On board the Maris Stella, town of
Liech am Roth, Wische province, Eisen, 11th day of Nonus 1668.
Dear Melisandre,
I have no doubt that you are quite curious as to how
my pursuit of the river barge Die Zierlich fared. I will endeavour
to tell you all you may want to learn.
You remember that I took the Maris Stella out
on the afternoon of the second day of Nonus. I found a suitable ambush
spot a couple of days down the River Roth, in a bend that followed a long
straight stretch. The water was deep, and the wooded edge inside
the curve, on the Wische bank, offered a good view of the approach.
I posted a lookout there, and undertook to keep the new recruits busy with
ship maintenance while we waited for our quarry. Since I expected
we might have several days' wait ahead of us, I kept a careful night watch
as well.
The first day, we noticed a dozen thin, bedraggled
peasants congregating on the Wische bank; since I was sending my landlubbers
ashore for wood, I had them carry some food, blankets, and clothing for
the peasants. But I observed that the peasants seemed entirely uninterested
in the clothing or blankets, although they ate the food readily.
From their behaviour, I concluded that they must be some of those waisen
you have spoken of. They just stayed near the edge of the river,
apparently purposeless.
Traffic was fairly brisk up and down the river, with
many barges and riverboats going past us, but none which seemed to be Die
Zierlich in disguise. I was half expecting this kind of trick,
not unknown among river pirates and smugglers, but spotted nothing of the
sort. I did observe a fair amount of foot traffic on the Pösen
side of the river, including troops of well-armed mercenaries, but on the
Wische side nothing but our waisen: no villages, no fields, not
a single traveller.
I was not overly alarmed to have to wait a few days,
but I became concerned when I noticed that more waisen arrived day
after day, perhaps a dozen a day, or rather a night. Some died of
exposure, but not as many as I would have expected. I tried to feed
them every morning, but alas, their numbers soon became greater than what
I could manage from our ship stores.
After some four days, getting restless, I decided to
take the longboat upriver to see if we could spot Die Zierlich.
Half a day's travel upriver revealed no trace of the barge, so I headed
back down to the Maris Stella. But along the way I noticed
a troop of perhaps thirty mercenaries on the Pösen bank, well armed
and on horseback, bearing a crest that showed a Drachen holding a sword
and cross. They had with them two cannons which they were moving
downriver. I kept an eye on them until we overtook them so that they
dropped too far behind.
I returned to the Maris Stella rather unhappy
with the wait, but there was nothing for it but to use patience unless
I wished to sail right back to Freiburg. Our horde of waisen
kept growing steadily, and I could not think what to do to help them.
My landlubbers were growing petulant, and the able seamen were disciplined
but stayed as far out of the way as they could without shirking work.
On the far side of the river, the troop of mercenaries
eventually caught up with us and instead of continuing on, started setting
up camp straight across the river. They levelled the cannons and
pointed them in our direction, which I misliked.
I took the longboat out again to talk to them, bringing
the interpreter I had hired earlier along the coast and indicating with
signals an intention to parley. I was scarcely past the centre of
the river when the man who appeared to be the leader yelled for us to come
no closer, and the gunners started preparing the two cannons. A conversation
followed, carried through bullhorns.
The fellow, whose name I cannot remember as it sounded
as harsh as any Eisen name ever did, was quite unfriendly, making threats
and yelling orders. The long and short of it is that he forbade us
to come near the Pösen bank or attack any traffic bound for Pösen.
I informed him that, as he surely must have observed, I was staying well
away from Pösen territory as I had no interest in visiting the
place. Since this conversation was unlikely to lead to anything but
accrued mutual dislike, I returned to the Maris Stella.
The next day, I saw that the mercenaries were now building
earthwork to reinforce their cannons' position. I was tremendously
annoyed, and since my own gun platform was mobile I decided I would not
leave them the advantage of reinforcement but would instead move up and
down the river. They could bloody well follow me if they enjoyed
pushing and pulling cannons in the frozen Nonus mud. I gave the order
to put the ship out.
Unfortunately, as soon as we started moving away, the
Theus-forsaken waisen started following us, mindlessly running to
the water like so many rats in a frenzy. I realized that they had
so little sense of self-preservation that they would drown or freeze
to death trying to keep up with the source of food we represented.
Cicadas have more sense. I knew there was little I could do, but
I simply could not sail out and watch them die. We dropped
anchor again while I tried to think of some way to get rid of these followers.
I finally opted to dose their "morning breakfast" with
the sleeping draft our ship surgeon uses on wounded. That used up
all our supply of the drug, not to mention depleting our food stores dramatically.
I also had canvas cut into makeshift blankets, and the next morning put
this plan to execution. I put the waisen to sleep and wrapped
them in the blankets so that most would not die of exposure, then sailed
away. Oh, I know some are sure to die regardless, in their weakened
state and in this weather, but it is still much better than if they went
in the water. Theus knows I wished for a better idea.
We sailed on a little until we found another good stopping
point, then dropped anchor and waited again. At last, we saw Die
Zierlich come downriver, so I gave them the order to heave to, and send
their captain on board with his log and manifest ready for inspection.
