The Smuggler's Tale, Chapter 3
The Sea Snake had plowed the waters from the Fingers to the Bay of Seals for nearly a year now. Its captain, a Myrish man, preferred sailing between King's Landing and his native city, but Dragonstone's rebellion against the crown had made traffic between the two cities prey to pirates and sell sails. Saego Luff counted it fortunate that most of the fighting was in the North and the Riverlands. The waters of the Bite and the Shivering Sea were still relatively open to trade. Nevertheless he was made poorer by the lawlessness in the South. The most profitable ports where there but were increasingly dangerous. Essos too was now becoming engulfed in flames. Anarchy in Qarth, slave revolts in Astapor and Yunkai, even his native Myr was rumored to be on the verge of war with Tyrosh and Lys. The Summer Isles hadn't avoided the troubles either; he had heard in a Bravoosi winesink that Tall Trees Town had been raided. Luff thought of his friend, Jaro, the dark skinned Summer Islander who had introduced him to his future wife, Nyla. Their friendship had been one of mutual profit and comradery. He had bought spices and exotic silks from the island merchant for years. Luff decided that when Spring came he would visit the islands again and see what had become of his friend. Nyla would want to know, though he didn't know how to break the news to her if the worse were true. The captain dismissed the thought; the issue could wait till after they survived this winter. If they survived.
His crew were busy bringing the sails down as they approached the lonely village. Some cursed the cold weather in Ibbenese, Tyroshi and a clutch of other languages while they worked, but Luff had never worried about land wars causing fights among seamen. A sailor's true country was the sea, and his king was the captain. The sail cloth was lashed secure and much of the crew went below to man the ores as he pondered how long he would remain their king. Working the Northern lanes would impoverish him if the war kept up. The North of Westeros, never a rich before was even more so lacking in worthy trade. The war had gone badly for the Northern men, with their king dead and many noble houses filling graves as well. It would be worse after Winter, when starvation would take it's toll. The Sea Snake'sonly cargo included corn from the Vale, with salted fish from the Bay of Crabs which they added to here and there from the sparse fishing villages along the coast when the small folk were willing to sell. Thacker's End would be their last stop prior to Eastwatch. Though not well coined, the Watch could be counted on to pay for their cargo, or at least call upon the Iron Throne's credit with the Iron Bank. Still, Luff was barely able to pay his crew, and the ship would need more refitting than he could presently afford. It was of some comfort that he had more to sell than corn.
When last the Sea Snake had come to call upon Thacker's End, the captain had been met by a young fisherman, who had an intriguing proposition. The boy had shown Luff a strange necklace, glittering green with an emerald inset in a fish's head. Rather than ask coin for the queer object, the boy had proposed a bartering of goods on his return trip. The gem alone would cover his cost, so Luff readily agreed. The fisherman's price wasn't steep at all, given that what he wanted was readily in supply due to high toll the war had taken, and Luff had easily secured it at White Harbor.
A cry came from the crow's nest. "Point sighted off the port bow," shouted J'ric, one of his Ibbenese sailors. His first mate piloted the ship towards the little cove that enshrouded the fishing village, and with hurried trimming of the sails and drop of the anchor, the Sea Snake was set to take on cargo and provisions. Thacker's End had no proper dock for a ship like his, so he sent out men on the runabout to head to shore for provisions and buy up fish stock to take aboard. Not that he would have to wait long, he reflected. Already the inlet's fisherman were rowing their boats up to his ship, their fresh ware's for sale and decent coin for the odds and ends that they could knacker off the ship's sailors. Saego could see one already bargaining with one of his oresman for a skin of palm wine. Bad news floated up from the fisherman that the tavern was completely dry. It was just as well, thought Saego. They should be getting on to Eastwatch anyway, before the weather turned sour. Winter was coming and he did not relish the churn of the sea when the weather was so frosty. Just one more run, he thought to himself. One more and I'll never see the ugly face of the North for a long time.
And, he thought anticipantly, if I can can snag that lovely piece away from the fisher. The boy hadn't turned up yet, and Saego gave thought to putting a small boat to shore to inquire after him. "Give him time," he cautioned to himself, "We've just gotten here and the boy may be out for a bit. We've still got plenty to do before we raise sail." That was true enough. While negotiations for various sundries took place between the villagers and the crew, he set the rest of the sailors to work upon the usual tasks of the ship. Here a man was sewing a few rents in the jib while others went below to tar holes in the hold. After an hour his skipper returned with barrels of fresh water, salt and salted fish. Once these were aboard he took some of the crew flay the fresh catch and salt it for storage. As their respective business was concluded and bargains fulfilled, the fishing boats retreated once more to leave the Sea Snake alone in the cove. The sun had begun to dim and his worries grew till at last he caught sight of one last fishing boat coming towards them, with a familiar face onboard.
