As I continued to travel on through the night, I thought more and more about the three riders who had passed me. While I had not had much time to study them in the fading light as they passed by, I had come away with a few impressions. The horses they rode were of fine stock and were lathered, indicating that this trio had been traveling fast for some time. All three riders were dressed in finer clothes than one would expect this far off the beaten path. Their clothes would better fit in a larger town or the capitol. I could not be sure but it seemed that one of them might have been a woman. Something about them made me uneasy. Maybe it was just because they seemed so out of place.
I began to rethink my plan for holing up for the morning to sleep for half the day before I ventured on into the village of Treebles. I worried that one or more of the trio of riders might double back and take notice of me. Why I thought I would be important to them was beside the point. When the morning sun began to rise, I pulled the team over off the road to let them rest and fixed myself a cold breakfast. Carz bounded off into the field next to the road, and while I ate, I could see he was in his hunting form. I watched him drop down and become still, only his tail occasionally twitching. Suddenly he rushed forward, there was a flurry of activity with him racing this way and that, and just as suddenly he was still again. He had obviously caught something. Carz was really good about sharing his catches with me but sometimes his taste in dinner and mine differed. As he came towards me with a small rodent hanging out of his mouth, I knew I was going to insist he help himself to this one. Really, I was full. Carz presented me with his catch, and I thanked him but said I had eaten. He gave me his quizzical look as if to ask, “Are you sure?” and to say “You really don’t know what you’re missing.” I definitely knew what I was missing, and it was quite alright with me that I missed it.
I decided after our breakfast break to travel on. Both of the horses were tiring I knew, but it would be easier to pull into the village near noon with fewer questions raised than risk stopping now and having someone come upon me sleeping the morning away. Rovers are known as industrious folk, and it would not fit the image if I were lollygagging. I knew I would be very tired, but hopefully no one would question my going to bed early the night before a market day. Thomas and I had picked the village of Treebles to be my first stop because it was on one of the smaller roads and not in direct line down the coast from our village. It was a hard choice to bypass the village directly down the coast from our village because it was the most logical place for Da to connect with me if he could. However, it was also the most risky, because it was a safe harbor where some of the fishers and trawlers I knew put in, and they would certainly recognize me. It would not do to have gone to so much trouble to head out of town on the sly only to be greeted by Jens or Erik in the market.
Not long after starting out after breakfast, I came to the crossroads. I took the road to the left which would lead me inland away from the coast. This was a secondary road and less well traveled, but would take me where I wanted to go. I still felt uneasy about the riders that had passed me. I hoped by going to Treebles, if for some reason they were connected with Da’s disappearance and were looking for me, although I could not think of a reason why they might be, then they would not think to look for me on the secondary roads or in the smaller markets. Hopefully Da would follow the same logic, thinking I would not rush straight down the coast to the town of Tverdal.
I knew I was getting closer to Treebles because the land became less wild and farmsteads began to sparsely dot the landscape. Hedgerows started to line the lane and I could see sheep dotting the hills. Even just this little farther south and away from the sea, the land showed a marked difference in the progression of spring. Here, farmers had begun planting and some flowers were beginning to bloom. The trees were further leafed out than at home. Soon I could see the village atop a small rise ahead of me.
As villages went, it was larger than the one I came from but could not be called a town. While the village did not have a wall around it, it did have a high gate I needed to pass through to continue to travel the main lane and get to the village green where the market would be held. Colorful pennants flew from the gate as was the custom on market day. As I approached the gate, I slowed the team, noticing there was a gatekeeper. Good, I thought, perhaps he or she would know where I should set up my booth and where I should put the homewagon. The gatekeeper stepped out of the shade where he had been sitting and approached the homewagon as I pulled to a halt.
“Good day to you, sir,” I said in greeting.
“Good day to you, young rover, and welcome to Treebles. Come for our market, have you? ’Tis tomorrow you know.”
“Aye, but yours is a new market for me, and I wanted to get here early to set up.”
