The Bellringer

by William Timothy Murray

  "Son," Mr. Ribbon turned to Robby, "any word on the Janhaven wagon?"

  "Yes, sir," Robby said from behind the desk where he was working on the books. "The new Post Rider came along earlier and said he passed the Janhaven wagon with Mr. Furaman himself driving, and Mrs. Starhart was riding with him, coming to ask you a few questions."

  "When was that?"

  "Oh, the rider came and went around noon," Robby said.

  Before Mr. Ribbon could say anything more, Mr. Bosk continued.

  "See? Bobby's still unaccounted for," he said, putting his hand on Mr. Ribbon's shoulder. "An' them folk up in the mountains, up to no good, er somethin' worse. I'm tellin' ye, we're gonna need that militia 'fore long!"

  Robby knew that his father was of two minds about the militia, and, as mayor, he did not want to commit one way or the other just yet.

  "I tell ye what I can do," Mr. Ribbon said at last. "I can ask for volunteers to enroll to be called on if needed. Some kind of pledge they'll give. To serve until some regular arrangement can be worked out. Maybe I can make out like they're for surveyin' the roads, er something. But I believe I can get the council to pay for a few arms. I'll work it so as I only get volunteers who'll be trustworthy. Meanwhile, I'll speak to our blacksmith here in town an' see 'bout some arms makin'. I can't promise anythin', mind ye."

  "Now yer talkin' sense," Mr. Bosk grinned. "I ain't holdin' ye to anythin' as I knows ye'll try an' see what ye can do."

  Mr. Bosk shook hands with Mr. Ribbon and strode to the door.

  "Nearly forgot!" he said turning back and walking up to Robby to stand across the desk from him. "I meant to tell the both of ye: I sent a party out to Ashlord's, a week or so ago, just to look in on him, mostly at the proddin' of me wife, ye see. Anyhow, they didn't see sight nor sound of the feller, though his cottage door was open, so they peeked in. Nuthin' looked amiss, so they said. One of the men what knows Ashlord a little from seein' him abouts, said his stick an' his shoulder sack whar gone. No sign of trouble, no blood, nuthin' looked ransacked er anythin' like 'at. But the men got the jitters, I think. They left a note for Ashlord tellin' they'd been in the place, but assured me they didn't mess with anythin'. I'll be sendin' another party out yonder in a week or two, unless we hear from him. Anyhow, I meant to let ye an' Miss Sheila know we tried lookin'."

  " 'Course, it don't mean nuthin'," Mr. Bosk went on smiling. "Ashlord's got his own kind of business, comin' an' goin', an' who's to say he ain't on some travels, er somethin'? Alrighty, then, I'll be off! Tell Miss Sheila me wife says hullo an' how d'ye do an' all. Oh, yeah. Billy'll be comin' along in a day er two with a wagon of goods for ye an' the market."

  "Oh that'll be great!" Robby said. "Tell him I've been busy at the store, but I'm sure we can get together for awhile. That is, if he has time."

  "Oh, if I knows me son, he'll make plenty of time for jabberin'!" Mr. Bosk laughed and departed.

  Mr. Ribbon stood looking at the empty doorway with one hand on his hip and another scratching his chin in thought. Robby turned back to the books and had only dipped his pen when he heard wagon wheels approaching. The sound shook Mr. Ribbon from his meditation, and he walked to the door to look up the road.

  "The Janhaven wagon," he called back in.

  Robby left the desk to stand beside his father and watched the wagon lumber slowly toward them behind a team of six horses. This was the big shipment Mr. Ribbon had been waiting on for weeks, and it was sure to take all day to unload.

  "Better go fetch yer mother," Mr. Ribbon said. "I'll warrant Mrs. Starhart's come 'bout her husband, an' me druthers would be to let Mirabella speak to her first."

  Robby, his mother, and Sheila returned downstairs just as the wagon pulled up front. After greetings and introductions, Sheila and Mrs. Ribbon took Mrs. Starhart upstairs while the men began unloading the shipment.

