The End of Time (5 page)

I
N THE MORNING I opened my eyes to a dim dawn of cold ground mist that crowned the brown grass with brittle hoarfrost. Leafless trees looked as frigid as I felt. Higher still, a dull sun hid behind ashen-colored clouds. The whole world seemed gray.

The others were just awaking. They bestirred themselves slowly, not bothering with a fire. They yawned in sleepy awkwardness, scratched arms, pulled faces, and muttered more to themselves than others. Grumpy sleepiness meant almost no talk. They seemed like common folk, as ordinary as the clay with which Adam was first made.

I did attempt to look more keenly at these people by the light of the day, but saw nothing that might help me see them any deeper—surely nothing to prove Owen’s words.

Under Elena’s orders, the boy mutely doled out pieces of old bread in equal measures. As we stood eating, Schim suddenly leaped from Owen to my shoulder, reached down, and snatched the bread from my hand. I was too startled to do anything. Next moment he jumped back to the boy, where he quickly devoured it.

A scowling Rauf said, “Devil take him! He’s the
best
thief among us!”

The others laughed, but the words “
best
thief” caught my ear.

Owen looked at me. At first I thought he was apologizing for the monkey’s theft. Then I decided his eyes were pleading with me not to reveal his words of the night before. Having no reason to, I made a quick, tiny nod. His tension eased. I shifted away, only to notice that Elena had been watching me.

“Have you second thoughts about staying with us?” she asked.

The question took me by surprise. The very query—echoed by the boy’s words of the night before—made me consider the choice of staying with them or going off on my own.

“May I leave?” I heard myself say.

If her question surprised me, my answer did the same for her. She studied me with a frowning face, lifted an eyebrow, and pulled back a step. Rauf had been walking away, but when he heard my words, he swung about and considered me with a scowl.

“When we talked last night,” said Elena, “I thought we agreed that you would become our good companion. Did we not share our food and give you a fair welcome?”

All I could say was “You were surely kind, mistress.”

Rauf drew closer by a step. “And if,” he said, “we work together, Crispin, you must swear that we’ll stay as one, at least until we’re done with Calais.”

Gerard drew closer, too. “To practice as six,” he said, “and then perform as five seems unwise.” Despite his toothy grin, he had his blade in his belt, and his hand was resting on it.

Woodeth, too, looked upon me, but her eyes seemed sad, and she said nothing. As for Owen, he stood very still, staring at me, mouth slightly open. He appeared frightened.

Ringed about as I was, I felt intimidated. How could I not be aware of the men’s and Elena’s rough irritability? Rauf’s scowl showed nothing less than anger. Gerard’s grin
was belied by the hand upon his blade. The boy’s words, “You mustn’t trust these people,” echoed in my head. I felt a strong desire to thank them for their hospitality and go my way. After all, Elena’s words did not say I could not, or that they would keep me from leaving.

All the same, I was equally fearful of what might happen if I did go. Besides, I truly did not want to be alone. Those two things held me. I said, “If you’ll have me, I’ll join you.”

“Good!” said Elena, her face softening.

I turned to Owen, wondering what he was thinking. If anything, his face showed sorrow. But from the others came a diminished tension and a gruff acknowledgment of welcome. Then they went about their business of getting ready to move on.

It was Woodeth who found a small cloak and placed it around my shoulders. I was grateful.

“Have you really heard of Iceland?” I asked her.

“By name only.”

“You said it was beyond the sea. Nothing more?”

She shrugged. “Just what I told you.”

All this left me uncertain of myself and them. I looked around for Owen. From the way he kept his eyes lowered, I sensed he was taking pains to avoid me. Instead,
he busied himself by gathering things that lay about—cups, musical instruments, and boots—and gave them to whomever they belonged. The cooking things—two pots—he put into a sack, which he slung over his shoulder. The two men did nothing. I could see now how much the boy was their base servant. Nor did I hear any kind words bestowed upon him.

As I watched, I could not help seeing him as what I must have been—before Bear—and told myself that, whatever his weaknesses might be, I should be kind to him like Bear was to me.

