Chapter 8 – Groden
The next morning dawned bright and clear; a perfect day for travel. Radan told the young men how to go about requisitioning a horse for the journey to the port city and joined them in the street outside is shop.
"Thanks so much for your help and your hospitality, Radan. And thanks especially for your help with my sword work." said Nev as he hefted his pack to his shoulder.
"Think nothing of it, it was a small thing to fix and you picked it up right off." He looked to the horizon where dawn was brightening into full daylight. "Well, lads, it's been a pleasure meeting you. Goodspeed on your journey and drop by to see me, should your path bring you to Wellton again." He shook the hand of each and watched as they walked away toward the garrison stables at the south gate of the city.
"Those two are either going to end up dead or Heroes of the Realm; they seem to have a knack for stepping in things that could lead them to either." he muttered to himself as he turned and went into his shop, ready for the day's business.
It took a bit of explaining to get the horses from the garrison stables, but once the corporal in charge read their papers, he saluted and saddled two horses without delay. Grain for the horses was also provided.
All in all, they were on the road no more than three hours past dawn. They road awkwardly at first, not being familiar with the riding of horses. The shape of the military saddles was something to be contended with as well; the horn was uncomfortably high and the shape of the saddle was flatter than they would have expected and caused some discomfort. After an hour or so, they got the hang of riding and found the going much easier to bear.
"Riding a horse is really quite fine, once you get used to all the bouncing around." said Nev. "We really should get some horses when we get back from our adventure. Don't you think?"
"Hmm? What was that?" said Brey, roused from his thoughts.
Nev shook his head. "I said we should get some horses when we get back from our adventure. Where was your mind just now anyway?" he asked, though he was certain his friend's mind was back in Wellton at the palace.
"Oh, well, I was just thinking a bit, that's all."
"About a certain princess maybe?" Nev asked teasingly. "She is pretty enough, Brey, but what would you do with her? She is royalty and we're just ordinary fellows. I don't think her mum would even let you marry her."
Brey laughed at his friend's words. "I am pretty sure I would have to be a prince or some such. They must have rules about that kind of thing."
Nev laughed too. "Who knows? Maybe we'll conquer a kingdom on our travels and then you could ask her mum." The two shared a laugh at the absurdity of it and soon the conversation turned to other matters large and small.
About noon, they stopped by a brook that ran near the road to water the horses. The groom at the garrison stables said the horses would only need to be fed morning and evening unless they rode hard. They had a bite to eat themselves and soon were riding on again. As evening drew near, they began looking for a likely place to stop. Since the ground had been sloping toward the foothills since midday, finding a suitable camp was not very easy. Eventually they found a level spot that was sheltered and was not far from water; they ate a hot meal and talked by the fire for a while. Nev volunteered to take the first watch while Brey got some sleep.
The next morning, Nev awoke to the smell of bacon. He rolled from his blanket and splashed cold water on his face, gave the horses their daily ration of grain and went for his own meal. They ate a small meal of crisp bacon and hard bread, washed down with hot tea. Once they were fed, they packed up camp, filled their waterskins and readied the horses for another day's ride.
They rode all that morning watching dark clouds gather in the distance. It was clear that foul weather was coming their way; had they known how quickly it was coming they would have begun looking for shelter immediately. As it was, they were not aware of how fast a storm can come once it gets over the foothills, by the time they realized the danger they were nearly caught in the open.
A great wind began to blow from the west, coming with great force where not even a breeze had stirred before. They could feel the bite in the air as the temperature dropped quickly.
"Nev! We have to get to shelter quick! Let's ride back to the trees; I think we can make it!" yelled Brey over the wind.
Just as Nev was about to turn his horse, he spotted a shadow among the rocks to his right. He peered at it more closely to be certain of what he was seeing. "Wait, Brey!" he shouted, "I think there's a cave over there!" He pointed to the shadow. The noontime sky was darkening quickly and the shadow was getting harder to see.
