The Cabbage Girl
Chapter One
Her name was Emlin, though no one
had called her that since her brother had vanished. As far as the handful that
knew her were concerned, she was just the Cabbage Boy. To a smaller number that
knew her better, the Cabbage Girl. The plain-faced dark-haired child that sold
them cabbages when she had them.
Two weeks had passed since her previous trip out.
She had managed to get by as well as she usually did, sneaking out once in the interim with her pfennigs to buy some more cheese and bread. But she was low on food once again and knew that, with winter coming, she needed to save her coins for the time when the cabbages grew scarce and the weather turned colder.
She donned her clothing, gear, and mother's pendant, grabbed her burlap sacks, and headed out for a fresh batch of produce.
She slipped through the sewers as she always did and out into the wild lands beyond. She stopped when she reached the river to let a suspicious looking log float by, which turned out to be a crocodile on the prowl. And then she continued upon her way to the old farm.
But, when she got there, Emlin stopped dead. Most of the cabbages were gone. As she looked around, it appeared that something or someone had come through and taken most of the mature heads in the last few days. It would be weeks before another crop grew to be edible. And the days were growing darker and colder with the changing season, so very few harvests remained.
She suppressed a sigh and considered her options. This had happened before, though not often and only once this late in the season. But it meant a lean season ahead.
The Cabbage Girl set to work looking for any remaining cabbages that were worthy of being harvested. She found a few decent ones, but most of the ones she found weren’t in the best condition. Some were half-wilted or yellowing after having grown on the edge of the field, others were partly pest-eaten, and others still were a little too small and would certainly be bitter.
She only managed about one sack-load before she gave up and headed back to Feiglingstadt with her meager findings. She dropped the empty sack at her hiding spot and then went up through the warehouse with her one bag of cabbages. Then she struck out with her wagon to visit her reliable customers again.
She went to Romy the Seamstress and gave her first pick, which went well enough. But when she got to Olaf the Ferrier, he was less than pleased with the remaining options and accused her of giving preference to someone else. Emlin did her best to convince him and only won him over when she offered him twice as many cabbages for the regular price.
Afterwards, she went to the Blacklamp Inn to speak with Agnethe. But the old woman showed only disgust at the cabbages the urchin had brought her.
“Bah. All worm-eaten and vermin-chewed. I’ll take what you have, but I’m only payin’ half of what I’d usually give ya,” she said, handing her a pittance of coins and then shooing the Cabbage Girl out.
Standing outside, Emlin pursed her lips and tried to figure out how much food she could buy with the day’s meager profit, but she wasn’t good with sums and numbers. She continued to consider her quandary as she began the walk back to her entry into the sewers.
But her concentration was so intense that she didn’t notice the pack of older boys that had begun to gather behind her.
“Hey, you! Boy. We wants your wagon and whatever pfens the old lady gave ya.”
She stopped cold, and turned slowly around.
She didn’t know these boys. They were probably from another neighborhood. There were five of them, and just the one of her.
“You can’t have it. It’s mine.”
“What do you think you’re gonna do to stop us from takin’ it?” asked one of the boys, a dirty-faced fellow with a tangled mop of light-brown hair. He seemed to be the leader of the little gang, and it had been his voice that had initially called out to her.
“You can’t have it,” was all she said.
The boy and his cohorts came in close and loomed at her. She could smell the stink of old sweat and bad breath coming off of them. Even the smallest one of them was her size. And the biggest was easily a full hand taller and two stone heavier.
She reached into her sleeve and grasped the hilt of her knife. But seeing her sudden movement, the lead boy lunged at her. He grabbed her shoulder and her hand and knife became tangled in her sleeve-pocket, trying to pull the blade free.
She felt multiple hands grasping at her, as she attempted to back up and the boys all came at her at once. She saw the lead boy’s wrist, his hand still firmly latched onto her shoulder.
