Chapter 3
After three days on the road, Malcolm had finally reached his destination. He rode into the small town and took stock of his surroundings. There was a general store, an inn, a blacksmith, and an open market in the center of the town. A handful of houses lined the streets. The stable was at the other end of town. He figured the town had fifty residents, although another couple hundred people probably lived on properties around it.
Malcolm kicked his horse with his heels and directed it towards the stable. Stables tended to be away from the center of town since the smell of manure and the horse flies were not exactly an invitation for next door neighbors. Upon reaching it, he dismounted and tied the horse to one of the fence posts of the corral. The wood was in much better condition then the wood at the stable where he had purchased his horse.
The owner, a man in his early thirties, stepped out of the barn. His eyes went to the horse before they turned to Malcolm's direction. In a quiet voice, he said, "Two pinches a night. I'll clean your tack with saddle soap and check it for wear, although they look in good condition from here."
"Fine," said Malcolm lifting his saddlebags off the horse. The price was a little high, but the man looked like he knew what he was doing. He said, "This horse has no spirit, but is dependable. You'll have no call to beat it."
"Man who beats a horse deserves what he gets when the horse kicks him," said the man. He went over to the horse and rubbed a hand over its' flank.
Malcolm was sure that the horse actually relaxed even more than it was. If it got much more relaxed, he was convinced that the animal would fall over. He said, "I'll be here for a day or two. Need to get supplies before I continue on."
The man bent down and examined the hoof on the front leg. The animal didn't put up any kind of resistance. He commented, "Take two days and I'll have your horse in the best condition possible."
"I'll let you know tomorrow," said Malcolm.
"Good enough," said the man as he untied the horse. He led the animal into the barn where he would take care of it.
Shaking his head, Malcolm headed back towards the center of town where the inn was located. The inn had a sign with a bed, a tankard, and a plate on it. Like a lot of inns located in towns of this size, this one didn't seem to have a name. Coming from modern America, it always surprised Malcolm to discover that most places didn't have names. They didn't name their businesses, their towns, or roads. The local inn was known as the inn. It was only when the town grew large enough to support more than one inn did anyone think of naming them.
He entered the place finding it was not as clean as the stable. The dirt floor was covered with straw, although the area around the fireplace was clear. The straw was necessary to keep it from turning into mud when folks spilled their drinks. The owner was behind the counter and watched Malcolm assessing him in terms of the danger he represented. A woman, who had seen better days, sat in the corner of the public room assessing him in terms of how much money he carried.
Malcolm made his way to the counter and said, "Need a room for a night or two."
"Two pinches a night if you want a common room, three if you want a private room, and five if you want company," said the man pointing to the woman in the corner when he mentioned company.
"Does that include board?"
"Of course it does," the man said.
"I'll take the private room," Malcolm said. He glanced over at the corner where the woman had opened her blouse to display her tits. They hung down almost to her navel. Turning back to the owner, he said, "No company."
"She's a good fuck."
"No company," Malcolm repeated.
"Everyone in town has been with her and no one has complained yet."
"No company."
"Your room is the door over there with the picture of the cow on it," said the man pointing to the far wall.
One of the doors had a picture of a four-legged animal that might have passed for a cow. The other two doors had pictures of a bird and fish respectively. Malcolm shook his head at the idea of a room off the public room. There'd be little or no sleep until the bar closed down. Frowning, he said, "Okay."
"I'll take a pitcher of watered wine," said Malcolm setting out three pinches for the room.
"Two pitchers of watered wine for a pinch," said the owner as he turned to fill a pitcher from a large wood barrel mounted behind the bar.
He put a pinch down on the bar and accepted the pitcher from the owner. The man handed him a clay cube and said, "For your second pitcher."
The woman in the corner yawned loudly in an attempt to get attention. When she noticed Malcolm looking at her, she stuck her thumb in her mouth and sucked on it. Removing the thumb from her mouth, she said, "I'll give you a handjob for your second pitcher or a blowjob for a pinch."
"Not today," Malcolm said. He figured she was an indentured servant and was hard at work to clear up her indenture before she ended up in a worse place. She'd collect the tokens for the pitchers of watered wine and turn them in as payment towards her indenture. At a pinch or two per day, it would take her forever to pay off an indenture. He decided that the time to ask about it would be when the public room was filled with more people.
