The Cabbage Girl
Chapter Four
The Ostenlander’s face softened
immediately from the scowl brought on by his conversation with the magus. The
wrinkles and frown-lines that made him seem so serious and weathered relaxed
into something kinder and warmer.
“Do not cry, child. We will not
hurt you.” He sighed heavily, with his thick accent. “In the confusion, it
seems we have forgotten our manners. We apologize.”
“Apologize?” squawked the magus.
“Quiet, sorcerer,” the warrior glared at the other man, silencing him.
The Ostenlander then bent down on one knee and gently picked up Emlin’s hand.
“My name is Gomly. But here in Meereslande I am called Sir Gomly Oakskin, named by the knight I esquired under. He named me on account of the color of my skin.” The warrior laughed softly. “He thought it important that I have a last name if I was to be a proper knight. And, I think, perhaps that he found the name he chose amusing.”
Sir Gomly motioned to the boys, all of whom came up behind him and kneeled as well, though the younger two huffed about it until the eldest hit one of them in the arm.
“The eldest of my squires is Albrecht,” he said, pointing to the young man with the swollen-shut eye. “The middle one with the blonde hair is Balduin. The little one there is Korbinian. They are training to be knights under my tutelage, as I was trained before them.”
He then indicated the one he had called magus earlier.
“This man is the Magus Warin Altefalke and his ward is called Ishild.” The girl Ishild looked up at the use of her name, but still seemed a bit in shock, while the magus crossed his arms and “harrumphed” loudly.
“Uh… hello.” The Cabbage Girl eyed the so-called knight, not really sure what to make of these strange and dangerous-seeming folk. She was even less sure of what to make of this sudden turn of politeness.
“Do you have a name?” The knight inquired gently.
“My name is Emlin,” she replied. “But no one calls me that, ‘cept my brother. Most that knows me just calls me ‘Cabbage Girl’, on account of the cabbages I sell. The one’s that don’t really know me call me ‘Cabbage Boy’ instead.”
The two younger boys started to giggle, until Sir Gomly gave them the same look that had quieted the magus a bit ago.
“You have a brother, you say?” demanded Altefalke from behind those crossed arms.
“Well, I did. He never came back one day, though, and I never found out what happened to him.”
“Bah. I suppose it was too much to hope for.” The magus shook his head.
“How long ago did your brother disappear?” inquired the dark-skinned knight.
Emlin shrugged, uncomfortable with the questioning, despite (or perhaps because of) the apparent kindness.
“’Bout two years or so, I guess,” she replied.
“Well, what about the cabbages?” asked Albrecht the squire. “Where do you get them?”
Emlin looked at the people surrounding her. She didn’t really want to tell them about the old farm. She was already in a desperate situation because someone or something else had found her source of cabbages. But what could she do against these people? Certainly, Sir Gomly seemed nice, but she knew many men in Feiglingstadt that appeared nice to begin with only to turn out to be robbers or murderers or rapists. She had even seen some of them at work. But, then, maybe they would just beat it out of her? She already knew that they were capable of killing, albeit that had been in self-defense.
“Stealing, probably,” interjected the magus with that perpetual sneer. Emlin had been quiet for too long, so now he was drawing his own conclusions. “From hard working merchant-folk, no doubt.”
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes against a surge of fury at the man. She just wanted them all to go away, even the pretty Ishild, so she could hide again.
“I didn’t steal them,” she stated, anger loosening her tongue. “There’s an old field outside of the city. My brother said it used to be an old farm from before the Dunkelgraf came. There’s a bunch of cabbages that have been growin’ up there for years.”
The knight and his elder squire exchanged glances, and even Magus Altefalke looked up at the words.
“How do you get past the guards?” pressed Albrecht the squire.
“I go out through the old tunnels. Otherwise, the Dunkelgraf’s tax men would take most of my cabbages and then the guards would take all the rest.”
“You mean,” said the magus, his sneer finally vanishing under keen interest, “that you know how to get out of the city while bypassing the guards altogether?”
“If you’re askin’ if I go around them, then yeah. The guards patrol outside the city sometimes, but if’n you’re careful and keep your eyes open, they’re easy enough to get past.”
Sir Gomly spoke next:
“Emlin, our… acquaintance Dolf was supposed to get us out of Feiglingstadt, but now he’s dead thanks to that fight in the bar. It is unfair to ask this, but since you did have a bit of a hand in what happened there, we would take it as a kindness if you could show us your way out of the city.”
