The Wanderers of the Water-Realm (17 page)

The task of serving pints of beer and measures of spirits to the Cleopatra’s thirsty customers was often hard and hectic, especially in the early evenings when the nearby offices and warehouses were closing for business and the city’s reasonably affluent class of foremen and scribes were free to consume alcoholic beverages in the company of their friends. Yet the work was far less exacting than the grinding toil of the eating house kitchen and the two women were seldom exhausted when the big glazed doors were locked behind the last of the evening’s revellers. In addition, the meals served to the staff were of excellent quality and the attic room, shared by the two women was clean and comfortable. Indeed the wisewoman quickly noticed that all of the barmaids who worked in the Cleopatra public house were enjoying a standard of life that would have been the absolute envy of their sisters who toiled in the city’s shops and factories.

Yet, Hetty noticed that little camaraderie existed between the numerous female employees who worked in the establishment. True, the customers were always greeted with a smile, but the maids only conversed when trade was slack and they seldom attempted to strike up friendships with the other members of the establishment. At first, this strange absence of social intercourse puzzled the wisewoman, but she shrugged the matter off and put it down to the fact that most of the women appeared to be quite new to the City of Manchester and had little in common with each another. However, the reason for this lack of sociability was revealed at the beginning of her third week of employment, when she and her young companion were ordered to leave the bar and report to Mildred Pasco’s office without a moments delay.

The two women entered the office and were confronted by Joe and Mildred Pasco and two other men who were unknown to them. One of the strangers was a short middle aged man who wore the uniform of a Sergeant in the Manchester Constabulary; whilst the other was a broken nosed individual whose powerful build and cold dark eyes gave him a frighteningly menacing appearance.

“Sit yourselves down, ladies,” Mildred said, pointing towards a pair of chairs that stood in the middle of the office. “And listen carefully to what I have to say. Now both of you two ladies have done well by us since you entered our service and we feel that the time has now arrived for you both to profit personally from this association. Tomorrow, you will both begin working as waitresses in the Cleopatra Music Hall at a weekly wage of fourteen shillings cash!

Mildred Pasco paused for a moment, in order to give the women an opportunity to grasp the full generosity of an offer equalling the earnings of many skilled tradesmen. “To earn this money,” she continued. “You must wait upon table and see that our customers get the very best of service. We also have a dozen private boxes, set high up above both wings of the hall, from where our special visitors can get an uninterrupted view of both the stage and the performers, yet still remain completely hidden from the majority of our customers who are seated in the main body of the hall. Each box fronts an entertainment room where our special friends can dine in complete privacy. Or do anything that takes their fancy!”

Mildred then looked sternly into the eyes of the two seated women and uttered her next sentence very slowly and with considerable emphasis. You will sometimes be expected to wait upon these very special guests, and provide them with any service which their hearts may desire!”

Marsie’ gave a sudden start. “You mean that we must lie back and let em’ride us sore, if that’s what the buggers want to do!” Mrs. Pasco smiled broadly and the livid scar on her face twisted into a grotesque pattern. “Precisely my dear,” she said quietly.

“Yet our special guests are often old and burdened with cares and wish for nothing more taxing than an evening of pleasant conversation with a beautiful young woman. Occasionally, our guests are men in the prime of life and require a rather more intimate service. But all are men of substance and are usually generous to the ladies who please them.”

She paused.

“Consider my proposition ladies. A year or perhaps two, here at the Cleopatra, then back home with nobody the wiser and with nest-eggs to set you both up for life. Or better still, a voyage to Australia, with enough cash to start up your own businesses.” The smile suddenly vanished from Mildred’s face and her voice took on a much harsher tone.

“You ladies are newcomers to Manchester and have had only a mere taste of the hard living that this city can inflict upon women without adequate means. Sleepin’under a railway arch aint’so good, but it can be even worse if the Sergeant here chucks you into jail for vagrancy!”

Mildred nodded towards the policeman who stroked his chin before speaking.

“Aye, prison for certain.” He surmised. “Maybe six months or a year, if I manage to get you both charged with stealin’ wallets or some other crime!”

Mrs. Pasco then pointed towards the broken nosed bruiser who stood at the policeman’s side. “You might even be glad to be in jail, if I was to put my head minder on yer’ trails!”

Once again, the scar-faced woman’s tone softened. “It aint’ as though you’re a pair of innocent virgins, so don’t you think that an odd tumble with a well heeled toff, is a small price to pay for a jolly good livin’ and the chance of a prosperous future? Now go up to your room and give thought to what’s just been said. If you agree, then both of you can start working in the music hall tonight. If the answer is no, the Sergeant here will put you on the next fast train for London, with a pound in each of your pockets to tide you over until you both get new situations. Now go away and think about it and be back here with your answers inside half an hour!”