Your friend Tibold took a ship's boat and repaired to the Maris Stella,
all smiles, although I would be lying if I said I found his countenance
pleasant. He sent a second ship's boat towards the Pösen bank,
with half a dozen people on board. I ordered them to belay, but they
ignored the order, and a shot across their bow had no effect. I had
the next shot sink them; I regretted that this was necessary, but I could
see no other way to carry my orders.
While your friend was on the Maris Stella and
my interpreter was translating the papers, I went to inspect Die Zierlich.
I found no other cargo than timber and ingots of iron, bound for in-land
commerce, but I did observe in the hold the necessary hardware and iron
rings to secure shackles and manacles. I found the captain's cabin
extremely neat and in good order, every paper carefully put away but a
single letter prominently displayed on the desk. Its seal had been
broken, and upon opening it I saw the letter, though unsigned, was in a
familiar handwriting. An old friend warned Tibold and pressed him
to leave town. I have no doubt that the letter had been left there
for me to find.
I let your friend go, although I informed him that
commerce with the enemies of Castille was inadvisable, and that traffic
in slaves even more so. It gave him a good opportunity to practice
smirking and looking oily, which I am sure he must relish. He also
threatened to commission a member of the Swordsmen's Guild to challenge
me.
Then I moved further downriver until we reached the
first town on the Wische side where we could replenish our supplies after
the locust-like waisen, Liech am Roth. Of course everything
was grossly overpriced, but I was too downcast to mind. We were loading
the supplies when a troop of Wische militia of some sort, a leader on horseback
followed by twenty or so men armed with halberds and wearing insignia,
showed up and demanded to inspect the vessel. I complied easily,
for I had been expecting this. I consider it part of the "docking
fees" in such a place... This careful inspection revealed to the
august leader of this group that two of our powder kegs were "contraband"
and had to be confiscated. I smiled and had the kegs unloaded.
At this point, another group of soldiers arrived: half
a dozen men carrying grotesquely long two-handed swords on their backs
and dressed in black with gold trim. The two leaders started an argument,
or rather the leader of the militia got very upset while the sergeant on
the other side remained calm but adamant. According to my interpreter,
they were arguing about jurisdiction and the fact that they hadn't been
paid in many months.
When the two powder kegs were brought down to the quay,
the militia leader glanced in our direction. This single moment of
inattention was enough; in a lightning-quick draw and strike, the sergeant
of the opposing faction whipped out his zweihänder and cut
the head of the leader's horse clean off! The militia leader was
furious when he got up, but backed from a fight and stomped away (taking
the powder kegs!)
I approached to talk to the sergeant, who wanted to
know who I was and what the Maris Stella was doing there.
I explained as straightforwardly as I could; while we were talking, I observed
that the townsfolk were congregating around the dead horse and beginning
to butcher it for meat. Some enterprising citizens who had got there
first started selling the meat as in an auction. This caused the
sergeant to frown; he sent his men to put a stop to the sale and allow
the meat to be taken freely.
I liked this so I decided to invite him and his men
to eat; it was time for the morning meal on the Maris Stella.
He said at first that he did not want to deprive us of our supplies, but
I represented to him that the more perishable supplies such as eggs, soft
tack and fresh meat will not last past their time whether we eat them or
not, so they might as well be consumed while they are good. He accepted
the invitation and I had a table set on deck for it was clear that none
of them would leave their big swords and they certainly wouldn't fit in
the gunroom.
They ate like large men who exercise a lot but receive
very little food will eat when presented with an opportunity to feast:
in astounding quantity. In fact, despite the expense, it rather cheered
me to see them enjoy the meal so much. When they slowed down enough
for conversation, I talked a little about the waisen we had left
behind, and was told that the problem was greater in Wische than any other
province. I tried to learn who I might contact among the Wische Eisenfürst's
officials to help me with stopping the slave trade, but sergeant
Wilhelm seemed uneasy about the question, as if he was not sure that anyone
could even answer me; no one was in charge of the river traffic since Wische
does not have anything like a boat patrol.
When the men were ready to depart, they all left a
paper akin to some sort of bank draft on the table. I easily realized
that they would consider it uncouth for me to mention the matter, so I
bid them good day. After they left I examined the papers; they were
much smaller than actual bank drafts, but served a similar purpose.
They noted amounts owed to these men for pay, totalling some ten marks
each. It seems that this is what these men have been paid lately
in lieu of coin. I kept the papers as a memento.
Now we will put out again and move around in the area,
to stop any suspected traders giving aid to Montaigne and most of all,
any suspected slavers. I can find few sins so repulsive as that of
capturing one's fellow men, submitting them to abject conditions unfit
for animals, and selling them like so much chattel: men with sweethearts,
women with families, children too small to run. I hope that no red-blooded
Castillan could ever condone this horror. It is an outrage and a
blasphemy, and I tell you now that I will not hesitate to hang any slaver
caught in the act.
Sincerely,
Constanza Aldana y Orduño