Taking a seat in the far corner of the room, Malcolm poured filled his tankard with watered wine. He took a sip and grimaced at the slightly sour taste. If it sat around much longer it would become vinegar. The woman laughed at his reaction and said, "The beer is better."
"Might be, but I want to remain sober enough to untie my pants before taking a piss," Malcolm replied with a grin.
The woman laughed good-naturedly and said, "Pay me a pinch and I'll untie your pants as frequently as required. I'll even hold it for you while you piss."
Laughing, Malcolm replied, "I imagine that would make it impossible to piss."
It was approaching dark before the inn started filling with regulars. Malcolm watched the men enter and place their orders. Half of the men greeted the woman, calling her Molly. He watched as men went over to Molly and struck private deals for her services. She'd take the man over to the room with the fish on the door and stay inside for a few minutes. They'd emerge with the man wearing a smile and her dropping off something for the owner.
After finishing the vile pitcher of watered wine, Malcolm went to the bar and turned his clay cube for another. He requested his meal, which turned out to be a roasted half a chicken, some fried potatoes, and a slice of bread. He carried the pewter plate and pitcher back to his table. Sitting down, he started to eat. Like most of the people, he used his knife to shovel the fried potatoes into his mouth and used his hands to eat the chicken.
Considering there were only four tables in the inn, it was late before any sat down at his table. The man looked at the empty plate and the half-empty pitcher before taking a sip of his beer. In a loud voice, he said, "I notice you ain't been with Molly. What's the matter? She not good enough for you?"
This was the opening that Malcolm had been waiting for the entire evening. Sitting back, he answered, "You ever heard of Rebecca of Silver Town?"
"Rebecca of Silver Town? Who hasn't heard of her? There aren't many women who can pay off a fifty conch indenture in two years," said the man. His loud repetition of her name caused everyone to stop talking and turn to listen to the conversation.
"Yeah. I helped her move after she paid off her indenture. She ruined me for other women," said Malcolm. He drained his tankard and refilled it. Shaking his head, he said, "Positively ruined me for other women."
One of the men asked, "Is it true that she had four breasts?"
Nodding, Malcolm said, "Yes. Two above two and each of them perfect. The ones above were bigger than the ones below. Each was topped with the finest pink nipples you could ever imagine."
"I'd heard that about her," said the man who had asked the question.
"I'd pay a shell to see that," said another man.
"Me too."
Looking as pathetic as he could, Malcolm said, "That's not the reason she paid off her indenture so quickly."
The man across from him asked, "Why not?"
"She had the finest pussy that ever graced a woman. She would settle down on top of your cock and milk it without moving. It was the most incredible feeling a man could ever experience. She charged twenty shells for an evening and no man ever wanted his money back," Malcolm said. Every word he said was true. He didn't know how good she was in bed, but he had helped her move.
"You paid twenty shells to sleep with a woman?"
"No. I helped her move when her indenture was over," Malcolm said. His comment was greeted with silence. He waited for the inevitable question and didn't have to wait long.
"So you're saying you know where she lives?"
"Sure do," answered Malcolm. Shaking his head, he said, "I stop by every year and propose to her, but she turns me down every time."
"I'll give you two pinches if you'll tell me where she lives," said one of the men.
"No. If I do that, she'll move and I'll never find her again," said Malcolm. The trap was baited and now all he had to do was wait for the prey to arrive. Standing up, he said, "I'm turning in fellows. Always gets me sad thinking about Rebecca."
Malcolm went to his room and opened the door. He turned around to get a candle when he found Molly standing behind him. She held up a lit candle and said, "You really did know Rebecca?"
"Yes, I do," answered Malcolm carefully putting it into the present tense.
"No wonder you turned me down," she said with a slight frown. She handed him the candle and returned to her chair.
He entered the room and looked around. The bed was a typical woven surface, but this one was loose rather than tight. A chamber pot was under the bed exactly where he expected it. He slid the bar that would keep the door closed while he slept into place.
Even though he was confident that he wouldn't be disturbed, he placed his axe and knife where he could grab them in the dark. He lay down on the bed and blew out his candle. From inside his room he could hear the murmur and tone of the conversations in the public room. It was clear that opinion was divided over whether he actually knew Rebecca of Silver Town.
It was early morning when he woke. There'd been a few interruptions during the night as people knocked on his door wanting to learn more about Rebecca. He had ignored the attempts to get his attention, but it meant that he had passed a miserable night. Getting out of bed, he went to the door and opened it. The place was closed and the owner was nowhere to be seen.
