Table of Contents – (spoilers)
“Why do I gotta be the one to carry this fuckin goat?” Knuckle griped.
The squad were riding back to the church through Bristle Hollow from the Tanglefoot’s trailhead. From where they had interrupted Theon at his leisure, it was not hard to find the trailhead. The Tanglefoot carried on straight to the main lane that ran down the ravine between Bristlehump and Bristlenook, about midway between them.
Peep had tasked Knuckle to carry Nelly the goat in front of him on his saddle. Contrary to his contrariness about it, Nelly was quite good about it. She was not a particularly big goat and obviously used to being handled.
“Because yar the biggest of us, and the one that’s gonna be the least useful from horseback right away if we get jacked. What’s the problem anyway? She’s clean and friendly. And I thought ye were all about saving her type from getting fucked like that. I mean, ye were really into the idea that we’d saved Betsy from that kinda thing. Or is it just Betsy in particular that brings that compassion out in ye?” Peep quipped, referencing their mule that the ranger Thorn had suggested naming Betsy as Knuckle’s girlfriend. The name for the mule had stuck, which remained a way for the squad to needle Knuckle.
Knuckle scowled, but knew better (by this time) than to rise to the bait.
At the church, they let Nelly go in the churchyard to have a graze. Pinch took his horse across to the stable as Choke, Knuckle, and Peep brushed theirs down in the church stable. In the church kitchen they found that the supplies Shasta had promised from their tenants had been delivered. There was now a good-sized barrel of ale on a rough wooden stand in the kitchen corner, and the larder had been fully stocked with bread, cheese, cured meats, fine oats and grains for gruel, as well as a pot of wild nuts and berries.
It was only midafternoon, so Choke had them all give the church a good cleaning. They swept up before mopping and scrubbing the floors and pews. Then they all had an ale. Choke settled down with his Holy Book to prepare his sermon for the next day while Pinch and Peep set about cooking up a deluxe gruel to anchor their dinner. They turned in early and set the same watch as the night before.
The night was uneventful, and the squad rose early to wash themselves before mass. Even with it being a warm, late-spring day, doing so with the cold well water was not fun at all. The men washed themselves in their tunics at the trough, having long since foregone any sense of modesty when it came to Peep, but, as was usual, she excused herself to perform her ablutions. She washed up with a bucket and tub in the kitchen.
About a half hour after breakfast, they opened the church doors wide and rang the church bell to call the flock to Sunday Mass. This time it was Knuckle who won the rock-paper-scissors match to do so.
Many more people than the squad had expected showed up. Shasta arrived first with her two kids. Then there were the tenants: Sally, who was their main provisioner, and Babs, who was the ale maker. Each of them came with their families. Sally was a young woman with an older husband, Earl. They had seven children with them: the three eldest being the product of Earl’s first marriage, whose mother, Earl’s first wife, had died in childbirth. Babs was older, in her forties. Her husband, Balan, was a teamster off with a lumber wagon to Spitzer the day before with two of their elder sons, also teamsters. She had with her two of her younger children, a young man in his late teens and a younger teenage girl. The tenants all arrived promptly in good order just after Shasta.
Then, to the rest of the flock’s great surprise, the goat-fucker, Theon, arrived with his family. Theon was a man in his mid-thirties who looked normal enough, considering what the squad knew him to be. His wife was a mousy little thing in her early twenties. They had two young children, barely bigger than toddlers.
Finally, after Theon and his family had taken their seats in the pews, Stadnick, the stablemaster, and Bill Cornmasher, the general store keeper, came in with their families, swelling the congregation’s number by another dozen, or so.
Choke had given some thought as to his sermon for this mass. While he had gotten used to reading to groups of people from his Holy Book, those sorts of affairs were not proper sermons in a church. With this being his first sermon, Choke had decided to keep it short and simple. He had also thought that it would be a good idea to make it light and friendly. Unfortunately, he had no notion of how to do that. With the source material and his religious upbringing being what they were, Choke had nothing to draw upon in this regard.
What Choke had settled on went over well enough. As he was comfortable doing, Choke read to the congregation from the Holy Book. With only the sparest of introductions to the selected passages, he cobbled together something of a sermon on the themes of sin and duty. Then he announced three psalms to be sung, choosing those that had most often been requested in his previous readings to the folk of Callic Valley. This all seemed to please the congregation, who appreciated the brevity of the Mass, if nothing else.