  It was a massive load of goods: kegs of oil from Wayregyle, bolts of fabric from as far away as Draymoor, and porcelain plates from Sorghwall. There were boxes of silver jewelry from the mountain town of Chiselpeck, and some glassware from Mimblewan near the coast. There were crates of tea and bags of salt, paper and parchment from Giyth, and a whole log of oilwood, to be split later for matches and firesticks. Robby worked hard, carefully unloading each keg, parcel, crate, box, or bundle, and checking each one and the contents against his order book along with his father and Mr. Furaman. Furaman was the owner of a large trading firm that operated from his stockade near Janhaven, a few miles west of Passdale at the foot of the Thunder Mountains. From there, Furaman gathered and traded goods from all parts, and Mr. Ribbon and Mr. Furaman had a long and mutually profitable arrangement. Since Mr. Ribbon was the primary distributor of Furaman's goods in and around Barley, and since Furaman could obtain just about anything anyone wanted, they supplied each other with orders. And Mr. Ribbon arranged matters so that whenever the Furaman wagon came with a shipment, it never left empty. Every two or three months, the wagon came and was unloaded, and then Mr. Ribbon and Furaman saw to it that it was filled up again with metal goods, tools mostly, well-made by the blacksmith, bags of flour from the mill, smoked hams from Boskland, and various other stocks held by Mr. Ribbon in the Ribbon's cellar and the storehouse nearby. In return for this service, Mr. Ribbon received a commission from the local producers as well as a discount on orders from Furaman. Nobody ever accused Robigor Ribbon of not having a head for business! Right now, however, the business was overwhelming his son, who had been at it for three hours straight. The wagon was unloaded, but everything still needed to be unpacked, sorted, shelved, stored, and the inventories reconciled.

  It was usually at this point that the blacksmith arrived to help with the reloading, and to receive payment for his goods, along with a few other folks that had the same interest. True enough, as Robby surveyed the store, trying to figure out how to get to the desk with all the stuff in the way, he heard voices outside as his father greeted the arrivals, and they set to work around back. While they began the job of reloading Furaman's wagon, Robby unpacked and put away things, toting sacks and kegs down into the cellar, and stowing away bolts of cloth and yarn in the cedar closets. It wasn't long before all this was done and the wagon, too, was filled to capacity and tarpaulins were spread over the cargo and tied down. As Robby finished clearing a path to the accounting desk, his father came back in along with the others.

  Furaman and Mr. Ribbon each took a seat at the desk, side by side, and got out their books and quills and opened the inkwell. The blacksmith and the others lined up and soon were receiving payment from Furaman, minus an agreeable commission for Mr. Ribbon, and sometimes settling up with the store. Some preferred that their payment be in store goods, and Mr. Ribbon and Mr. Furaman arranged that on the spot. There was rarely any grumbling or disagreement because the two businessmen handled everything above-board and kept to their agreements. On each visit, Mr. Furaman made it clear what he would pay for goods on his next visit, and how much he needed, and so on, having everything written carefully and signed. Finally, the last man was paid and departed (Mr. Ribbon always gave them a little extra for their work, too.), leaving the two businessmen to settle their accounts with each other. Once this was done, Furaman turned to Mr. Ribbon.

  "Now. I'd like to broach something of a delicate subject with you, Robigor."

  "Oh?"

  "It's about Lally."

  "Yes?"

  "Well, er. I mean to say, Lally, being my sister and all, is right concerned after her husband, Bob, who's been missin' this long while."

  "I well understand. We all are worried."

  "Well, them Post Riders have all given up on Bob, an' them fellers ain't slackers. I mean to say, if there was any hope in findin' him, they'd have done it by now," he said. "Then I heard tell, his horse was recovered in these parts, being ridden by some robber."

  "That is so."

  "Well, Lally came along to speak with you about it."

  "Why?" Mr. Ribbon asked. "She knows a
s much as meself."

  "Well, alls I'm askin' is that you hear her out," Mr. Furaman said. "An' if there's anythin' I might do to help things along, I'll certainly do it."

  "I'm not sure what ye mean."

  "Maybe we can get Lally down here now an' have a word or two," Mr. Furaman said.

  "Well, why don't we all go upstairs?" Mr. Ribbon said, getting up from his stool. "Robby, I think we oughta close up shop, for now, so ye can come up with us."

  "I didn't mean for you to close the store," Mr. Furaman said.

  "Oh, never mind that!" Mr. Ribbon replied. "Robby was thar when Bob's horse was found, so it might be good to have him in on our chat."

  They all went upstairs where Mrs. Starhart had been entertained for more than three hours by Sheila and Mirabella. When the men entered the living room, Mrs. Starhart was examining a piece of lacework that Mirabella had made and was commenting on the delicate pattern.

  "Yes," Mirabella agreed, "and very difficult to do, if I do say so. It is an old family pattern, taught to me by my mother and passed down from one generation to the next. Oh, here are the men."

  Sheila rose from her chair, and Mirabella took the lace away.