Walking towards the back door that would take him to the outhouse, he could hear snoring from inside the room with the fish on the door. He guessed that Molly had found an overnight customer. He went out back and located the outhouse without much difficulty. He did his business and found the well. Pulling up a bucket of water, he washed his hands and face.
The opening of the backdoor interrupted his bath. Turning, he spotted the owner stepping out. The man grunted in his direction while briskly walking over to the outhouse. Malcolm wondered if the man had a family. His question was answered when a young man stepped out the backdoor to collect some wood. The family resemblance was unmistakable.
Malcolm returned to the inn and headed towards the public room. He could hear sounds coming from the wall behind the bar. It sounded like someone was building a fire in the fireplace. The lack of iron made a stove an expensive proposition and he'd never seen one in all of his travels. Most cookware was made of copper, although there were some cast iron pots and pans.
He sat down at the table to wait for the owner to serve breakfast. Undoubtedly, breakfast would be cheese and bread served with tea in a pewter tankard. He hadn't been there long before the door with the fish opened and one of the men from the night before dashed out the back. Smiling, he shook his head.
The owner came in and asked, "Care for some boiled eggs and bread?"
Surprised by the fare, Malcolm answered, "That would be fine."
"It'll take a while. Still have to boil the eggs," said the man as he went behind the bar.
"No problem."
The owner was silent for a moment and then asked, "Do you really know Rebecca?"
"Yes, I do know her. She's a very lovely woman with a heart of gold."
The man shook his head and said, "I'd give almost everything I own to sleep with her."
It seemed to Malcolm that every place and time had a sex symbol that represented everything that a man could possibly want in a woman. Despite her extra pair of breasts, Rebecca was that woman and she well deserved that honor. Her hair was the color of honey, her eyes a deep emerald green, and her fair skin was unblemished. Talking with her was a pleasure. Her voice reminded men of nightingales. Her laugh was easy on the ears and came even easier to her lips. If he hadn't known Alice, Malcolm knew that she would have been the one woman with whom he could have fallen in love.
A woman's voice interrupted his memories. "How did you know her?"
"I was working as a bodyguard on a job up in Silver Town about the time when Rebecca finished her indenture. The lady I was escorting knew Rebecca and agreed to help her move away from there. So it came to pass that I ended up driving the wagon with all of Rebecca's possessions to her new home," answered Malcolm. Rebecca had helped the Damsel in Distress he had rescued. The Damsel felt she owed the woman more than she could ever pay. Despite the fact that men were looking for her, she had demanded that Malcolm help her friend. Malcolm accepted, knowing that Cassandra was not the only source of Damsels in Distress.
"You sound like you love her," said Molly.
"Yeah, I guess I do," Malcolm said. He stopped by to visit Rebecca whenever he could. The fact was that he hated using her as the bait in his trap.
After breakfast, Malcolm left the inn. He had a day to kill and went about doing it in a manner that wouldn't raise suspicion. His first stop was the general store. Looking around it, he noticed the ceramic jars that held herbal remedies. On one of them was the painted image of a poppy. The proprietor of the store came over and asked, "Could I help you?"
"I'd like five balls of opium," answered Malcolm pointing to the jar.
"Five balls? That seems like a lot," the man said.
"I'm going into the back country. If I get hurt, that's all I'll have to ease the pain," replied Malcolm.
The man counted out five balls of opium, putting them in a piece of folded paper. Once that was done, the man said, "Be careful with this stuff. You can get addicted to it. Will you need a pipe?"
"No."
"Is there anything else?"
"I'll be gone for a long time. Is it possible to get a smoked ham around here?" Malcolm asked.
"I've got three in the back. They're even in cloth bags that you can use once you finish the ham."
"Excellent, I'll take one of them."
The man disappeared for a minute before returning with a good- sized ham. Malcolm nodded his head pleased with what he saw. Turning to point to the wall, he asked, "That net. How big is it?"
"It is five paces long and two paces wide."
"Is that the only one you have?"
"Yes."
Deciding that it wouldn't work for his intended purpose, Malcolm said, "I'm tempted, but it is too big."
"You can always cut it down to size."
"Last time I did that, I ended up without a net," replied Malcolm with a laugh.
The proprietor laughed at the image of the net unraveling. He asked, "Anything else?"
"Ten pounds of lead."
"Ten?"
