Captain clapped him on the shoulder. “Jakers, you’re priceless. Even I couldn’t afford you.”
“Shop’s doing well, is it?”
“Aye, indeed, but I’m coming out of the past. Here, let me show you something about wealth.” He pulled a golden ring from his pinky finger and handed it over. “Oversea, that was worth more than the Grace.”
Jacob examined it skeptically. “This little thing. Against your ship? The one that carried you all across the water? Go on.” He wondered what other tall tales glittered and dangled in Captain’s outfit, a fashionable and bejeweled variation of traditional brown-and-whites.
Captain said, “It’s true! The value’s in its history. Before I got it, that ring had been passed down through generations of royalty, dynasties. Men have killed each other for that. I’ve even seen some afraid to pick it up, believing it to be cursed.”
Jacob handed it right back. “Ooh, well, ah, how’d you come by it?”
Captain waved the particulars aside. “Bought it as part of a collection. No one here could possibly comprehend the kind of wealth I’ve commanded. Riches, indeed. I’ve abandoned troves of such baubles as this. None of it’ll ever have value again, not in the span of a man’s life anyway. Without its history, here, this cursed thing is just a harmless circle of gold. I might could trade better with a box of lucifers, to be true.”
Jacob nodded. “Fire-in-a-stick. I’d go for them first in a deal myself.”
“Aye… that’s because a matchstick’s value’s in what it does. It does something.” Captain held the ring up to his face and stared through its hollow, having another moment of pipe-induced clarity. “This doesn’t - do - anything…”
Jacob said, “You know, you’re right. Look at it. It isn’t doing anything at all!” They both burst into giggles again and Captain slipped the ring back onto his pinky.
***
The wall inched its way around to the north. Captain had never seen it, having been preoccupied until then with more centralized affairs. But, a seed of worry grew in him that he could no longer ignore; it had him following second hand directions through empty streets on his own, his rifle and a rolled up schematic in hand.
When he reached the construction site outside of town, the massive, stone barrier came as a surprise. It was too big, well more than enough to hold back any number of bauran. It was a true fortification, a military wall.
The masons saw him coming and called out.
“Look here. It’s Captain!”
“He’s come to give us a break.”
“Bring your pipe, old boy?”
Captain met them, smiling, relieved by the company. “No, not out here, lads. I’ll want my wits if I’m to sit in your crow’s nest.”
One said, “Fwah!”
Another swayed back with his hands out and made an appeal to common decency, “Yeah, come on, man, fwaaah.” It was an unmistakable impersonation of Ditch.
Captain laughed. “Oh, aye? Fwah to you then!” The masons laughed too. They all exchanged a few more local curses and called each other dumber than gunders.
Biggs looked down over the edge of the scaffold. “Hey, Cap! What’s go’n on?”
Captain waved. “Biggs, I’m coming up.”
“Alright.”
The scaffold wasn’t as firm as Captain would have liked. It creaked and bent with his weight and in the breeze. Biggs held out a hand to help at the top and that turned into a friendly embrace once Captain was aboard.
Biggs said, “Glad to have you, partner.”
Captain was about to say something of the same but the view stole his attention away. Twenty feet off the ground, he saw fields and trees for miles, the church in the city’s center over an alley of lower rooftops and a length of the dirt road to the north that spoke of their community’s isolation. It was a panoramic touch of being on the open ocean.
Captain became nostalgic. “The Cauldron took me back to the deckhouse, but this takes me back to the deck, to be true.” The Grace had been dear to him.
“Sure does.” Biggs smirked. “Heard you liked that chicken.”
Captain’s eyes rolled. “That’s only funny to you.”
Biggs chuckled and pointed at the schematic. “What’cha got there?”
Captain unrolled it and held it up so they could both see. “Jacob’s named it the exploder.” Intricate mechanical drawings of a broad-barreled gun and bomb shells accompanied notes about propellant densities, regional materials and explosive velocities.
Biggs said, “Dadgum, Cap… what’s that? Some kind a’ mortar?”
“Something like that. Now that I’ve access to a forge and a competent smith, I can make us a useful weapon against groups of bauran. However, I’m starting to wonder whether I should.”