Rauf, meanwhile, fixed his sword to his belt, while Gerard set a large blade on his hip. They carried their own instruments. I was given the recorder to carry. Owen had his sack. I offered to take it, but Rauf told me harshly it wasn’t necessary. “The boy likes to be helpful.”

The monkey took his place on Owen’s shoulder and seemed determined to remain there. As for myself, I resolved not to worry, to think no ill of these people and be grateful for their company.

Gerard, in the lead, took a narrow path. Elena walked with Woodeth. Owen, monkey on his shoulder, sack upon his back, came alone.

Rauf took a place by my side. A cord around his neck
kept his bag close, while his bagpipe was slung under an arm. As he walked, he limped. The way he leaned over me made me uncomfortable, his bulk and broad shoulders making me feel small.

We went in a westerly direction and soon came upon a straight road with wagon ruts. With Gerard in the lead, we followed. I did not see a single dwelling. Happily the day edged toward greater warmth.

As we went along, Rauf kept me by his side. He did nothing to force me so. He simply stayed with me. Pleased to have me as a captive ear, he regaled me with more of his family’s adventures, in Italian lands, the kingdom of Navarre, and Gascony. He told me of their performance in fairs, markets, the homes of rich merchants, and the fine dwellings of noblemen. Even castles.

“You’d be amazed at the fees and gifts they gave us,” he bragged. “And you may be sure that if they tried to cheat us of our due, we found ways to balance the scales. Though I regret it now, that horrid monkey was such a taking.”

“Why do you dislike him so?”

Rauf snorted. “He dislikes me.”

“Why keep him then?”

“He came with the boy. And Owen’s the only one who can get him to do tricks. You’ll see: being a rarity, the beast
draws crowds. He’s a fine beggar.”

“Where does the boy come from?”

He looked at me. “What makes you ask?” he snapped.

Taken aback by his sharpness, I said, “I was just curious.”

Frowning, he said, “Best remember the saying: The curious guest ceases to be a guest.” Then, as if to make amends for his brusqueness, he said, “He was a wretched begging boy. We took pity on him.” He gestured toward Owen and grinned. “I admit, it’s hard to know who’s the smarter, boy or monkey. Still, we gained a servant. Two, in fact.”

Then Rauf went on to boast of all he’d seen of the world, so much more than I. I confess, I marveled at the wealth, the wonders he had seen. Once again it felt good that I’d joined them. Perhaps their fortune would touch me.

“What happened to your recorder player?” I asked.

Rauf’s mood shifted again. “You do ask questions,” he said, frowning. Then, as if upon reflection, he said, “Master Mark? He joined us in Italy, only to decide he wanted nothing to do with us. It caused…a falling out. In Bordeaux.” He touched a finger to his forehead scar. “He fared the worse.”

In another of his ever-changing moods, Rauf abruptly shifted the fine bag that hung around his neck and held it open.

“Look inside,” he insisted.

I hesitated.

“Go on,” he said, thrusting it at me. “Look!”

I peered in and gasped. Even in the morning’s dull light, I could see that it was filled with coins—silver and gold florins. I even saw a few gems, plus I knew not what other things of value.

“There is so much!” I exclaimed. It hardly fit their dress, or what I knew of their life. And what of Elena’s words that they must earn their fare?

“We work hard for it,” he said, grinning.

I recalled how much Bear and I made from our music: at best, pennies. That in turn made me recall the boy’s words. I said, “And…and does all that come from your music making?”

He snorted. “Don’t you know about Saint Jude?” he asked. “He of lost causes and desperate situations. I pray to him. You could do worse. Stay with us,” he said, poking me on the shoulder, hard enough to hurt. “And we’ll be far richer come Calais,” he went on. “They say it’s full of wealth. Sly lad, you picked the perfect time to join us.”

He then set his bagpipe under his arm and piped some songs, telling me to play the recorder they had given me.

As we went on, making music, I again put aside my ques
tions. Perhaps that was Rauf’s intention. At the moment it did not matter. All I could do was walk on. But now I had two questions: Where did Owen come from? And in what manner had these people obtained such wealth? But I saw no way to get answers.