Brey could just make out the dark spot Nev pointed to, it was much closer than the trees; however, if it wasn't really a cave, they would be completely exposed.
A big gust of wind blew at them, strong with the smell of coming rain. He decided to chance it. "All right, let's try for it!" With that, they put their heels to the horses and rode for the shadow as fast as they could. It was indeed a cave and they arrived just as the rain began in earnest; large drops had begun splatting loudly on the ground. The opening was just large enough to ride inside. They discovered the cave opened up beyond the entrance, providing plenty of room for the frightened horses; they dismounted and looked through the opening at the now pouring rain.
"Whew! That was a close thing. A minute or two more and we'd be soaked to the skin now." exclaimed Nev, peering outside at the driving rain.
"That's for sure." replied Brey, as he loosened the cinch on his horse's saddle. "I wonder how far back the cave goes. I don't fancy sleeping under this horse tonight."
"I'll take a look." Nev went to his pack and fetched a small lantern. He lit it with his flint and steel and closed the cover slightly. The light cast a yellowish glow, illuminating an area of about six feet before him. He held it high and walked toward the back of the cave. There was a narrowing of the walls leading toward an opening smaller than the one they rode in a few minutes before. He ducked his head and looked beyond the opening holding the lantern before him.
"Hey!" he exclaimed. "There is another room back here. It even has a chimney of sorts with a fire pit. Come here and look!"
Brey went to his friend's side and peered into the chamber. There was a small pile of wood to one side of the fire pit near the back wall and some discarded bits of food and broken crockery to one side. The smell of recent habitation hung in the air; old sweat and smoke.
"I don't know, Nev. It looks like someone has been living here. What if they come back?"
"Oh, come on. Don't be a ninny. It's just leftovers from some travelers like us who needed a place to stay." replied Nev with a wave of his hand.
Brey wasn't so sure, it looked more lived-in than just a passing traveler might leave behind. However, they had little choice and could not ride in the storm. "Maybe, maybe not. In any case, we should keep watch tonight."
Nev grumbled a bit but agreed anyway, just to make his friend happy.
They saw to the needs of the horses and then got a fire going in the inner 'room'. Nev stepped to the entrance and gathered rainwater for some tea, while Brey prepared the fire. After they had eaten and had a second cup of tea, they looked outside to gauge how long the rain might last. The storm still blew strongly and didn't give any indication of slowing down. It was fortunate that the storm held little thunder or lightening; as cramped as the first part of the cave was, if the horses panicked, they would probably have injured themselves.
"Well," said Nev looking up at the dark sky, "it looks like we are definitely staying for the night. How late do you think it is?"
"I imagine it's not more than a couple hours past noon." answered Brey.
The lanky youth turned from the rain and walked back into the 'room' at the back of the cave, his friend right behind him. "Looks like we have a long day ahead of us here. What do you think we should do?"
/> "Dunno." Nev sat down near the fire and stared at the flames. "Brey? Do you miss our home?"
His friend sat across the fire from him and sighed. "Every day, Nev. I can scarce believe it's just two weeks and some since we left."
The stout youth raised his head in surprise. "Is that all it's been? It seems like so much longer than that."
"I know. Do you realize that in less than twenty days we have been in three sword fights, ridden on a riverboat, helped capture a spy, collected two rewards of money, rescued a genuine princess, AND got to have breakfast with the Queen of all Merridon?"
Nev laughed at the list of 'accomplishments'. "You forgot we have also been made sergeants in the Queen's Regiment! Brey, I don't think we have ever gotten so much done in so short a time." The laughter came even harder. "We have had more adventure than we dreamed of and haven't even seen the ocean yet!" He was now doubled over in laughter, trying very hard to catch his breath.
