The Tapestry of Time

Chapter 2-2

“None, Captain.”

In the dank, dim hold, shadows from the lamp leaped fleetingly behind him, in front of him… ghouls from the bowels of the earth, Baudet feared, surfacing through the evil currents of the river. Strong and resolute as he was, this devilish hole was way beyond anything his still-youthful self had experienced.

“Pull yourself together!” he urged himself. “Get down to the job!” He ran the brush over the block of hard soap and began scouring the sides of the hold. In between the planks, where caulking had not been properly rammed, rivulets of water seeped in, giving the pit a nauseating damp stench that he tried to not inhale by taking short sharp breaths then rubbing hard before the next. He had to honour the agreement, though, and he worked steadily, but nothing could have prepared him for a scratching, sniffing sound, muffled at first. He paused and looked all around until the wan yellow light from the lamp illuminated two shining green eyes that blinked at him, as if to question the reason for the boy’s presence. Under these eyes a pursed mouth opened to reveal bright white incisor teeth. He gasped and recoiled in horror. “How can it be? A wild boar here in this boat?” His memory returned to the vicious beast he and his father had caught, way back, in the woods. “Don’t be such a fool, boy, of course it’s not a boar…” The creature reared up on its haunches, its nose twitching, its whiskers stiff, and it opened its jaws yet wider. Baudet stood motionless. Letting out a loud hissing sound, it leapt towards him, the claws of all four limbs gripping his tunic, its razor-sharp front teeth sinking deep into the fabric that, fortunately, protected his skin from penetration.

“Pull yourself together!” “Get down to the job!” “How can it be? A wild boar here in this boat?” “Don’t be such a fool, boy, of course it’s not a boar…” This malignant creature was a fine, healthy rodent, the like of which he could never have imagined and it first smelled, then looked at, Baudet, who was an unwelcome intruder into its rat kingdom that it would defend to the end. With an unholy scream, the boy seized it, his fingers sinking into its velvety fur, and hurled it with all his strength to the floor, finally seeing it off with a violent kick.

Hearing the commotion, the captain ordered one of the hands to take the tiller and moved down the boat to the forehold. He leaned on the half-open hatch and peered inside to make out Baudet, his back pressed hard against the hull so nothing could crawl behind him and, brandishing the brush as if it was a sword in a battle and he a knight tilting at windmills, slicing through the shadows cast by the lamp. The boy cut a comical if pitiful figure and the man erupted into uncontrolled paroxysms of laughter – he knew at once what had caused Baudet to cry out thus.

“Climb up, lad, climb up,” he said, offering a hand. On deck, the boy stood, trembling from his encounter with the demonic rat.

“Come aft with me. I can see you’ve worked well today and you can carry on with it tomorrow, but you’ve earned a rest and…” He made a drinking gesture. “A tot.”

Baudet was certainly not going to refuse the invitation.

The captain raised the hinged section of the tiller bench and lifted out a wooden firkin from which he proceeded to fill two beakers, handing one to Baudet. The young man was used to drinking ale but any stronger tipple was unknown to him. He sniffed the golden-hued liquid, recoiled slightly from its strength, then took a tentative sip. All along, the captain watched him and asked, amused: “What do you think?”

The boy spluttered and coughed but his second taste produced a less explosive reaction and his expression portrayed enjoyment.

“I see you’re not accustomed to drinking brandy. But it’s good, isn’t it?”

“Ay, it is, Monsieur.”

“My father, God bless him, wasn’t learned so he didn’t use fancy words as a rule, but I’ll for ever picture him in his chair, after supper, his nightcap in his hand… he’d say: ‘Prolongs good health, dissipates superfluous humours, reanimates the heart and maintains youth.’

‘Prolongs good health, dissipates superfluous humours, reanimates the heart and maintains youth.’“I have no idea where he’d picked that up but it must be true – just look at me.” And he placed an avuncular arm around Baudet’s shoulders. Smiling gently, he spoke in a soft voice, “I had a son like you – blond, handsome – and a wife.”

“Where are they today?”

“With the Good Lord above. I was sailing out of Arles with cargo and they had come along to enjoy the clement weather and the sheer pleasure of our river.” He paused and sipped his brandy before continuing, head lowered: “An enormous barge, three times our size, came directly at us… on the wrong side… It gave us no chance whatsoever to steer away… cut us in two, simple as that. I swam to the bank but there was no sign of my wife or son. The current, always strong, especially on days when it seemed to be at its slowest, swept them off. We found their bodies four days later, miles downstream.”

“You must miss them.” These were the only words that came to mind and Baudet immediately regretted uttering such a meaningless observation.

“Ay, you could say that. So, nowadays, I put all my efforts into my business – it takes my mind off that fateful day.” A tear trickled down his face that he at once brushed away; sentimentality was an emotion he disliked.

Baudet said nothing but he was visibly moved by the story. Staring at the long wide expanse of swirling water surrounding him, he felt isolated, alone against the world, fearful of his future.

“Mother, I hope that you and Lorence are safe and well without me to look after you. I think about you but I cannot change my course – like a ship that’s set for its destination, sails billowing – I have to see this through, but I will see you both again, some time.” His daydream was interrupted by the captain crying out: “Hands! Mooring ahead!” And, in an instant, the two black-skinned sailors appeared, one fore, one aft, ready to leap on to the jetty and tie up the boat. Another barge arrived before them and, pointing to it, the captain turned to Baudet. “Ah, I recognise that vessel – an old friend of mine and it just might prove to be your lucky day.” Baudet looked quizzical. “His trade is done from here down to Marseilles so, if he’s minded, and he owes me a few favours, he might give you passage to your journey’s end. We’ll find him in the tavern, if I know him.”

“Mother, I hope that you and Lorence are safe and well without me to look after you. I think about you but I cannot change my course – like a ship that’s set for its destination, sails billowing – I have to see this through, but I will see you both again, some time.” Sure enough, as the captain had predicted, in the hostelry they found – or, rather, could not miss – the giant of a man who, seeing them enter, got up from his table and, towering above them both, gripped his friend in a bear hug that all but crushed his ribs and let out a thunderous roar: “You old dog! How are you?”

Extricating himself from the suffocating embrace, he replied: “Good, thank you, and you look well, too.”

“Can’t complain, serves no purpose if you do. Landlord! Bring ale over here!” A man from behind the counter promptly shuffled over to their table and filled tankards for them. His captain introduced Baudet to the stranger who listened to the captain’s request: “You’re bound for Marseilles then, young man?”

“That I am, Monsieur, but the place is unknown to me.”

“Mmm… I was born and bred in Marseilles yet I hate it when I’m there and need it when I’m away. A man can either make his fortune or meet his end there. So, a word of advice – trust nobody, suspect everybody and watch your back. You’ll find decent honest folk soon enough.

“I’ll remember that, thank you kindly.”

“Glad to help you. You might as well join my boat tomorrow morning.”

Thus, the final leg of Baudet’s travels was assured. He enjoyed a hearty meal and also the company was convivial and raucous and somewhat allayed his trepidation after the warning about his intended home city. However, he was nervous, as any young man leaving familiar surroundings and family would be, and his sleep that night was fitful.

The next morning at dawn, Baudet bid his former captain farewell and jumped aboard the boat bound for Marseilles. The weather was most pleasant, his new skipper friendly, and he now resolved to make his fortune, not meet his end, as had been suggested the previous evening.

fortune, end,