The girl twisted, latching her teeth onto that wrist hard, and biting down with all the strength her jaw could manage. She tasted blood, heard a yell, then felt him release her shoulder, but, just as she thought she was free, a meaty hand cuffed her across the face. She heard something rip, the sound of jingling, and then felt her back hit the muddy ground.
When the light of pain cleared from her eyes, she could see the lead boy grasping his bleeding wrist and kneeling in the street, wailing like a child. Most of the rest of his cohorts were scrambling around picking up the Cabbage Girl’s pfennig coins that had been scattered across the ground as her sleeve-pocket had torn open.
Her face throbbed where she had been struck – warming her skin till it burned.
The biggest of the boys, a dark-haired, dark-eyed lout nearly half-again her size, was moving toward her. He was curling the fingers that had smacked her into a thick fist – this time prepared to give her a solid hammering across the face rather than a vicious cuffing. Emlin rolled to her feet, anger welling up inside her, and rushed forwards, charging into the bigger boy as hard as she could.
He struck her again as she came in close, smashing his fist into the top of her head as she came at him. But he bowled over when she slammed into him – far easier than she had expected. The two of them crashed onto her wagon, crushing it beneath their combined weight. Before she knew what had happened, she was on top of him hitting him in the face over and over with her clenched hands.
It wasn’t until the other boys started running away that she started to realize what had happened. The big boy hadn’t gone down so easily from the force of her attack. Instead, Emlin could see her knife sticking out of his side as the giant lay there beneath her mewling like a puppy. The blade was short, no more than a few inches of mostly dull steel, but it was buried just above his left hip. There was more blood than she expected.
She had forgotten that the blade was still in her hand when she had charged him; that it had torn free from her sleeve-pocket when he had hit her, scattering her coins to the street.
She got up slowly, her joints moving on their own. She gathered up the few pfennigs she could see from those the boys had left behind in their flight, feeling numb. Then she walked back over to the boy in the street, looked around at the gawking folk in the street, and heard the jingling of the armored guards only a few blocks up.
She had already lost her wagon. She was going to need her knife back.
There was a scream as she yanked the little blade free. Then the Cabbage Girl disappeared down an alleyway, crimson knife in hand.
Two weeks had passed since her previous trip out.
She had managed to get by as well as she usually did, sneaking out once in the interim with her pfennigs to buy some more cheese and bread. But she was low on food once again and knew that, with winter coming, she needed to save her coins for the time when the cabbages grew scarce and the weather turned colder.
She donned her clothing, gear, and mother's pendant, grabbed her burlap sacks, and headed out for a fresh batch of produce.
She slipped through the sewers as she always did and out into the wild lands beyond. She stopped when she reached the river to let a suspicious looking log float by, which turned out to be a crocodile on the prowl. And then she continued upon her way to the old farm.
But, when she got there, Emlin stopped dead. Most of the cabbages were gone. As she looked around, it appeared that something or someone had come through and taken most of the mature heads in the last few days. It would be weeks before another crop grew to be edible. And the days were growing darker and colder with the changing season, so very few harvests remained.
She suppressed a sigh and considered her options. This had happened before, though not often and only once this late in the season. But it meant a lean season ahead.
The Cabbage Girl set to work looking for any remaining cabbages that were worthy of being harvested. She found a few decent ones, but most of the ones she found weren’t in the best condition. Some were half-wilted or yellowing after having grown on the edge of the field, others were partly pest-eaten, and others still were a little too small and would certainly be bitter.
She only managed about one sack-load before she gave up and headed back to Feiglingstadt with her meager findings. She dropped the empty sack at her hiding spot and then went up through the warehouse with her one bag of cabbages. Then she struck out with her wagon to visit her reliable customers again.
She went to Romy the Seamstress and gave her first pick, which went well enough. But when she got to Olaf the Ferrier, he was less than pleased with the remaining options and accused her of giving preference to someone else. Emlin did her best to convince him and only won him over when she offered him twice as many cabbages for the regular price.