Brey too had begun to laugh at the irony. They had indeed surpassed their expectations of the trip from Carsby to Groden. According to their plan, the adventure wasn't even supposed to have begun yet. The young travelers laughed for some time, with tears streaming down their faces and their sides splitting with pain. They finally caught their breath and subsided into only occasional fits of giggling; the laughter had helped them release some of their homesickness. Though they still missed their home, the weight of that emotion was not so heavy.
The night was uneventful, save that the storm blew itself out sometime near midnight. The next morning dawned a murky grey and chill dampness hung in the air. After a light breakfast, they saddled the horses, tidied up the cave, and continued their journey to Groden.
They rode for five more days along the twisting road, climbing and then descending the foothills. They marveled at the beauty of the landscape and majesty of the distant Merridon Mountains.
Near the close of the sixth day, they rounded a small hill and spied the port of Groden in the distance. The city was quite large, even when compared to the capitol city of Wellton. Compared to the village of Carsby it was immense. From their vantage point, still many miles away, they could see the city centered entirely around the docks and wharves. The layout of the city was much like a large wheel, with all main thoroughfares leading from the outer edge of the wheel to the water at the center. Narrower avenues ran in a circular manner, parallel to the outer wall. The road upon which they rode ran nearly straight from the base of the hills they now descended to the main gate of the port city. With Groden in sight, they grew more excited by the moment and agreed to ride into the city rather than wait for morning.
With their crimson capes flapping in the wind behind them, they rode the horses at a fast clip for more than half the distance. By the time they reached the gate of the city, dusk was at hand and it was being closed for the night. They called to the guard atop the gate.
"Excuse me, sir. Can we get in please?" yelled Nev.
"Gate's closed. You'll have to wait til morning." the skinny soldier called back. "And no making camp on the road!" The sound of his derisive laughter could easily be heard.
Brey recalled one of the 'perks' Radan had told them of and decided to test it. "Oy!" he yelled. "We are of the Queen's Regiment! Open the gate, please!" While it didn't feel quite right to use their reward of rank in such a way, but Her Majesty did grant them all the privileges of that rank so she probably wouldn't feel disappointed if they used them once in a while. He also didn't feel much like sleeping on the hard soil for another night.
The soldier appeared at the top of the gate again. "You best be able to prove it. Pretending to be in the QR can get you in a lot of trouble hereabouts. Stay there."
In a few moments, a wiry soldier in a rumpled blue tunic came swaggering out, his hand on the hilt of his sword. He approached them until he was within ten feet and stopped. "You!" he barked, pointing at Nev. "Show me your papers, and they better be real." He put his fists on his hips, affecting an air of authority. The insignia on his collar showed him to be a corporal of the regular army.
Nev climbed down from his horse, handing the reins to Brey, and walked toward the guard. He removed the scroll denoting his rank from the inner pocket of his crimson cloak and handed it over to the surly little corporal. The wiry man slid the ribbon off and jerked open the scroll. After reading for a few moments, he looked sharply at Nev and Brey's insignia. He rolled the scroll back up and stepped back from them before turning and yelling back toward the little door he had come from. "Sergeant Bales!"
"What!" was the booming reply.
"Can you come out here for a minute, Sergeant? You might want to look at this yourself."
A squat, but powerful man with short-cropped black hair and long mustache came out of the door in full stride.
"This had better be good, Ramar." he growled menacingly. The wiry little corporal shrank a bit as he approached. Obviously, the Sergeant was a man not to be crossed. The soldier silently handed the scroll to the muscular man. "What's this?" he growled.
Ramar snapped to attention. "These men claim to be of the Queen's Regiment, Sergeant, but they seem a bit young for it and aren't in proper uniform so I asked for their papers." It was true that they were not in full uniform, having opted for the comfort of their own clothes and a desire to keep the uniform clean in case they did choose to wear it later; their age was something they could not help.
Bales held up the scroll in his hand. "And are they, Ramar?" he asked in a deceptively quiet voice.
The Corporal gulped and replied, "They seem to be, Sergeant, but when I saw the signature I thought you should have a look yourself."