“A good plan, yes indeed, a good plan. I expect we will be seeing others heading in all afternoon for this is the first major market day of the spring and folk have been thinking all winter about what they might need. While things get made and mended during the cold months, they also get broken. Now you head right into the village green and set up by the really big maple. That will give you shade during the day. Once you drop your cart off, keep going on through the village and take the first lane south just a short ways. You’ll see a field next to a stand of tall pines. You can camp there. Just stake your horses out. Never had any problems with folks bothering either the horses or the wagons there. It’s on old Farmer Josh’s land and his cottage overlooks the field. He’ll keep an eye on things.”
“I thank you for your directions. What about water and the possibility of getting a bath?” I asked.
“There’s an old spring just a few meters into the pines that should do you well for water for both you and the horses. We don’t have a public bathhouse so you’re stuck with cold spring water,” he replied. “Don’t envy you that washing up, because if I remember right, that spring is mighty cold. You can make a fire pit as long as you cover it up when you leave. Firewood aplenty in the pine woods, so feel free to help yourself. So what name do you go by and what will you be selling?”
I almost said Arial and had even started the “A” out of my mouth when suddenly I changed my mind and changed the “A” of Arial to the “A” in Anissasdatter. “A-Anissasdatter,” I replied, “Anissa Anissasdatter but everyone calls me Nissa.” Hopefully he did not catch my stumble over my new name. I was not very practiced at this disguise business. “I’m a woodworker so I have fine woodwork, can do wood repairs, and also I’m carrying a good supply of herbs and medicines.”
I remember Da always telling me to keep conversations simple and give only what is asked for. No need to embellish he would tell me. That seemed prudent here. Now the only thing I needed to remember was my name.
Following the gatekeeper’s directions, I drove the homewagon to the village green and pulled up next to the big maple tree. Some booths had already been set up. While the maple tree gave the advantage of shade, it was not an ideal location. I am sure the gatekeeper had put me here because I was new and others had their spots from year to year which he saved for them. That was really fine with me. Being on the edge of the market gave me some sense of cover. While it may mean fewer folks might visit my booth, it also made me less noticeable. If I were entering the rover’s life for real, and came back to this village, I would try to wrangle a better spot. Since I was hoping Da would find me, and if he were trying to do so unnoticed, this spot by the maple would suit a rendezvous just fine.
Once I had the cart placed and situated, ready to open up as a booth in the morning, I drove out to the camping area. I was surprised to see that a number of tents had been set up, and some cook fires had pots of delicious-smelling food hanging over them. Carz, who had been napping at my feet, suddenly sat up and looked interested in his surroundings.
“Now don’t you go mooching at those tents, you rascal. I know your ways. These folks don’t know you like the villagers back home. Besides, we are trying not to be too noticeable.”
Carz gave me a look which suggested I had just insulted his intelligence, and perhaps I had. It had not occurred to me that while I had changed the look of the homewagon, my look and name, I had not given thought to the fact that a hunting cat is not a usual companion. Traveling with dogs or cats is commonplace, but traveling with a hunting cat is not. Not unheard of by any means, but still not ordinary. Well, there was no help for it. Hopefully if anyone discovers I have left the village, they might not know about Carz, and connect a young rover named Nissa who travels with a hunting cat to Da’s daughter named Arial who has a hunting cat as a companion. There was no sense in fretting about that now. Besides I would not have left Carz at home, and I have the sense that he would not have stayed there if I had left him.
The advantage of having a home on wheels is soon apparent when stopping for the night or leaving in the morning. It takes very little to set up or break down camp. I pulled the homewagon in close to the pine trees and set about getting the horses settled. After pulling the homewagon for almost a day and a half straight, I knew they had to be tired and sore. I checked them to make sure the tack had not rubbed either of them raw in places and checked their hooves for stones or cracks. Despite their soft living over the past few years, they lived up to the promise of their sturdy breed. I put them out on a long tether, groomed and watered them, and gave each several handfuls of grain. Once they were cared for, I found my turf shovel, peeled back a square of grass, set it aside, and scooped out a fire pit. I lay a fire but did not light it, for I had other chores that needed to be done first.