“What d’you mean?”
“Michael mentioned something the other day that’s got me thinking. You’ve not had many bauran this way, have you?”
“Not a one. Right now they’re only comin’ out the south. Michael’s catchin’ him some on the big bell now n’ then. Don’t know how long it’s gon’ stay that way.”
“Mmm, nothing from the north.”
“Circle’s plan’s got a hole in it for sure, hopin’ the smoke won’t make it up there on its own. Shoot, just that n’ the wind would a’ wiped this place out a long time ago. First one to come out the north’s gon’ be a heartbreaker, Cap. Lot a’ folks up there. Way more’n here. King n’ a castle n’ whatnot. Hope’s all we got for ‘em.”
“So it seems.” Captain lowered his voice. “This wall’s a bit sturdier than what we’d need for bauran, don’t you think? Looks strong enough for a siege.”
“Yup, n’ there’s a reason. King’s got this law ‘gainst forti-fi-cation. Anythin’ good enough to stop the bauran’s gon’ be against the law. So, Michael wants a wall good enough to stop the law too.”
Captain lowered the schematic. “Unbelievable. We’re to be involved in a revolt as well?”
“S’pose so, if’n the king finds out. North don’t come down this a’ way much. Wanna get the wall done ‘fore any a’ that. When it’s up, Michael figures one a’ us with a BOSS gon’ be a lot nastier’n a whole bunch a’ the king’s boys.”
“Despicable.”
Biggs shrugged. “Kind a’ ticked me off too when he told me that, but, what choice’ve we got? Don’t matter what comes out the north now. Soldiers, bauran, gon’ be a mess either way.”
“There’s more to it than that, Biggs. No one’s to leave town, according to Michael’s orders. We’re locked down.”
“Well, yeah. Who’d wanna leave town anyhow?”
Captain rolled up the schematic. “Aye, indeed, we wouldn’t want to send out a word or a warning now would we?”
Biggs leaned on the railing and looked away.
Captain said, “It wouldn’t matter if anyone outside of town knew about the milk, of course. The smoke took its toll on us in spite of that the whole way here. The truth is, if they knew about any of this, well enough to protect themselves, they’d just start coming, wouldn’t they? In droves.”
“S’pose so.”
“There’re only a few small spheres now in which nature allows human life to exist, like ships on the ocean. Michael’s at the helm of ours. He means to keep it from sinking under the weight of its crew.”
“Well, what d’you want him to do? Had to pick somewhere. Picked his own kin. I’d a’ done that too.”
Captain gestured with the schematic. “But could you fire one of these at men? After what we’ve been through?”
“Depends. Aint some killer, Cap, but the right side a’ this, for us, is with the beaners. They’re the ones took us in.”
The situation made Captain’s stomach turn. He didn’t know how far he could go in designing weapons for the city’s defense if those designs might be used on people. He’d sworn never to take part in a war again. At the same time, Antioch was remote and the land around it was undeveloped. They woul
dn’t have enough room or food to provide for a very steep increase in population. If too many people surrounded Michael, everyone would starve.
Captain sighed. He preferred botany to ballistics. “Survival’s a murderous business.”
“Yup.”
They shared some silence. Then Captain said, “Ditch told me this is how you’ve been spending all of your days.”
“Pretty much.”
“When you make yourself useful, you get nothing but used, to be true.”
Biggs raised an eyebrow at him. “That right?”
Captain smiled it away as a joke. “It’s a thoughtful place to sit, though, isn’t it? Perhaps a turn or two of this would do me some good. Would you care to have me fill in for you from time to time?”
“Sure, alright.”
“It wouldn’t make me sheriff, of course. More of a captain of the guard.” He hadn’t wanted the responsibility, and would have refused it, but it bothered him a little that Michael hadn’t asked.
Biggs chuckled. “Wouldn’t call myself much of a sheriff. Just set up here a lot. Ditch n’ Welles n’ them other boys come by now n’ again, let me know what’s go’n on. They’re the ones do’n all the work.”
“What would you call yourself then? Michael’s made you the highest authority in town, next to himself.”
“Aint give it much thought, tell the truth. Sure don’t feel like a aw-thorty, way old Beefer’s on me.”