That morning we came near a small village. As soon as they spied it, we halted. Elena went ahead to purchase some food. Rauf barked some orders to Owen and then announced that he and Gerard were going to seek drink. Woodeth remained, as if to watch over the boy and me.

While she held Schim by his leash, Owen set about to gather some kindling from the edge of the woods. After a few moments—thinking Woodeth would not care, and eager to question the boy further—I began to work by his side.

“Tell me more about these people,” I said under my breath as we picked up branches. “Why did you say I shouldn’t trust them?”

Owen glanced furtively to see if Woodeth was watching. Without looking at me, his breath coming hard, he answered, “They…they warned me not to talk to you.”

“Who did?”

“Rauf. Elena.” He was finding it difficult to speak.

“Why?”

He went off a few steps to pick up wood. Then he
drifted back. “They don’t want you to know what they are.”

“What…are they?”

“Thieves. Murderers.” His voice was shaking.

Startled, I looked at him.

“It’s true,” he whispered, making the sign of the cross over his heart.

“How…how do you come to be with them?”

His eyes filled with tears. His lips quivered. “They stole Schim and me.”

“Stole?”

“From my older brother. After they killed him.”

I could hardly believe what I was hearing. “But why? How?”

He went on in short, hurried bursts. “My father makes gloves. In London. Made some for the Duke of Sunderland. Then the duke went to Italy. My older brother, in the trade, traveled with him. So did I. I got Schim in Italy. Then the duke abandoned all. Since my brother played the recorder, Rauf asked us to join them as they traveled home. We learned they were thieves. When my brother didn’t want to be a thief, they killed him. They told me they would take me back to my father, but I must be their servant.”

I was truly speechless.

“They beat me,” the boy went on, panting, lips quiver
ing. “Treat me like a slave.”

“Why don’t you run off?”

“Where would I go? They say…they say they’re going to take me to England. Return me to my father. For a price. I…every day I pray they will.”

“Aren’t they going to that city called Calais?” I asked.

He nodded.

I lowered my voice even further. “What do they want of me?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. It won’t be good. Please!” he said urgently. “If Rauf learns I’ve talked to you, he’ll beat me.” He looked back around. “He beats Woodeth, too. I think her hurting makes her kinder to me.”

With that, he moved away and attended to his wood collecting.

Greatly troubled, I stood in place. Then I turned. Woodeth was looking right at me. Even as I wondered if she had seen me converse with the boy, she beckoned me to her side.

I stood motionless, trying to make up my mind if I should just run off.

“Crispin!” she called.

I felt compelled to go. When I stood before her, she looked up.

“You need to know,” she said, “that boy’s head is weak.” She touched her brow. “Full of folly. You’ll do yourself no kindness listening to him.”

Not knowing what to believe, I backed away, uneasy.

I
N THE AFTERNOON, the skies were still gray and the air had remained cold. We were moving at an easy pace along the same road. Dense forest was on either side. Rauf was some ways ahead, followed by Elena and Woodeth, talking close. I wondered if Woodeth had told Elena of my talking to Owen. As for the boy, he was walking alone with the monkey, who, perched on his shoulder, chattered gibberish now and again. I very much wanted to speak to Owen some more, but took him at his word that I should not.

I came next in line. Behind all walked Gerard.

As we walked, I had a vague awareness that the family was surrounding me. No threatening words were said. Nothing done. It was the same as before: something I sensed. To
push down such thoughts, I put my mind to Calais, hoping we would reach it quickly. Once there I would find an opportunity to go my own way and thereby rid myself of all these nagging worries.

I was just considering how I might seek more knowledge about Iceland and its whereabouts when I heard a sharp, shrill mouth whistle. I looked around. Before I could see anything, the whistle sounded again, three times in quick succession. Only then did I realize it came from Rauf, who had been in the lead. I had no idea how to respond. The effect on the others, however, was instantaneous.

Elena darted off the road and concealed herself behind some trees. Rauf dropped his bagpipe by the roadside, took his sword in hand, and darted into the woods as well. Woodeth ran to where I stood and grabbed my arm.

“Hurry!” she insisted. “Off the road.” She fairly shoved me into the trees on the side. My cloak fell off. Owen and the monkey came with us. Within moments, the road was abandoned. I had no idea where Gerard had gone.