Everything was now clear to the wisewoman as she climbed the stairs towards the attic bedroom. It appeared that she had succeeded in penetrating a carefully organized brothel keeping operation that prospered with the aid of corrupt members of the local constabulary; an operation existing to serve the carnal needs of the city’s large and prosperous male middle class. She had already discovered that Pasco’s eating house, together with his two commercial hotels, supplied the Cleopatra Music Hall with many of its customers. Now she also knew that the three linked businesses also provided his brothel keeping enterprise with a constant supply of fresh young whores. Indeed, she had also experienced, at first hand, the means by which desperate young women could be frightened and beguiled into embracing the life of a prostitute. Now she fully understood the meaning of Mr Simister’s cautiously expressed warning.

However, the fact that the wisewoman had successfully uncovered an elaborate high class brothel keeping enterprise appeared to have done nothing to help clear her son of the charge of murder. Once again, her logic told her that her present line of enquiry was leading her up a very dangerous blind alley, and that her interests would be best served if she was to slip away from the Cleopatra and continue her inquiries by other means.

Yet her generally reliable witch’s inner-eye urged her to be patent and remain close to the Pasco’s for a little while longer. The wisewoman uttered a sigh, as she reached the top of the stairs, and once again she resolved to place her whole trust in her well tried intuition.

The two women entered the attic bedroom and Marsie’ threw herself onto the bed.

“Gawd’ help me,” she said. “I runs away from London to stop me fella from putin’me on the game. Now I finishes up by walkin’into a brothel all by myself. Seems like I’m destined to become a whore, no matter what I do!”

“Aye, providence moves in strange ways!” Agreed the wisewoman, “but I’m determined to give this place a try. After all, it can’t be worse than sleeping in that bloody freezing hayloft and rolling dumplings for a living!”

The London girl burst out laughing.

“Well. Hetty, I reckon that I’ll stay here with you. If I’m fated to become the play thing of men, then I might as well be ridden on a nice clean bed, by a succession of well heeled toffs, as being stretched out over the back of some cart by a bunch of stinkin’ London sewer cleaners every night!”

Marsie’ leapt from the bed and embraced the wisewoman.

“Hetty, Hetty, Hetty,” she repeated, still laughing. “We’ll both stay here and become whores together. Perhaps we’ll both be lucky and service some Crown Prince and both make our fortunes?

M
yra stood bolt upright in the bows of the 'Bonny Barbara' as the craft drifted gently down the Exit River, anxiously scanning the rolling nulla-covered plain occupying both banks of the river and stretching away as far as the eye could see.

Nothing moved on that vast ocean of moss, with the exception of a pair of wild narr, drinking at the water’s edge, and a group of do-fowl busy scavenging for food in the muddy shallows. Once again, she ran her eyes over the featureless plain, but the repeated search of her surroundings yielded nothing tangible to account for the deep intuitive feeling of menace that she had experienced for the last hour. The young wisewoman shrugged her shoulders in frustration, but remained alert, for she knew that danger was close. Very close.

Six darkenings had passed since the modified narrowboat had cleared the mouth of the Fruitful Stream and begun riding upon the waters of the main river. For the next four days, the river-current had carried them through a landscape dominated by low crimson hills and numerous straggling Thoa groves clinging precariously to the banks of the many fast flowing streams; but two days ago, the vista had suddenly changed and the broken countryside had given way to a wide nulla-plain that seemed to stretch into infinity.

Fortunately, the danger from rocks and other impediments to navigation, had receded, once the hill-country had been left well astern, but a careful watch had still to be kept from the bows, for shoals and the wreckage of long abandoned river-works occasionally hove into view. Indeed, it sometimes required all of the knowledge of the three native crewmen, allied to the skill of the young boatmaster at the tiller, to avoid a catastrophe.

On several occasions, ‘The Bonny Barbara’passed the ruins of small towns that had evidently been originally constructed by that extinct race the Narrs-folk referred to as the ‘Ancient Dead.’ Once, on the far horizon, the travellers had been able to make out the remains to a pyramidal structure, whose apex stood a good thousand feet above the surrounding plain; indeed, it almost seemed capable of piercing the dense banks of crimson cloud rolling endlessly overhead.

