Hokum

A Goat Named Jed

8

Jack lowered his duffel to the floor.

‘Take your time,’ said Torn, folding his arms while he remained standing by the cupola, ‘All my range weapons are over there.’

Jack was already on rout to where Torn had nodded in reference. Half of one wall was dedicated to shelves and racks sporting various kinds of bows, crossbow-like weapons, slingshots, and other projectile equipment Jack wasn’t entirely sure about.

‘You take me for a range man?’

‘Of course,’ Torn announced a small amused snort, ‘I know the look.’

‘Jack glanced over his shoulder at the man. ‘The look?’

‘Close contact isn’t for all of us.’ Torn eyeballed Jack up and down, making it clear he didn’t think much of his clothing. Jack’s clothes may not have been any fashion Torn was used to viewing, but it was obvious they hadn’t seen much action. Torn would have likely been hard pressed to find anyone with clothes as clean as Jack’s were. Perks of living in the 20th century. Of course, Jack knew it wouldn’t be long before this primitive world stripped away his clean and crisp appearance.

‘I suppose you’re right,’ said Jack, as he reached out and ran his forefinger along the curve of a metallic bow. He was no metallurgist, but then he didn’t need to be one to know that metal flexible enough it craft a bow wasn’t easy to come by, especially in this era. The metal was cool to the touch, like other metal, but it was grained, seemingly impure, yet the blue-tinted grains seemed to have a type of random yet set pattern to them. It reminded Jack of weapons made of Damascus steel he had seen once on display in one of Earth’s museums. ‘What sort of metal is this, Torn?’

Instead of directly answering the question, Torn let Jack know just how ignorant the question was by asking his own question in response:

‘What far away land are you from, Jack?’

A Goat Named Jed

7

Torn did not lead Jack through the house to the basement. Instead, there was a hatch outside on the ground built into the large stone tiles near the rear wall of the house. The hatch was of double doors that were sealed shut by a large iron bar laid over them. One end of the bar was fixed to the ground tiles by a hinge fixture which was bolted to the stone tiles, the other end was held in place by an iron latch - also bolted to the ground tiles - with a heavy mechanism that Torn unlocked using a large key to release that end of the bar.

There was nothing wrong with keeping ones goods locked up, Jack thought, but this seemed a tad excessive for such a seemingly peaceful little town.

The bulky Blacksmith lifted the iron bar aside as if it were nothing, he opened the double doors, then clambered down into the darkness of his basement. Jack hesitated, but followed cautiously. The daylight from the above opening was ample to guide his way down the crooked staircase to the floor, where he stood patiently until Torn lit a fire inside a meter-wide iron ring cupola in the center of the room.

The large stone basement, covering the area of a small house, had a strong wet-sock odour of mould with a hint of what was possibly urine. The display, however, was impressive: Three walls covered from ceiling to floor in shelves and racks and cabinets displaying the many item Torn had for sale. Hundreds of item were here: Weapons, tools, utensils, all manner of metal-based household items and other things that Jack couldn’t explain off hand. The fourth wall held a wooden arched door, closed, next to which was a dark wood tabletop the size of a dining table, one length of the tabletop was bolted to the wall, the other was supported by logs under both corners. On the table, against the wall, was a bookshelf, and on the opposite side of the table to the door were several timber and iron braced barrels stacked to the ceiling.

Jack stood at first bewildered by what he was looking at. He marvelled at the work it would have taken, not only to dig out a subterranean room like this with nothing but primitive equipment and elbow grease, but how many hours must have gone into the manufacturing of all the crafted metal items on display. Torn had been busy. Sure, Jack knew next to nothing about the world he was in, or the land he was on, or even the surrounding towns or cities, but he still couldn’t help question just what a place like this had any business doing in a town like Greenfalls.

Hell, Jack remembered the words Torn had spoken outside, even the King knows that.

A Goat Named Jed

6

The Blacksmith finally pulled an expression in the form of a curled lip or, as it were, a sneer. He stopped hammering as well, placed his hammer and the item he was working on next to him on a stone bench. He looked at his open kiddie-pool sized fire pit, which was barely producing any heat at all at the moment, he regarded his house as if it were holding secret value, and then he slightly nodded in direction of a small establishment across the street next to the stables. Above the door of that building was a sign that read Amber Wears.

‘Amber deals in leather goods, amongst other things,’ told the blacksmith, then gave Jack a curious, if not condescending, look. ‘And unless your senses are dull and your brain is slow then it should be obvious that my forge is not at full capacity today.’

Jack was slightly off-balanced by this, he wasn’t expecting to have his intelligence insulted by the brute who was turning out to be smarter than Jack had first given him credit for.

The Blacksmith continued. ‘My hearth is in use two or three full days each week when the boys are available to keep it fully heated, everyone around here knows that. Hell, even the King knows that. If you want to place an order in, I’ll get to it eventually.’

‘Right, of course,’ said Jack, eyeing the fire pit - or hearth, apparently - then glanced over at the large furnace on the far side of the yard. Though the hearth was dwindling in heat, the furnace appeared to be full charge, smoke billowing from its roof.

