The Cabbage Girl
Chapter Five
The next few days were fairly
quiet. Sir Gomly and the magus would occasionally discuss their plans and where
they would be heading once they got out of the city. After two days of hiding
in Emlin’s refuge, the knight sent her and Albrecht to buy a map while they were
out getting other supplies.
The two of them had been steadily building up a reserve of nonperishable foods, buying smoked meat or dried fruit in one place and then hard tack or dry cheese at another. When asked by curious merchants, they would pass themselves off as servants to one of the larger households in the city or as cabin boys on one of the ships in port. Then they’d hurry off before the questions got too pointed.
Ishild seemed to have come out of her shock. Initially, Emlin attempted to make friends with her, bringing her food and drink and trying to clean up the corner of the hiding place that Ishild kept herself in. But Ishild quickly began to treat the Cabbage Girl as a servant, and whenever she spoke it was only to complain about the coarseness of the food or the filth of Emlin’s home. And most of the time, the noble-born girl refused to even speak to anyone at all, except for the Magus, who was supposedly teaching her sorcery.
The Cabbage Girl tried to be charitable, but it was only a day or two before she decided that, as pretty as she found Ishild to be, she would be happy to see the girl go on her way. She also was not terribly keen on sorcery being practiced within her living space, especially since she had never heard most of the words they used – like “phlogiston” and “pyrosis” and “condensations” – let alone understanding what they meant.
Before Emlin noticed, a week had passed; a side effect of all the errands and preparations to aid her “guests” in leaving Feiglingstadt. But after a particularly long day of being cooped up with these strange people and somewhat annoyed at Ishild’s latest bout of complaining, the Cabbage Girl decided to go out into the streets to see what she could learn from those that knew her.
She informed Sir Gomly of her plan.
“I am not certain it is safe for you to go out alone,” chided the old knight. “You should take Albrecht with you.”
“If I take him with me, the people I know probably won’t talk to me. It’s going to look suspicious enough with me asking questions ‘bout things I shouldn’t care about.”
“It is not right for a girl to be wandering the streets alone, without some kind of escort.” It wasn’t the first time Sir Gomly had said something like this to her in the past week.
“I’ve been wanderin’ these streets alone for a while now, thank you very much. We need to know if the guards are still lookin’ for you lot. If they’re not, then we can speed you ‘long your way. If they are, well,” she looked over at Ishild, who was still sulking in the corner over the perfectly good bowl of radish and potato stew that she refused to eat. “Then I’m stuck with you all for another week.”
She slipped out into the passage before Sir Gomly could raise any further objections, with her new cloak in one hand and her small bag of pfennigs in the other. Once she got back up to the old warehouse, she threw the cloak around her shoulders and tied the pouch to her belt and headed out into Feiglingstadt.
She knew Romy and Olfin would be useless for what she needed to know, so she tried Old Agnethe over at the Blacklamp Inn, first. The sun was setting by the time she got there and the main room was full of what appeared to be almost two full caravans of merchants and their assorted hangers-on.
It took her several minutes to find Agnethe, who was busy rushing backwards and forwards, trying to keep food being prepared in the kitchen while also ensuring that her customers were being served in the main room. When the Cabbage Girl approached, the old lady didn’t initially recognize her.
“What do you want, lad?”
“Agnethe, why is it so busy in here,” Emlin inquired.
“Because the guards done shut the gates and are only letting a trickle of folks out at a time, ya daft boy. So now I’ve got twice the people in here as I can normally handle and hardly enough food to actually feed ‘em.” Agnethe stopped then and really looked at her visitor.
Suddenly, her face paled.
“Get out, child. You must get out of here.”
“What? Why? What’s the matter?”
Agnethe grabbed her by the shoulder.
“Just go, child. I told them I don’t know where you are. But if they catch you here, they’ll likely drag us both out in chains. I don’t know where you stole those clothes, but now you’ve got to get! Now! No, use the back door!”
