Back | Next
Contents

Chapter 16

Archie


August

Augsburg


There are villages aplenty between Bayreuth and Augsburg, so I was never much at risk for having to spend a night in a field or wood for the days I traveled. But I breathed a bit of a sigh of relief that final day when the road passed through a bit of a wood and opened up to let me see the walls of Augsburg not far away.

It’s not that I mind villages, you understand. I’ve spent many a fine hour in village taverns. Indeed, some of the best beer to ever pass my lips was found in small taverns in small villages not on the road to anywhere in particular. But at the end of a long day’s ride, a man of experience wants an inn, he does—a place that offers a bed for sleeping and not just a spot on a tavern floor where you can roll up in your blanket. And it’s not so many villages that boast inns like that. So it’s glad I was to be seeing Augsburg not far down the road as the sun westered and dusk began to haze the air.

I was riding Maus that day, and I was even gladder for the nearness of the city when he started limping on his left foreleg when we were but a quarter of a mile or so from the gate. I dismounted immediately. He let me pick up his foot, and sure as the devil, there was a stone wedged in his hoof, and firmly wedged it seemed to be. I gave my vocabulary free exercise for a moment or three, then sighed and rubbed Maus’ muzzle to let him know I wasn’t angry at him. I gathered his reins in my hand, and led the way as we walked that last quarter mile to the gate, arriving not long before the sun was fully set.

There were four guards at the gate, wearing uniforms. Something didn’t seem right, but I had more on my mind than that. “You a soldier?” one of them barked as I neared the gate.

“Ex-soldier,” I said. “traveling on behalf of my employer, Master Titus Wulff of Jena.”

“Moving in or moving on?”

I had to think that one through. That almost sounded like an up-timer.

“I had planned to rest a day or two and then continue on south, but I’m afraid Maus here may have changed my plans. He’s picked up a stone in his hoof, and if his foot’s bruised, I’ll have to wait until it heals.”

“Probably picked it up in that stream you crossed a couple of miles back,” one of them volunteered. “It’s been known for doing that.”

“I can live with that,” I said, patting Maus on the neck. “Round river rock will do less damage than a sharp piece of stone from the mountains or hillsides. Which inn has the best stableman?”

They looked at each other. “You Protestant or Catholic?” a second man asked.

“I was raised Lutheran, but my mother’s clan were all Catholic, and I rode fourteen years with a troop of Scottish horse in northern France, so I can talk peaceably with anyone who’ll talk peaceably with me. I’ve seen enough of the world to know that there are honorable men who say the Pater Noster and more than a few of the devil’s brood who sing in German.”

“We don’t want trouble, soldier.”

Ex-soldier.” I let my voice grow a little harder. “And I won’t start trouble, but if trouble finds me, I’ll end it.”

They looked at each other, then back at me.

“Any weapons?” the man to my right asked.

“A couple of pistols and my sword.”

One of them walked around Maus and Cortana. “No musket or rifle?”

I shook my head. “I don’t hunt, and I’m not headed for a battle, so no, no long gun. What you see is all there is.”

They looked at each other again, and the one who hadn’t spoken yet nodded and said, “Keep the peace, and you can stay for a week. If you need longer than that for your horse to heal, you may need to speak to a magistrate, but it shouldn’t be a problem. And old Otto at the Brass Kestrel Inn is the best stableman in town.”

“My first time here,” I said. “Can you direct me to him?”

A moment later, directions firmly in my mind, I thanked them for their courtesy and made my way through the gateway. Behind me, I heard the gates start to close.

The sky was still a bit light to the west when I arrived at the Brass Kestrel Inn, which had a remarkably good picture of a kestrel in flight on its signboard—or at least it looked good in that light. Broad daylight in the morning might reveal a different picture altogether. I threw my reins to the ostler’s boy who appeared at that moment. “Hold them there,” I said. “I’ll be back in a moment. I want to lead them to the stable myself.”