"Captain Luff," said Grouter, greeting the mariner with a warm smile and a firm handshake. Saego returned the handshake and nodded in greeting, but did not smile. He could see that boy had brought along salted cod of his own, which he and a companion had lugged aboard the ship. The ship's first mate put coin in his hand for the fish, but afterwards Saego escorted the two to his cabin. He trusted his crew well enough, but Saego Luff was not fool enough buy something as valuable as the necklace in fool view of a bunch of sailors. Even with a ship has small as his there would be plenty of opportunities for a thief to steal the bauble.
Inside the squat little cabin was room enough for a captain. A small desk, nailed to deck with a chair and candle, trunks and a little cot made for his living quarters. It wasn't much, but certainly more than what could be had below decks by the rest of his men. On the floor was a long bundle of canvas, the flaps tied together with hemp rope. "Our cargo?" the fisherman asked, pointing at it. "Indeed," Saego replied, and with a small flourish untied the bundle. A wink of sharp iron and a faint smell of copper came forth. "So many dead man on the battlefield these days, you can get yourself a lovely blade for healthy chicken. Chickens these days are rarer than swords." Both of the young men took one of the implements in their hands, turning the over in the hands, a gleam in their eyes that would not be misplaced in that of a little boy's. "I trust these will satisfy?" he inquired, though he knew for sure it would. "Aye," the first one responded, placing the sword he had picked up back amongst the stack and tying up the bundle again. He then fished out a pouch from around his neck. Untying the closing string, he pulled from it the promised necklace, its faint green glow filling the captain's eyes and puting a smile on his face. The boy's own stared at it hungrily for second, as if the thing would not let him part with it so easily. Nevertheless, he mustered his resolve to complete the trade. "Payment in full," the boy said cheerfully, and plunked it into his hands.
Night fell on the village, and as the fire warmed his uncles house Grouter, Willas and Maggy went through the weapons one by one. Brer was out on another trip, accompanying Septon Pol on his circuit to attend the villages of the Gift. The old holy man, whose infirmities had become more pronounced at his return to the village, had been a godsend to Grouter. Unlike the young man, his uncle was faithful to the Seven, and fancied himself half a septon in his devotions. Brer would always lead the village in prayer and in song during services. Thus, when Grouter suggested his uncle help the old priest on his journey, it had met with the full approval of the village. Brer had always been pushover, and the praise and encouragement of the villagers combined with his own piety shattered any argument he might have had against the appointment. He wouldn't return for half a year, freeing Grouter from his uncle's prying eyes.
The trio was able to look over the weapons without fear of discovery. Some hand dents or stains on them, others they would have to sharpen with a whetstone, but all in all the trader had come through for them. Willas had a perplexed look on his face as he play fought with a short falchion in his right hand. "You sure about this? I mean…them wildings ain't smart, but I doubt even then they'd be foolish enough to give up gold for cheap iron." Grouter examined the hilt of a broadsword and then answered. "Gold's only worth what you're willing to pay. There are no blacksmiths North of the Wall. Never seen one or heard of a wildling with anything better than a bronze axe. What we have is more valuable than gold to them. They'll part it easy enough with the jewels for these, right Maggy?" The wilding girl turned away from the fire, which she had be crouching before to warm her hands. "It's true. My folk would kill for a decent sword like that beyond the Wall. They'll trade easy for this stuff."
She had said as much that night nearly a month ago, and for the rest of the time she played the part of the shipwrecked girl. Word had be sent to White Harbor inquiring about Maggy's family, with no positive news returning. Despite this the girl was able to ingratiate herself with the rest of the villagers. She watched over Karl Turner's young-ins while he was at sea, gossiped with the old wives while they knitted wool, and made careful flirtations with the rest of the village boys, though not as overt as to call into questions her supposed designs on Willas. As according to plan, Willas made a small show of accompanying Maggy out at night, just enough to draw folks' eyes and attract gossip among to the village women. Keep them clucking like hens about a little scandal, Grouter had told them when he put the plan together, and they'll forget they ever thought she was a wildling.
Not that they needed any encouragement. In the weeks after Grouter had made his trade to the Bravoosi captain, Willas had taken a real shine to the girl, and Maggy returned his affections. It wasn't a thing totally unexpected, but Grouter found himself still surprised when he caught them having a roll in the cabin of his uncle's boat. Though it was all for the best, he thought, more primitive parts of him gave a twinge of jealousy. The same feeling came back later that night, after they had placed the bundle of weapons in a hidden store room underneath the floor of the house. As he left the house to put another piece of the plan together, he knew that the two of them would sneak back to uncle's room romp away the hours. Grouter pushed his own lusty thoughts of what would transpire away and made for Marten Barrow's house.