The old woman forcefully steered her out the kitchen’s street door rather than let Emlin leave out the front.
“Don’t come back, Cabbage Girl. You can’t come back here ever again!”
Then Old Agnethe slammed the door in her face.
Emlin was stunned. She’d been thrown out of places before, of course. But not by Agnethe. And certainly not by someone that seemed so terrified.
She walked away, not sure whether she wanted to cry or to shrug.
Before she realized it, she found herself in the neighborhood of the Gurgling Goat. She decided that she wanted to see how bad the damage was, and so turned her feet in that direction.
All that was left were a few scorched walls and blackened timbers. Most of the roof was gone. Several other buildings on each side of it seemed to have suffered the same fate. An old beggar hobbled through the ashes, one leg twisted out of shape and using a rickety crutch to support his weight as he scrounged for anything of value.
She saw a few burnt skeletons among the debris. It seemed that no one had bothered to bury the fallen. She found herself wondering which one was Dolf, the man who would have been doing the job she was now trying to do. She could clearly see him again in her mind, a bloody sword thrust through his chest by the man with the black eyes.
“Do you have anything to spare, child? Any pfenns for a broken man?”
Emlin jumped. The beggar had come in close, reeking of soot and human filth.
And that’s when she recognized him and he recognized her. He had lost several pounds of fat for only a single week and his mouth seemed oddly crooked, like he was missing teeth on one side. But it was him, nonetheless.
“It’s you,” he said, his eyes going wide.
“Etzel?”
“No. Stay away from me,” he turned and began hobbling away on his crutch.
“Etzel, what happened?” She followed him, pulling on his ragged, ash-blackened shirt.
“What happened,” he cried, a little too loud for Emlin’s comfort. People on the street started looking in their direction. “You destroyed me, you wretch! Burned my home and livelihood.”
“I didn’t, Etzel. It was them, the guards and those strangers!”
“The man with the demon eyes,” Etzel said, as he stopped and turned back towards her.
“What about him?”
“He knows about you, Cabbage Girl!”
“What? But how…” she began to ask, before he cut her off.
“Because I told him. I told him about that criminal little girl who caused all my woe.”
“But Etzel, you were my… you’re my friend…”
“Not after he broke my leg in three places. Not after he busted out half my teeth with his fist. Not after he did this!” Etzel pulled the tattered hat off his balding head and turned his face so that Emlin could see the still open hole where an ear used to be, cauterized inexpertly by hot irons.
The Old Goat sat down hard in the mud, his breath expended into wheezing, sobbing gasps from his attempt to escape her followed by his ranting cries.
The Cabbage Girl stood there, with tears running down her face.
“Etzel, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“I… I just want to be left alone, girl. They’ve already taken so much because of you.”
“But why? Why me?”
“Because one of his men saw you leaving with the strangers. Because you are the only one I knew.”
The two of them, the broken old man wearing rags in the mud and the Cabbage Girl standing in her mostly-clean new clothes, remained in place weeping for several minutes.
Emlin did not know how much time had passed before next the Old Goat spoke.
“You have to run, Cabbage Girl. They know too much about you. I told them everything I knew. About you smuggling cabbages. About who else I knew that you sold ‘em to. About how your brother once mentioned about livin’ in the old sewer tunnels. They’re lookin’ for you, and they have some ideas about where to start. They only let me out of their chains yesterday, after destroying my leg and my ear. After they were sure they’d wrung every bit of information I had from me.”
“But where am I supposed to go?”
“Anywhere but here, girl. You need to get out of the city. I’m sorry I betrayed you to them. I’m sorry I hate you for what they did to my home and my body. But you should go now, before someone on the street sees us and rats you out to the guards...” The old Goat stopped for a moment and sobbed. “Just like I did.”
Emlin pulled the pouch of pfennigs from her belt.
