SSN 021

The Shopkeeper's Son

I.3.021


Chapter 3
In 2475, the Shopkeeper, the Miller and farmer Willard were three old men very well respected in the town and associated in everyone's mind with the prosperity that had overtaken Dentonsville in recent years. None of them had much to do any more, having passed their duties, if not their formal ranks, on to their sons. They met frequently down by the creek near the mill. The Shopkeeper liked this place. It was not far from Becky's grave and easily reached by a path along the river: a good place to talk, to sit by the sluice and perhaps catch a fish or two, and the sound of water from the wheel was always reassuring. These days all were surprised by old Carl's sentimentality. 'A Shopkeeper must have a wife!' For years this had been old Shopkeeper's rallying cry. He was referring, of course, to his son. 'And the best alliances are cast in blood,' was Jacob Harding's opinion. His daughter Theresa had just turned sixteen. 'So what are they waiting for?' asked old farmer Willard. He was an infirm man by now and his wife had died the year before. But he could still get about a bit and intended to do some planting in the spring. 'Says he doesn't love her' said the Shopkeeper. 'Love! What's that?' said Willard. 'She's young, good-lookin', strong. What else does he want?' 'Well, maybe she's a trifle headstrong,' acknowledged Harding ruefully. 'He couldn't complain about that!' said Willard. 'It's about time you had a talk with him, Carl.' 'I've spoken to him. I think he's weakening,' said the Shopkeeper. 'He doesn't have a choice.' said Harding. The trouble was he did have a choice and they knew it, but the choice was unacceptable. There was a girl in the enclave of the 'Men Apart'. Her name was Vereena Griffon. She was sensual and intelligent with dark hair, heavy lips and nipples that, at the slightest excuse, stood up through her thin dress. Her father was a hunter and a well respected man, Butes Griffon. He was currently the elected representative on the Council of the 'Men Apart'. Carl saw her often as he was friendly with both her father and her elder brother Ursus. Neither of these two men minded if Carl made up to Vereena. The 'Men Apart' were more broad minded about these sorts of things: they did not go in for formal marriages in general and, besides, having a close ally in a Shopkeeper was worth a lot. 'I will speak to him again.' said the Shopkeeper. ~ At that time two subjects occupied the minds of the people of the town. They were, in order of importance, the conflict between the two factions on the Town Council and the rumor of impending War. The Council conflict caused everyone to be concerned about who was on their side. The problem had its origins in the death of the old Mayor, Don T. Whelk and the succession of his son, Preston. Preston was an imbecile, as everyone agreed, and he was easily led. The Sheriff and the Magistrate, both of whom were young men, had been leading him in some very inappropriate directions: farmers had been arrested on minor pretexts; heavy fines were levied and their land was seized when they couldn't pay. Others had been arrested and then forced to work until they dropped dead. The younger Carl had had more than one run-in with the Sheriff about this as employing labor without the Shopkeeper's permission was illegal. 'Not if I'm not paying them,' said the Sheriff, Matthew Parker, whose father had been dead two years. 'Anyway, you stay out of it, Carl. This thing is between me and your father. I'll deal with you when he dies.' Though things had not got completely out of hand it was a serious business. A farmer and his wife were found with their throats cut and no one was ever arrested for it; a couple of laborers died; two seekers were found frozen to death in a field, chained to a plow. These problems were mentioned repeatedly in the Council but, whereas in former times the Pastor would have rigorously supported the rule of law, for some reason he now seemed indifferent to these abuses, content to let Preston and the Sheriff run amok. 'You can never tell with them Pastors,' was Butes Griffon's opinion. 'Don't trust 'em, is my advice. They aren't like us.' 'But you can be sure of one thing,' said his son, Ursus, 'if the Council won't protect our people, we'll do it ourselves.' Carl wasn't too sure they could do that. He took Vereena for a walk. It was a cold clear night in late autumn and brilliant Orion was rising above the trees. Carl had a heavy bearskin coat and he wrapped it around them both. They went down to the side of the creek, near where it crossed the town boundary between steep banks and sat together. ~ No-one knew how the rumor of War arrived in Dentonsville. Perhaps the Pastor dropped a hint to the Mayor in one of his weekly fireside chats. The mayor would undoubtedly have passed it on to the Sheriff who would have certainly told his kin and then it would have been out. Or perhaps the rumor came from the outside, brought in by hunters and seekers after paying off their taxes at the Collecting Center. The people of Dentonsville knew there were other towns about them. Except for certain officers allowed a small degree of latitude, the settled folk were strictly forbidden to ever leave Dentonsville but the 'Men Apart' who traveled in the forest inevitably met others from nearby settlements. Harrisville was said to be the nearest and it was a good long days walk away; another in that same direction was Karnow; a third to the east, Doverton. Some said that in some of these places, Brigades for the War had already been assembled and some, possibly had already been sent off. The rumor of War did not instill much fear in people. On the whole they were willing and expecting that the town should do it duty. After all, 'the greatest way to gain God's love is to die in His service, fighting for the things He loves the best.' Only amongst the oldest inhabitants was there any real apprehension. 'What's going to happen to this town if it comes, that's what I want to know?' was the Shopkeeper's comment. 'That Matthew Parker will make something out of it, you see if he doesn't!' said old Willard. 'What do you think, Jacob?' 'I wish I hadn't time to think!' The Miller made a gloomy face and spat into the water of the sluice. The viscous spittle swept away towards the turning wheel. 'Preston is excited. They say he'll be Captain.' 'Preston is a fool!' 'What's young Carl think, then?' The Shopkeeper shook his head. With this business about Theresa Harding and that girl in the enclave he did not have such a high opinion of his son that he cared to know what he thought. 'Becky'd have her opinion,' said Willard. 'And old Martha,' said Harding. 'If he goes we won't have a Shopkeeper,' said the Shopkeeper. 'I shan't be here for long.' 'That's right, Carl. That Sam of yours is a little young.' 'Well, I don't think the Pastor would let him go,' said Willard confidently. 'That would be the end of this town. Those Parkers would take over!' The other two regarded him without confidence. He was not on the Council. He hadn't seen what went on. 'They say your Pa went the last time, Carl.' said Harding. 'What do you think?' The Shopkeeper studied him then spat. 'I feel depressed,' he said.

