The bustle of the city enveloped me as I stepped forward, and I noticed more than one glance in my direction. While I had covered myself with appropriate clothing, I still drew attention, it seemed. Most looked curious, though there were a few suspicious looks among them. Doubts crept into my mind, but I carried on, ignoring the looks, and taking in the city as I went.
I passed merchant stalls, and some shops, though most of the shops made way for residences as I made my way deeper into the city. I realized the inns, and craftsmen would likely be along the river, or near the gates, for easy access to materials, and travellers, but I wanted to get a lay of the land first before I thought about anything else.
My exploration of the city revealed a stark class difference. The central avenue through the city, from the gate I entered, seemed to be a mercantile area, leading to the docks. It was bustling with busy markets, and hawking merchants. The docks were abuzz with activity, as workers loaded, and unloaded cargo.
On one side of the mercantile area, and bordering the docks, were an area of craftsmen, specifically the less clean ones; blacksmiths, tanners, and the like. Further from the mercantile area was a ramshackle slum, filled with desperation, and abject poverty.
Opposite the craftsmen area, on the other side of the mercantile district, the buildings, and streets grew cleaner, and more colourful, gradually growing more affluent, until it reached a gated area where I assumed nobles, and the obscenely wealthy would live. Each district spanned across the river, but central on the other side, I saw spires, and towers, that evoked images of cathedrals. I didn’t get a good look, as I chose to explore that area another day.
Bordering the docks, slums, and the craftsmen area, I found a dilapidated smithy, with what appeared to be a struggling blacksmith. Worn tools and a split anvil dominated the scene. I wondered if I could make use of him, somehow. A desperate man would be easier to convince, and perhaps desperate enough to overlook the obvious suspicions in favour of regaining momentum, and respect in his craft.
My next step would require me to earn some coin, and the best place for that, in my mind, was the docks. There was plenty of bustle, and I figured I could earn enough for a meal, and a bed, by providing some manual labour, so I headed for the river.
The docks were busy, and I struggled initially with finding someone with authority, but I soon discovered what appeared to be the harbormaster.
A stocky, scarred man with rough, and calloused hands, he stood a bit shorter than myself but looked hale, and strong.
“What do you want?” he spoke in a gruff voice, damaged by liquor. “I’m busy, so get on with it.”
“Yes, I can tell,” I said, trying to show confidence. “I’m looking for work. I’m not afraid of hard labour, and I’m disciplined and strong.”
“Hmph. You think you can just walk up, and get a job, huh?” the man looked me over, obviously suspicious at the misfitting clothes. “Who are you then?”
“My name is Jace,” I responded. “I’ve been travelling for some time, and I now find myself lacking coin. I simply need enough for a meal and board, and I’m willing to put in the effort to earn it. I don’t care what the work is, so long as it pays.”
“Well, Jace, I’m not sure I like the look of you. Traveller, you say, and penniless, but your clothes are clean, if a bit dusty, and ill-fitting. You have a look about you that screams outsider, and I’ve never seen anyone with hair, and skin as fair as yours. I’d bet you’ve never worked a day outside in your life.”
His words dug into me like a knife. I had considered my clothing, and my bearing, but I’d forgotten about my face, my skin, and hair. It should have been obvious to me, that I’d look out of place.
The people here cleaned themselves, but in my time, I never had to worry about skin conditions, and the amount of care products for skin, and hair was overwhelming at times. At this time, I looked like a sheltered prince or something.
“Ah, well,” I hesitated, trying to find some explanation or excuse, but nothing came to me. “I might not look like much to you, but I can assure you that I am capable. If you grant me a chance, I will prove myself worthy of trust.”
The harbormaster’s eyes narrowed, and the Gift provided me with an insight into his emotions. Suspicion and caution were foremost, and worry was not far behind. I saw him clench, and release his hands, and he looked to be in deep thought before he spoke.
“Hrmph, fine,” he said. “One chance, but if I find you slacking, or doing anything except working until you’re done, I won’t hesitate in throwing you into the river for wasting my time, you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I responded, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. Some worry lingered, fearing he might try to out me, or call the guards, or something, but there was no backing out now, without drawing even more suspicion.
“Alright, good. I’ll have you haul cargo onto the Star. That’s the ship over there,” he pointed toward a decently sized vessel, with a large number of people scurrying around it. “Name’s Sæwine, by the way. You’ll get paid once the cargo is loaded. Now, get to work.”
I nodded and walked off toward the Star, where I was met with stoic silence and hard labour.
Carrying the cargo onto the ship was hard work, but the Gift provided me with strength and endurance, so the work was done easily enough. My biggest concern while working was maintaining my cover. I couldn’t show too much strength, or endurance, or people would get suspicious, but I couldn’t allow myself to appear weak. Finding the balance was difficult, as it wasn’t something I’d have to do before. The idea that I had to hide my Gift hadn’t really come up in training, strangely enough. Something I’d have to change if I ever made it back home.
As I worked, I noticed the looks of my fellow workers change from caution, and suspicion, toward acceptance, and I got the impression that their suspicion of me was initially due to their misconception that I was weak, or the expectation that I wouldn’t pull my weight. When I proved myself capable of hard work, and keeping up with them, I earned their respect, and the suspicion faded as a result.