Afterwards, she went to the Blacklamp Inn to speak with Agnethe. But the old woman showed only disgust at the cabbages the urchin had brought her.
“Bah. All worm-eaten and vermin-chewed. I’ll take what you have, but I’m only payin’ half of what I’d usually give ya,” she said, handing her a pittance of coins and then shooing the Cabbage Girl out.
Standing outside, Emlin pursed her lips and tried to figure out how much food she could buy with the day’s meager profit, but she wasn’t good with sums and numbers. She continued to consider her quandary as she began the walk back to her entry into the sewers.
But her concentration was so intense that she didn’t notice the pack of older boys that had begun to gather behind her.
“Hey, you! Boy. We wants your wagon and whatever pfens the old lady gave ya.”
She stopped cold, and turned slowly around.
She didn’t know these boys. They were probably from another neighborhood. There were five of them, and just the one of her.
“You can’t have it. It’s mine.”
“What do you think you’re gonna do to stop us from takin’ it?” asked one of the boys, a dirty-faced fellow with a tangled mop of light-brown hair. He seemed to be the leader of the little gang, and it had been his voice that had initially called out to her.
“You can’t have it,” was all she said.
The boy and his cohorts came in close and loomed at her. She could smell the stink of old sweat and bad breath coming off of them. Even the smallest one of them was her size. And the biggest was easily a full hand taller and two stone heavier.
She reached into her sleeve and grasped the hilt of her knife. But seeing her sudden movement, the lead boy lunged at her. He grabbed her shoulder and her hand and knife became tangled in her sleeve-pocket, trying to pull the blade free.
She felt multiple hands grasping at her, as she attempted to back up and the boys all came at her at once. She saw the lead boy’s wrist, his hand still firmly latched onto her shoulder.
The girl twisted, latching her teeth onto that wrist hard, and biting down with all the strength her jaw could manage. She tasted blood, heard a yell, then felt him release her shoulder, but, just as she thought she was free, a meaty hand cuffed her across the face. She heard something rip, the sound of jingling, and then felt her back hit the muddy ground.
When the light of pain cleared from her eyes, she could see the lead boy grasping his bleeding wrist and kneeling in the street, wailing like a child. Most of the rest of his cohorts were scrambling around picking up the Cabbage Girl’s pfennig coins that had been scattered across the ground as her sleeve-pocket had torn open.
Her face throbbed where she had been struck – warming her skin till it burned.
The biggest of the boys, a dark-haired, dark-eyed lout nearly half-again her size, was moving toward her. He was curling the fingers that had smacked her into a thick fist – this time prepared to give her a solid hammering across the face rather than a vicious cuffing. Emlin rolled to her feet, anger welling up inside her, and rushed forwards, charging into the bigger boy as hard as she could.
He struck her again as she came in close, smashing his fist into the top of her head as she came at him. But he bowled over when she slammed into him – far easier than she had expected. The two of them crashed onto her wagon, crushing it beneath their combined weight. Before she knew what had happened, she was on top of him hitting him in the face over and over with her clenched hands.
It wasn’t until the other boys started running away that she started to realize what had happened. The big boy hadn’t gone down so easily from the force of her attack. Instead, Emlin could see her knife sticking out of his side as the giant lay there beneath her mewling like a puppy. The blade was short, no more than a few inches of mostly dull steel, but it was buried just above his left hip. There was more blood than she expected.
She had forgotten that the blade was still in her hand when she had charged him; that it had torn free from her sleeve-pocket when he had hit her, scattering her coins to the street.
She got up slowly, her joints moving on their own. She gathered up the few pfennigs she could see from those the boys had left behind in their flight, feeling numb. Then she walked back over to the boy in the street, looked around at the gawking folk in the street, and heard the jingling of the armored guards only a few blocks up.
She had already lost her wagon. She was going to need her knife back.
There was a scream as she yanked the little blade free. Then the Cabbage Girl disappeared down an alleyway, crimson knife in hand.
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