the doorway, ahead of Christoph and me. “Then we can undertake other entertainments befitting to cavalrymen who’ve been in the saddle too long.”
Christoph laughed. “You’ll be fit for nothing but a good sleep after you get your fill, you old fool.”
And as I knew by now, Christoph meant this not in jest. Balthazar pretended not to hear the barb, but everyone knew Christoph was best handled like a bad horse: never turn your back. This little band of ours (Andreas, Jacob, and the others all remained with the rest of the company at Göttingen) was the sad dregs of what had been a sweet cup a few months before. We supped, we drank, we spun stories, but it was not as it had been. I had, though, like others, tucked away a few pieces of treasure into my snapsack. The leather purse at my hip, for so long a source of loud bounty, now sounded only a muffled rattle like some beggar’s belly. There were few coins left inside of it to offer one another much company.
We supped together but without much heart in it. I suppose that I, like Balthazar, had a head too full of damp that saddened my heart and chilled my limbs.
Balthazar, once his belly was full, seemed half-asleep, or half-drunk, his jug-like head down upon his chest in repose. But his eyes followed me as I hunched down next to him, the wine in my cup splashing my breeches and speckling his cloak.
“One should put the liquid into one’s mouth, young Treadwell,” he rumbled, “tis far better to gain the full benefit of the stuff.”
“I have had my fill,” I replied flatly.
“As you like,” he mumbled, unperturbed. He opened his eyes more fully. “Your spleen is in disorder, young fellow. You need a bit of hot lead flying about your ears to set you at rights.”
“You might consider taking the same physik. Your tail has drooped mightily this last fortnight. That’s clear for all to see. Is this all there is to campaign? We’re without pay this month, my purse is near an end. I have stolen some useless crockery...” I counted these achievements on my fingers, my voice tinged with adder spit. “And... even in my slumbers... I am bedevilled by nightmares.”
In truth, I had been visited thrice by the dream of the cavern inhabited by a monstrous great toad. Each dream more sharp and pregnant than the last, leaving me shaken and fretful each time I sprang from its clutches.
“Tell me of your dream,” demanded Balthazar (though more out of boredom than concern, I suspected) and he leaned on an elbow half-toward me.
“It’s too fantastical to relate properly, or to comprehend. I am in a great wood, pursuing a beast, a large toad of sorts. I follow it into its hole, and, the thing speaks to me...”
Balthazar grunted. “The portent is one of good luck, I believe. The frog is a bringer of very good Fortune you know.”
“Not a frog, a toad . A great toad, huge, as big as a cur.” I grew frustrated at my remembrance of the visions.
“Ach, a toad you say. Well that’s a different matter, that’s true. Under no circumstances is a toad a harbinger of good Fortune. My Oma never suffered a toad to live while she were about. She said toads were the Devil’s eyes and ears, his spies upon the earth. Evil creatures. Poisonous. You need a charm, my friend, a charm of protection.”
I cursed. “Are you trying to put a fright to me? I only want to rid myself of these damned night vapours.”
“I speak honestly,” said Balthazar, more fully awake. He reached into his doublet and pulled out a tiny object that hung from a string. “See here, a ball that even though was red hot, pierced only my coat but not my person. I plucked it out of my shoulder with nary a wince. Such shot is charm against Misfortune if it be held close.”
He thrust the misshapen lump of lead out for me to better discern it. I peered at it briefly and sniffed dubiously.
“It was a ball meant for me but which did me no harm,” he whispered.
For a moment, I thought to pull out
Christoph laughed. “You’ll be fit for nothing but a good sleep after you get your fill, you old fool.”
And as I knew by now, Christoph meant this not in jest. Balthazar pretended not to hear the barb, but everyone knew Christoph was best handled like a bad horse: never turn your back. This little band of ours (Andreas, Jacob, and the others all remained with the rest of the company at Göttingen) was the sad dregs of what had been a sweet cup a few months before. We supped, we drank, we spun stories, but it was not as it had been. I had, though, like others, tucked away a few pieces of treasure into my snapsack. The leather purse at my hip, for so long a source of loud bounty, now sounded only a muffled rattle like some beggar’s belly. There were few coins left inside of it to offer one another much company.
We supped together but without much heart in it. I suppose that I, like Balthazar, had a head too full of damp that saddened my heart and chilled my limbs.
Balthazar, once his belly was full, seemed half-asleep, or half-drunk, his jug-like head down upon his chest in repose. But his eyes followed me as I hunched down next to him, the wine in my cup splashing my breeches and speckling his cloak.
“One should put the liquid into one’s mouth, young Treadwell,” he rumbled, “tis far better to gain the full benefit of the stuff.”
“I have had my fill,” I replied flatly.
“As you like,” he mumbled, unperturbed. He opened his eyes more fully. “Your spleen is in disorder, young fellow. You need a bit of hot lead flying about your ears to set you at rights.”
“You might consider taking the same physik. Your tail has drooped mightily this last fortnight. That’s clear for all to see. Is this all there is to campaign? We’re without pay this month, my purse is near an end. I have stolen some useless crockery...” I counted these achievements on my fingers, my voice tinged with adder spit. “And... even in my slumbers... I am bedevilled by nightmares.”
In truth, I had been visited thrice by the dream of the cavern inhabited by a monstrous great toad. Each dream more sharp and pregnant than the last, leaving me shaken and fretful each time I sprang from its clutches.
“Tell me of your dream,” demanded Balthazar (though more out of boredom than concern, I suspected) and he leaned on an elbow half-toward me.
“It’s too fantastical to relate properly, or to comprehend. I am in a great wood, pursuing a beast, a large toad of sorts. I follow it into its hole, and, the thing speaks to me...”
Balthazar grunted. “The portent is one of good luck, I believe. The frog is a bringer of very good Fortune you know.”
“Not a frog, a toad . A great toad, huge, as big as a cur.” I grew frustrated at my remembrance of the visions.
“Ach, a toad you say. Well that’s a different matter, that’s true. Under no circumstances is a toad a harbinger of good Fortune. My Oma never suffered a toad to live while she were about. She said toads were the Devil’s eyes and ears, his spies upon the earth. Evil creatures. Poisonous. You need a charm, my friend, a charm of protection.”
I cursed. “Are you trying to put a fright to me? I only want to rid myself of these damned night vapours.”
“I speak honestly,” said Balthazar, more fully awake. He reached into his doublet and pulled out a tiny object that hung from a string. “See here, a ball that even though was red hot, pierced only my coat but not my person. I plucked it out of my shoulder with nary a wince. Such shot is charm against Misfortune if it be held close.”
He thrust the misshapen lump of lead out for me to better discern it. I peered at it briefly and sniffed dubiously.
“It was a ball meant for me but which did me no harm,” he whispered.
For a moment, I thought to pull out
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