Escana (6 page)

The
anger was starting to ignite, if he didn't get out of here there was
going to be trouble. He had been sent here to destroy six powerful
men, why was he wasting his time trying to get work?

He
did his best attempt at nonchalance with a shrug in Gooseman's
direction and walked out the door, not allowing himself to look at
the man's expression. Or think about what Ella may have told the man
of their encounter last night.

H
e
was about half way to the square when he heard the trotting of a
horse pulling a cart. He stepped off the side of the path in order to
let it pass but it slowed as it approached him.

'Need
a lift?' Garth asked from above.

Jakob
looked up, Harvester and Garth were sat atop the cart. The smith wore
an easy grin but the farmer's face was firmly neutral. It would
appear he hadn't planned on stopping for him.

'Are
you headed to the square?' Jakob asked.

'Well
that's where my forge and all my tools are so I'd guess so, yes.
Simon rode the cart up this morning on account of his leg playing up
again. Do you need a lift or not?'

Jakob
nodded before clambering aboard with the help of Garth and they set
off at a leisurely pace.

The
cart rattled in an unnerving fashion as they made their way down the
tracks that led from the inn to the smith's home and the nearby
Warden's house. Presumably Harvester's fields lay beyond this point
somewhere in the distance. Jakob couldn't tell which of the sloping
fields were his and the forest did a good job of concealing the barns
the man must own.

'So
are you going to talk to him about what happened or not?' the gruff
man asked Garth. They had spent the last few minutes in uncomfortable
silence.

'Very
well then, I was just looking for the right time to mention it but it
seems like you want it talked about now,' Garth replied.

The
slightest hint of a smile crept across Simon Harvester's features. 'I
appreciate you trying to coddle me Garth, but I know that Ella can be
trouble.'

Jakob
didn't pay much attention to the banter, he had lost the job and that
was all there was to it. He could patch things up with Ella when he
next saw her and gossiping with these two men about it wouldn't
change matters.

'She's
a handful, I'll give you that much,' Garth agreed, ever the
peace-maker. 'I still think it was a bit harsh of Harold to withdraw
the job offer. Especially considering who he has to go back to.'

An
involuntary shiver crept up Jakob's spine, he wasn't looking forward
to the latest encounter with his father off the back of this failure.

'It's
his place, his rules.' Harvester said, cracking the reigns and
sending the cart forward in an even more precarious fashion. 'A man
is free to do what he wants in his business, fair or not.'

Garth
clearly wasn't looking for an argument and nodded affably. 'What do
you think, Jakob? You've been very quiet.'

Did
the smith really expect him to wax lyrical about all the negative
things bubbling under the surface regarding their best friend?

'I'd
rather not talk about it,' he said, subsiding into silence at Garth's
puzzled look.

Harvester
let out what sounded like a chuckle but could as well have been his
hacking up phlegm. 'You don't need to pull any punches when talking
about old Gooseman to us, boy. We're not a bunch of old hens that
will go clucking back to him as soon as we can.'

Was
the man speaking truly, or was this an attempt to goad an opinion out
of him? He had already lost the job, it didn't really matter if he
went even further in his criticism now, did it?

'It
was reactionary, and he only heard one side of the story,' he began,
feeling the anger rise in a manner that was impossible not to show.
'If he's that distrustful of his potential employees I'm surprised
there's anyone other than Jimmy working there.'

Harvester
let out a laugh. 'That's what I've been telling his friends ever
since I laid eyes on him, boy! He's a lady's man is our Gooseman,
always is siding with the women. Makes a pretty penny when they drag
their families out to the Chipped Flagon too mind.'

Jakob
took a deep breath and let the anger subside. Why was he getting so
worked up over the man? Was it because he knew that he was one of his
father's old associates? No, it couldn't have been that or he
wouldn't be chatting away to the likes of Garth. There was something
more sinister in his irrational hatred of the man that he couldn't
quite comprehend.

'I
see you're musing over what you said to the girl,' Harvester said,
now seeming to warm to him after his display of honesty. 'She'll sulk
for a while and then she'll get over it, don't worry.'

Jakob
offered him a smile at his false assumptions but said nothing
further. Let the man think all he was concerned about were the
feelings of a pretty girl, he need not know the truth of the matter.

'How's
the pile going, Garth?' the farmer asked the smith, seemingly moving
on from the previous discussion.

Garth's
face frowned into the middle distance. 'Ever growing. I don't know
how they expect me to fix up this latest order, it's getting worse.'

Harvester
patted his shoulder consolingly, a surprisingly gentle touch for such
a man. 'It's tough times for us all. You have to make sure they're
armed and I have to tighten my belt and make sure they're fed.' He
cracked a grin then, the previous display of compassion gone. 'Not
that it'll stop me from putting on a brave feast later on tonight!
You had best wet your beard at my table, smith. I'll not have you
hammering all night while the rest of us are in merriment!'

Garth
offered the man a smile in return but his heart clearly wasn't in it.
'If I can get this latest shipment done I'll try my best to make it.'

'See
that you do. I'll have a barrel with your name on it.'

Jakob
listened to the two men chat back and forth about local affairs, from
the state of the work for hire to the potential marriage of someone
he'd never heard of. He would have found it reassuring had he not
been so dislocated from it all by the continued thoughts of Gooseman,
and to a lesser extent Ella.

Finally
the cart pulled up outside the Smithy and the Warden's house, all his
previous concerns vanished at the sight of the place.

Garth
bid them a hasty farewell, apparently to get started on the work that
was piling up and required his immediate attention.