Before I looked to my own comfort and hauled water for cooking and washing, I headed up a path that led to the cottage of the man the gatekeeper had called old Farmer Josh. I remembered that rover tradition stated that if you camped on someone’s land, you offered payment for the privilege. Not so much in coin of the realm, but in work or trade. An older man was sitting on the porch of his cottage, rocking gently back and forth, petting the cat on his lap.
“Are you Farmer Josh?” I called from his front gate.
“Aye,” he answered, continuing to rock slowly back and forth.
“I’ve come to thank you for your kindness in offering a place to camp and to see if there is anything I can do to repay you.”
“You see all those folks camped below in my field?” he asked, pointing a gnarled finger in the direction from which I had come. “Not one of them has been up this hill to bring either thanks or offers of help. These new travelers and day traders don’t have the manners of a goat. Glad to know the rovers stick to the old ways. Come on up here lass and set a spell. You can repay me by keeping an old man company and listening to me ramble on about the good old days. You any good at brewing a tasty cup of tea?”
Listening to an old man ramble can be very educational. I learned about the personalities of the village, who to get the best berry tarts from at the market, who to avoid, and a run down on others in the campsite. I was beginning to understand why rovers would be good information gatherers. I stayed about an hour, fixed Farmer Josh several cups of tea, and left with a promise that I would be back the next day. I thought when I returned I would bring back a berry tart for him. It would not be hot, but even cold it would be a treat. I thought I might bring Carz up with me for Farmer Josh might enjoy meeting him. Carz might help rid his place of any vermin his house cats found too big to handle.
By the time I left Farmer Josh’s porch, the way back to the campsite felt longer than the way to his porch had been. It was then I realized how very tired I was, which was not surprising since I had been up more than a full day. I responded to the friendly greetings of several of the other campers as I walked by their cook fires. After locating the spring and hauling water for the horses, topping off the water barrels on the homewagon, and bringing a bucket up to use as dishwater and wash water, I lit a small fire and cooked a hot meal of vegetable stew. Carz took care of his own meal, for which I was grateful.
I washed up and headed in to bed, this time not needing a reminder to let down the Neebing door. As exhausted as I was, sleep did not come easily, and it was not until the campsite had settled down to scattered quiet conversations that I drifted off to sleep. I awoke to the sounds of the camp stirring at first light. Once I had dressed and washed up, I began to think about Carz. What would be best for him? Would he be better off here at the homewagon or with me at the market? Standing there leaning against the homewagon drinking a strong cup of tea, I happened to glance up at Farmer Josh’s cottage and could see him sitting on the porch. Seeing him reminded me of the idea that had occurred to me the night before.
“Carz, my friend, how would you like to earn our keep?” I said, as if I fully expected him to understand. “You could spend the day with Farmer Josh, catch a few rabbits that are plaguing his garden, and keep him company. What do you think?”
To my amazement, Carz stood up, stretched his front legs way out, arched his back as if stretching his spine, and began heading towards Farmer Josh’s cottage. After I picked my jaw up off the ground, I quickly hurried after him.
“Nissa,” Farmer Josh called out as I approached. “Didn’t expect to see you ’til after the market closed. Who’s your friend here? I thought I had seen a flash of silver fur last night, but these old eyes can play tricks on me. Had me a hunting cat friend when I was about your age. Ah, that brings back memories.”
“Farmer Josh, may I introduce you to Carz?” I said. To my amazement, Carz walked right up on the porch, sat in front of Farmer Josh, and put a paw on his knee. “I was wondering if Carz might spend the day with you.”
“I’d be delighted to spend the day with Carz if he wishes to stay. Now don’t you worry none, he and I will watch over your homewagon and have us a fine old time. You have yourself a profitable day now, and we’ll see you later.”
I headed down the hill with very mixed feelings. I was glad Carz was going to spend the day with Farmer Josh, and yet I felt just a little bit jealous that Carz would so easily leave me to spend the day with another. Then again, I did not own Carz. He had chosen to spend his short life with me so far, but that did not mean he would always do so. That was a sobering thought. It was time, however, to go see if I could earn my keep. Though I was on the road to find Da, I needed to really be a rover and make a living in order to keep Carz, the horses, and myself in food and supplies.
