The Ravens’ Banquet (5 page)

“Someone else makes camp nearby,” said Samuel softly, his anger forgotten with the new situation before us.

I had made it a point to buy a pistol, ball and powder before we had departed Hamburg. This I now pulled from out of its holster and wound it up with the spanner. Samuel watched me, his eyes settling upon it. “You reckon it will come to that?” “Better to be safe as not, lest they be highwaymen,” I replied, replacing the readied pistol into its holster.

“Aye,” said Samuel, loosening his single-edged hangar, a rusty pig-sticker of a blade, from its crusty scabbard.

And we two rode forward, guided by the sounds of merriment. The music led us to a grove of trees not more than a stone’s throw from the roadside. As we entered the stand, we were met by the sight of a sylvan bacchanal the likes I had never seen.

Three large covered wagons lay concealed off to one side, their owners capering about a large fire that burned at the centre of the copse. Men, womenfolk, and a gaggle of children were gathered there, numbering at least twenty, and dressed in all manner of costume. The musicians we had heard scraped away at fiddle and tooted at a flageolet as several folk danced and passed around a large brown jug. At the fire, two women turned a goodly sized and blackened pig on a spit, their red skirts tied up under their belts and so showing their bare legs. On the opposite side, a game of cards was under way and the subject of much vigorous discussion among the players, all wearing large sagging brimmers in Samuel’s fashion.

At our approach, the music stopped, the dancers faltered, and out the corner of my eye I spied four of the gamesters dash off at a crouch behind the trees in an attempt to flank us. One man came forward, a short, dark-skinned fellow, and asked us our business. “We are travellers seeking shelter for the night,” I said to him, doffing my hat in a courtesy.

A few more of the band came closer now to inspect us, and the dark-skinned fellow looked hard upon our horses and baggage. Samuel, I could tell, was itching, knuckles white upon his reins.

“You are welcome to join our feast—I think five Gulden apiece is not too much for roast pig and wine and the companionship of fellow travellers, eh?”

I smiled at the little man. “Agreed.”

Samuel scowled. “I don’t like it. They’ll just as well slit our throats and take what they wish. That’s what gipsies do.”

“Just keep your wits sharp and all will be well,” I told him. Then I spoke to the gipsy again who was patting my horse’s neck. “Those men behind us. They need not skulk. We come with good intentions, unless, that is, we get an unfriendly welcome.” And I pointedly placed my hand on the hilt of my sword.

The gipsy laughed.

“They’re only deserters who thought you a provost marshall to drag them back to the army!” He put his fingers to his mouth and gave a loud whistle. “Come on back!” he cried out to the soldiers in the trees, “These be friends!”

And he beckoned us to dismount and tie up our horses with his.

I whispered to Samuel to keep one eye on the baggage as long as we remained in their camp, and then paid the gipsy out his silver Gulden. We took our places near the fire and as the sun disappeared, we ate of the tastiest roast pig that I had ever had, and washed down with what our hosts said was Rhenish wine though Rhenish was scarce in England ever since the German war had begun.

I was asked as to my destination, which I revealed to them sparingly saying only that I was bound for the wars around Nienburg. My poor German resulted in more queries from several folk. Did England have an army here? Were all Englishmen as prosperous as me? I also learned a little bit about them. They had come near on a year ago from beyond Silesia, in the land of Hungary, travelling up the Oder River into the German lands. They traded with soldiers along the way – selling their wares, their magic, and their women, ever searching for more lucrative lands. From time to time, soldiers would join their band, staying on until Fate or Fortune led them elsewhere. The four that were with them now, the little man told, had deserted from the Magdeburg garrison some weeks gone by. Shortly after Samuel and I began drinking, these four deserters sheepishly made their way back to the fire, two of them muttering a greeting before helping themselves to the fare. They were a ragged lot – unshaven, covered in soot and grime, their linen filthy and their breeches hole-shot.

Of the women, in the main dark-haired and thin, there was one wench that caught my eye in full. She too, like the others, had hair of jet and was as brown as a berry. But it was her eyes that drew me in. They were blue as lapis and unblinking, the whole of her face a mixture of darkness and light that to me was unnatural yet also enticing. More so, she could stare a man directly in the eye without lowering her regard (as would any lady of worth). As I sat there drinking my wine while the fiddle played, without a word spoken between us, she set my blood up most strong.