The surly Sergeant stared at Ramar for a few moments, obviously delighting in the way he shrank back from that gaze. He then unrolled the parchment and read the document, tilting it to catch the torch light from the gate door he had come from. Just as the corporal had done, his eyes snapped up to Nev's face and then Brey's. "Where did you get this?" he asked in a low, menacing voice.
Nev froze momentarily under the man's intense scrutiny, but Brey was not under it so directly and answered boldly. "The Queen conferred the rank upon us seven days ago at the palace in Wellton."
"Hogwash." replied Bales with a snort. "No one is just given a spot in the QR. It is the most sought after post in all the land. I should know; I have been working toward it for four years now." He glanced at the parchment again. "What was the 'invaluable service to the crown' you performed? Surely it must have been something quite extraordinary." The Sergeant clearly believed they were lying and was certain he would catch them at it.
It was Nev who spoke next, having found his voice in the face of the man's sarcasm. "We saved the life of the Princess Ashlynn when she was attacked by foreign agents. If you want proof, you can send word to Chamberlain Osten or General Radan, retired commander of the garrison at Wellton. I am sure that either one would support our claim. I’ll take that back if you don't mind." He stepped forward and held out his hand for the scroll.
Bales was stunned to the core. He had only the day before received a message by boat from a friend in Wellton telling of the attack on the Princess. The missive had stated two young travelers, friends of General Radan, had defeated a larger force of men and rescued her.
"My apologies, Sergeants. I have heard of the incident in Wellton; your claim is accepted." He turned to the corporal and snapped, "Open the gate, Ramar."
"Thank you, Sergeant." said Brey with gratitude, he would not have to sleep on the ground after all.
"Do you know of a good inn?" he asked politely and Bales directed them to a nearby inn that was quieter than many and fairly priced.
They noted as they rode toward the inn through the streets of the port city, that the salt smell of the ocean was strong in the air, as were other smells like tar and dead fish. While the less pleasant odors took something from what they had imagin
ed, they were nonetheless growing more excited by the moment. Their dream was at hand!
They located the inn with no trouble and were given the last available room. The room was only a small space with two straw-filled mattresses and a small table with a tallow candle providing meager light, but after several days on the road, it seemed like luxury. The following morning they spoke with the innkeeper about the best way to go about finding a ship heading toward the Crystalline Sea.
The innkeeper, Boris, was a round man in his forties with a ready smile. His wife, Sara, was equally round and even more prone to smiling; she was, in fact, the most exuberant person either of the young men had ever met in their lives. She practically bounced from place to place with seemingly bottomless energy.
They sat at a table in the common room of the inn across from the man. "Well now, buccos." he began with a gravelly voice they thought sounded as a sailor's ought. "If its passage you want, you'll need to talk right with a ship's cap'n to make arrangements; but if it's ship's work yer wantin' you'll need to see the Harbormaster. Yep, only merchant ships would likely to be heading toward the Crystalline Sea; and since the merchant ships are all Queen's registry, the Master is the maker of the 'list' round here."
"What's Queen's registry mean?" asked Nev curiously. He liked the innkeeper a great deal. The rotund man was honest and open and seemed to have a penchant for getting to the point with as few words as needed.
"And what is this 'list' you mentioned?" added Brey.
Boris squinted at them a moment, taking their measure. He decided they weren't pulling his leg and answered. "Well, it seems you've a bit to learn yet, lads. All right, here it is." He paused a moment to light a cob pipe he had filled with tobacco. "Queen's registry means that ships wantin' to do merchant tradin' in Merridon have to get permission from the Crown. All Merridonian trader ships has to fly a trader flag or they get their ship and cargo took away. Also, most cap'n's own their ships outright, but if a trader wants to get started, they can buy a ship with the Crown's help and they work if off over time, payin' a bit at a time as they go. Technically the Queen Herself owns all those ships 'til they're paid up. Those ships is called Queen's Traders. The others is just Traders." The jolly innkeeper flashed a winning smile and added, "'Course, the Crown gets their cut either way!