  "I suppose you'll want to speak with my husband, now," she said. "You've been so patient all this time."

  "Oh, my, no!" Mrs. Starhart said. "I'll not take the men from their work! An' you've been so nice to me. I know I'm a bother, interruptin' your chores, an' all."

  "No bother at all, my dear!" Mirabella smiled and bowed. "I am pleased to have you. Only I must run along to see Mrs. Painmoor, just down the way. I told her I'd come before the day was out to collect some jam and apple preserves she set up for me. I'm afraid it is late. Won't you please stay the night?"

  "No, no. It is very kind of you to offer. But I'll not hold my brother's business a single moment longer than necessary."

  "I'm afraid we do have a long ride back to Janhaven," Mr. Furaman put in. "An' we'll be stayin' at my cousin's house this night, a few leagues up the road."

  "Well, I'll take my leave of you then," Mirabella nodded. "I do hope things work out. I'm sure Robigor will do whatever he can."

  "Would you like for me to tag along and help you carry things?" Sheila asked Mirabella.

  "No. I'll only be bringing back a few things, I think. But, thank you for offering."

  "Thank you again," Mrs. Starhart said as she gave Mirabella a little hug. "Good bye!"

  "Good bye."

  "I'll see ye later tonight, dearie," Mr. Ribbon said as his wife kissed him on the cheek. He turned back to the others. "Now, Mrs. Starhart! I'm sorry to keep ye waitin' for so long."

  "Not at all, Mr. Ribbon," she replied. "I only wanted to have a little chat with you, an' ask you a few things."

  Robby brought in another couple of chairs for Furaman and for himself. When they had settled down, and Sheila had resumed her seat, Mr. Ribbon turned to Mrs. Starhart.

  "Now. What can I do for ye?"

  "Well," Mrs. Starhart said, looking at her brother, who nodded her on. "I understand you're the mayor, now."

  "Yes. That is so. Only until the next election can be held."

  "Well, you know about the disappearance of my husband, Bob?"

  "Yes, Ullin Saheed told us about it," Mr. Ribbon said. "An' I understand from yer brother that no sign of him has yet been found."

  "That is so," she replied. "Them fellers he works with have scoured the countryside for two months an' come up with nary a hint. It's like he just vanished into air. An' then there's the matter of his horse, turnin' up in Barley, 'cross the river, ridden by a robberman. I hear tell that one of them robbers was a Dragonkind man!"

  "That's right. Robby an' Sheila both whar thar when he was killed."

  "Yes. So Miss Sheila, here, was tellin' me a bit earlier. Pleased to make your acquaintance, young man."

  Robby nodded and took her hand in greeting. "Ma'am."

  "Well, it's like this," Mrs. Starhart went on. "On the mornin' I last saw Bob, a man comes to the house sayin' he's got a parcel of letters needin' delivery to Duinnor. Now my Bob's a stickler for rules, an' he tells the man that no parcels can be accepted for Duinnor except they be weighed an' paid in the proper manner at the Post Station at Janhaven. An' Bob tells him further that, the next Rider goin' northwest warn't due to leavin' for a month at least. Well, the man gets all insistent-like, sayin' he's come all the way from Barley an' got no time for goin' to the Post Station. So he shoves a pouch of gold at Bob an' everthin', tellin' Bob to pay out the delivery an' to keep the rest. Now, I pressed Bob right off to do as the man said. I didn't care for the looks of him, a rough sort, shabby, with the smell of drink about him. An', anyway, it was a fair bag of coin, too, he offered. But, no! Bob wouldn't hear of it! 'Gots to be weighed proper' says Bob, 'marked an' sealed right,' he says. Anyways, the man kept after him, an' I did too, though now I regret it so!"

  Mrs. Starhart had worked herself up into a tearful shrill and was now barely able to speak, so choked with sorrow she was.

  "Oh, my poor Bob! I know he's dead! Dead on account of that parcel!"

  "Now, now, Lally," Mr. Furaman went over and knelt by his sister, trying to comfort her. "You've got no way of knowin' those things."

  "Oh, yes," she sobbed. "After forty years with a man, you gets a way of knowin' when somethin' ain't right. But he took 'em. Bob took the pouch of coin an' the parcel an' gave the man his word them letters would be taken over to Janhaven Post Station an' sent off to Duinnor. Bob promised to take it that very mornin'."

  "Who was this man?" Mr. Ribbon asked.

  "I don't know. Never laid eyes on him afore or since," she replied, wiping her nose with a handkerchief. "Tall, red-faced, farmer-lookin' sort. Greasy brown hair. Blue eyes. Stern lookin'. Didn't see no horse or wagon."