Captain spent a few seconds trying to decipher that. “What do you mean?”
Biggs’ eyes widened and he exhaled a little frustration. “Guess that aint gotten round to you yet. Lyin’ bout bein’ married to Lynn’s got old Beefer in a tizzy. Says we’re livin in sin.” He wiggled his fingers and rolled his eyes. “There’s some talk ‘round town bout us gettin’ shunned.”
“Pshaw. Who’d go along with that?”
“Don’t know. Turns out, marriage’s right significant round here!” They shared a chuckle and Biggs went on to the part of it that bothered him. “Gettin’ out of his inn sure wasn’t good enough for him. Now it’s hurtin’ Fergus n’ Margot just to have us there. Not that they’d complain. Fine people.”
“Biggs, Betheford wouldn’t dare. The both of you are too important. The fellowship would no sooner turn their backs on you than they would on Michael.”
Biggs cocked his jaw to one side. “Guess you don’t know about that neither.”
“They’ve shunned Michael? No, I was just there. Jacob didn’t say anything.”
“Naw, it’s old mess, thirty years. But, kind a’ tells you sump’n, don’t it? He’s just a kid at the time. Beefer shunned his own son n’ the whole town went along with it.”
“Why?”
“Lynn said it’s on account a’ some fundamental differ’nce in beliefs. Beefer brought it down on him hard, thinkin’ he’d bend. Never did. Split the two of ‘em like a cedar in a storm.”
“That’s a fool’s shame to bear.”
“S’pose. But, what now, with us? Shoot, aint enough else goin on? Old Beefer’s on edge n’ makin’ trouble just to make it if you ask me. Ever’body’s scared. He aint the weight round here no more. Inn aint gon’ run without Meroe...” Biggs paused.
Captain become nervous, thinking Biggs had spotted a bauran. “What? What is it?”
“Just thought a’ sump’n. Can’t believe I didn’t put it together before. Ditch said Beefer’s been talkin’ about the town’s taxes. Caint nobody take ‘em north, on account a’ the lockdown.”
The meaning of that passed between them.
Captain swatted his rolled up schematic in hand. “And so it follows, certain as death, that we’re to be expecting a visit from a tax collector.”
“Gotta know one’s comin’ for sure. Gets one look at the wall, gon’ blow the lid off early’s what he’s gon’ do.” Biggs scratched his head. “Can a’ worms.”
Captain stuffed his design into his coat and brought out his pipe. “I’d meant to keep a clear head today, but a puff or two should give me some ease.”
Biggs leaned back, amused by Captain’s method of dealing with crises. He’d seen the pipe come out like that many times before, in addition to the regularity with which it normally came out. Biggs didn’t care for it himself, but didn’t mind others the indulgence. The masons smelled it and started whispering.
“They’re having a smoke.”
“Keeping it all to themselves.”
“Fwah, selfish sailors.”
Captain puffed and nodded. He’d have paced as well, given a larger platform. Eventually he said, “When the inevitable taxman comes, we’ll welcome him in with a fine meal at the Cauldron, and enough cider to make a difference.” He offered the pipe. Biggs smiled, motioning a refusal, and Captain went on, “There we’ll explain the dire circumstances facing the world today, in compelling fashion, and invite him to start a new life here. What do you say to that, sheriff?”
“S’all we gotta do, huh?”
Captain shrugged and took in the view. “Why not?”
Biggs engaged the proposition. “Say taxman raises a fuss. Gotta figure he’s a stinker, right? Mean, come on, boy’s a taxman.” Captain acknowledged the possibility with an expression of interest, as though it was an overlooked variable within a mathematical theorem. Biggs continued, “So this one’s a nasty piece a’ work n’ all he wants to do is run on home n’ tell the boss on us. What then?”
“Incarcerate him?”
“Aint even got us a jailhouse, Cap. Shoot, what if there’s more’n one? Some’s gon’ keep comin’ for that money anyhow.”
“I believe there’s a decent way around anything if you care to look for it. Decent - not blasting people to bits with bombs.”