When Mass was finished, Shasta joined Choke at the door of the church to thank the merchants Stadnick and Bill Cornmasher and their people for coming.
With them all on their way, next it was Theon’s turn to escape the church. With his wife and two children in tow, he approached Choke and Shasta like they were guardians of a mythical portal bound to consume him in fire at the slightest misstep. As he stopped in front of them with his head bowed and his cap in a white-knuckle grip, Peep came over.
“Good to see ye, Theon,” Peep said. “Glad ye could make it.”
“Indeed!” Shasta interjected before Theon could babble some manner of reply. “Quite a shock, in fact. Why, I don’t think we’ve ever seen you and yars here. Whatever’s gotten into ye?”
Theon was completely at a loss for words and simply stood trembling waiting for the ordeal to end, one way or another. Shasta quickly gave up on him and turned to his wife:
“Pam? Yar not the one to bring this on, are ye? I never took ye for the church-pushing wife.”
“Me? No! Well, ye know me, Shasta, I’ve never minded religion, but… no,” she finished lamely.
Pam was a small woman who obviously housed a simple and earnest soul. At that moment she looked bewildered more than anything, as she glanced between her husband, Shasta, Choke, and Peep.
“So it was Theon that brought this on, then,” Shasta said.
“Yes. Yes it was. And I couldn’t tell ye why, neither. Yesterday afternoon he went to gather up our goats, as usual, and he took just forever!” Pam exclaimed, warming up to her story as her husband, Theon, shuddered beside her. “And then when he does come home he tells me that Nelly’s gone, and that he couldn’t find her, but that he run into Miss Otilla and her men, out on patrol, and that now we have to come to church! And I beg yar pardon, Miss Otilla and Mr Bartholomew, I don’t mind if we do! I really don’t! But… but… what happened? Theon won’t tell me a lick of it. Just insisted that we come and that’s that! Well, okay… but… why? I’m sorry. I’m sure I’m out of order here. It’s a blessing, I suppose. I shouldn’t question it.”
“No, it’s okay,” Shasta answered her. “I have to say, I am curious myself.”
Peep shrugged. “Ye know, religion is funny that way. Sometimes ye lose a goat and find yar faith again. Altas works in mysterious ways. Doesn’t he, Theon?”
Theon groaned miserably.
Choke finally decided to weigh in on the matter:
“In the wilderness searching for a lost member of one’s herd, it is not unheard of that the searcher finds that they themselves are indeed the one that is lost. Such a visitation of clarity is called an epiphany. I believe that your husband may have had one.”
“An epiphany! Oh, yeah, that is good,” Peep grinned.
“Indeed,” Choke said levelly. “I am just glad, Theon, that we were there to help you in your moment of crisis. And that you took Otilla’s words into your heart. You have taken to heart what Otilla said to you yesterday, have you not, Theon?”
“Yesh… yesh,” Theon finally managed.
“Good. Then go home with your family and be at peace,” Choke said. He looked like he was about to give Theon a pat on the shoulder, and then rethought this. Instead, he wiped his palms on his robes in an unconscious gesture of cleansing.
“Thank… thank ye…” Theon stammered as he reeled out the church door.
“We’ll be in touch, Theon!” Peep called out the door after him.
His wife blinked at everyone like a confused chicken before following him with their children.
With them gone, it was just the tenants left in the church. They did not seem to be making any move to leave. Rather, the beer maker, Babs, came wandering over to the door from where she had been lingering nearby to listen in.
“Well, that is some yarn,” Shasta said to Babs.
“Yup. That it is,” Babs answered. “And I have to say that Pam must not be able to see any better than she can think, because I’d be damned if I didn’t see a nanny goat out in the cemetery on our way into church.”
“Did ye now, Babs? Why that is interesting. Almost as interesting as what ye were telling me right before Brother Bartholomew started the Mass,” Shasta said. She then turned to address Choke and Peep: “It seems that some of the folks around were talking last evening that ye lot were seen coming back to the church with a goat. Quite a curiosity, that!”