Chapter 3

In 2475, the Shopkeeper, the Miller and farmer Willard were three old men very well respected in the town and associated in everyone's mind with the prosperity that had overtaken Dentonsville in recent years. None of them had much to do any more, having passed their duties, if not their formal ranks, on to their sons.

They met frequently down by the creek near the mill. The Shopkeeper liked this place. It was not far from Becky's grave and easily reached by a path along the river: a good place to talk, to sit by the sluice and perhaps catch a fish or two, and the sound of water from the wheel was always reassuring. These days all were surprised by old Carl's sentimentality.

'A Shopkeeper must have a wife!' For years this had been old Shopkeeper's rallying cry. He was referring, of course, to his son.

'And the best alliances are cast in blood,' was Jacob Harding's opinion. His daughter Theresa had just turned sixteen.

'So what are they waiting for?' asked old farmer Willard. He was an infirm man by now and his wife had died the year before. But he could still get about a bit and intended to do some planting in the spring.

'Says he doesn't love her' said the Shopkeeper.

'Love! What's that?' said Willard. 'She's young, good-lookin', strong. What else does he want?'

'Well, maybe she's a trifle headstrong,' acknowledged Harding ruefully.

'He couldn't complain about that!' said Willard. 'It's about time you had a talk with him, Carl.'

'I've spoken to him. I think he's weakening,' said the Shopkeeper.

'He doesn't have a choice.' said Harding.

The trouble was he did have a choice and they knew it, but the choice was unacceptable. There was a girl in the enclave of the 'Men Apart'. Her name was Vereena Griffon. She was sensual and intelligent with dark hair, heavy lips and nipples that, at the slightest excuse, stood up through her thin dress. Her father was a hunter and a well respected man, Butes Griffon. He was currently the elected representative on the Council of the 'Men Apart'. Carl saw her often as he was friendly with both her father and her elder brother Ursus. Neither of these two men minded if Carl made up to Vereena. The 'Men Apart' were more broad minded about these sorts of things: they did not go in for formal marriages in general and, besides, having a close ally in a Shopkeeper was worth a lot. 'I will speak to him again.' said the Shopkeeper.