Ducking in the front door, which was a bit low for one like myself, I nearly ran down the proprietor. He was almost as solid as I am, but I still staggered him and grabbed his arm to keep him on his feet.

“Sorry,” I said. “Are you the keeper?”

“I am that,” he replied, straightening to his full height. “Tobias Graumann. What can I do for you?” His name was appropriate, as he boasted a full head of iron-gray hair, albeit a bit disheveled.

“I need a room for a week.”

“Shared or not shared?”

“Not shared.”

“I have one I can let you have, but it won’t be cheap.”

I pulled a guilder out of my pocket. “Here, a deposit on it. I’ll be back in as soon as I get my horses taken care of.”

I left him standing there open-mouthed as I ducked back out the door and took the reins from the boy. “Lead the way, lad. I need to talk to the head man of the stable.”

“Right this way, master.” He turned and moved briskly around the corner of the inn through an alley of sorts to a spacious stable yard between the inn and the stable. We followed in time to hear him calling, “Otto! Otto!. There’s a man here to see you about his horses.”

I handed Maus’ reins to the boy. “Hold this.” Then I moved back and unfasted Cortana’s lead rein from the crupper ring of Maus’ saddle, and pulled him forward to stand alongside his mate, taking the reins back from the boy.

By that time Otto had appeared. There were two torches in brackets on either side of the main stable door, plus he carried a lantern, so I was able to get a good survey of the man. Middling height, so thin he was almost gaunt, large knobby-knuckled hands hanging out of his sleeves. He paused for a moment, looking me and mine over with some care, then came forward

“Cavalry horses?” His voice matched his face—rough, worn, plain. Cortana stretched his head out some, sniffing to catch his scent. His ears pricked forward, always a good sign. I decided I liked the man.

“After a fashion. A Scots horse troop in France. About half cavalry and about half dragoons. Not charge across a battlefield cavalry—more like skirmishers. But these lads know the sound of guns and the smell of powder, right enough, for all that it’s been four years since we left it behind us.”

“I could tell by the way they looked at me.” He gave a rusty chuckle, then pointed at Maus. “He’s not standing straight. What’s the problem?”

I like Otto even more. “Stone in his left fore-hoof. Just picked it up right before we approached the city.”

“You crossed that stream to the north, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question, and he shook his head. “I have to wonder if some of the farriers in town aren’t seeding stones in that stream. We get at least one horse a week in with this.” The boy had slipped away a moment ago, and now returned and handed a hoof pick to Otto. “Good lad. Now you take the gray, and lead him a bit away. Master, if you’ll hold yon head, and lift this lantern high,” he handed it to me, “we’ll see if we can ease this poor lad’s foot.”

I had one hand on Mouse’s bridle and the other hoisting the lantern as high as I could reach. Mouse lifted his foot easily enough when Otto reached for it. I couldn’t see his hands, but his shoulders moved a couple of times, and then he straightened and turned to show me the stone after he set the hoof down. “Smallish, smooth, round,” he said. “Felt hard wedged at first, but once I poked at it, it was barely wedged in at all. I’ll have to check tomorrow for bruising, but he doesn’t seem to be very tender, so it might be just a couple of days of rest and he could be able to carry on, especially if you ride ’tother one the first day.”

“I’ll be doing that,” I said. “The gray is Cortana, and this one,” I nodded toward Maus, “is Maus. They’re not flighty or temperamental boys. Give them a good rubdown tonight, if you would, and a bit of grain if you’ve got it.”

“We’ve got it, but it’ll be costing a bit more.”

I waved a hand. “The boys deserve it.”

“I’ll see to it myself, master.”

He took Maus’ reins and led him into the stable, followed by the boy with Cortana. They were placed in side-by-side stalls, and I watched as their tack was removed. I stepped forward to take my bags, and the saddles and blankets were placed on racks over the mangers to air out and dry. Otto had good hands, and Maus was enjoying the rub, so I left them to his care and returned to the inn.