The Cabbage Girl thought about it for a moment. This was exactly what she was hoping. But she needed to be careful.
“I heard stories you knights can’t break promises. Is that true?” She studied his face with narrowed eyes, awaiting his response.
Sir Gomly took a few pensive moments, though, before answering:
“Well… There are knights who have broken their promises, I am ashamed to say,” answered Gomly. “But I have never broken an oath freely given.”
“Okay, then. But you gotta promise that if someone catches you, you won’t tell them where I am or how I got you out.”
“I swear it on my honor, my life, and on the heads of my squires. None of us shall divulge your secret.”
“I want to hear the rest swear, too.”
Sir Gomly smiled. He turned his head and nodded to his squires, who mumbled something that sounded like “I swear”. He then got a serious look on his face, as he stared at the magus.
“Oh, fine,” exclaimed the magus. “I swear that Ishild and I won’t report you should we get caught, though it would be the least of our worries.”
“Good.” Emlin got down to the business at hand. Being back in control of her own fate reassured her a bit and brought some more strength back into her voice. And she wanted to do anything she could to hurry these strangers out of her life. “First, we’re going to have to wait until things quiet down in the city. You’re going to have to hide here for a few days, maybe a week or two. You killed guards, which means they’re going to be lookin’ for you. More patrols inside and more patrols along the outside, see?”
“That sounds reasonable,” responded Sir Gomly, nodding.
“Next, we’re going to have to get you food. Not only for while you’re down here, but for when you go.”
“Indeed.” The knight nodded again and seemed impressed with her forethought.
“We can figure out how many days of food you’re going to need later, but for now I’m going to need enough money to get food for everyone for the next few days at least.”
“Now, wait just one moment,” interrupted the magus, narrowing his eyes at her. “You already tried to rob me once. What makes you think I’m going to trust you to leave with my money and not turn us in to the guards for a bonus?”
Emlin sighed.
“Fine. He can go with me.” She pointed at the one they called Albrecht, the eldest squire with the black eye. “The rest of you would just get me caught.”
“And turning us in?” insisted Altefalke.
“If I turn you in, the guards will know where I live. And if that weren’t enough, they’d prolly just kill me afterwards, anyway. And that’s only if I’m lucky. If I’m not, then they’d do worse things. D’you think I pretend to be a boy for fun? It at least puts most of the guards off.”
“She has a point, magus,” interjected the Ostenlander knight. “She has as much to lose as the rest of us, now. And she knows the ways of this city better than I, and certainly better than you. Albrecht is a good boy, he will keep an eye on her, both for our safety and for her own.” Sir Gomly looked at her when he said the last bit.
“Good… now, I’m going to have to get some clothes for Albrecht and me. We can’t go about in these bloodstained things.” Emlin shook her head at the ruined mess of her clothes. She had just stolen these, too.
* * * * *
The next morning, in cloaks borrowed from Sir Gomly and the magus, Emlin and Albrecht left the sewers for the surface streets. The sun had risen over the horizon, but one couldn’t quite tell with the heavy morning fog and drizzle. She took advantage of the weather and made for the bazaar by the docks. If they got there early enough, she figured, before the crowds were awake, then they’d probably be able to replace their stained clothes for something less obvious without drawing too much attention.
Albrecht held the money. She had tried to object, but Magus Altefalke would have none of it. He didn’t even trust Albrecht all that much, he pointed out, but then Albrecht hadn’t tried to rob him only a few hours before. Fortunately, the magus seemed to have a strange idea as to how much clothing should cost. So, even though he gave them half the allowance for clothing that he thought fitting, they ended up with twice what they would need to spend.
Thus, with the fog and cloaks and early half-light to help conceal their bloodied rags, the two of them went looking for fresh clothing. Emlin had never had new clothes before. At least not ones she hadn’t stolen. And certainly never a full set.
And, from the looks of it, neither had Albrecht.
Emlin quickly picked out some rough cotton shifts and a couple pairs of wool breeches for Albrecht to purchase. Then she led him to an alleyway to change, each turning his or her back and keeping watch for the other. After that, they headed out to get themselves some new wool cloaks and soft leather gloves, boots, and belts to complete their outfits. Then they got some replacement clothes for Sir Gomly as well, putting them in one of the Cabbage Girl’s old cabbage sacks.