I assumed there was some danger ahead, which Rauf had seen, and that I was being hurried off for protection. Owen and Woodeth remained with me. Then I realized that Woodeth had a dagger in hand, which I had not seen in her possession before.

“What’s happening?” I asked, quite bewildered. “Is there some danger? My cloak—”

“Be still!” she commanded.

Schim, alarmed, made rapid clicking sounds. Owen reached up and touched his face, which calmed him. But the boy looked at me with anxious eyes.

When I turned back toward the road, I saw a large wagon lumbering into view, its rear wheels bigger than the front ones. Pulled by a slow-moving ox, the wagon was loaded with bales and chests. Sitting high was an older man—I could see his white hair beneath a fur-trimmed Flanders cap. Seeing that his clothing was made of good cloth, I took him for a merchant with his goods.

A younger man, equally well dressed, walked beside the wagon. Even from a distance, I could see some resemblance. I took him for the merchant’s son.

There was another man, an older, stooped fellow in russet peasant garb. He walked by the ox’s head, guiding the beast with the light touch of a switch. Engaged in talk, the merchant and his son showed no awareness that we were close and watching.

Suddenly I saw Gerard, blade in hand, leap out from behind the trees. He took a stand in the middle of the road, blocking ox and wagon. Even as he did, Rauf appeared
behind the wagon. The next moment Elena ran from her hiding place. In her hand was a short sword.

Gerard raised his weapon. “Halt!” he cried.

The peasant walking by the ox was taken completely by surprise. He grabbed the beast’s yoke and hauled on it, bringing the wagon to a halt. The merchant put a hand to his mouth. His son, just as surprised, stood where he was.

“By your life,” Gerard cried out. “Throw down your purse!”

All of this happened with such speed and design that I could have little doubt: these were practiced movements.

I turned toward Owen as if he might tell me something. But he was staring out at the road. I shifted back just in time to see the merchant’s son—a sword in his hand—rush at Gerard.

Gerard, undaunted, backed up a few steps and engaged the young man with his own blade. I looked on, transfixed, while the clank and scrape of metal made me wince.

Then I saw Rauf approach from the rear of the wagon. He gave a shout. The young man, who appeared skilled with his sword, lunged and struck Gerard’s arm. Gerard recoiled with a cry of pain. Even as he did, Rauf leaped forward and stabbed the merchant’s son in the back. To my horror, I
heard the young man cry out and saw him drop his weapon and fall as though mortally wounded.

The peasant, who had been standing by in shock, leaped away and fled into the woods. As for the merchant, who had remained on the wagon, he cried out and stood, hands lifted.

Elena rushed up to the wagon. “Get down!” she shouted, pointing her sword at him. Whether he understood English or not, her intent was clear. The old man all but fell from the wagon. But his eyes, I saw, were fixed upon the bleeding man on the ground. He tried to move toward him, only to have Rauf and Gerard block his way.

Elena dashed forward, yanked open the old man’s gown, and stripped away a fat purse tied to his inner belt. Then Rauf pushed him roughly down upon his knees. The old man clutched his head and began to moan and cry piteously in French.

Rauf unhitched the ox from the wagon. Gerard, using the flat of his sword, smote the beast and sent him stiff tailed and bawling into the woods.

Next moment Elena climbed upon the wagon and made a hurried search. “Nothing but wool and cloth,” she called before climbing down.

The merchant, meanwhile, remained on his knees,
weeping and gesturing to the injured man and crying,
“Mon fils! Mon fils!”

Rauf responded by striking the man on the arm with his sword, bringing sharp screams of pain. “Be off with you!” he shouted into his face, and then kicked him. “Away! Go! Before we slay you too!”

The terrified old man staggered to his feet. Clutching his arm, he ran awkwardly into the woods, his fine robes flapping about him like a bird’s broken wings.

As soon as he was gone, Elena and Rauf gathered around Gerard, concerned for
his
wound. After a quick look, Rauf stepped away and went to the murdered young man who lay upon the road.

That’s when he turned and called, “Crispin! Come here!”