Biggs kicked at the platform. “Alright, I hear what you’re sayin. Could try slippin’ him a little extra, keep his mouth shut about the wall, just not mention the other. But, maybe your way’s a little nicer.”
“We’ll never know until we know. Our hypothetical taxman might have family he’d never dream of leaving behind.”
Biggs shifted and withdrew. “Sump’n to think on. Reckon a little good come out a visit anyhow. It’d mean all them folks up there’s alright.”
“Aye, indeed.”
They shared the view but not their thoughts. Then Biggs changed the subject. “Thinkin’ ‘bout makin’ it official with Lynn. Get some that other mess out the way.”
Captain grinned in a wreath of smoke. “A wedding?”
“Well, yeah, you know, just for looks. Smooth things over with Beefer n’ the beaners.”
The grin got bigger. “She’s agreed to it?”
“Aint asked her yet. Figure she’ll up n’ say no, on account a’ her face.” Biggs wagged his hand at his own face as if that didn’t make a difference.
They considered what had happened to her. Then Captain said, “And you don’t care about that?”
“Shoot, no. Lynn’s got a good butt.”
Captain sneezed out a burst of smoke and laughter.
“Aint told nobody yet, ‘cept you n’ Ditch. What d’you think?”
Captain nodded like an old hand at love and exhaled a curling plume. “Mmm, mmhmm, romance. How’ve you planned on going about it?”
“Say again?”
“How are you going to ask her? You’ve got to bait your hook, lad, if you want to catch a fish.”
Biggs hadn’t considered how to do it, only if he should. “Don’t know. Maybe cuss at her n’ spit. Think that’ll work?” They chuckled.
“Have you got a ring?”
“Well, no... Whole thing’s just for looks anyhow.”
“Aye, and at the same time you’re afraid she’ll refuse. Even if it is just for looks, in fact, especially so for that, make it look good.” Captain removed the ring from his pinky and offered it. “Here, give her this.”
Biggs took it and looked it over, ignorant of its value. “Sure is a pretty lil’thing. You know, that’s real nice, Cap. Thanks.
” He flicked the ancient seal spinning into the air, snatched it sideways and then stuffed it into his pocket.
Captain’s eyes went wide at that handling of it. Then, with a smile that went much deeper than it showed, he clapped Biggs on the shoulder. “May it make her yours forever. I’m curious, what was Deputy Ditch’s advice to you on the matter?”
“Said I’s bein’ a wuss n’ to just do it.”
Captain laughed. “Oh, aye? Indeed, Biggs, now that it’s on my mind, you really are a great wuss. She’s always had an eye for you.” Biggs grinned - and then frowned, wondering if that had been an eye joke.
Captain smoked some more and then said, “Mmm, show me what to do up here. Not that I’ll be doing it today of course. I’ve been impaired and shouldn’t be responsible for the welfare of others.” He winked with the pipe in his teeth and tapped himself on the nose.
“Alright. Aint much to it, really. Keep a look out. If’n you see sump’n, get these boys scootin’ on over to the church first, to be safe. Then give ol’ Tinkerbell here a shake.” Biggs directed Captain’s attention to the scaffold’s signal bell. It was identical to the one at the church, though a third of the size. “That way Michael’s sure to get tell. When he does, he’ll let out a clunk-a-clunk on the big’un to let you know he’s a’ comin’ with the truck.”
Captain hadn’t seen any of the smaller bells in more than a month, not since their founding. “Tinkerbell. That’s precious. She’s loud enough?”
“Shoot, lil’ol’bell’s louder’n Lynn! Gotta keep her up here now, though, and don’t let nobody mess with her. See, these beaners just love foolin’ with the bells, but Michael, well… he hates that.”
24 All the King’s Men
“What do you mean, none of them?” said the king’s senior advisor, sure he’d misheard. He lifted his attention from his desk’s papers to focus on the royal counting house clerk.
The clerk repeated himself, “None of the southern counties have remitted their taxes, sir. Not a single one below a line you could draw from Salem to Golgotha. All of those funds are late by more than two months now. One late here or there wouldn’t have been much cause for concern, of course, we’d have handled that with our own investigators. But, all of them at once… Well, I thought you’d want to know about something like this.” He handed over a list of the delinquent counties.