A tangle of fry ran around the fire, bumping the elders and screeching away until a tall fellow with a drooping beard gave them a cuffing and sent them off in another direction. I was sure he had seen how I stared at the blue-eyed wench and after I got up to go piss he followed me.

“Does my lord wish for a woman? A most fine woman to do your every bidding?” I turned to him. “Are you the whoremaster, then?”

“These women have
no
master,” he replied, his face cracking a gap-toothed smile.

“Yet I can have a word to the one you desire. And one for your companion, as well.” “He has other things to do than look for strumpets. As for me, I’ll think upon it.” The gipsy shrugged his shoulders and returned to the fire.

And when I returned, the wench had left the circle, dashing my intentions. Samuel swigged away at a jug, but I could see he was distrustful still, and his eyes moved from one figure to another as he struggled to read intent upon their faces. On top of that, he could speak no German. It was no surprise that he sat upon the log as if he were sitting bare-arsed on a thistle.

It was then that I felt upon my shoulder a gentle hand. She had stolen up on me, which somehow pleased me greatly.

As I turned to her, she placed her hand on my arm and said quietly, “Would you know what Fate has in store? I can tell you truly.”

My belly ruffian stirred within my breeches, but her words also sent a chill down my spine for they were delivered with a voice most queer. And those orbs, lit as if by some magic torch within her head, looked into mine own such that I felt struck full upon the chest.

Words tripped from my mouth, disordered.

“I know... I would know... learn… what Fate spins for me. But I’m no fool to be cozened, woman.”

“I know what it is you would know,” she replied in a whisper, “and I will tell if you can pay the price. But only if that is what you do truly want. For I look at you and I know that you sometimes see things you do not wish to see. Think hard upon it, sir!” That jolted my head out of the warm fog of the wine. I once knew a Cunning Woman who lived on the edge of Plympton and many gentlefolk would pay her a visit to affect cures or interpret omens. I did not dismiss such things. And I too had visited her little cottage that sat away from all the others up the lane. I was but fourteen. But Goody Pritchard had been unable to give me the cure to what afflicted me.

“Do not tell a soul, boy! Do y’ hear me? Don’t tell anybody. Not yer maam or your da.”

“I don’t want to see them anymore.”

“Look on me, boy! Tell no one – ever. The dead can’t hurt you but the living can.”

The apple-cheeked and wizened round face of Goody Pritchard faded back into my past.

I looked into the shining eyes of the gipsy girl. “I can meet your price. Now tell me what I want to know.”

She tilted her head and smiled. “
Want
? I will tell you what you
need
to know.”

She led me to one of the wagons, now bathed in the light of tin lanterns. She clambered up and then I after, she bringing one of the lanterns inside with us. The wagon was filled with tapestries and rugs, copper and brass pots of all description and was scented heavy by the peculiar smells of spices unknown that hung in tied bundles from the roofstays of the tilt.

Sitting so close I could feel her breath upon my face, she looked full at me again.

“Give me your hand,” she commanded.

I obeyed her.

With her fingertips she traced lightly as a feather along my left palm. There was nothing but silence between us, the sound of our breathing growing in my ears. The noise of the camp seemed to fade away as if we two were alone in this wagon in some great wilderness.

As she drew her fingertips up and down and across my hand, she began to mutter to herself. I swallowed hard and I am sure she could hear it. She looked up quick. Her brow creased as she whispered.

“You see things others do not?”

I nodded. “Sometimes.”

She looked into my palm anew. “They are attracted to you as salt attracts the beast in the field… When last?”

My voice was barely a croak. “ A few years afore. Not since.”

The girl looked up at me again. “It is not a curse. But it is an unwelcome gift to you.”

“Then what of my future? Tell me something worth paying for. Will I see battle?”

Her head nodded slightly. “That you will. Much war will you see. Steel your heart, man, for there is much Trial ahead for thee.”

I grew more the eager.