It was something I hadn’t considered before, as the Gifted were almost universally respected, and in some cases feared, but it was something I would take with me going forward.
Hard work would make people trust me, and overlook some of my strangeness, though I knew that wouldn’t work on everyone, it might work on most common folk.
For instance, someone like the harbormaster, who had to consider a large number of people working on a lot of value, actions would speak far louder than words, but he’d also be far more suspicious, and harder to convince.
I don’t intend to work at the docks forever, but it seems like a good entry point, while I begin work on other avenues. Listening to the sailors might give me ideas for plans, or opportunities, as well.
Darkness had fallen, and my stomach was rumbling by the time we finished the work, and while I’d earned some measure of respect among the workers, they all headed off without much word once we were done.
“I’ll need to build a rapport before they’ll interact with me, I guess,” I thought as I walked over to harbormaster Sæwine.
I found him without fuss and approached him.
“All done, sir,” I said, not bothering with formality, or wasting time.
“Yes, so I’ve heard,” he responded, still gruff. “From what I heard, and saw, you did well. You’ve earned your pay. I’ll find some more work for you if you show up again, but don’t expect too much.”
“Of course, thank you,” I responded, and took the coins from his outstretched hand. “Do you know of a decent place with a room and some food that’s affordable?”
“Hmph, let’s see,” he said, scratching his beard in thought. “There’s the Gull, I suppose. Cheap as shit, and the food is barely edible, but it’s a roof over your head and a full stomach. Just head along the dock in that direction, and you’ll see the sign.”
I thanked him for his time, and the pay, and promised to return for more work, before I headed off in the provided direction.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
As I walked, I started pondering the city, and a recollection tickled the back of my head.
Something I had forgotten, something from my education on history, though it was lacking when it came to medieval, and pre-medieval times, was the state of England. The Anglo-Saxons invaded sometime after the fall of the Roman Empire. England was in disarray and had reverted to a more rural way of living as the structure brought by the Romans fell apart. The cities were left behind, in favour of smaller towns, and farming communities.
So, why was York so bustling? Had I misremembered, or misheard the year, or did the man lie to me? Maybe he just said something because he didn’t know. Would the common folk even care about what year it was?
All questions that would be difficult to find an answer to, so I pushed them to the back of my mind, as I approached the Gull.
The interior of the Inn was as I’d expected from a cheap, dockside dive; grimy, dingy, and filled to the brim with sailors and dockworkers.
The innkeeper didn’t ask any questions, and provided me with a filling, if disgusting meal, and the key to a room, which took most of my earnings.
The room was dark, damp, and smelled of mildew, but it was better than sleeping outside.
As I hit the stray mattress, the events of the day crashed into my thoughts. Everything from waking up to reaching the inn was gone over, again and again, and I found myself struggling to come to grips with it. I felt I’d kept an impressive cool, but there were too many near misses. The harbormaster, the couple, and the people who stared at me throughout the city. I needed to be better, to do better. I couldn’t afford to make mistakes.
While I was confident in my ability to fight my way out of almost any situation, thanks to the Gift, that would mean a large number of innocent lives on my conscience. I wanted to avoid unnecessary loss of life, which rang somewhat hollow to me, considering how I handled the thugs. I felt I was justified in my actions, but with my superiority, I could have easily incapacitated them without killing them. That would have required me to reveal more of the Gift, though, and would significantly increase the risks of revealing me. Too many questions and the couple would be interrogated as witnesses.
They still might, but that was out of my hands.
I felt my head grow heavy, my mind slowed by the heavy thoughts and considerations, and I resolved to simply get through the following days, and start earning some coin.
After some time, I finally fell into a fitful sleep, tormented by nightmares.
I feel stretched, torn between two points, as if I exist in both at the same time, before one snaps. The darkness is all-encompassing, absolute, and utterly silent. The Black Hole consumes all.
The silence is deafening. I can’t even hear my own scream, only feel the rattle of my bones as my voice causes vibrations, the rush of blood through my veins and the beating of my heart.
The Gift is quiet and loud. It is screaming inside me, but there is nothing to be felt. No guidance, or aid, just chaos, and terror.
I feel spread thin, like too little butter on too much bread.
A blinding light, green, and blue. An impact, and then… blissful oblivion.
I woke with a start, screaming, soaked in sweat, as the details of the dream faded, though the feelings it evoked remained, whipping my heart into a frenzy, and robbing me of my control. My breathing hitched, and I felt tears forming in my eyes. The Gift was silent, unhelpful once more.
Long minutes of laboured breathing followed before I finally regained control. The Gift returned, I could feel it once more; a calming, comforting sense of rightness, of being whole. I reached within, to the wellspring of power, to the unfathomable depths of strength, and drank deeply. The Gift granted me calm, caused confidence to roar through me, and I knew I could handle everything this world would throw at me. Nothing would stop me from returning home.
I tempered those feelings, recalling my mentor’s guidance:
Do not give yourself over completely, or the Gift may overwhelm your ego. Temper yourself against the confidence, the arrogance, and hubris, for you will never be as invincible, or all-powerful as the Gift might claim.