“I’m so sorry, Etzel,” she said as she pressed the pouch – filled with all the money she had – into his hand. He nodded, and then she turned and ran.
The two of them had been steadily building up a reserve of nonperishable foods, buying smoked meat or dried fruit in one place and then hard tack or dry cheese at another. When asked by curious merchants, they would pass themselves off as servants to one of the larger households in the city or as cabin boys on one of the ships in port. Then they’d hurry off before the questions got too pointed.
Ishild seemed to have come out of her shock. Initially, Emlin attempted to make friends with her, bringing her food and drink and trying to clean up the corner of the hiding place that Ishild kept herself in. But Ishild quickly began to treat the Cabbage Girl as a servant, and whenever she spoke it was only to complain about the coarseness of the food or the filth of Emlin’s home. And most of the time, the noble-born girl refused to even speak to anyone at all, except for the Magus, who was supposedly teaching her sorcery.
The Cabbage Girl tried to be charitable, but it was only a day or two before she decided that, as pretty as she found Ishild to be, she would be happy to see the girl go on her way. She also was not terribly keen on sorcery being practiced within her living space, especially since she had never heard most of the words they used – like “phlogiston” and “pyrosis” and “condensations” – let alone understanding what they meant.
Before Emlin noticed, a week had passed; a side effect of all the errands and preparations to aid her “guests” in leaving Feiglingstadt. But after a particularly long day of being cooped up with these strange people and somewhat annoyed at Ishild’s latest bout of complaining, the Cabbage Girl decided to go out into the streets to see what she could learn from those that knew her.
She informed Sir Gomly of her plan.
“I am not certain it is safe for you to go out alone,” chided the old knight. “You should take Albrecht with you.”
“If I take him with me, the people I know probably won’t talk to me. It’s going to look suspicious enough with me asking questions ‘bout things I shouldn’t care about.”
“It is not right for a girl to be wandering the streets alone, without some kind of escort.” It wasn’t the first time Sir Gomly had said something like this to her in the past week.
“I’ve been wanderin’ these streets alone for a while now, thank you very much. We need to know if the guards are still lookin’ for you lot. If they’re not, then we can speed you ‘long your way. If they are, well,” she looked over at Ishild, who was still sulking in the corner over the perfectly good bowl of radish and potato stew that she refused to eat. “Then I’m stuck with you all for another week.”
She slipped out into the passage before Sir Gomly could raise any further objections, with her new cloak in one hand and her small bag of pfennigs in the other. Once she got back up to the old warehouse, she threw the cloak around her shoulders and tied the pouch to her belt and headed out into Feiglingstadt.
She knew Romy and Olfin would be useless for what she needed to know, so she tried Old Agnethe over at the Blacklamp Inn, first. The sun was setting by the time she got there and the main room was full of what appeared to be almost two full caravans of merchants and their assorted hangers-on.
It took her several minutes to find Agnethe, who was busy rushing backwards and forwards, trying to keep food being prepared in the kitchen while also ensuring that her customers were being served in the main room. When the Cabbage Girl approached, the old lady didn’t initially recognize her.
“What do you want, lad?”
“Agnethe, why is it so busy in here,” Emlin inquired.
“Because the guards done shut the gates and are only letting a trickle of folks out at a time, ya daft boy. So now I’ve got twice the people in here as I can normally handle and hardly enough food to actually feed ‘em.” Agnethe stopped then and really looked at her visitor.
Suddenly, her face paled.
“Get out, child. You must get out of here.”
“What? Why? What’s the matter?”
Agnethe grabbed her by the shoulder.
“Just go, child. I told them I don’t know where you are. But if they catch you here, they’ll likely drag us both out in chains. I don’t know where you stole those clothes, but now you’ve got to get! Now! No, use the back door!”
The old woman forcefully steered her out the kitchen’s street door rather than let Emlin leave out the front.
“Don’t come back, Cabbage Girl. You can’t come back here ever again!”
Then Old Agnethe slammed the door in her face.