  "What did he seem like?" Robby asked. "I mean, did he seem like he might hurt you if Mr. Starhart didn't take the parcel?"

  "No," she answered thoughtfully. "Not like that, though at first I thought he might. No, I decided he was more nervous-like. Like in a great hurry. Didn't get all that calm when Bob took the parcel. Left in a big hurry, thankin' Bob an' all, like was proper, but in a big hurry. Bob left on Bandit soon after, goin' the other way up to the Post Station in Janhaven. An' that's the last I saw him! I knew he'd be gone a week or so, an' I warn't worried none at first. But after two weeks, I knew something was terrible wrong. I'm afraid the Thunder Mountain Band must've took him. See, Bob was born an' bred in them parts an' nobody knows them hills an' ridges this side of the mountains like Bob. Sometimes, Bob'd make a ride for the post down the west side of the ridge, along the narrow south road from Janhaven, see? An' he knew some place along where he could cut through an' over to the Old South Road from Passdale an' take up his route down at Newstone Ferry. Often it was, the Post men say, when dear Bob'd return along the Passdale road. Anyways, whether a hidden pass, or some ol' troll tunnel, Bob knew a short way through an' never wasted time or horse-breath."

  Mrs. Starhart caught herself getting off track and waved a hand around at herself, shaking her head.

  "I know I'm not makin' a lot of sense. But I mean to say that Bob rode off a long while back, before Midsummer's. Then Bob's horse, Bandit, turned up all the way over in Boskland, across the river. An' I asks myself, how did Bandit get across that river? An' in the hands of them bandits. I thinks they must've took Bob an' his horse somewhere south of Janhaven. Them fellers didn't come this way an' cross the bridge here at Passdale, an' I'm sure Bob was done in by 'em afore they crossed the Bentwide. Bob got to the Post Station all right, accordin' to the captain there, an' he was right away sent on out to make deliveries down south county-way, they tell me. So that means that them fellers what took Bob's horse had to cross the Bentwide either at Buckman's Ferry, or farther down at Newstone Ferry. Any farther south an' they'd a never made across to Boskland."

  "Well, they didn't cross at Buckman's," Robby's father said. "That was the first place the Boskland
ers rode, an' it is still unused. Been that way nearly a year, now. They went on down to Newstone an' didn't find anythin' out of place thar. That's pro'bly where they crossed, one by one, so as not to rouse any suspicions. The ferryman told Bosk several strangers, five or six, came through one at a time over the course of two days, all with horses or ponies. One roused 'em up out of bed an' paid a pretty penny to cross in the pouring rain, the day before the storm let up. Bosk figures that must've been the Dragon Man, lettin' the dark an' rain cover his looks. Mr. Bosk told the folks down thar what happened, an' they are all lookin' out for yer husband, in case he was made to show 'em the way. That's been awhile ago. An' none of us here think they were part of them mountain bandits. That is, we've never had any trouble with 'em before, an' it ain't like them to be this far east, much less to cross over the river."

  "Hm," Mrs. Starhart huffed, then sniffed, touching her nose with her handkerchief. "So that don't get us nowhere. I was just hopin' you might cast some light on it for me. I suppose we'll never know what truly happened to Bob. But as them Post Riders thought so highly of Bob, him havin' been one for so many years an' even trained a bunch of 'em, they come to see me purty often. An' their wives an' children, too, to give me company an' to share me grief. Well, it's been let on that there's been some unseemly kinds hangin' about nearby the Post Station these last weeks. They hangs about a tavern up the road a ways from there, where the Post Riders take refreshment an' all. Anyway's they ask questions, sort of, proddin' 'bout the Duinnor post, an' about how folks might pay for sendin' parcels about an' so forth. At first, so I've been told, no one thought much of 'em. An' since one question would come from one feller, an' a few days later a new feller would show up an' ask another, an' then after a spell, some other feller'd show up askin' more questions, well, some of Bob's mates started gettin' concerned. The thing was, nobody put much to it at first, but then one of the Post Riders made a comment about it to another, sayin' how the stranger who bought him a pint was fancy-dressed in blue. Another Post Rider made mention of a different stranger, fancy-dressed in green with a feathered hat. Then, one after another, they all put it together that them strangers were all part of one and the same band of bandits so-called the Thunder Mountain Band, what are all so fancy-clad in their attire, they say. Well, as my brother can tell ye, Janhaven got filled with worry that some kind of raid was comin'."