Jakob
gazed across the square to the small house built onto the local gaol,
he wasn't looking forward to this. His father was going to be livid
when he found out that Jakob had squandered the opportunity of a job
practically handed to him.

It
was then that the thought hit him. What allegiance did he owe his
father at this point? He had been distant, resentful and occasionally
violent towards him. The man offered a roof over Jakob's head and the
occasional bite to eat but he couldn't protect him from himself.

A
hand descended upon his shoulder and he jumped in shock, so absorbed
had he been in his own thoughts that the world around him had
receded.

'You're
a jumpy one, aren't you?' a gruff voice said.

He
looked back at the rough-hewn features of Simon Harvester and nodded.
'Sorry, I was elsewhere.'

Harvester
grunted. 'Another one with your head in the clouds I see. What you
need is something to occupy your time with.'

Jakob
didn't care much for being lectured about what he was supposed to be
doing, especially by some farmer he barely knew outside of a few
minutes of chatter on his cart. He was about to excuse himself when
the man spoke again.

'I
see it in your eyes boy, you don't care for me telling you what to
do. You might be a quiet one but I like a bit of fire in my workers
and you certainly ain’t getting work at the Chipped Flagon no
more. You come up to the farm tomorrow and we'll set you to task on
something.'

He
couldn't believe it. After treating Harvester's friend so poorly the
man was offering him job, where was the sense in that?'If you don't
mind me asking sir, why on Earth are you offering me a job?'

Harvester
frowned. 'Why on what now?'

Jakob
caught himself, not knowing what he said, the pain in his head
started to surge back into life. 'Sorry, it's a saying from the
city,' he hedged.

The
man seemed mollified by the explanation. 'Strange sayings you folk
have. Let's hope those city hands are as strong as your father's.' He
limped over to his cart and started climbing with great difficulty up
what appeared to be wooden steps that had descended from it. 'Yeah,
you see it yourself boy. I'm not as able-bodied as I used to be, it's
okay to stare. I need all the help I can get and right now there's a
real shortage of men I can trust.'

He
believed the old farmer, Jakob didn't think much of people in
general. It still didn't explain why he specifically wanted Jakob's
help. 'What makes you think I'm any more trustworthy than the people
you already have?'

This
brought what he thought was a laugh from the man, it sounded like
more of a snort. 'I don't trust you. I'd be a fool to trust you so
freely, I'm offering you the chance in spite of this. Keep your head
down, work hard, get your pay and do as I tell you and maybe after a
few seasons I will trust you.' He grabbed the reins of his horse and
prepared to leave. 'There's a gathering tonight at my homestead, if
you're serious about wanting work I'll expect you to be there to try
and drink me under the table.'

Jakob
gave him a wave as the cart rattled past him, it was the second
invitation to the party he had received, was this a thread that he
was meant to follow or just coincidental? He wished he had some
clearer indication. Were the unbidden feelings the indicators he was
seeking? Why then was his hatred of Gooseman so powerful?

He
watched the cart trundle off into the distance and took a deep breath
of the cool morning air, it was time to tell his father before anyone
else did, not that it would make much difference. At least he had the
saving grace of being offered work at the farm. He hoped that would
calm the reaction he was about to witness.

He
knocked on the door of what was supposed to be his own home, it
always paid to be respectful around a man like his father, especially
if you were the bearer of bad news.

An
unbolting sound came from behind the door and a weary-looking face
peered back at him.

'Oh,
it's you,' Thom said.

He
had long stopped asking where Jakob spent his nights when he wasn't
in the house, probably because he didn't care enough for the answer.
Jakob had always been told by strangers that they looked identical.
He didn't see it personally.

Thom
wandered back into the house, not waiting to see if Jakob followed,
and slumped down onto a chair in front of a desk. He didn't offer his
son a seat.

'Out
with it then,' he said, as Jakob reached through the door and undid
the final latch. 'How did you cock it up this time?'

He
froze on the spot. There was no way that Gooseman could have got word
to Thom as quickly as that, the man was just out of his bed. How did
he know?

'I
upset one of his employees last night in jest, she told him about it
and he said he didn't want me.'

Thom
let out a short chuckle then. 'Well done son, I didn't know you had
it in you, whoring around like that. Thought you were one of those
queers like the ones you used to play with in the city. Figured they
had infected you and made you their prissy bitch.'

Jakob
didn't rise to the bait, he knew Thom was just trying to antagonise
him. Let him think that he fucked the girl, it wouldn't improve his
mood to contradict the man.

'I've
been offered another job at Harvester's plantation out west.'

At
this Thom started roaring in laughter, it wasn't the reaction Jakob
was hoping for. There was something dangerous he was clearly missing
that could cause such mirth from his father.

'I
bet you think Simon was doing you a mercy and all, don't you?' He
slapped his knee and his laughter fell away as he searched for breath
to mock Jakob with. 'The plantation is one step up from slavery, all
the cons and petty criminals are rounded up and put to work there.
Any of them get out of line and he sets the dogs on them.' He glared
at him now, a hard look. 'Yeah, you'd fit right in there.'

Jakob
took in a deep breath to steady himself, but said nothing. It wasn't
that same feeling of irrational hatred he had felt with Gooseman at
the Chipped Flagon. No, this was something far more familiar and much
older, worn down to a casual acceptance. There was nothing he could
do here, if he complained too much he would be beaten black and blue.
There was no appeal to the law when your own father enforced it. From
the look on the man's face he wasn't done with him yet.