"Yes, ten pounds of lead," answered Malcolm. He figured that ten pounds would be sufficient weight to trigger any traps he might encounter.
"Not sure that I have enough. Let me check," said the proprietor. He had no idea what a man was going to do with that much lead, but this was promising to be a big sale.
Malcolm wandered around the store checking out the other goods contained within it. For a small store, there were lots of different items. The proprietor came out and said, "I've got three three- pound ingots. Will that do?"
"Sure. That'll be fine."
"Anything else?"
"Nope, that'll do it for now."
Malcolm paid for his purchases and carried them back to the inn. He dropped the ham, rope, and opium in his room. He went on to the blacksmith with his nine pounds of lead. The blacksmith was a huge man, with arms the size of tree trunks. He looked over at Malcolm and asked, "What can I do for you?"
"I want these three bars of lead turned into a disk with a hole in the middle. Can you do it?"
"Why would you want that?" asked the man confused by the request.
"I've got my reasons," Malcolm said.
"It'll take most of a day and cost three pinches."
"Fine. I'll pick it up before dark."
Malcolm left the lead at the blacksmith and returned to the inn. He'd eaten up the morning, but that still left the afternoon to kill. Picking up the ham, he cut five large chunks of meat out of it. Cutting a deep slit into each piece of ham, he spread a ball of opium inside each one. He put the chunks in the cloth bag in which the ham had been packed.
It was early in the evening and Malcolm was drinking watered wine when a slick wealthy looking young man slithered into the inn. The conversation, which had been boisterous at times, died with his arrival. It was as if everyone in the room knew something was the matter with the man.
Malcolm didn't need to be introduced to the man to know he was Derek. He had known the man would come upon learning that someone in town knew the location of Rebecca of Silver Town. Malcolm knew that the only thing that could overcome Derek's paranoia was his lust.
The man looked over at Malcolm with a sneer on his face. He examined the man seated at the table and dismissed him as a real threat. The battle-ax looked too big for the man to wield effectively and was too small to be intimidating. He knew that with the right distance between the two of them, he could gut the man with his sword and never be in danger.
Derek walked over to where Malcolm was seated and, in a condescending voice, asked, "Are you the one who knows where Rebecca lives?"
"Yes," answered Malcolm. He examined the shiny black leather clothes the man wore. They were an ostentatious symbol of wealth, as was the very fancy sword hanging in the scabbard at his waist.
"Tell me where she lives," Derek said.
"No."
"I'll give you a conch if you tell me."
"No," answered Derek with a dismissive shake of his head.
"I won't take no for an answer," said Derek angrily. He was not used to men denying him anything he wanted.
"That's too bad, because I won't give yes as an answer," said Malcolm as he took a drink from his tankard with his left hand.
Derek noticed the use of the left-hand and leaned over the table so that his face was inches from Malcolm's face. In a low threatening voice, he said, "You'll tell me now or I'll carve little chunks out of your body until you talk."
Weight loss jokes would not be understood, so Malcolm did the next best thing and laughed. Still laughing, he slammed the tankard down on the table and echoed, "You'll carve little chunks out of my body. That's funny."
Furious, Derek stepped back and drew his sword. With his opponent trapped behind a table and basically defenseless, he felt confident that he would win. A couple of strokes with his sword and the man would be helpless before him.
Malcolm stood and pulled out his ax using his left hand. Every motion he made announced that he had no skill with the ax. He held it awkwardly with the head at an odd angle. Using the flat of his blade, Derek knocked the ax out of his hand and stepped forward so that only the table separated them. In a low guttural voice, he said, "You're gonna beg..."
Malcolm pulled his knife out of the other man's stomach and stepped back. Derek, with a very surprised look on his face, collapsed on the table. Black blood pooled on the table beneath and around his body. Looking down at the man, Malcolm said, "You were watching the wrong hand."
Stepping away from the table, Malcolm picked up his ax and returned it to his belt with a practiced flourish. His actions convinced everyone that his awkwardness with the ax had been a sham intended to fool Derek. He looked around the room to see if there was anyone who wanted to challenge him.
It was Molly who broke the silence in the room. In a scornful voice, she said, "He was a real creep. He liked to hurt women."
Returning to the body on the table, Malcolm stripped it of money and
weapons. Among the personal items were a couple of keys. He took those
as well. One of the men said, "He's got a place down the road. You'll
want to go there tomorrow and claim it."