The storm continued to grow in strength, with drifts three foot high now against the shack. Franclan and Robard discussed who they ought to sell their rat-catching services to first, and finally decided on old Agnes. She wasn’t fond of them – nobody was – but she had known them since they were youths and perhaps that was good for something. Most importantly though, she lived nearby and most likely had rats.
Franclan sighed. “Shut the door, dummy”
Robard waddled through the snow back towards the door without any urgency whatsoever and shut it.
They slowly made their way to Agnes’ house which was only about thirty yards away. “Listen, dummy,” Franclan said. “When we get to the old geezer’s house, I’ll do the talking and you do the catching. Did you bring your tongs?”
Robard smiled and proudly revealed his tongs, clicking them a few times before tucking them back away. “Of course, Franc.”
“Good. We’re almost there. Look sharp.”
Franclan cleared his throat and knocked on the door of Anges’ old quaint home. After a few moments of waiting, Robard noticed her approaching the door through the window and got excited “Here she comes! Here she comes!”
Agnes opened the door wearing a colorful patchwork quilt that looked like it was at least a century in the making and smelled of death. She was holding a woodcutting axe, which must’ve been her burglar deterrent of choice. “What do you two want?!”
Franclan stepped forward. “Good evening, Mam. This right here is Robard, the best damn rat catcher this side of the river. In exchange for some firewood – just enough to get us through the night – Robard here will sniff out your rats quicker than a bloodhound and you’ll have yourself a rodent free winter.”
“The only rodents near my house are the two of you!” Agnes scolded. “Just this spring I caught you two idiots trying to steal from my garden. Did you think I had forgotten?”
“We thought maybe you had.” said Robard.
Franclan interjected. “Look Mam, we’re really sorry about that. To make things right, the first rat we catch will be on the house. We’re freezing here and we’re at your mercy.”
Agnes looked unmoved. “You two idiots deserve no mercy. You want firewood? Here!” she reached down, grabbed a small, half-burn, damp log and threw it at them hitting Robard square in the forehead. “Get off my property, you rodents!” she yelled as she slammed the door.
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Robard looked bemused and a goose egg was already starting to present itself where the log struck his head.
Franclan sighed “Pick it up, dummy. It’s better than nothing. Let’s go see if Oswin will hire us.”
Down but not out, they headed towards Oswin’s house which was two more houses over. Oswin was old and senile, but generally friendly and the three of them had shared ale and stories on more than one occasion. They figured he may not have a lot of firewood to spare, but the treatment they’d receive must be no worse than what they got at Agnes’ house. Their toes and fingers were starting to numb as they approached Oswin’s house, which was tucked back and fairly well hidden from the main road.
“Oswin, old friend!” Franclan shouted as he pounded on the door. After several moments, he tried again “Oswin, it’s Franclan and Robard! We’re freezing out here, please let us in!” Several more moments passed without any response. Franclan looked concerned. “Go around back and see if the chimney is smoking. If not, he may not even be home.”
“Aye, Frac.” Robard said as he clumsily stepped through the deep snow around to the back side of Oswin’s cabin. “No smoke Franc! I don’t see any smoke!” he yelled before making his way back towards the front of the house.
Franclan pondered the situation. “Perhaps we could just go in, take care of a rat or two, and take some firewood. He wouldn’t mind. But even if he did, he isn’t here to do anything about it and my toes are numb.”
They entered the unlocked door and headed straight for the fireplace where they expected to find Oswin’s stash of wood, but they found none at all. Perplexed, Robard crept into Owsin’s bedroom to investigate further. A few short moments later, Robard let out a startled yell and called for Franclan. “Franc, come here! Poor Oswin’s had a rougher go of it than us even. ” Franclan entered the bedroom to see Oswin frozen solid laying on his bed.
“Oh, shit! He’s frozen solid! The early winter must’ve caught him by surprise too” said Franclan.
Robard looked deep in thought. “I think he was like that last winter too Franc. Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen him at all this year.”
Robard opened the drawer on the bedside table and removed a leather satchel, then dumped it onto the table’s surface. A few copper coins poured out, not much but perhaps a day's worth of wages for a laborer. “I guess he won’t be needing these any longer!” Robard said as he returned them to the satchel, then the satchel to his pocket.
Franclan looked upset that he didn’t find the coins himself. “Put those back! It’s bad luck to take coins from the dead!”
Robard’s face turned red with shame as he quickly returned the satchel to the table.
“Now, go see if you can find any firewood at all, and I’ll say a prayer for old Oswin’s soul” Franclan instructed Robard.
Robard left to go search for firewood and Franklin stealthily retrieved the satchel of coins from the table and placed it into his pocket, neglecting to say even a simple prayer for Oswin before leaving. “Sucker” he mumbled under his breath.
Franclan returned to the living area to find that Robard hadn’t found any firewood. “We need to go to the Inn to warm up for a moment.” Robard pleaded. “I can’t feel my toes or fingers.”
“We won’t find a warm welcome there, Rob. But I suppose unless we want to freeze to death it may be our only choice. Say bye to Oswin and let’s get going.”