‘But if you want to look at what I have in stock,’ added the Blacksmith, ‘we can venture into my basement.’ His final words stopped short with a severe dead look into Jack’s eyes. ‘That is if you have the coin.’

‘I have a means to pay you, yes,’ replied Jack, though he wasn’t sure the man would accept it.

‘Then follow me.’

Jack nodded, started to follow, and said, ‘Name’s Jack. And you are?’

‘Folk call me Torn.’

A Goat Named Jed

5

The woman that had been seen walking toward the Blacksmith before Jack entered town, had since disappeared into the Blacksmiths stone-walled and slate-tile roof home. It was the only building in town - far as Jack had seen - to be constructed of the same materials as what he thought was the local tavern, the same he now knew as Greenfalls Inn. Considering this, and the fact that the woman appeared, at least from a distance, to be about the same age as the Blacksmith, he figured it would a safe assumption that she and the Blacksmith were married, or at least a couple. And, of course, Jack being a man who did what he could to win the favour of people he intended to conduct business with, he also decided that using this knowledge of the pair and their home would be a good start to getting a fair deal. Nothing like a well placed compliment to curry favour.

‘Greetings there!’ Jack declared to the blacksmith with a smile as he stepped into the sheltered work area alongside the house, ‘I see both your house and your wife are made of the finest materials, you must be a man of great taste!’

It was only as Jack finished saying these exact words that he realised the many ways it could go wrong. Accordingly, he took a step back out arms reach of the large man.

The Blacksmith, who hadn’t yet taken his eyes off Jack since he started conversing with the guard, continued to stare deadpan at the stranger, not a move or even so much as a flicker of an eye to suggest he was in the slightest way affected by Jack’s approach or his choice of words. He actually stood staring for an uncomfortable amount of time, causing Jack to wonder if he should just walk away, before, at last, he did reply in a flat, candid manner.

‘If you desire my wife for the night, I’m willing to work a deal, but you will be escorting her to the Inn. No shenanigans in my home, you hear? Besides,’ he finished, while turning back to the anvil and raising his hammer for another strike at his current job, ‘I don’t care much for watching.’

Jack was a tad set back by this response, it wasn’t expected in the least. He watched on, jaw slightly dropped, and blinking each time the Blacksmiths hammer connected.

‘That isn’t actually what I was after,’ said Jack between strikes of the hammer, ‘I was just saying… good taste you have. You know, that sort of thing.” He shook his head and decided on forsaking any further explanation. ‘I actually just came over to see if I could have you forge me a weapon. Or maybe you have one ready for sale? I’m also looking for a leatherworker, if you know anyone.’

A Goat Named Jed

4

Relative as age can be in a medieval era, the guard was not a young man, perhaps in his 40’s and having at least a good ten years on Jack. His hair was short, on the redder side of auburn with no real style to it, his eyes were slitted and green, providing a naturally accusing stare, and his features basically matched his body type; broad, thick and strong. Somehow defiant of these brutish features was the man’s recent and surprisingly clean-shaven and rather soft skin, unblemished and void of any visible scarring, which Jack thought was a curious quality for a man in his profession. Either he was very good at his job, or just didn’t get much action. In fact, at least appearance-wise, it would have seemed more fitting for the blacksmith and this guard to have traded places.

In any case, the guard was likely not the smartest guy around, taking way too long to deliberate on what Jack had said. His initial reply was a long cold stare of his accusing eyes, followed up by a deep irritated groan, and then tempered with a loud grind of his teeth. His hands did not show any signs of leaving the grip of his sword.

‘You know, work?’ Jack clarified, giving a quick, uneasy glance at the blacksmith who continued to stare on without expression. ‘Money? Coin? Occupation? Making a living for one’s self. You are aware of this concept, right?’

‘I know of no work in Greenfalls,’ said the guard finally, forcing yet a deeper tone, ‘Ask at the Greenfalls Inn – and watch your behaviour while you’re here! I’ll be keeping a watch over you, stranger.’

Jack smiled his reply, slightly amused by the guard’s choice of words. ‘Well, thank you for watching over me, sir. Having a guardian may come in handy.’

The guard appeared very confused by this. His hands remained braced to his sword and eyes followed Jack as he walked away.

A Goat Named Jed

3

Meanwhile, the Blacksmith, his place of work now just several meters away, stopped what he was doing to stare on at Jack’s interaction with the guard. As normally expected of a blacksmith, he was a hefty sort, though not the fat kind of hefty. He was dressed in tanned trousers and a brown leather apron that didn’t seem to have done a good job at protecting his tattered yellow-ochre shirt over the years. Matching his tattered shirt was his cold stone face - much of it lost behind a dark beard - though the parts that did show were well scarred. One eye was missing. Nose crooked like it had been broken many times since he was born some 40 years prior.