Emlin was stunned. She’d been thrown out of places before, of course. But not by Agnethe. And certainly not by someone that seemed so terrified.
She walked away, not sure whether she wanted to cry or to shrug.
Before she realized it, she found herself in the neighborhood of the Gurgling Goat. She decided that she wanted to see how bad the damage was, and so turned her feet in that direction.
All that was left were a few scorched walls and blackened timbers. Most of the roof was gone. Several other buildings on each side of it seemed to have suffered the same fate. An old beggar hobbled through the ashes, one leg twisted out of shape and using a rickety crutch to support his weight as he scrounged for anything of value.
She saw a few burnt skeletons among the debris. It seemed that no one had bothered to bury the fallen. She found herself wondering which one was Dolf, the man who would have been doing the job she was now trying to do. She could clearly see him again in her mind, a bloody sword thrust through his chest by the man with the black eyes.
“Do you have anything to spare, child? Any pfenns for a broken man?”
Emlin jumped. The beggar had come in close, reeking of soot and human filth.
And that’s when she recognized him and he recognized her. He had lost several pounds of fat for only a single week and his mouth seemed oddly crooked, like he was missing teeth on one side. But it was him, nonetheless.
“It’s you,” he said, his eyes going wide.
“Etzel?”
“No. Stay away from me,” he turned and began hobbling away on his crutch.
“Etzel, what happened?” She followed him, pulling on his ragged, ash-blackened shirt.
“What happened,” he cried, a little too loud for Emlin’s comfort. People on the street started looking in their direction. “You destroyed me, you wretch! Burned my home and livelihood.”
“I didn’t, Etzel. It was them, the guards and those strangers!”
“The man with the demon eyes,” Etzel said, as he stopped and turned back towards her.
“What about him?”
“He knows about you, Cabbage Girl!”
“What? But how…” she began to ask, before he cut her off.
“Because I told him. I told him about that criminal little girl who caused all my woe.”
“But Etzel, you were my… you’re my friend…”
“Not after he broke my leg in three places. Not after he busted out half my teeth with his fist. Not after he did this!” Etzel pulled the tattered hat off his balding head and turned his face so that Emlin could see the still open hole where an ear used to be, cauterized inexpertly by hot irons.
The Old Goat sat down hard in the mud, his breath expended into wheezing, sobbing gasps from his attempt to escape her followed by his ranting cries.
The Cabbage Girl stood there, with tears running down her face.
“Etzel, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“I… I just want to be left alone, girl. They’ve already taken so much because of you.”
“But why? Why me?”
“Because one of his men saw you leaving with the strangers. Because you are the only one I knew.”
The two of them, the broken old man wearing rags in the mud and the Cabbage Girl standing in her mostly-clean new clothes, remained in place weeping for several minutes.
Emlin did not know how much time had passed before next the Old Goat spoke.
“You have to run, Cabbage Girl. They know too much about you. I told them everything I knew. About you smuggling cabbages. About who else I knew that you sold ‘em to. About how your brother once mentioned about livin’ in the old sewer tunnels. They’re lookin’ for you, and they have some ideas about where to start. They only let me out of their chains yesterday, after destroying my leg and my ear. After they were sure they’d wrung every bit of information I had from me.”
“But where am I supposed to go?”
“Anywhere but here, girl. You need to get out of the city. I’m sorry I betrayed you to them. I’m sorry I hate you for what they did to my home and my body. But you should go now, before someone on the street sees us and rats you out to the guards...” The old Goat stopped for a moment and sobbed. “Just like I did.”
Emlin pulled the pouch of pfennigs from her belt.
“I’m so sorry, Etzel,” she said as she pressed the pouch – filled with all the money she had – into his hand. He nodded, and then she turned and ran.
(All writings on this website are © 2011, 2012, 2013 and may not be copied, printed, or reproduced in any fashion without permission. Images belong to their original creators and/or owners.)