Yesterday, about midmorning, the lookout in the bows had sighted another craft approaching them from down-river and the crew of the narrowboat had immediately armed themselves, in case the strange vessel proved to be hostile. As the two craft converged, the crewmembers quickly realized that the vessel was little more than an open barge, with less than half the cargo carrying capacity of the ‘Bonny Barbara.’They also noticed that the barge was being drawn, up-river, by a gang of about a dozen emaciated men, wearing little more that ragged loincloths as they staggered painfully along the opposite bank of the river.

‘Clem’, who was the oldest of their three native crewmembers, had thrown aside his loaded darter and waved frantically as the craft came within hailing distance.

His greeting had been returned by a grey bearded man who stood at the tiller.

The small barge, Clem had later explained, was commanded by his great uncle ‘Tem-Haspar’ and was carrying a cargo of Thoa flour from the city of Calar to the vessel’s home village, lying about six days march North of the Valley of the Fruitful Stream.

“Those poor men at the ropes, who are they?” Myra had enquired.

“Bow haulers.” Clem had replied, and explained that such men could be hired by the day in most of the larger riverside settlements, they were, he emphasized, quite indispensable in moving laden craft upriver against the power of the current. He also added that slaves and criminals were occasionally used for the task; but the haulers were generally poor freemen, who undertook the arduous duty in order to feed their families.

Clem had then spat over the side and said, “a freedom loving narrsman, would sooner kill his wife and children and then hang himself, rather than endure such a dire indignity.”

The small cargo barge had barely disappeared from view, when they sighted another similar vessel approaching from down-river, and the crew of the converted narrowboat realized that they must encounter craft, in ever growing numbers, as the Exit River carried them eastwards, towards the great trading City of Calar.

Myra chewed upon a fragment of dried narr-flesh, as she continued her watch from the bows of the craft, but nothing remotely threatening could be seen within the surrounding sea of crimson moss. Even so, her witch’s inner-eye constantly warned her that both the craft and its occupants were in imminent danger of destruction. Finally, unable to contain her fears any longer, she made her way to the stern and consulted her brother, who was manningthe tiller, accompanied by Clem, the senior narrsman.

Darryl allowed his sister to voice her worries and then turned to Clem asking if anything of a particularly hazardous nature lay immediately ahead of them.

The narrsman pondered for a moment before answering. “Soon we shall encounter a place that has long been called ‘The Pirates leap.’ Here, the remains of an ancient bridge lies fallen across the breadth of the river. To pass safely, one must steer close to the left- hand bank and pass under a section of broken arch that reaches out over the water. The place gained its cursed name because bands of pirates had once leapt down from the broken arch and landed upon the decks of passing vessels, prior to slaughtering the crews and pillaging their goods.” Clem’s face assumed a grim aspect. “No gang of river pirates has ventured this far west since my father was a child, but if your witch-sister’s fears prove to be correct and we are attacked, then it will most probably happen at ‘Pirates leap.’

Blood surged through Darryl’s veins experiencing the same build-up of tension that he felt when entering a boxing ring. He immediately began making the preparations needed to repel a possible attack. The narrowboat, he realized, was almost seventy feet in length and it would obviously be impossible for his small crew to prevent a determined body of attackers from getting aboard the vessel. He therefore ordered George, and two of the narrsmen to arm themselves with darters and lie hidden beneath a tarpaulin in the bows of the craft. Clem and the young wisewoman would be similarly armed and lying in wait in the shelter of the narrowboat’s stern cabin to pick-off any pirate who survived. If an attack did occur, Darryl reasoned most of the pirates, after successfully landing upon the vessel’s deck could then be decimated by darts launched from both front and rear.The boatmaster firmly resolved to remain at the tiller and personally steer the craft into the ambush; he also donned one of the long red robes often worn by prosperous river merchant’s, in the fervent hope that such a guise would lull the attackers into believing that the intended prey was both weak and defenceless. The loose fitting robe also served to hide the boatmaster’s military garb and the sword ‘Kingslayer,’ intending to engage any borders who escaped the attentions of the darters. His final precaution was to conceal a short javelin beneath the cockpit’s wooden seat, in case he needed a missile weapon.

The crew’s defensive preparations were barely completed when the remains of the old bridge hove into view. Great piles of masonry could be seen obstructing the flow of the river and the rushing waters became flecked with foam as the current strove to force its way over and between the piles of fallen debris. Close by the left hand bank, however, the waterway was still quite passable, for the stub of the bridge’s first arch had remained largely intact and the river beneath was quite free of wreckage. The boatmaster instinctively put the tiller hard over and guided the craft beneath the broken span.