Emlin then hurried them out of the dock district, as some of the merchants were starting to notice all the spending and she wanted to go before any of the impoverished sailors in the area got some ideas on how to make a few extra coins.
She took Albrecht on a long detour through the guilders district market on the way back to the sewer entrance – during which they picked up a few loaves of rye bread, a quarter-round of white cheese, a small cask of ale, and, at Albrecht’s insistence, half a dozen meat pies. Everything but the cask (which was carried on Albrecht’s shoulder) went into Emlin’s old bag.
She realized as they started heading back to the entrance to the sewers that this was the warmest she’d ever been while wandering through the city. Most of the clothes she’d had in the past were too big, too small, worn, thin, or ragged, and often some combination of the lot. But these clothes fit and didn’t leave gaps or holes for icy breezes to blow through, and they were thick and comfortable. They also didn’t smell of dirt and sweat and stale ale.
About half way back, Albrecht stopped her. The sun had finally burned through the morning clouds and the temperature had started to climb as the streets grew more crowded around them.
“Let’s take a break from all this walking,” he stated, setting the cask down carefully. “Let’s see that bag.”
She pulled the bag off of her should and held it open as the squire rummaged around in it, coming back up with one of the meat pies, which he then cut mostly-equally in two with his dagger.
The Cabbage Girl was a little surprised when he handed her one half and hesitated at taking the offering.
“Go on, then. It’s probably the best meal you’ve had in a month.”
She snatched the offered half from him and began to greedily devour it. Albrecht was right, and a meat pie was a pleasure she hadn’t enjoyed since her brother, Kai, had vanished. He had always been a better thief than she, so he used to occasionally come back to their hiding place with one in hand.
“So,” she started with her mouth half full. “Why didn’t you tell the magus that he gave us a lot more money than we really needed for clothes?”
He shrugged.
“I figured we might need the extra coin at some point. Also, he’s sort of a git, as you’ve no doubt noticed. And what with his purse now hanging only by the one strap, I was doing him a favor by letting him lighten the load a bit.”
“Aren’t knights not supposed to lie?” she inquired.
“I didn’t lie. If you’ll recall, neither of us was ever asked. And I’m not really a knight yet, anyway. Someday soon, perhaps. But not yet.”
She decided then that, when he wasn’t busy intimidating or interrogating her, Albrecht certainly seemed a tolerable sort of fellow.
They finished their meat pie as the sun finally reached midday. Then they gathered up their purchases and made their way back to the hiding hole.
“Apologize?” squawked the magus.
“Quiet, sorcerer,” the warrior glared at the other man, silencing him.
The Ostenlander then bent down on one knee and gently picked up Emlin’s hand.
“My name is Gomly. But here in Meereslande I am called Sir Gomly Oakskin, named by the knight I esquired under. He named me on account of the color of my skin.” The warrior laughed softly. “He thought it important that I have a last name if I was to be a proper knight. And, I think, perhaps that he found the name he chose amusing.”
Sir Gomly motioned to the boys, all of whom came up behind him and kneeled as well, though the younger two huffed about it until the eldest hit one of them in the arm.
“The eldest of my squires is Albrecht,” he said, pointing to the young man with the swollen-shut eye. “The middle one with the blonde hair is Balduin. The little one there is Korbinian. They are training to be knights under my tutelage, as I was trained before them.”
He then indicated the one he had called magus earlier.
“This man is the Magus Warin Altefalke and his ward is called Ishild.” The girl Ishild looked up at the use of her name, but still seemed a bit in shock, while the magus crossed his arms and “harrumphed” loudly.
“Uh… hello.” The Cabbage Girl eyed the so-called knight, not really sure what to make of these strange and dangerous-seeming folk. She was even less sure of what to make of this sudden turn of politeness.
“Do you have a name?” The knight inquired gently.
“My name is Emlin,” she replied. “But no one calls me that, ‘cept my brother. Most that knows me just calls me ‘Cabbage Girl’, on account of the cabbages I sell. The one’s that don’t really know me call me ‘Cabbage Boy’ instead.”
The two younger boys started to giggle, until Sir Gomly gave them the same look that had quieted the magus a bit ago.
“You have a brother, you say?” demanded Altefalke from behind those crossed arms.
“Well, I did. He never came back one day, though, and I never found out what happened to him.”
“Bah. I suppose it was too much to hope for.” The magus shook his head.
“How long ago did your brother disappear?” inquired the dark-skinned knight.