“Yeah, well, what’s so curious about that?” Peep said, her grin wider than ever. “Theon gave the goat to us, is all!”
“He did, did he?”
“Yeah! On account of his being such a fine, upstanding Stronian, is why. He lost his goat, we found it, he had an… epaff-any, and gave us his goat, on account of being so thankful. That’s what happened.”
“Is that so,” Shasta said with a very studied, credulous look.
“It is. And I suppose he didn’t dare tell his wife he gave it away, so he told her it just run off. And I thought it best we not get him in any trouble with her over it,” Peep said.
“Sound thinking,” agreed Shasta.
“Yeah. But, now that I think about it, we don’t really need it. Maybe you can use her, Shasta. Her name’s Nelly.”
“Nelly the nanny. Ye named her?”
“No. That’s what Theon was calling her during his eepaff— what the hell did ye call what Theon was doing, Choke?”
“An epiphany! And it’s not what he was doing. It is what may have happened to him. Although I’m now inclined to doubt it. Can we just move on from this topic, please?”
“Yes, let’s,” Shasta said. “But thank ye for the goat, we’ll find a use for her, I’m sure.”
With Theon and the goat business settled, at least for the time being, Shasta, Babs, and Sally set about cooking a fine Sunday dinner with food they had brought along with them. The children all spilled out the back of the church to run amok in the yard and cemetery, shrieking as they jumped in and out of the big grave the squad had not finished digging.
While the womenfolk and older girls cooked, Sally’s husband, Eric, and Babs’ grown son, Gabe, joined the squad in a bit of a piss-up. They moved some pews out into the yard behind the church and set about draining the barrel of ale Babs had brought the day before. Eric had with him a big ceramic jug of wickedly strong, clear, corn liquor, colloquially known as potato wine.
Sunday dinner was a long, drawn-out meal that started as a late lunch that stretched into an early dinner. It was exceedingly casual, as people ate what they wanted in their own time.
The conversation was jovial and fun and everyone was able to relax together as the core of Bristlehump’s Stronian community welcomed the squad into their fold. The trivial banter and local, inconsequential gossip ended when Babs took a seat right in the middle of the squad with a clear intention to engage with them on a more serious matter.
Babs was a large woman of ample features and appetites. With her husband and two eldest sons being teamsters off to Spitzer, it was no wonder (to Choke, at least, who had drunk only a little ale) that she had plenty to talk about with them.
“So!” Babs said. “This is the Pekot Bunch. My oh my, ye really have stirred things up, haven’t ye!”
“I suppose that is true, ma’am,” Choke said, cutting Pinch off, who, drunk as he was, was a couple of beats late in his usual duty as the squad’s spokesman.
“It is true. But I would have ye know, that with my lot being teamsters as they are, and with us being teamsters through and through, going way back, that we don’t have any love for the Outfit,” Babs said, pausing to give Choke a serious look before she continued:
“I hope that ye don’t confuse the good men who do the King’s work on their wagons for those bad men that do violence for the evil men that bleed our kind worse than they do any. What I am saying is, the Outfit, and those that do their dirt, are no friends of ours.”
“Well, I am very happy to hear you say that, ma’am,” Choke said.
“Good. But, I also hope that ye understand that us not being on friendly terms with those evil men, doesn’t mean that we’re in a position to interfere with what they get up to. They’re a devil on our backs, surely. But what are we, simple folk that we are, to do to contend with those devils and their evil deeds? Especially when the good folk of the world, the quality folk, that are meant to fight to protect our sort, don’t do a thing about it themselves. And that those devils take our help and support as their due, and will tax us hard in blood and sorrow if we fail them. Do ye understand what I’m saying?”
“I do, ma’am. And I have no intention of putting you or yours in the middle of our troubles,” Choke said.
“Good!” Babs said, leaning in to give Choke a solid thump on the shoulder. When she continued, it was in a much-lightened manner: “Now, I would also ask ye to consider the life of a teamster more generally. It’s a dangerous, hard world out there, as I am sure ye know too well. And a lot of evil befalls them that take to the roads to transport goods of value for the King and all the good folk. So, as evil as they are, and as badly as they bleed our kind, the Outfit does perform one service for us that we do appreciate. When one of ours suffers violence from a human hand, the Outfit sees to it that they pay for it. In this they do a service for us, it has to be said. So, now, Brother Bartholomew, I wanna know why it is that the Outfit has such a hard-on for seeing ye hurt.”
