The horse snorted as Cadman brushed its coat. She had to look pretty today. Miss Miranda had requested transport with his carriage and, as was his custom, he took extra care to ensure everything was above standard. The horse snorted again and swished her tail.
“Oi Mary,” he barked. “Keep ye’ tail d’n, ther’an’t a fly in sight!” The horse turned her head and eyed him curiously. “I kno’ ye’ kno’ who’ i’m say’in.” She was probably the only one who did. He didn’t know where he had gotten his accent. He just knew it made it hard for him to build any kind of relationship with anyone. Mr Thule however, didn’t care about that, he just liked Cadman’s work ethic and the way he took care of the carriage. Cadman always tried being on time but, most of all, he tried getting everyone and everything safely to their destinations. He was thankful that Mr Thule had employed him.
“Oi!” he barked again. “I sai’ sto’ waggi’ yo’ tail!” Mary neighed. When he finished grooming her, he slapped her on the behind and she walked off towards the black carriage. It was a fine piece of craftsmanship. It had gold inlays around the doors and along the roof. Red curtains were neatly pinned back with silver thread and inside, the seats were of royal blue cloth. It was almost the same blue as the colonial uniforms. He tacked up Mary and Geneveve and moved the carriage around to the steps of the mansion. It was a fantastical place. The road curved and snaked past grasslands and through gates guarded by bougainvillaea bushes, and then landed in a circle. At the centre of the circle was a statue of an angelic creature and a beast, fighting it out. Water flowed from what appeared to be their wing mounts. Around the water feature were all kinds of flowers and bushes: begonias, hydrangeas, roses, and honeysuckle. Marble steps lead from the road up to the four-story mansion.
There must be over a hundred rooms in this place, he thought. One day, I want a place just like this one.
The heavy front doors swung open with a grace that only the butler could achieve. He was always in a tuxedo, and his marvellous grey hair flowed back over his head and was tied neatly at his neck. He moved with elegance as he quickly ran down the steps. He was extremely fit for an old man.
“Ah, young master Cadman,” said the butler, stopping beside the carriage. “Miss Thule will be out shortly, she is just taking leave of her father.” He walked up to Mary and patted her shoulder. Cadman nodded, hopped off his carriage bench, and opened the chest at the back. He moved around to the door and opened it, scanned the interior one last time, then stood as uprightly as he could.
“… I know Papa,” came Miranda’s voice through the door. “I’ll be sure to tell him that if I see him.” She emerged, carrying a single suitcase. She wore a beige skirt, dark leather boots, and a deep green blouse. Her bonnet had a single Guinea fowl feather protruding to the rear. “I would certainly like to see the look on his face,” she continued as she stepped towards the carriage.
Mr Thule emerged—neat, regal, waistcoat and long grey trousers, scraping out his pipe.
“Miranda dear,” he chuckled. “Not a word.” He gave Cadman the look. “Besides, he won’t possibly believe any of it. I certainly wouldn’t, and I am the man that is dreaming up this idea.” He chuckled again, stuffing his pipe full of tobacco. He lit it and drew in a deep breath. He skipped down the stairs and inspected the horses, then the carriage.
“Hello Caddy,” said Miranda, handing him her suitcase and accepting his help getting into the carriage. “What will it be today? Sunshine? Rain? Stormy winds? Hmm?” She smiled at him and scrunched up her shoulders playfully. He drew in courage and replied:
“No’ bu’ fai’ wea’eh’ ma’a,” then clicked the carriage door closed and put her suitcase in the chest. He speedily walked back around the carriage and hopped onto the carriage bench. He certainly hoped for fair weather—there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
“Now you bring my daughter back safely, you hear?” Mr Thule said, pointing his pipe at him. “She is booked at the hotel per usual, attending the meeting at the town hall tomorrow, and then straight home after.” He gave Mary a pat on the back, ran up the steps, and turned back, puffing at the pipe.
“Jolly fair weather, young master Cadman.” The butler said and stood back from the carriage.
More courage.
“Oi!” he barked while fitting his bowler cap. “Ah’ se’ ma’a?”
“I’m all set, thank you caddy!” she called, then leaned out the window waving at Mr Thule. “Goodbye, Papa!”
“Give my best to Alexander,” replied her father as Cadman whispered Mary and Geneveve into motion.
“I most certainly will! Shall I tell him of your grand schemes as well?” she teased. They both laughed and she continued leaning out of the carriage waving at her father until they rounded the circle and left the gates.
***
Cadman loved driving this carriage. He had good horses, a good handbrake and a comfortable bench. Besides the pleasant clopping of the horses’ hooves on the dirt road, the wheels of the carriage lulled him and made him feel at peace with the world. He navigated the pathway, dodging holes and bumps, encouraging Mary, calming Geneveve and ever watching the horizon. Adelwreth was approximately twenty-three kilometres southeast of the Thule Estate—almost a full day’s carriage ride. Factoring in that they had left just past seven, they will reach it—if all goes well—just before dusk. The green pastures were dotted with cattle. Here and there he could hear a “Hello! Hope all is well?” from Miranda as she called out to the workers in the fields. She had a kind soul. She wasn’t like the other rich girls he knew of. Always polite, not adhering to social protocols, didn’t care about stature or political position. She was simple, smart, pretty, and full of life.
