
“I don’t know. I am of age to begin on my own to make my way in the world,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster. “They take a different route.”
I am almost always truthful and what I told the Regent’s agent was the truth, in a sense. I truly did not know where my parents were. I hoped my mother had gone to a good place after death and was watching after me, and I really did not know where my Da was. I was of age to start out on my own as a rover, even if most rover children waited a bit longer before venturing forth, and despite having their own homewagon, more often than not traveled with their parents. Going off on my own was somewhat unusual, but I hoped the two men standing before me were not well-versed in rover culture.
“Have you seen any other rover homewagons in your travels?”
“No. I’ve been traveling the smaller lanes and byways,” I responded, hoping it sounded like I had been on the road for awhile rather than just a few days, “and I haven’t seen any other rover homewagons.”
“Have you picked up anybody and given them a lift along the way?” the Regent’s agent asked.
“No sir.”
I so much wanted to ask why they were asking all of these questions but thought better of it. It was the next question that took all of my concentration to maintain a calm exterior even though my insides turned to jelly.
“Do you know a rover named Thorval Pedersen?”
“I haven’t run into anyone of that name in my recent travels, but then I haven’t expected to run into many rovers this far north,” I answered as truthfully as I could.
At that answer, the two men, without even a “sorry to have bothered you,” turned and walked towards the tent nearest to me. I could hear them quizzing the couple, who sat in front of their tent beside the glowing embers of their fire. After the men left, I climbed back into the homewagon, closed the door, and abruptly sat down on the top step. Carz crept up the step and put his head in my lap. I could not pet him for quite some time for I could not get my hands to stop shaking. Those men had been looking for Da. The Regent’s agents were looking for Da. I could not help but think that this was not a good sign.
Now more than ever, I was convinced I wanted to be away from the village of Treebles early. I quickly checked to make sure that everything was stowed away and battened down for the ride the next day. It was then that I noticed the Neebing door was open. I bent down and looked inside fully expecting to find nothing when I thought I saw something in the shadows at the back of the little room. I quickly lit the smallest of the lanterns and brought it up to the doorway. There in the back of the room was a tiny, somewhat wilted, bouquet of wild flowers tied with pieces of dried grass woven into an intricate braid. Had the Neebings left th
is I wondered, or had Farmer Josh put it there, or one of the other campers? At this point, after the visit by the Regent’s agents, I was too concerned and scared for Da to worry much about Neebings. I did however place another small gift in what I now thought of as the Neebing room and lowered it down.
The sun had barely risen when I hitched up the horses and headed into the village to pick up my cart. I checked the contents of the cart again to make sure everything was secure and set off. The Neebing door had not revealed any surprises, and the rest of the day was uneventful. I met little traffic on the small back lane I traveled. The land became an unrelenting vista of small hills covered by grass with very little to break the monotony. Towards evening, the land took a greater dip down into a shallow valley crossed by a sluggish stream. I found a spot off the road that had been used as a campsite before and set up camp. Shortly after I had arrived, another wagon pulled in. It belonged to the couple who had camped near me at Treebles. They seemed weary, so I invited them to share my fire. My reasons were twofold. First and foremost, it was the rover’s way to share a fire with a fellow traveler. Second, I was still curious about the visit by the Regent’s agents and hoped I could bring the visit up in general conversation. Perhaps this couple had asked the questions I had been afraid to ask.
The couple introduced themselves as the Jalcones and told me they were traders. Traders differ from rovers in that they buy goods in one village, such as fine wool, and then sell it in another village where there are several good weavers. Then in turn, they buy fine woven cloth, or trade fine wool for fine woven cloth, and then sell that in another village. They had a route they traveled each year buying and selling as they went. This couple’s wagon was filled to overflowing with goods, and so like most traders, they set up a tent to sleep in each night.
The Jalcones were a couple in their middle years and very friendly. Trader Jalcones had a deep voice, a booming laugh, and was of stocky build. He was beginning to show a bald spot in the dark brown hair on the back of his head. Mistress Jalcones was softer spoken and seemed a jolly sort. She was just a tad shorter than her husband, rosy cheeked with just a touch of gray beginning to show in her bright red hair. If I were to share a campsite with anyone, this pair would be good company. After we shared a dinner and Mistress Jalcones fussed over Carz, which he unashamedly enjoyed, we settled back on traveling chairs with our feet up on the fire ring and relaxed, enjoying the dying fire. I was wondering how to bring up the Regent’s agents when Trader Jalcones started talking about their encounter with them.