The bridge must originally have been constructed to carry a considerable volume of traffic, for the stub of the arch was at least three-hundred feet in width and everything beneath the broken span was shrouded in deep shadow. It was therefore small wonder that Darryl failed to catch sight of the river-pirates, who were hiding in deep clefts within the underlying masonry, until a dozen figures suddenly dropped out of the gloom landing upon the narrowboat’s central hatch cover.

“Now!” Darryl roared, and the hidden crewmen in the bows emerged from hiding and poured a hail of needle-sharp darter projectiles into the bodies of the surprised boarders, the snipers in the stern picking off any survivors.

The boatmaster’s counter-ambush worked with deadly effect and within seconds, the entire force of would-be free-booters were pouring out their lifeblood upon the narrowboat’s wooden deck.

The crew of the ‘Bonny Barbara’gave vent to a loud cheer, but their triumph proved to be extremely premature, with a second group of attackers dropping out of the gloom, this time landing dangerously close to the stern of the vessel.

The second group was only six warriors strong, but they were far better organized than the first, heading directly for the cockpit in a solid body, with the intention of destroying the force in the rear of the craft and killing the remaining crew at leisure.

Darryl was the first to recover from this fresh assault. He cast the merchant’s robe aside and called for his sister to take the tiller. Seizing the hidden javelin he leaped out of the cockpit meeting the new attackers head-on.

The leading boarder was a tall redheaded man wearing a padded tunic covered in iron studs, but the protective garment served the man ill for Darryl’s javelin tore its way into the man’s vitals and hurling him back amongst his fellows. Within seconds, the ex-boxer was amongst the remainder thrusting ‘kingslayer’ into the stomach of his nearest adversary and withdrawing the blade to ward off a blow from a heavy gill. With a twist of the blade he completely severed the hand that grasped it. Clem threw himself forward with a light shield upon his arm to protect the boatmaster’s vulnerable left side. Yet Darryl was still in grave danger of being cut down by the three able bodied pirates still confronting him. Fortunately, George arrived from the bows in the nick of time.

He smashed into the enemy’s rear and his friends witnessed a facet of the young man’s character unknown to them. Howling like some wild animal, he hewed a pirate’s legs away at the knees with a single sweep of his long-handled axe, before burying the head of the weapon between the shoulders of another. Still howling like some creature possessed, he tore the cleaver from his belt slashing and battering the last remaining pirate until the man was little more than a pile of mangled flesh. Indeed, it required all of Darryl’s considerable strength and the efforts of two narrsmen, to overpower the young boatman and pinning him to the deck until the berserk-madness left his brain.

The ‘Bonny Barbara’ finally drifted clear of the broken span emerging into the crimson daylight and the scale of the slaughter now became evident, for dead and dying pirates now lay upon the deck of the narrowboat all the way from its midsection down to the edge of the stern cockpit. Nor had the victorious crew of the vessel escaped unscathed, for Clem had received a dagger thrust in the thigh and a sword cut had opened up a shallow gash in the boatmaster’s left forearm.

George, now recovered from his bout of berserk-madness, took over the tiller from Myra, and the young wisewoman set about the task of treating the ‘Bonny Barbara’s’ wounded.

Darryl’s first act was to give the clothes and weapons of the fallen pirates to the narrsmen, as a reward of their loyal service, and the two unwounded clansmen immediately began stripping the dead and dying pirates naked, before rolling them unceremoniously over the side. But one of the wounded pirates, a relatively young man, groaned piteously and hauled himself up into a sitting position against one of the hatch covers. The boatmaster, seated on the edge of the cockpit whilst having his wounded arm dressed, witnessed the man’s plight ordering him to be spared and carried down into the cockpit for questioning.

Darryl recognized the young man as the one whose hand he struck off during the fight and he ordered his sister to staunch the stream of blood flowing endlessly from the man’s severed stump. He also requested Myra to give him a draught of medicine to ease the pain.

At Myra’s suggestion, the robber was given a little time to recover his strength before the interrogation began and the boatmaster also assisted the process by pouring a draught of strong wine down the man’s throat.

Darryl waited awhile and then addressed the pirate.

“Tell us all we wish to know and you may be surprised at our mercy…”

He began. But the wounded robber immediately interrupted him.

“Ask away.” The man said, in a dialect that Darryl had difficulty in understanding.

“For I be one-handed now…I be finished up anyhap.”

“Where do you and your comrades come from?” The boatmaster enquired. “Why did you take the risk of attacking a craft so far up the river from Calar?”