The inn’s central room was lightly populated that night. There were three folks gathered at a table, and one old man off by himself, but other than that the only other person in the room was the proprietor, Master Tobias, who stood behind the counter wiping it with a rag.

“Light custom tonight, is it?” I asked

He quirked his mouth. “You might say that. A couple of the taverns are offering half-price mugs of beer tonight in honor of some obscure saint—Saint Mary the Candlemaker, or something like that.”

“Let me guess…the first mug is regular beer and after that it’s watered down?”

The proprietor leaned on his elbows. “I see you’ve seen that trick before.”

“Oh, ja…in Hamburg years ago, in Scotland, and every other tavern I tried in France. You spend enough times in taverns, you see all the tricks.”

“God’s truth to that.”

“You don’t match their throw?”

“Nein. Custom as follows that play is not such custom as I’d want.” He straightened and placed my guilder on top of the counter. “Now, you were saying something about needing a room? And a week was it?”

“That I was, and I said a week, but that will depend on my horse.” Master Tobias’ eyebrows rose. “A stone in his hoof,” I explained.

“Soldier or former soldier, I take it?” he said with a small smile.

“Former,” I said, showing my left hand to him.

“And a good one you were, I’d wager.”

My turn to raise my eyebrows. “And how do you reach that conclusion?”

His smile grew a bit. “It’s been my experience over the last twenty years that the best soldiers always take care of their mounts first. And how did you first greet me?” We both laughed. “So you tend to your mounts. I respect that. And I’ll be pleased to accept your custom for as long as you want to stay.” He paused a moment. “For a price, of course.” His smile turned to a grin.

We talked back and forth, with the end of it being that a few more of my silver pieces landed on the counter, after which we shook hands. I followed him to my room up the stairs from the common room, dropped my bags on the bed and locked the door before heading back downstairs. Master Tobias looked up from the counter as I stepped off the last step.

“Let me guess: you would like some food?”

“Ja. It’s been a long day, and I came straight here from the gate. I’m hoping you have something.”

“The cheap stuff is gone,” Tobias said, “but I can give you a cut off a saddle of mutton and some wheat bread, if that would suit you.”

“I’m hungry enough to eat the soles off my boots if that was all that was available, friend.” I rubbed my stomach to indicate its parlous state of condition.

“I’ve known that feeling in my own life a time or so,” he said. “Let me see what I can do for you. Take a table.” He disappeared through a door into what was probably a kitchen. I turned and studied the room a bit before selecting a table. The table of three folks had reduced to two, and the old man was still by himself, but there was another table occupied by a man and woman, so there were more people than when I had come in originally. That was not a problem, as that still left a few tables open. I picked one close to the counter, and sat with my back to it.

A moment later, Tobias slid a trencher of bread in front of me with a slab of mutton on it as thick as my finger. “Wine or beer?” he asked.

“Beer,” I said, pulling my eating knife and spoon out of my pocket. By the time I had my first bite cut and on its way to my mouth, a tankard of beer sat beside my plate. Tobias didn’t hover over me, allowing me to eat in peace. I appreciated that.

The food was good. I even ate the trencher, I was so hungry. I took my time about it, though, chewing slowly as I thought about what Maus coming up lame might do to my plans.

By the time I finished eating and set down the empty tankard, the old man off by himself was the only one left in the room. Tobias came by and collected the mug and ran a towel over the tabletop.

“Do you want more?” His eyebrows were raised and a slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“I might be able to put something in my mouth, but I’m not sure I could swallow,” I replied. “I am done for the day. Tell Otto I’ll check on the horses in the morning.”

Tobias chuckled. “I am sure and certain that you will, and I doubt that Otto expects anything less, but I’ll pass the word.”

“A good even to you, my friend.”

I stood and headed toward the stairs, hearing a “Good even,” from behind me.



Back | Next
Framed