The guard said, ‘Why are you here, stranger?’ losing not even a portion of the severity in his tone. He was just a tad shorter than Jack, Jack being a few inches north of 6 feet, but the guard more than made up for this with a massive barrel chest, plated with iron armour that seemed to have been forged to conform specifically to the shape of his torso and shoulders. The rest of his duds, a term, Jack later discovered, used to describe a guards uniform, was strikingly similar in design to that of an ancient roman soldier, with a deep red under-tunic, iron Baltea skirting the crotch, and leather sandal-like footwear. The guard however wore no helmet and held no shield. Both hands were gripped at the ready to the hilt of the very large swords sheathed and hanging from his metal hip belt.

Jack wasn’t really feeling threatened at all. He could take care of a lone guard with a sword if need be and had in his life been confronted by much scarier personalities, such as the tiny winged beast he had encountered in the woods only 15 minutes earlier. So he smiled for the guard, slightly, consciously making an effort not to come across as patronising.

‘No need for that,’ he said, glancing to the guard's sword, ‘I’m just a traveller passing through, maybe up for some work if there is any coin to be made here.’

A Goat Named Jed

2

Other villagers came into view as Jack moved from the bridge. Two children appeared from behind the grass roofed living quarters next to the stable, maybe eight years of age, a boy and a girl playing some unfamiliar game involving a stick with a ball attached to its end. They stopped playing when they saw Jack, both of them standing still as if mesmerised, the boys mesmerisation was mixed with distrust, the girls with mocking amusement. By the shift of her eyes to glance past Jack, she must have known what was coming –

‘You there! Stand!’

Jack stopped abruptly, stood for a moment as commanded, and then turned to see the speaker was a town guard. The guard had stepped out from behind a tree that loomed by the gate of the mill.

‘I am standing,’ said Jack, and heard the young girl snicker behind him. He then heard both children scamper off, likely to find a new, safer place to play.

A Goat Named Jed

1

The walk to town wasn’t long, no more than ten minutes, and Jack passed no other travellers along the way. The medieval-like village, as would be an apt description, was actually quite spectacular, if not modest. A quaint, pretty riverside community with a backdrop of forested mountains that rose to jagged rock peaks that towered like stone knives cutting though small islands of fast moving clouds. It may have been windy all those miles high, but there was barely a breeze to be felt at Jack’s level where he stood for a while on the stone bridge at the entrance to the village.

The morning air was fresh, crisp and clear, and the few trees that lined the riverbank did very little in obstructing the pristine view of this pretty hamlet. For the moment he hadn’t been noticed, so he took advantage of that to observe all he could of the buildings and activity before entering.

The main road through town was hard dirt with sparsely laid shades of blueish grey cobbles. Nearest the river, just off to the right of the bridge, was a stone and timber stable that housed a few animals, one of which appeared to be the horse Theolan had been riding, and two other animals of similar size but comparatively different species. Opposite the stables was the gated entry to a timber mill with two great waterwheels. The mill span a portion of the left riverbank and up behind what looked like a Blacksmith establishment. Beyond the blacksmith and stable was a mix of both homes and other businesses, most of the buildings constructed of timber logs, mortar and wood-tile roofing, though with a few exceptions, such as the grey stone walls and steep slate-tile roof of the most prominent structure in the village - likely a tavern of sorts with possible rooms for rent - and positioned between the main road and the water where, farther upstream from the mill, the river meandered toward the rise of the lush foothills.

A few residents were out and about, including the blacksmith, his current hammering of metal was one of the few sounds Jack could hear over the sound of the river rushing beneath him. He also noticed a stable hand - a young lady maybe in her teens - delivering water to Theolan’s horse. There was also another woman, who from a distance appeared older than the stable hand. She was making her way up the road from the tavern towards the blacksmith and passed by three men who had grouped to converse by a horse and carriage, one of whom turned to greet the woman. She stopped to reciprocate with a small curtsy before continuing on her way. Overall, there seemed to be much ado about nothing in this community at present, no one seemed to be out sorts or in any type of panic over to the earlier gunfire, which was very good, and so Jack took it in his stride to walk right into town like nothing at all was a matter.

A Goat Named Jed

Part 2

A Village

A Goat Named Jed

6

Jack used a leafy branch to brush away the faeces that the nasty little beast had left on his duffel bag, checked the contents of the bag to ensure everything that was normally inside was still there, used some disinfectant and a bandage from the bag to treat the wound on his left hand, placed his Glock in the bag, zipped up the bag but left an opening large enough for easy access to the Glock if he absolutely needed it in a hurry, and then started his journey into town.

His shoulder was still throbbing and he needed to take care of the injury as soon as he could, but carrying his duffle didn’t irritate the wound because even though he was right handed and it was his right shoulder that had been damaged, he normally carried his duffel over his left. This, as one might guess, allowed easy-to-reach access to anything in his duffel, not just the gun that, under some circumstances, would be carried around in his belt as it had been when he arrived in this world. He was, however, not willing to indefinitely carry the gun around in his bag on this world either, at the moment it just didn’t seem practical or secure in many ways, so he had planned on trying to organise a new system when he arrived in town, that is, if there was anyone in the community able to accommodate his needs.