~

At that time two subjects occupied the minds of the people of the town. They were, in order of importance, the conflict between the two factions on the Town Council and the rumor of impending War. The Council conflict caused everyone to be concerned about who was on their side. The problem had its origins in the death of the old Mayor, Don T. Whelk and the succession of his son, Preston. Preston was an imbecile, as everyone agreed, and he was easily led. The Sheriff and the Magistrate, both of whom were young men, had been leading him in some very inappropriate directions: farmers had been arrested on minor pretexts; heavy fines were levied and their land was seized when they couldn't pay. Others had been arrested and then forced to work until they dropped dead. The younger Carl had had more than one run-in with the Sheriff about this as employing labor without the Shopkeeper's permission was illegal.

'Not if I'm not paying them,' said the Sheriff, Matthew Parker, whose father had been dead two years. 'Anyway, you stay out of it, Carl. This thing is between me and your father. I'll deal with you when he dies.'

Though things had not got completely out of hand it was a serious business. A farmer and his wife were found with their throats cut and no one was ever arrested for it; a couple of laborers died; two seekers were found frozen to death in a field, chained to a plow. These problems were mentioned repeatedly in the Council but, whereas in former times the Pastor would have rigorously supported the rule of law, for some reason he now seemed indifferent to these abuses, content to let Preston and the Sheriff run amok.

'You can never tell with them Pastors,' was Butes Griffon's opinion. 'Don't trust 'em, is my advice. They aren't like us.'

'But you can be sure of one thing,' said his son, Ursus, 'if the Council won't protect our people, we'll do it ourselves.'

Carl wasn't too sure they could do that. He took Vereena for a walk. It was a cold clear night in late autumn and brilliant Orion was rising above the trees. Carl had a heavy bearskin coat and he wrapped it around them both. They went down to the side of the creek, near where it crossed the town boundary between steep banks and sat together.

~

No-one knew how the rumor of War arrived in Dentonsville. Perhaps the Pastor dropped a hint to the Mayor in one of his weekly fireside chats. The mayor would undoubtedly have passed it on to the Sheriff who would have certainly told his kin and then it would have been out. Or perhaps the rumor came from the outside, brought in by hunters and seekers after paying off their taxes at the Collecting Center.

The people of Dentonsville knew there were other towns about them. Except for certain officers allowed a small degree of latitude, the settled folk were strictly forbidden to ever leave Dentonsville but the 'Men Apart' who traveled in the forest inevitably met others from nearby settlements. Harrisville was said to be the nearest and it was a good long days walk away; another in that same direction was Karnow; a third to the east, Doverton. Some said that in some of these places, Brigades for the War had already been assembled and some, possibly had already been sent off.

The rumor of War did not instill much fear in people. On the whole they were willing and expecting that the town should do it duty. After all, 'the greatest way to gain God's love is to die in His service, fighting for the things He loves the best.' Only amongst the oldest inhabitants was there any real apprehension.

'What's going to happen to this town if it comes, that's what I want to know?' was the Shopkeeper's comment.

'That Matthew Parker will make something out of it, you see if he doesn't!' said old Willard. 'What do you think, Jacob?'

'I wish I hadn't time to think!' The Miller made a gloomy face and spat into the water of the sluice. The viscous spittle swept away towards the turning wheel.

'Preston is excited. They say he'll be Captain.'

'Preston is a fool!'

'What's young Carl think, then?'

The Shopkeeper shook his head. With this business about Theresa Harding and that girl in the enclave he did not have such a high opinion of his son that he cared to know what he thought.

'Becky'd have her opinion,' said Willard.

'And old Martha,' said Harding.

'If he goes we won't have a Shopkeeper,' said the Shopkeeper. 'I shan't be here for long.'

'That's right, Carl. That Sam of yours is a little young.'

'Well, I don't think the Pastor would let him go,' said Willard confidently. 'That would be the end of this town. Those Parkers would take over!'

The other two regarded him without confidence. He was not on the Council. He hadn't seen what went on. 'They say your Pa went the last time, Carl.' said Harding. 'What do you think?'

The Shopkeeper studied him then spat. 'I feel depressed,' he said.

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