By midday, they had reached the tobacco plantations, one of Adelwreth’s most prized exports. It grew like weeds here on the island. He pulled up when they reached the crossroads, and in the distance, he could start seeing the city. He hopped off the wagon, unhooked a water sack from behind the carriage, and opened the chest. Besides the suitcase was a wooden box. He opened it and took out a crystal glass. He filled it with water and walked around the carriage to her door. She was reading one of her books again—she was so engulfed by it that it startled her when he tapped the door to offer her the glass.
“Cadman!” She blushed and fanned herself with the book. “Don’t you know better than to sneak up on a girl like that?” She smiled, set down the book and accepted the water. “Are we at the crossroads yet?”
Courage.
“Ye’ ma’a,” he scanned the horizon. Clear skies, fair weather, quiet roads. Just the way he liked it. He placed the glass back into the box and fixed the water sack to the back of the carriage. He gave water to the horses and let them rest for a bit, then drank a bit of his own water before getting on with the journey. After about an hour on the road, Miranda popped her head out of the doorway.
“Caddy?” She called. “Is it possible for a young lady to ride up front with you?”
Courage, courage, courage!
“We’ i’an’ rea’y par’ o’ respe’table pro’oco,’” he called back. He calmed down Geneveve, then looked back as he heard the carriage door open. Crazy—that is another quality of Miranda, he thought. He reigned in the horses and set up the handbrake.
“Protocol, shmotocol. It’s a fine day out, Caddy and honestly, you can’t even see a quarter of the countryside through that tiny window,” she said stepping out of the carriage—she didn’t need a man’s help getting in and out, by the looks of it. She reached back in, pulling out an umbrella.
“I don’ thin’ i’s g’na rai’ ma’a,” said Cadman, confused.
“It’s for my stately fair skin,” she said dramatically. “Sun could dehydrate a girl, you know.” She grabbed hold of the side of the carriage and leapt up onto the carriage bench, dusted it off, and opened her umbrella.
“Well, off we go Caddy,” she said as she was sitting down. He shook his head, encouraged Mary and Geneveve, and they were on the way once more. Miranda didn’t pester him too much with vocabulary the rest of the way, she just sat there smiling, looking at the countryside. Tobacco plantations gave way to wheat fields, wheat fields to pastures and so on. At dusk, they reached the graveyard on the outskirts of the city. Miranda looked at it longingly.
“Oh please Caddy, can’t we go say hi to Ma’Ma?” she begged.
“No’ to’ay ma’a.” That one took not only courage but an iron resolve. Few things affected Caddy as much as seeing Miranda sad.
The carriage rolled down the main road, entered the city onto First Street, turned left into King’s Way, passed Second, Third and Fourth Street, and came to a stop in front of the Fifth Street Hotel. The streets were busy. Carriages rolled to and fro; men, women, and children filled the streets. Miranda waited for hotel staff to help her off the carriage, still quite affected by not being able to visit her mother’s grave, but she held her chin up with pride. Cadman hopped off and opened the chest, took out the suitcase and handed it to a page boy that ran up to him. He then parked the carriage at the back of the hotel, untacked the horses, and sprawled out on a large bale of hay.
***
That night he went exploring the town with Geneveve, tied her up at Lütz Tavern on Eighth Street, and enjoyed a few pints of beer, music, and tons of laughter. He met Hozjuneh, a man with both Asian and African heritage. He was a big man with a hearty laugh and a deep voice. He had a beard and long hair and boasted about his gelding and mare that drew his carriage. They played cards and, as was common in taverns, took part in a brawl. The two of them stumbled drunk out into the night as if they were life-long friends. Cadman crawled up to Geneveve and slept there until dawn.
“Horse Droppings!” he cussed as he startled awake. The first light of dawn glistened on the tavern sign above him. He jumped onto Geneveve, untied her, and galloped her towards the hotel. He tacked the horses, cleaned the carriage, and pulled it up to the hotel steps at nine. Just in time. He had just hopped off and opened the door when Miranda jumped into the carriage as though from nowhere.
“Morning Caddy!” she called. “Enjoy the bar fight?”
Only then did he realise that he smelled of liquor and smoke, and felt an odd sting to his nose. He felt it as he walked around the carriage. It had a crooked part in it now. He hopped onto his bench and got the horses moving towards Town Hall.
***
Caddy noticed one of the natives as he opened the door for Miranda.
“Should be done in a few hours,” she said nonchalantly as she allowed him to help her out. She stopped, turned and smirked. “Try not to get hooked by a left again.” He wasn’t sure, but she also had a faint smell of smoke and liquor about her.
“Oi!” He barked “Il re’embe’ tha’!”