“Fortune? Will I command a regiment of my own? Tell me, woman,” I demanded. “Fortune and Fate are one,” she replied.

“Do not speak to me in riddles.”

The gipsy shut her eyes and lowered her head, still grasping my hand tightly.

“I see both the Good and the Ill...You will command many men. You will fall... and you will rise again.”

“Wealth?” I prompted, wanting to drag the secrets from her. “Will I find my fortune?”

But she was drifting to other things. “Many women will cross your path. Yet this will be not of the heart, not of love… There is darkness and light with them in equal measure. And also something else. Something of value that does glimmer and shine.”

“Treasure? Gold?” I grasped her knee.

“That which is not yet treasure,” she replied, suddenly looking up at me, eyes wide.

“And what should I do? What does this Telling benefit me?”

“You do not want to know more, man, that I can tell thee true,” she said.

Her eyes would not leave me be. I pulled back my hand, feeling I had been teased and then cheated.

“What brings you so far to these lands?” she asked in a whisper. “You’re no pauper, that is clear. What is it that has driven you so far?”

“I am now supposed to tell you?” I laughed. “Thus far you’ve done little to earn your coin.”

“I have met many men like you – young and strong bulls set to trample the World. They all speak the same, of Fortune to be found. They depart and I never look upon them again. Why do you think that you’ll fare any better?”

Those beautiful eyes, weirdly blue against her olive skin, bored into me. And I felt pulled, compelled into confiding to her. I told her of my family, of my brother William, his constant taunting, and how he would probably inherit all. I told of my desire to find Fame or else the grave. She smiled, her eyes locked on mine, but somehow very far away.

“I will break my bollocks before I creep back home to suffer the laughter of those I left.”

She reached out for my hand and pulled it towards her again. She turned my palm up and pointed her forefinger into its centre. “Already you have enemies circling around you. This I have seen too. You are proud and you are hungry to succeed. For that, perhaps, you may confound those who would do you ill. But yours is a long path, I do think.” “Is that my Fate, then? That’s it?”

“Fate is often what you will it to be,” she said. Then she pulled her back up straight, still gazing upon me, but now looking at me and not into me. “What else do you wish?” she asked.

My hand moved to her dark bosom.

She grabbed my wrist and held it firmly with a strength that took me by surprise.

“If you can pay the price,” she said, with nary a twinge.

I nodded and she began unlacing herself. I pulled her to me and began to mouth with her. My hand traced along her neck and over her bony shoulder and I pulled down her
chemise,
so revealing her full breasts and rising cherilits.

She, wasting not a moment, was at the points of my breeches, untrussing me with the practiced art of long acquaintance. We mouthed gently for a bit and then the scent of her spurring me on, I moved further below, kissing her smooth skin. I leaned into her, my blood pounding, and we sank together to the floor of the wagon. Her hands reached over my back, gliding up my shoulders to bury themselves in my hair. Then she pulled me down that our mouths would meet again. Yet we were a little too wild in our play, and rolled crashing into a pile of pots, upsetting them and shaking even more bits of copper down from the roof.

And then we rolled out of the cookpans, laughing so hard I was in fear I would do myself a hurt. And for an instant, I saw upon her brown face such a look of sweet innocence as the mask of the conjurer fell away, that I gathered her up to my breast again and kissed her full well. We lay together awhile, saying nothing, the light of the lantern sputtering, near to its end. I looked at her again and saw what was a kindly gaze, but thinking back on it, it was more a look of pity.

But the spell melted quickly. Her eyes fell away and she clasped my hand for a moment. I began to lace up my points and then buttoned my doublet. I gave her a full Reichsthaler from my purse – more coin that she had likely seen in many a day. She did not ask for more. I left her in the wagon and jumped down to the ground and walked away. My head now smouldered, for this wench had dredged up all the things I had fought hard to keep shut away in my heart. That great beast Doubt began to stalk me anew.

I looked over to the fire and could hear one of the soldiers singing a ballad of love lost as the others listened. I saw too Samuel standing a little bit away from the fire, arms folded in front of him. He looked up and saw me where I stood, but his expression remained unchanged.