Live with humility, forsake the ambitions of power, and act only with the greatest care.
I already knew I acted too rashly against the thugs, though I couldn’t understand why this memory came to me now, or how I could have forgotten. Perhaps a result of the Gift’s unreliability, or proof of my over-dependence. I wasn’t sure, but I knew I would never succeed, I knew I would never return home without the Gift, and I’d have to rely on it. My only hope was that I remained myself, that I stayed true to myself, and could return, and make my mentor proud.
I rose from the bed, putting the nightmare behind me, and preparing for a long day of work.
Four days pass.
The bed felt as bad as always, as I woke from another nightmare, the same nightmare of darkness and deafening silence. I’d grown used to it, though it still left me screaming every morning.
I’d started to believe it was a memory of what happened after the black hole swallowed me, though the details remain indistinct. The last few days had been productive, as far as my coin pouch went, and I’d managed to gain some measure of trust among the dockworkers, and Sæwine, the harbormaster.
Whenever I wasn’t working, I explored, trying to come to terms with the discrepancies of this version of ancient England, and the one I remembered from history lessons, but I was no closer to an answer.
I’d paid attention and asked around about the blacksmith I found, and learned that he’d been under constant pressure from competitors, and had proven incapable of rising to the challenge. I considered reaching out, though I’ll have to test him somewhat first. He needed to be trustworthy, and he had to be able to make use of what snippets I gave him. I couldn’t give him the full extent of my knowledge, as that would be impossible for him to make use of, but after careful consideration, I’d decided to provide a slightly improved way to create steel and a way to work it, that forms a strengthened product.
It should prove decisive enough to give him an edge, without being outside the realms of possibility.
I had a final morning of work at the docks before I was free to act, and so I donned my new clothes and left the inn.
I had made some progress in other areas as well.
I’d learned how to harness the Gift to alter my appearance, although I couldn’t make full use of it among the dockworkers. They’d already seen my face, and I could only make slight changes, that could be explained as lack of sleep or exposure. I was gradually altering my complexion to look more in tune with the time, though, and it was already having an effect.
The harbormaster started to trust me, and the dockworkers grew more, and more comfortable with me. I’d learned the names of two of them, ones I worked with regularly. Eadric, and Eadgar. Brothers who’s spent their lives on the rivers, and the docks of England. They’d warmed up to me quickly once I showed up for more work.
As for my investigations into the differences, I believed I’d have to visit a scholar for that, and they wouldn’t meet with a simple dockworker. I’d need to gain some influence before I could gain an audience with the learned men.
The day's work involved unloading cargo from a trading vessel that had come in from the Mediterranean, via London. The brothers greeted me at the docks, and we got to work.
The work was a toil, as always, but it left me strangely satisfied. I found the simple work to be fulfilling in a way, though the feeling passed as I considered the long road ahead.
“Always lost in yer own ‘ed, aren’t ye?” asked a voice from behind me. Eadric nudged me as he passed, laughing. “Y’should stop tha’. Dangerous it is. Y’won’t see the danger afore it’s on ye.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I laughed him off. “I know. It’s always dangerous here, right? Nothing wrong with a bit of intellectual work.”
“Bah, leave tha’ to them scholars, or whatno’”
“Agein with tha scholars, bruv?” shouted Eadgar as he approached. “Shut yer hole fer once, will ya? Sorry about him, agein. ‘e’s a bit thick, y’know.”
“Of course, friends, no harm done. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll have to head off. I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got other engagements, I’m afraid.”
“Ohooh, listen ta him, bruv. All fancy soundin’.”
“Yeh, always tryin’ to sound so posh, he is.”
“Too good for us mere peasants, eh?”
“Right, you are, brother. Right, you are.”
“Alright, I get it. I sound funny. I meant no offence, you know that.”
“Yeye, git on wiv it.”
Their accent kept growing thicker as we spoke, which I believe was a conscious effort on their part. I think they felt it gave them character, and made them memorable.
I shook my head and bid them farewell before I went to collect my pay.
The harbormaster looked busy and harried as always, but he welcomed me with a slight smile when I approached.
“Last day, eh?” he asked, already fiddling with a coin pouch, counting. “I’ll miss you, I suppose. Do come back if you find yourself in need of work. Can’t say I expected much, but you’ve done well. Thank you.”
“Ah, don’t mention it. You had no reason to trust me,” I reassured him with a smile. “I’m sure I’ll be back if the need arises, or otherwise. I’d venture to say I’ve made a couple of friends here.”
“Yeah, those two are likeable, once you get past the rough exterior, and the babble, and the rough-housing, drinking, gambling, and everything else about them.”
“Hah, I’ll agree they’re a tad rough around the edges, but they haven’t given me a reason to dislike them, yet.”
“Fair, fair,” the harbormaster closed the pouch, and pushed a collection of coins toward me, which I swept into my own coin pouch. “Have a nice day, Jace, and I hope to see you around.”
“Thank you, and likewise.”
I nodded my head, and took my leave, now heading into the city, toward the blacksmith.