Chapter 7

In which Holisz finds new employment,, changes his name, and meets the bard.

The bard slurped the last of his ale and sighed his disappointment, but by and by, when he was sure that a refill would not be immediately forthcoming, continued his tale.

“The horses grazed happily that afternoon while Holisz slept, and the rat seemed content later on with the nuts Holisz tossed down from a spreading tree. Nuts there were, berries and fruit as well such that the rat was well content with his new life, but after a few weeks of such fare Holisz found himself looking at the pack animal and wondering what horsemeat steak would taste like!

No, no; he needed the animal far too much to gnaw upon his bones! But still...

Berries and nuts were provender for such as the rat, but not for a man! Holisz needed meat! Granted, he had eaten such but once each day when he lived within the castle’s walls, but he’d grown accustomed to the rich fare.

His breakfast then had been porridge, with a dollop of honey could he but beg or steal such from the kitchen, and lunch, bread and cheese like as not with mayhap an onion, and only at the end of the day might he get leftovers from the baron’s table. Holisz’ leftovers, it must be said, were far more generous than came to others, because he was favored of the kitchen staff! And those leftovers had likely been planned for ere the meal was cooked!

Food was but one of his concerns now; he had no money, and no immediate way of honorably gaining such. This may cause a suspicious look from ye who list to my tale. ‘Tis true, Holisz had gained two horses and their tack in most irregular fashion, but had not the baron himself said he was to have a horse and a gold piece? And also the newly-polished and sharpened sword he now wore?

Surely, the packhorse and saddles were worth less than the gold piece that had vanished ere he recovered! As for Arrow, the baron had not specifically said which horse! Certes, he’d given no orders excluding Arrow from the largesse he’d ordered! And besides, there was the baron’s choler and occasional bouts of gout during which he sat with foot propped upon a soft cushion and railed at the hapless castle staff! Riding a spirited animal such as Arrow during that time might result in great pain, even injury!

Assuredly, Baron Georg owed Holisz a debt of gratitude for seeing to his future welfare! Not that he, being of the nobility, would ever acknowledge such! Such were the musings that passed through Holisz’ mind as he neared Two Moons Village, some forty leagues south of the Barony Baldwin’s Junction.

Ahead was an inn, and the tap-man, who was also the brewer and cook for this tavern as is oft the case, stood outside, viewing the road and awaiting travelers that he might entice a visitor to sample his excellent ale and perhaps purchase a joint of beef or pork for his supper.

Tapsters, and the taverners who employ them, not being given to charity expect to be paid for their service, and the thieving guards had left Holisz with an empty purse. But would the man accept work in place of the gold Holisz lacked?

Holisz resolved to ask, and found that the tavern-keeper would, for a day and perhaps longer. Holisz resolved to do such excellent work that the taverner would have no choice but to give him employ!

Arrow and his pack-horse also got space in the stable as part of the bargain, but in return Holisz would have to muck out the stables as well as care for his own horses. Know ye, ‘twas work he understood well, and the tavern-keeper had well-kept tools to make the task easier.

So Holisz pitched in with a will, or perhaps ‘twould be better to say he pitched out, for the stable had not had a good cleaning for some time! Yet by dint of much hard work, he soon had the stable clean. His horses were well-housed in stalls with clean bedding and feed, as were the two horses that belonged to the tavern-keeper. Know ye, the rat had not asked for such, as is ever the way of rats and politicians. Unbidden, he’d scampered up the ladder into the feed-room, there to gorge on spilled oats.

Animals seen to, Holisz decided to see if the tavern-keeper might advance him a meal based on the work he’d done.

“Aye, ye look hungry, lad,” the inn-keeper said. “Sit ye down and I’ll bring ye a bowl of stew and a loaf of bread.”

Holisz nodded. ‘Twould be sufficient for now, and perhaps there might be more after he cleaned the tap-room?

The tavern-man was as good as his word, and better. In but a short time, the taverners young daughter, who helped in the kitchen and from time to time served the patrons, brought his food. There was butter with the bread and also a leathern jack of very good ale. Holisz tucked in and ate almost everything.

The rat had become inquisitive at his absence and slipped into the tavern. Spying Holisz, he slipped around the walls and crouched under the table, looking up imploringly. Holisz sliced off the heel of the bread and dropped it beneath the table. Should the rat prove careless in eating habits, as rats oft are, well, Holisz could sweep up the crumbs when he cleaned the room. He looked longingly at the empty jack, but the tavern had grown busy while he ate.

A more pressing concern: for the nonce, ‘twas best that the rat not be seen!

Holisz, a stern look on his face, pointed toward the door. While rats cannot manage a look of sorrow, this one certainly came close! He slipped away as he’d entered, and none there were who saw.

Holisz found a clean cloth and began wiping down tables in the corner. The tavern-keeper stood by his counter, rubbing his back, and nodded approvingly; he had offered a meal not so much because he needed a helper, but in remembrance of the days when he himself had been hungry! Yet ‘twas good to see that the young man knew of kitchens and serving-rooms as well as stables!

A bearded man carrying a large sack had come in with the last group, but had taken a table apart from them. He set the sack on the floor, then spoke softly to the tavern-keeper. There was much headshaking at first, but finally the taverner relented. He brought bread and ale, but no stew, for the man was naught but a bard and had not yet earned more largesse.

The bearded man ate the bread, drank the ale, and opened his bag. The long-necked musical instrument he pulled forth had seen better days, but the bard understood it well. Soon pleasant notes from the instrument sounded accompaniment to the conversation and clink of knives from diners.

Betimes, there was yet more accompaniment of a sort, and not so pleasant as the musician’s notes!

A burly diner near the fireplace had drunk deep of the ale, and it showed. His voice had grown louder as time went on, and betimes, he berated the inn-keeper for his slow service. Yet there were other customers needing service, and they had purchased dinners as well.

So ‘twas that the inn-keeper gestured to Holisz, who nodded and brought a fresh jack of ale to the man. Patiently did Holisz wait while the man fumbled a copper from his purse and threw it on the floor as a sign of his displeasure. Holisz said naught, but picked up the coin and placed it near the kitchen, that the inn-keeper might collect it when he would.

Others there were who also dined in the tavern that evening, and they looked at the loud man in annoyance. Holisz saw, but the inn-keeper had given him no instructions regarding such ill-mannered behavior and there were still tables to be wiped. So he worked, and finished, he wondered if perhaps the busy tavern-keeper would appreciate more assistance with serving his guests?

He would.

After a few words of instruction, Holisz was soon making the rounds, delivering food, removing used trenchers, and refilling goblets with wine and jacks with ale. This too was seen by the tavern keeper, and Holisz’ alacrity noticed, causing the inn-keeper to wonder. No question, he was no longer a youth, so was it time to employ a full-time helper?

Such were his thoughts, ere they were rudely interrupted! “Sing, jongleur!” The voice had come from the rude man, and it was over-loud as well as coarsened with drink.

“I regret, my lord,” the bard said softly, “that I have not the voice for such. I play the lute, may it please your lordship, and I also tell tales of great daring and true heroism. Some of the tales I have heard from others, and some I not only witnessed but in which I played my part. Would you hear such a tale, my lord?”