He clicked the door closed, lit a cigarette and walked over to the native. The man had pale skin and blue markings on his face. His hair was neatly tied behind his head and from there it spiked upwards. The man stood upright—hands behind his back, and his face was rigid and taut.
“Big gathering,” said the native as Cadman stepped up next to him, offering him a cigarette. “People upset,” he sighed. “Vorgen peoples starting trouble in North again.” He took the cigarette from Cadman. “Not all Vorgen bad. Some good. Some like me, believe new good.”
“Oi!” barked Cadman. “Wa’ an’ goo’.”
The Vorgen looked at him in shock, as if Cadman had spoken in some strange language. They looked back at the congregation of people piling into the town hall. Miranda’s feathered bonnet turned in the crowd. She waved at Cadman and he shyly waved back. When they all disappeared inside, the Vorgen turned to Cadman and offer him a handshake, saying:
“Now, Vos, Chief of West, will speak to New people.”
What a strange man, thought Cadman, yet so polite. He hoped that whatever it was that Vos had to say, would secure peace on the island.
Cadman laid on the roof of the carriage, bridging the gaps in the clouds with his hands. It was a game he had played since he was a young boy. Hours could pass in what felt to him like seconds.
He heard a chuckle and looked down to see Miranda’s face bursting with laughter.
“How long have yo’ bee’ the’?” he exclaimed. She looked astonished.
“Why Caddy! That was almost a complete sentence without an accent!” She playfully hooked him in the shoulder. “See, I knew you could speak correctly. Must have been that hook on the nose.”
***
The journey back was mostly the same as the journey there, save for the stop at the graveyard where Miranda set a new bunch of honeysuckle flowers on her mother’s grave.
Lady Mathilda Thule 1795 – 1828 – “Beloved mother, beloved wife”
Miranda was twelve when her mother had passed away. She would be nineteen that next month. That is seven years without a mother so far, thought Cadman. They rolled back up the road and stopped at the crossways. They passed wheat fields, pastures, and tobacco plantations until they saw the familiar sight of home.
“So, meeting, what about?” he mimicked the Vorgen.
“Oh, so you’re a native now?” she said absent-mindedly. “I like your accent more Cadman. Anyway, he said he will try to dissuade the other Vorgen chiefs from violence.”
“Oi!” he barked, feeling sheepish, “so wha’s th’ ma’’er?” he asked endearingly. She snuggled up beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder.
“Something else is going on in Adelwreth,” she said. “A woman was attacked and killed near the Furniture Factory almost a week ago, Papa said it didn’t make sense. Then last night a boy was killed at the steps of the church. Something is wrong with the city. It seems… sick.” She trailed off. After a while of just the sound of the wheels and the horses’ hooves clopping on the dust path, she said, “Alexander went up to the Vorgen—he won’t be back for months. At the moment he is the only one in Adelwreth keeping the night in check, and now he is gone. I thought Papa was beginning to see shadows for facts…” she hesitated. “I must admit, I’m beginning to see them that way too now. There is just too much protocol, too much facade.”
“Oi, bu’ Mr Thu’ wi’’ kno’ wha’ t’ do,” said Cadman, trying to comfort her.
Closer to home, she started cheering up again. She smiled slightly and rubbed her arm. Before long she was calling out to the farmworkers, laughing and even got Cadman to sing along to a ditty that he had only heard at Lütz tavern before.
They entered the gates, rounded the circle and stopped in front of the mansion.
“Thank you, Cadman,” she said solemnly. She kissed him on the cheek, jumped off the carriage and said, “Next time duck. I was taking it easy on you, and thank you for escorting me safely as always.” He blushed and sat dazed for a while before hopping off and opening the chest. The butler came out, greeted him politely and thanked him for his services.
***
Cadman was washing Geneveve with Mary playfully nibbling at his arm when Mr Thule entered the stables, hands in his pockets. Cadman grew cold. Mr Thule seldomly paid him a visit—normally the butler would announce or call or deliver messages. Mr Thule rubbed Mary’s face then stood in the doorway peering out into the distance and lit his pipe. Cadman stopped washing Geneveve and approached the statute man.
“Caddy, I have a task for you,” said Mr Thule as he drew in the smoke and handed Cadman an envelope. “You need to fetch two gentlemen for me. A Mr Bleuamar and a Mr Podark. Their locations are circled on the map inside.” The coals burned in the pipe. “Travel swiftly, travel light, leave as soon as you can.”
Cadman nodded, unsure of what was happening, stood for a few moments and decided he meant now, as soon as possible. Mr Thule stood watching him as he tacked up the horses and spoke to them.
“It’s because you don’t need a whip,” Mr Thule said.
“Oi?” barked Cadman, confused.
“That’s why I employed you. You are gentle and kind, that’s why I trust you with my daughter and that is why she fancies you.” Cadman grew warm inside and blushed.
Mr Thule squared up with him and took him by the shoulders. “Go with haste, time is of the essence…”