Welcome back to Silvanus and Empire, my previously unpublished novel that I'm releasing, chapter by chapter, on Steemit! Last time, Caddoc and Lyrinn forged an uneasy friendship. Now, Caddoc reaches out to more of the people living in Annex.
Silvanus and Empire
Chapter Six
Image from Shawn Lovell Metalworks
Though it was right on the Cliffway and was a major stop on the way to market every harvest season, Annex seldom saw strangers come from out of the west. Even rarer still was a new face not only passing through but staying; needless to say that the whole town (such as it was) had plenty to gossip about in the wake of Caddoc Bell’s arrival. In the handful of days since the young scribe had appeared over the hill and trudged down to Old Oren’s barn, the wonders had been one after the other. First and foremost was Caddoc’s early morning visit to Master Miller to borrow a ladder; shortly thereafter, there was new thatch on the barn’s roof. Since the old one had possessed more holes than a fishing net, Caddoc’s ugly patch job was seen as a marked improvement. Then, the young man went over to the nearest farm and returned with a loaned hoe, tack, harness, and plow. The next day, Old Oren’s long-neglected garden had been weeded and set in neat rows, the ground turned over in preparation for spring planting. The braying of Caddoc’s mule was heard long and loudly that day - along with some very ungentlemanly curses – as the recalcitrant beast served as a plowhorse.
Most shocking was today’s revelation however. Dafydd had been working in the forge as usual that afternoon, and since the weather was finally seasonable he’d left the wide front door open so he wouldn’t roast his son as he worked the bellows. This was the first season that little Einion was old enough to begin learning the family trade, and so it was the dark haired little boy who first saw the curl of smoke rising above Old Oren’s Barn.
Dafydd let out a shout that sent Einion running off to tell the rest of town. “There’s a fire at th’barn! Raise whoever y’can, me boyo. We let those old scrolls burn and we’d might as well throw ourselves on the fire.” Einion, bless his heart, set off down the footpath to the roadhouse as quick as his little legs could take him. Dafydd went in the opposite direction, bellowing for a bucket brigade.
Other townsfolk had seen the smoke as well at this point. All the able-bodied men (and more than a few women) had grabbed anything that could hold water and began rushing down the Cliffway towards the barn. None of them spoke; they simply looked at each other and shared the same thought: better to risk some burns than to give His Holiness an excuse to vent his spleen against us for doing nothing while his tax records burnt to cinders.
Nearly half of Annex came around the bend to the barn, and as Dafydd was in the vanguard with the healthier and fitter townsfolk he was one of the first to see not a flaming mass of wreckage but smoke rising peacefully from a jagged hole at the top of the barn’s stone silo. “Hoy!” he shouted. "Where’s the fire?” His confused cry was echoed by the crowd.
At that moment young Caddoc stepped outside, carrying an armful of broken stone and splintered wood. He seemed remarkably calm for someone fleeing from a burning building.
“Well!” he exclaimed upon catching sight of the group of worried-looking townsfolk, armed with overflowing buckets and cooking pots. He called back into the barn. “Scribe Oren! We’d better put out a few more places for supper this evening.”
“What’s that my boy? Oh!” Oren appeared in the doorway with a look of vague consternation on his face. “What are you all doing here? Is there some sort of emergency?”
“Emergency!?” someone in the crowd cried out. “Yer barn’s on fire!”
Caddoc set his armful of debris down next to him. “I think they mean our new fireplace, Scribe Oren.” The crowd broke into a cacophony of puzzled conversation at his innocuous comment.
“Wot’d ‘ee say? Fireplace?”
“The old owl’s gone barmy!”
“You mean there’s no fire?”
Old Oren waved his arms at the crowd expansively. The bell sleeves of his coarse woolen robe flapped in the wind. “No, my good people of Annex, there is no conflagration!”
Another voice, from the anonymity of the crowd, rung out: “Bugger that, ya old coot, is there a fire er not?” Oren turned bright red in the face and was about to shake his fist at the crowd when Caddoc stepped forward.
“No, my friends, there’s no danger of the Depository burning down today. It’s just the smoke from our new fireplace, which I venture to guess that you all assumed was from the barn burning down?” There was a general murmur of assent from the crowd.
Dafydd stepped forward, easily parting the crowd. “I’m sorry, but I just dinna understand. Yer sayin’ y’built a fireplace in th’barn?” The crowd began to disperse slowly.
“No, good sir, we most certainly did not. What we did, however, was clean out the barn’s old feed chute. It leads up to the silo, and I just had to clear the debris out. The top of the silo was already long gone, after all, and with the help of Master Miller’s trusty ladder, it was quite easy to get up there."
“Yes, I would have done it years ago,” Scribe Oren said, having sufficiently recovered his composure, “but with my bad back there was no way I could ever have. Oh, Apprentice Bell has indeed been a blessing upon this community! He will be a fine scribe, as long as he follows my advice,” he said. Caddoc looked away for a moment.
Dafydd was looking up at the broken crown of the silo. It looked like a jagged ring of stone teeth. “Y’know, Scribe Oren, if yer thinkin’ of puttin’ a cap on that silo t’make a prappa chimney, keep th’rain off an’all that-“
“Why, Master Smith, what a wonderful gesture of fellowship!” Oren strode through the now rapidly thinning crowd and clapped the big man on the back. It sounded like a wet fish hitting a solid block of stone. “You’re a credit to the Holy Empire, good sir. A pious subject of His Holiness knows they live in constant debt to both Him and His appointed servants, and since the Depository is invaluable to the Holy Empire, it would be unseemly for good Master Smith to expect payment in return for his fine workmanship.”
Dafydd looked at Oren with half-lidded eyes. Why oh why did I open my big fat mouth? he thought. “Of course, Scribe,” he said slowly. “Anythin’ for ‘is ‘oliness’ appointed servants.”
“Splendid! Apprentice Bell, my boy, please arrange the particulars with Master Smith.” He nodded to Caddoc, clapped a hand on Dafydd’s meaty shoulder one last time, and then disappeared back into the barn.
The yard was now empty, save for Dafydd and Caddoc. Two different people you could not find in all of Annex at that moment; the blacksmith was short, broad-shouldered, and ruddy-skinned from the heat of the fire, and Caddoc in comparison was a tall, thin, pale milkweed. He shook his head at the older scribe’s retreating back.
“I’m sorry, Master Smith,” Caddoc said. “You should not have to do work for free.”
Dafydd sighed. “That’s kind of ye t’say that, ‘prentice Bell.” He shook his head. “But I’m across th’river an’ past the markers now. Once Old Oren gets ‘is meat’ooks in ya y’might as well jest roll over.”
“Please, call me Caddoc.” The scribe glanced towards the barn for a moment before dropping his voice. “I’ll see what I can do about His Nibs. I won’t have him run roughshod over you. If you won’t accept money, there must be something we can give you in exchange. Is there anything you need that would be worth the amount of work involved in making us a chimney?”
Dafydd shifted from foot to foot. “Well,” he said finally, not meeting Caddoc’s gaze, “I’ve never… that is… well, there’s one thing, but I dinna think my work’s worth quite as much as what I’d like….”
“If it is within my power, I’ll do my best to give it to you. Come, tell me, what is it that you’d like in return?”
Dafydd bit his lip. He looked about the yard, ensuring that only Caddoc was in earshot. “I want t’learn m’letters.”
Caddoc blinked. “But… I don’t understand. You can’t… you’re not serious, are you?” Dafydd shook his head silently.
“Well,” Caddoc said, “It looks like we’ll have our work cut out for us. Come, Master Smith, let's discuss this. I'll walk with you back to your forge.”