"Beyond the Wall?" Marten Barrow guffawed, spilling a bit of the wine that Grouter had brought along to ply the elder fisherman with that night, as well as another skin for himself. The two of them now sat before the fire in Marten's house. His was at the tavern, which was all the better for what Grouter needed to do tonight. It had been necessary for Grouter to withhold where the treasure lay, till now. As in his trade, in order to snag the big fish Grouter knew he had to string Barrow along a bit. Let him fill his head with dreams of gold and all that which it could provide before the older man had felt the hook. Mentioning that these riches where in wildling territory would've scared Marten away, and Marten was essential to the plan. At least his boat, the Lovely Bess, would be. There was no way Merry Mermaid would ever be able to go as far North as Grouter needed it to. Not safely and not with enough room to carry back all he intended to claim. Lovely Bess was the proud property of Marten Barrow, and though by standards outside of the Gift he was not a rich man, in Thacker's End it made him one of considerable influence. The sturdy vessel could bring in entire schools of fish, and his catch set the price for all fishmongers in the village. Its hold would be big enough to for the crew Marten needed to get North and enough of the treasure to fill the pockets of every man on the venture with gold. That was the reason why he had shown Barrow the necklace before the trade with Captain Luff. The old sailor's eyes had been agog and for a long time while he had turned the trinket over and over his hand. He was remiss when the boy had rebuffed his offer to buy the necklace, yet a remedy was quick in coming. Grouter assured Marten there was more to be had. What was needed was a boat to make the journey, he told Barrow, and a crew to man her that could be trusted. Grouter would bring Willas, and Lon Ballard. Ballard himself had been caught by Willas buggering a sheep the year before, but had given the blubbering simpleton a solid oath that he wouldn't tell anyone. This had left the whole village the curious as to why Willas would break out in fits of laughter for days after that whenever the bleeting of a lamb could be heard. Now Ballard would pay back the favor, and even earn a small share himself. With three men on his side, Grouter would in good position to assure that Marten and his son didn't try alter the deal once the voyage underway.
None of that, of course, he told to Marten. "Aye. The girl's a wilding." Barrow's eyebrows rose in shock. "She and her folk have already go a bit of it on them. Its treasure of the First Men. All those castles and such that they put there before Bran built the Wall. We can trade weapons for gold and then make our way along the coast to where the rest of it lies."
Barrow's faced paled a bit. "You're mad! Give them savages weapons? If they don't slit our throats right off, we'll be sent to the Watch if anyone finds out! And sailing that far North? Madness!"
Grouter too another swig of wine. The inebriation help steady his nerves, but he had expected these objections. His face remained cordial and untroubled in reply. "We'll have plenty of weapons left over to protect ourselves. Anyways, Maggy and I will go over first in Bess's rowboat and parlay with the natives till we have a deal. She and I will bring the weapons to shore once the deal's struck and bring back what they've got. You and the rest of the crew will be safe on the boat. After that we'll hug the coast till we get to this 'smoke water' place where it's all at. Nothin' but easy pickings once we get there." He let the words work slow magic over himself and the other man. "If anybody asks we'll say we picked it up from another shipwreck."
"You could replace a man's blood with summerwine and he'd never be drunk enough to believe a lark like that!" Barrow blurted with exasperation, burping a bit of his own wine out to follow his words. Keeping his smile like stone, the younger man patted his shoulder. "No one will know the truth for sure. Course people are gonna gossip; that's what we do around here. Tongues waggle like the tails of dogs, but no one of us talks and no one else will be the wiser. Even if they did, we've got swords now and the means to buy others to our cause. And if the village made you headman next year, you'd wouldn't fear anything to fear!" That particular arrow met its mark, a faint gleam coming to Barrow's eyes. It was a custom here in the North, outside the prerogative of lords and ladies, that the patriarchs of the village to vote its headman. Despite his family's prosperity, when Marten had put forth his own name for the position after the death of the previous one, he had been defeated by Morei Drenn, who was the more trustworthy of the candidates. Taking the loss as grievous humiliation, Marten had been sore about it ever since. Headmen usually served for life, but the village could always hail another if enough of the households chose to do so. Grouter could imagine Barrow already silently contemplating how golden dragons in the right purse could do just that.
Barrow turned from his thoughts back to Grouter. "And the Watch?" Grouter smirked. "We wouldn't be the first smugglers ever to pull something like this off. Back when Hardhome was still around you had folks trading with them all the time. It was good money in lean times, and the Watch ain't what it used to be. Nothin' but thieves and rapists who couldn't care less what we do here. Even if they did, there's hardly enough of them to do anything about it!" He drank up the last dregs of his own wineskin and popped its cork back in dramatically as if to seal any further objections. He could see color returning to Barrow's face, and the worry leave it. His own began to wash away and was replaced by giddy anticipation for the adventure ahead. "We live but once upon this earth, and when the Lady of Fortune smile's on us," he said, clapping both hands on the other's shoulders, "we have to give her a lusty kiss! Else, we shall spend our days forever pining for what could've been." This brought a smile to Barrow's face, followed closely by a hearty chuckle that Grouter echoed.
"When do we sail?" he asked.
"When can you make ready?" Grouter replied.
