Thursday, November 11, 2010

Norben Fletcher 6/7

A stiff breeze stirred a small whirlwind of dust about his boots as he strolled into Tresco proper.  The morning was still yet early, and most women of the house were about, hauling washwater from the well or the day's bread from the local baker.  It was a curiously large village for a farming community - and what village wife doesn't do her own baking? - but that just meant foot traffic would be better for his sermon.  He finished off one of the sweet buns he'd been gifted earlier, licking crumbs from his lips as he tucked away the final treat back into a pouch.

Scanning the town square for the first time, he slowed his gait, walking alongside the periphery to observe some of the locals.  Most of the traffic seemed to be heading to and from the town well, but that also meant that particular space was also the muddiest; spilled water mixed with the worn dirt there.

*snap*

Lifting his boot, he sighted the small gray-white stone he'd stepped upon while he wasn't minding his direction.  He lifted his foot to check the damage to the soles, then bent down closer to the rubble.  Two small rocks, the dize of the joints on a man's thumb, oddly shapen lay pressed into the ground.  It seemed that one was a crudely carved head, something with pointy ears, and the other half was probably the oval-ish body with stubs for legs.  He'd have picked it up from the path, but he caught a faint glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye.  Something disappeared between a row of thatched housing, shaded by the angled light.  He pursued casually.

******

"Darlin', I'm not gonna hurt ya.  Man o'the Lord I am, good n' true.  Look here, just so happens I have this delicious sweet bun here..."  The child's eyes grew wide as she grabbed the meal from his hands, biting ravenously.  Through tears in her tunic he could count individual ribs; this wasn't a case of gluttony he'd have to lecture for.  "Child, where's yer ma and yer pa?  Shouldn't you be workin' the chores at home?"

Around mouthfuls of bread, "Lookin for work, sir.  Da died some while back, and my ma, she used to be a farmhand, used to raise horses.  But sir that farm sold their horses to a merchant that came through town early in the summer, then my ma had nothin' left to tend, so they told her to git.  Ma says she's tryin real hard, sir."

"Well darlin', tell you what, I'm a man of the faith, but I'm also a merchant.  Conn-a-sir of the fine arts.  Couldn't help but notice I ruined a fine scupture out in the square."  The girl shyly pulled four of the poor soapstone carvings from her one functional pocket.  They appeared to be amorphous four-legged animals, obviously the work of a child with a lot of time to kill and no resources for proper baubles from a merchant.  "I'll pay you for the one I done broke, and for those too.  Four gold coins each, and no talkin' me up."

******

He sinched up the small pouch holding twenty five golden coins and handed it over to the grinning youth.  "Now you run home and you stay there 'till yer ma comes home, and you show her, and you say the preacher man bought your statues.  You don't tell anyone else about this, m'kay?"  She nodded, adding "You be careful, sir.  There's a thief about town.  Men been volunteering for the night watch, but they ain't caught'emMight think you have money, sir."

"Don't you worry your pretty little head, darlin'."  Norben smiled, standing and stretching beneath the rising sun.  "Ain't no thief can hide under the Light.  Tell you what, I have another five gold coins, all for you, if you do me a small favor.  After you run home, you hide yer money.  Then wherever you get these rocks from, you find ones the size of yer fist.  You bring as many as you can get into town, you pile them up against the well over in that square.  Somebody asks what yer doin', say nothin'.  Secret between you 'n me."  She nodded and scampered off.  Norben would have to wait to setup his pulpit.  Under thatched shade, he started rooting through his many pockets and pouches, looking for his best pipe as he strolled the outer alleys of Tresco.  "Ain't no one can hide."

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