With everyone now listening intently to Babs, a good number of them had a good chuckle at her final turn of phrase. She continued:
“Yeah, we been hearing all kinds a rumors about it. Only thing we’re pretty sure of is that it weren’t any proper teamsters that ye harmed. Which is why I’m sitting down friendly with ye like I am. And why ye aint dead from the beer I brung ye yesterday, for that matter. But now I gotta get it straight from the source. And no bullshit, neither. What happened?”
“Well, ma’am, I can appreciate that. And it is an embarrassing story, I am sorry to say,” Choke said.
“I have no doubt,” Babs chuckled.
With everyone that was old enough to be properly aware of their surroundings clustered around, listening intently, Pinch leaned in and raised his hand drunkenly to see if Choke wanted him to spin the yarn. Choke irritably waved him off. He took a moment to consider his words before beginning:
“Well, as you can possibly understand, when the three of us were released from the Pekot school of the Brothers of the Holy Stone, some of us were eager to… see all the world had to offer. As well, we had with us a fourth graduate, our leader then, Dungar, bastard of Count Vallen. His fellow bastard of a different mother, by the name of Mannis, was sent by the Count to see to it that Dungar got safely to the Brothers of the Holy Stone Academy in Goettingen. Mannis invited the three of us along with them to Strana, where he and his brother were going to catch a river barge. Of course, we went along with them.”
At this, some knowing chuckles rose among the audience.
“Lucky buggers,” Eric muttered, prompting his wife, Sally, to elbow him sharply in the side.
“Yes, well, be all that as it may,” Choke continued, “Mannis and Dungar safely boarded a river barge in the late evening. The three of us then decided to spend the night drinking our way up and down Bridgetown, against my better judgement, I would add. Even so, it was not meant to be anything more than drinks. Mannis had warned us of the traps and snares of the place, but we thought we knew better,” Choke sighed. “To our shame, a pair of polite, nice-seeming, young women asked us to treat them to a drink in a place they knew. That turned out to be a trap. The proprietor charged us a silver a head as a seating fee, on top of the drinks. That was over five silver, total.
“Of course, we could not pay. At this time, a Bridgetown gang leader who had followed us into the joint bought our debt from the proprietor. Faced with owing this gangster money, we agreed to do a job for him. The job was meant to be simply retrieving a package for him from some teamsters that were withholding it. Those teamsters turned out to be Outfit men.”
“Who?” Babs asked intently.
“It was a shipping warehouse near the docks called Double Horseshoes Freight. The boss was Murray, and his number two was Lenny,” Choke answered.
“Ye heard of them?” Peep asked Babs as her eyes flared.
“Well, I heard of Murray. And Double Horseshoes. Ye know why he named his company that?” Babs paused, looking over everyone significantly. “Because, back when he was coming up as Outfit muscle out in the bush, actually out Didsbury way, to be exact, he had this method of punishment he’d sometimes use. He’d take two big horseshoes to a feller. One of them, Murray would hammer all the way into the mouth, however he could make that fit.”
Babs paused again, waiting for the implications of her words to sink in.
“And what did he do with the other one, ma’am?” Pinch asked, already knowing the answer.
“Well, that one went in the other end.”
“Yes, that’s what I thought.”
“So, just what was it ye did to these guys?” Babs asked.
“Well, I beat the crap out of Murray with a hammer,” Pinch said miserably.
“As did I,” Choke said. “After I beat Lenny unconscious.”
“I just fucked up a warehouse goon with a prybar,” Knuckle said proudly.
Babs took a long moment to look the squad over in disbelief. Then she clucked her tongue as she waved to her boy, Gabe, to hand her the potato wine jug. After she’d had a couple of swigs, she handed it off to Pinch. Choke was the only one who didn’t partake as the jug made another circuit of the grownups.