Emlin shrugged, uncomfortable with the questioning, despite (or perhaps because of) the apparent kindness.
“’Bout two years or so, I guess,” she replied.
“Well, what about the cabbages?” asked Albrecht the squire. “Where do you get them?”
Emlin looked at the people surrounding her. She didn’t really want to tell them about the old farm. She was already in a desperate situation because someone or something else had found her source of cabbages. But what could she do against these people? Certainly, Sir Gomly seemed nice, but she knew many men in Feiglingstadt that appeared nice to begin with only to turn out to be robbers or murderers or rapists. She had even seen some of them at work. But, then, maybe they would just beat it out of her? She already knew that they were capable of killing, albeit that had been in self-defense.
“Stealing, probably,” interjected the magus with that perpetual sneer. Emlin had been quiet for too long, so now he was drawing his own conclusions. “From hard working merchant-folk, no doubt.”
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes against a surge of fury at the man. She just wanted them all to go away, even the pretty Ishild, so she could hide again.
“I didn’t steal them,” she stated, anger loosening her tongue. “There’s an old field outside of the city. My brother said it used to be an old farm from before the Dunkelgraf came. There’s a bunch of cabbages that have been growin’ up there for years.”
The knight and his elder squire exchanged glances, and even Magus Altefalke looked up at the words.
“How do you get past the guards?” pressed Albrecht the squire.
“I go out through the old tunnels. Otherwise, the Dunkelgraf’s tax men would take most of my cabbages and then the guards would take all the rest.”
“You mean,” said the magus, his sneer finally vanishing under keen interest, “that you know how to get out of the city while bypassing the guards altogether?”
“If you’re askin’ if I go around them, then yeah. The guards patrol outside the city sometimes, but if’n you’re careful and keep your eyes open, they’re easy enough to get past.”
Sir Gomly spoke next:
“Emlin, our… acquaintance Dolf was supposed to get us out of Feiglingstadt, but now he’s dead thanks to that fight in the bar. It is unfair to ask this, but since you did have a bit of a hand in what happened there, we would take it as a kindness if you could show us your way out of the city.”
The Cabbage Girl thought about it for a moment. This was exactly what she was hoping. But she needed to be careful.
“I heard stories you knights can’t break promises. Is that true?” She studied his face with narrowed eyes, awaiting his response.
Sir Gomly took a few pensive moments, though, before answering:
“Well… There are knights who have broken their promises, I am ashamed to say,” answered Gomly. “But I have never broken an oath freely given.”
“Okay, then. But you gotta promise that if someone catches you, you won’t tell them where I am or how I got you out.”
“I swear it on my honor, my life, and on the heads of my squires. None of us shall divulge your secret.”
“I want to hear the rest swear, too.”
Sir Gomly smiled. He turned his head and nodded to his squires, who mumbled something that sounded like “I swear”. He then got a serious look on his face, as he stared at the magus.
“Oh, fine,” exclaimed the magus. “I swear that Ishild and I won’t report you should we get caught, though it would be the least of our worries.”
“Good.” Emlin got down to the business at hand. Being back in control of her own fate reassured her a bit and brought some more strength back into her voice. And she wanted to do anything she could to hurry these strangers out of her life. “First, we’re going to have to wait until things quiet down in the city. You’re going to have to hide here for a few days, maybe a week or two. You killed guards, which means they’re going to be lookin’ for you. More patrols inside and more patrols along the outside, see?”
“That sounds reasonable,” responded Sir Gomly, nodding.
“Next, we’re going to have to get you food. Not only for while you’re down here, but for when you go.”
“Indeed.” The knight nodded again and seemed impressed with her forethought.
“We can figure out how many days of food you’re going to need later, but for now I’m going to need enough money to get food for everyone for the next few days at least.”
“Now, wait just one moment,” interrupted the magus, narrowing his eyes at her. “You already tried to rob me once. What makes you think I’m going to trust you to leave with my money and not turn us in to the guards for a bonus?”
Emlin sighed.
“Fine. He can go with me.” She pointed at the one they called Albrecht, the eldest squire with the black eye. “The rest of you would just get me caught.”
“And turning us in?” insisted Altefalke.
“If I turn you in, the guards will know where I live. And if that weren’t enough, they’d prolly just kill me afterwards, anyway. And that’s only if I’m lucky. If I’m not, then they’d do worse things. D’you think I pretend to be a boy for fun? It at least puts most of the guards off.”