The short walk into the village was enough time for me to shake off my melancholy. It was time to set up the booth and get to work. The cart converted easily into a booth. I quickly attached the canvas awning to the side of the cart and propped it up with poles I held in place with guy ropes and stakes. I pulled boards out from under the cart and attached them to form an L-shaped countertop for the display of goods. In the open side of the L-shaped countertop, I set up my turning lathe. Working on a project often attracted customers. During times of no customers, the work helped the hours go by and helped restock my wares.
I hung out my sign, artfully placed samples of my wares both wood and herbal on the counter, and sat down to wait. During the previous afternoon and evening more booths and sales tents had been set up, filling the village green. Besides dry goods, there were food tents, and a farmer’s market featuring honey, early tubers, and other products including seeds and flowers. After the long cold months, this first market day of the spring took on the feeling of a festive fair. Soon the air was filled with the sounds of haggling and the smells of roasting meat and sizzling fruit tarts.
A number of folks came by the booth. I really did not expect to sell any of the puzzle boxes for they were more likely to catch someone’s eye at a large fair or in a large town where coin was more available. Folk in small villages lived closer to the bone and looked for more useful and practical items. Where coin was scarce, barter was the more usual way to make a transaction. The tavern owner stopped by the booth and brought several tankards to be repaired in exchange for the evening meal and a bag of meat scraps. I sold a bowl for coin and the baker exchanged a small bag of flour for several packets of Nana’s dill and rosemary. One of the farmers offered a bag of barley for two beautiful bowls. Said he wanted them for his daughter’s hope chest. All in all, a much better day than I had expected. The market closed late in the afternoon. I packed up a little early, hoping I could still get a berry tart or two for Farmer Josh and myself. I got the last four and still had a bit of coin left to jingle in my pocket.
I stopped in at the tavern to get an evening meal and deliver the repaired tankards. The tavern owner was pleased with my work and settled me at a small table in the corner with a huge bowl of venison stew and a large hunk of fresh bread. As I ate, more folk wandered in. At first I paid little attention to the conversation swirling around me, but suddenly I overheard the talk of two men sitting several tables down.
“You see those three that were in the village yesterday?”
“Aye, pretty fancy dress for hereabouts. Strange sort, don’t you think? Seems like they were looking for something.”
“More like somebody, I’d say.”
“Saw them talking to the blacksmith and then they left town in a hurry. Most curious.”
Just then a large group entered the tavern, and the noise level rose so I could not hear the men anymore. The two men finished their dinner and departed. I could not help but wonder if those folk they were talking about were the three riders I had seen on the road. What had they learned, if anything, from the blacksmith that had sent them from the village so fast? I did not think it prudent to ask the blacksmith. That might draw more attention to myself than was safe.
I thanked the tavern owner for a fine meal, stopped by to check that the cart was secure, and headed back to the campsite. It was fairly quiet for most of the others looked like they had stayed in town. I headed up to Farmer Josh’s. He was where I had left him that morning, seated on his porch with Carz at his feet.
“Brought you a couple of those berry tarts. They’re cold but still good,” I told him in greeting. “And for you, Carz, some fine meat scraps, thanks to a good repair job and a generous tavern owner.”
Farmer Josh ate his berry tarts with relish and said it was a fine end to a great meal. He had had roast rabbit, thanks to Carz. Farmer Josh had roasted a second rabbit and wrapped it good he said.
“You take it with you. You have it for tomorrow. Sure have enjoyed your company and I’ll be sorry to see you go. If you get to the village of Bransbury, you ask for Farmer Ned Fairwalker’s farm. You tell him you’re a friend of ol’ Josh and he’ll give you a safe place to camp.”
I stayed with Farmer Josh ’til well after dark before heading back to the homewagon. I think my heart settled back into place when I opened Farmer Josh’s gate and Carz slipped through first, leading the way down the path. I had worried just a little bit that he might have wanted to stay with Farmer Josh. Now all I had to do was check the Neebing doors before going to bed.