“Well…” Babs finally said, “that explains why they sent the Chisel after ye. And I’d be willing to bet he has six of the biggest horseshoes to be found with him. But I can’t say that I want to see them used. Murray aint a proper teamster, and he never was. Outfit thug all the way, that guy. So, I don’t feel even a little bit bad about what ye did to him and his. And any proper teamster won’t either. But…” Babs paused with her finger held high to signal the import of her next statement: “That don’t mean that any of us can bring down the ire of them devils on yar behalf. We all have families to worry about, ye understand.”
“We do understand, ma’am. And we appreciate your candor,” Choke said.
“Yeah, about that,” Peep interjected. “Just curious who ye reckon are proper teamsters around here. Would ye say Bob is one?”
“Bob?” Babs grimaced as she contemplated the freight yard boss. “Well, he’s a right prick, sure. And a hard man. But he come up proper as a driver. And hard pricks are the only type of boss we ever get to see. So, yeah, I reckon he’s a proper teamster. So, I’d leave him be if ye wanna stay on the good side of the working men around. But he’s the one with the devil right on his back, so he’s gonna be doing what he has to do. Ye understand?”
“I do,” Peep said. “And, about that, what about Sneed?”
“Who?”
“Sneed. Lieutenant Dixon introduced him as the security chief for the teamsters here,” Choke said. When Babs continued to give him a blank look he continued: “Normal sized man, not old, not young, slash scar on his face. Outfitted with a longbow and light weapons. Looked nasty.”
“Oh, that creature? What did ye say his name was again?” Babs asked.
“Sneed,” Peep answered.
“Well, that’s news to me. He’s been lurking around for a couple weeks, I’d say. But he aint been mixing with any proper teamsters, or we’d a heard his name by now, I’m sure. And I don’t know what Dixon was going on about with that security chief business. There aint ever been one of them around here, whether there’s been a need or not. Which, these days, I’d say there surely aint been a need for.”
“So, I suppose we should assume he’s been brought in by the Outfit for a special project,” Peep said.
“Yeah. I suppose ye’d best assume that,” Babs answered.
“Now, I just have to wonder if you and your good folk would take it poorly if something were to happen to Sneed and those that might be riding with him?” Peep asked.
Babs shook her head. “No. I don’t suppose any of us would bat an eye if the bush was to swallow him up.”
Peep met Babs’ eye and gave her a slow nod.
“Ye know proper working men when ye see them, I am sure. Just mind that none of them come to harm in this and ye’ll be fine with us, I am sure,” Babs said.
“Understood. Now, if ye don’t mind, can I pick yar brain on one more thing?” Peep asked.
“Yeah, why not?”
“Thanks, Babs! Now, out in Callic, we heard tell that the Chisel had a squad of reinforcements waiting in Spitzer. They called them, ‘Tully’s boys.’ Now, with the hoorhouse that our bent lieutenant seems to like to frequent being run by a hard-looking bastard named Tully, I was wondering if any of that might mean something. What d’ye reckon?”
Babs looked thoughtful at this. Then she glanced Shasta’s way and they exchanged a significant look. It was Shasta who spoke up:
“Yeah, that would seem to be related. Tully has a pair of sons that are heavy types. You know, the sort that border on bandits from time to time, depending on who they’re working with or for. But they aint been around for a while, have they?” Shasta asked the company at large.
Babs and the others shook their heads.
“No, I aint seen them for a few weeks, I’d guess. Not that I keep track of them. But they aint been around for a bit. So it would make sense that the Chisel tasked them to put together a crew for him when he come through here,” Babs said.
Peep nodded. “Right. Well, if you and yars could do us a favor and let us know if anyone sees them around, that would be greatly appreciated.”
“Of course, Miss Otilla. Our pleasure,” Babs said with a deep nod.
“Thank ye, Babs. So, just one more thing: it seems to be that Tully’s joint is just the sort of place that bad boys from the bush like to gather. Ye know, to spend their coin from a score, and to figure out their next job. Do I have that right?”
“Oh yes, ye surely do,” Babs said.
“Well, thank ye, Babs. You have been most helpful!” Peep said.
“Think nothing of it. It’s nice to see some good Stronians here, finally. Hopefully, ye can help the Brother and start putting things in order around here.”
“Well, that’s the plan, Babs. That’s the plan,” Peep said as she leaned back into her pew’s corner and began to idly stroke the hilt of her shortsword.
Muse Vassal 