“She has a point, magus,” interjected the Ostenlander knight. “She has as much to lose as the rest of us, now. And she knows the ways of this city better than I, and certainly better than you. Albrecht is a good boy, he will keep an eye on her, both for our safety and for her own.” Sir Gomly looked at her when he said the last bit.
“Good… now, I’m going to have to get some clothes for Albrecht and me. We can’t go about in these bloodstained things.” Emlin shook her head at the ruined mess of her clothes. She had just stolen these, too.
* * * * *
The next morning, in cloaks borrowed from Sir Gomly and the magus, Emlin and Albrecht left the sewers for the surface streets. The sun had risen over the horizon, but one couldn’t quite tell with the heavy morning fog and drizzle. She took advantage of the weather and made for the bazaar by the docks. If they got there early enough, she figured, before the crowds were awake, then they’d probably be able to replace their stained clothes for something less obvious without drawing too much attention.
Albrecht held the money. She had tried to object, but Magus Altefalke would have none of it. He didn’t even trust Albrecht all that much, he pointed out, but then Albrecht hadn’t tried to rob him only a few hours before. Fortunately, the magus seemed to have a strange idea as to how much clothing should cost. So, even though he gave them half the allowance for clothing that he thought fitting, they ended up with twice what they would need to spend.
Thus, with the fog and cloaks and early half-light to help conceal their bloodied rags, the two of them went looking for fresh clothing. Emlin had never had new clothes before. At least not ones she hadn’t stolen. And certainly never a full set.
And, from the looks of it, neither had Albrecht.
Emlin quickly picked out some rough cotton shifts and a couple pairs of wool breeches for Albrecht to purchase. Then she led him to an alleyway to change, each turning his or her back and keeping watch for the other. After that, they headed out to get themselves some new wool cloaks and soft leather gloves, boots, and belts to complete their outfits. Then they got some replacement clothes for Sir Gomly as well, putting them in one of the Cabbage Girl’s old cabbage sacks.
Emlin then hurried them out of the dock district, as some of the merchants were starting to notice all the spending and she wanted to go before any of the impoverished sailors in the area got some ideas on how to make a few extra coins.
She took Albrecht on a long detour through the guilders district market on the way back to the sewer entrance – during which they picked up a few loaves of rye bread, a quarter-round of white cheese, a small cask of ale, and, at Albrecht’s insistence, half a dozen meat pies. Everything but the cask (which was carried on Albrecht’s shoulder) went into Emlin’s old bag.
She realized as they started heading back to the entrance to the sewers that this was the warmest she’d ever been while wandering through the city. Most of the clothes she’d had in the past were too big, too small, worn, thin, or ragged, and often some combination of the lot. But these clothes fit and didn’t leave gaps or holes for icy breezes to blow through, and they were thick and comfortable. They also didn’t smell of dirt and sweat and stale ale.
About half way back, Albrecht stopped her. The sun had finally burned through the morning clouds and the temperature had started to climb as the streets grew more crowded around them.
“Let’s take a break from all this walking,” he stated, setting the cask down carefully. “Let’s see that bag.”
She pulled the bag off of her should and held it open as the squire rummaged around in it, coming back up with one of the meat pies, which he then cut mostly-equally in two with his dagger.
The Cabbage Girl was a little surprised when he handed her one half and hesitated at taking the offering.
“Go on, then. It’s probably the best meal you’ve had in a month.”
She snatched the offered half from him and began to greedily devour it. Albrecht was right, and a meat pie was a pleasure she hadn’t enjoyed since her brother, Kai, had vanished. He had always been a better thief than she, so he used to occasionally come back to their hiding place with one in hand.
“So,” she started with her mouth half full. “Why didn’t you tell the magus that he gave us a lot more money than we really needed for clothes?”
He shrugged.
“I figured we might need the extra coin at some point. Also, he’s sort of a git, as you’ve no doubt noticed. And what with his purse now hanging only by the one strap, I was doing him a favor by letting him lighten the load a bit.”
“Aren’t knights not supposed to lie?” she inquired.
“I didn’t lie. If you’ll recall, neither of us was ever asked. And I’m not really a knight yet, anyway. Someday soon, perhaps. But not yet.”
She decided then that, when he wasn’t busy intimidating or interrogating her, Albrecht certainly seemed a tolerable sort of fellow.
They finished their meat pie as the sun finally reached midday. Then they gathered up their purchases and made their way back to the hiding hole.
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