"Now as to the 'list'; the Harbormaster keeps a list of sailors who be in Groden lookin’ for a ship. He takes their name and their skills and puts 'em in his book. Now let's say a cap'n loses a man or three to pirates and needs to put a few back on the crew; well now, he jus' goes to the Harbormaster and asks who's on the list. For a little fee, he can hire hands without havin' to go to the trouble of rovin' the alehouses."
Brey and Nev were amazed at how efficient the whole process was. In the stories they had read, captains had to find men by hiring them right out of the taverns, as Boris had mentioned, or knock men on the head whisk them out to sea before they wake up and make them work. Hearing the bureaucratic way it was done definitely took some of the glamour out of their adventure. No great loss though, since they weren't likely to become ship's captains anytime soon.
They set out not long after speaking with the innkeeper. First, they returned the horses to the local garrison and then proceeded to the docks to find the Harbormaster. It was their intent to get their names on the 'list' and hope for the best, since Boris had said that only traders were likely to be heading toward the Crystalline Sea.
The process of putting their names on the list was simpler than they had imagined. The Harbormaster, his assistant actually, took their names and asked what skills they had. After learning that neither lad had ever sailed on an ocean, he put them down simply as 'rough hands'; essentially a warm body that can do basic labor. Though disheartened by the designation they accepted it and vowed to return daily to see if they were needed.
As they stepped down from the shack that housed the Harbormaster's office, they were hailed by a man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties. The man that approached them seemed to be an ordinary sailor, wearing the kind of garb they had read of in adventures; plain trousers of rough cotton and a brown shirt open at the collar. His boots were well worn with much of the black dye rubbed off them. He wore a simple cap of blue wool and his curly brown hair looked a bit wild, though not exactly unkempt beneath it. He walked toward them with the rolling gait they had come to understand marked a sailor of the Great Ocean. "Excuse me, lads." he said in a clear baritone, "Could I speak with you a moment?"
They looked at one another, wondering what a deck hand might want with them. They hoped it was not an attempt to rob or swindle them. They both unconsciously placed a hand on the pommel of their swords. Noticing this, the sailor stopped short and raised his hands before him, indicating he meant no harm.
"Relax friends, I only wish to speak with you. Your purses are safe." He cautiously stepped a bit closer. "Have you just been to the Harbormaster looking for a ship?"
Brey cleared his throat and replied, "We have. We are looking to sign on to a ship heading for the Crystalline Sea."
The man was a bit taken aback by this reply. He looked at them a bit closer and said, "That's an ambitious aim for two I would take to be but rough hands. Why do you wish to go there?"
Nev spoke up, answering a little defensively, "It's what we set out to do. Since we were boys, we planned to."
He studied them a bit longer and sighed. "Only one or two ships attempt that voyage each year, sometimes they return with their lives; only one or two have ever made it there and back to my knowledge. Besides, it's unlikely the Harbormaster could get two green, rough hands signed on to a long journey like that. Those voyages require experienced men who can handle themselves." He glanced at the swords on their belts. "Do you know how to use that steel you carry?"
Brey placed a hand on Nev's arm and answered for them both. "We can handle ourselves very well, thank you." He started to turn, pulling his friend along behind him.
"One moment, please." said the sailor. "I would like to talk to you a bit more if you are willing. I may know how you can get to the Crystalline Sea." They turned and looked at the man, he just smiled and added, "I will buy you a cup of ale and we can talk. What do you say?" After a moment's hesitation, Brey and Nev agreed to go with him, though they remained cautious.
Once settled at a table in an alehouse just beyond the harbor's fence, the man introduced himself. "Lads, I am Captain Report of the schooner, Braydon." He took a sip of ale as they looked at him with mild suspicion. He made a wry face and added, "All right, I know I don't exactly look the part, but all that 'captain garb' is uncomfortable and hot. Besides, a schooner captain who overdresses tends to be open to ridicule. Now, who might you be and why do you wish to go to the Crystalline Sea, really?"
"I am Neville Morton and this is my friend Aubrey Cousins." They shook Captain Report's hand. For the next several minutes, he told the Captain about their dream of adventure and only that they had travelled there from Carsby, leaving out the parts about Wellton and the schooner's namesake, Barlow. "Now, you said you knew how we could get to the Crystalline Sea. Do you know of a ship making that voyage?"
He nodded as he took another swallow. "I do indeed. I am gearing up to make just that voyage myself. You see, I am a Queen's Trader and I am but three payments from owning my ship. If I risk a voyage to the Crystalline Sea, and I am successful, I can pay it off in one and I will own the Braydon outright!" He beamed at the thought of finally owning his craft. "Just as you have decided on your goal, so have I; I have long wished for, and soon will be, the master of my own ship."
"But if we are so 'green'," began Brey, using the term the captain had used, "why would you wish to have us aboard?"
He squinted at them in thought, obviously considering how much to tell them and how much to hold back. "Well, lads, I will tell you straight. A schooner is not really the best open ocean vessel. It is bett
er suited to shorter voyages of no more than a month or two, total. Sailing to the other side of the Western is likely to take closer to three, one way.
"Don't get me wrong, the Braydon can handle herself very well and she is as seaworthy as any, but in a fifteen foot swell with cargo aboard she can be tricky to handle." He drained his ale cup and continued. "The other problem is a ship as shallow as she is will probably be easy prey for pirates; with ships nearly as fast as a Navy ship of the line they are a formidable foe. What they lack in size they make up for in speed and firepower. Many are outfitted with as many as ten or twelve guns and canon." He waved at the barman for another cup of ale.
"Now, the Braydon is not your average schooner." He winked at them and leaned in, speaking more quietly. "I have a sail maker and a clever carpenter who have made a few changes that make her very fast indeed, but having only two deck guns, she is not much in a head to head fight. We must rely on our speed and cunning, but failing that, I also need hands that are good with a sword."
To Nev's thinking, there seemed to be something missing in this narrative. "That still doesn't speak to why you would take two 'green' sailors over more experienced ones."
Captain Report sat up and cleared his throat somewhat nervously. "Yes. Well, it's like this; not many would take the chance on such a voyage in a smaller vessel like mine. In fact, most consider me insane to even consider it."
He paid the barman and looked across the table, noticing for the first time that neither had touched their ale cups. "Not drinking men, eh? Good, it's a bad habit for a sailor." he said as he took another drink from his own cup.
"The long and the short of it is that I need sailors, green or not, willing to take the chance. If we aren't killed and we make it back with a full hold, we stand to make a fair bit of money. If you go with me, I will give you full share. As rough hands normally get no more than bunk, their rum ration, and a few pennies, so that's quite a deal that I am offering. What do you say?"
"What if we don't come back with a full hold?" asked Brey.
The sailor shrugged and held his hand out palms up. "Then we come back poor, but alive. It's all a gamble, lads." He could see they had not been fully convinced. "I'll tell you what. I've a need of the trough 'round back, why don't you two talk about it for a bit and I will come back to hear your decision." With that, he rose and walked toward the back door.
Nev was thinking hard about the offer they had been given. "I think we should do it. He's right in saying that we may not get on a large trader for some time until we aren't rough hands any more. And with only one or two trying each year, we may never get on those. What do you think, Brey?"
"Well, I can't say this is what I had in mind when we started out, but I think we should do it too." After a moment he grinned and added, "I also think the name of the ship is a good omen." Nev nodded vigorously in agreement.
They told Report of their decision when he returned; needless to say he was pleased. He asked them to come around the docks the next day and find him.