Merchant’s Log www.thetreasuremerchants.com
Tenth Entry
Evening
I just couldn’t believe my eyes! All was calm and tranquil but moments before, and now suddenly, the world was upside down!
As I stood there in inertia, surveying the extent of the damage, Ms. Van Buren peeked her head in through the open door.
I supposed that her expression exactly reflected what I was feeling at that moment, for she was indeed horrified as she looked first around the shoppe, then back to me.
After an eternity of dumbfounded silence, she finally spoke. “Are you….unharmed?”
I gathered myself to speak. “I….I …was not here when it happened. I was… just …around the corner…” I threw up my hands in a helpless gesture.
“But” I sighed, “I assure you I am well”. There is no real damage that I can ascertain, but just a few stolen items. Among them..that package I spoke to you about”.
“Oh no” her hand went to her mouth in horror. The implications of the seriousness of this turn of events struck her and she looked at me in wide eyed silence.
We were both thinking the same thoughts. To think of what might happen, should the mysterious stranger return suddenly and demand his parcel that had been so covertly entrusted into my care, and now was just as covertly taken.
After a few moments, Ms. Van Buren laid a kind hand on my shoulder, “don’t fret love,” we shall call upon Joseph to use his fine sleuthing skills to help us find our culprit, and recover what has been stolen.
Joseph, the town Constable, is a clever sort, and was always one to put his mind to a puzzle like no else I ever knew. I felt confident that his wily skills of detection would bring us a swiftly delivered resolution.
Calmed by Ms. Van Buren’s demeanor and sense of purpose, (and now that we had some sort of plan) I made my way to where the pillow coverings littered the floor in an odd sense of elegant, sparkling contradiction to the chaos about them.
As I bent to examine them, I noticed that some sort of strange imprints had been left on the fine fabrics. I caught a faint whiff of chocolate, and bent to sniff them. Yes, definitely chocolate, and green tea! I saw that there were crumbs and seeds everywhere, apparently from the green tea bars and chocolate that I had laid out for my customers earlier.
Well, I thought to myself, I certainly hope our robber quite got his fill of the delicacies so conveniently provided for him!
I imagined a cloaked figure lying in wait as he saw me leave the shoppe and walk down the path around the back to the garden.
The door was unlocked, and probably not even closed all the way, so all was to his advantage as he casually strolled in. I saw with my mind’s eye, how he looked about the room in a slow, and calculated study of where the most valuable goods might be kept.
I shuddered.
As he looked about the room, he spied the bricks of chocolate and the green tea bars lying on the table and helped himself quite happily (and messily) to them all.
I supposed he even took the time to properly pour himself a glass of ice cold Licorice drink to slake his thirst.
I spied no glass, so it bears to reason that he drank directly from the pitcher. I shuddered again.
As I looked at the crumbs on the floor, I noticed that there seemed to be a trail leading past the pillow coverings, and handmade table cloths, around the display tables and over to the open window.
Hmm, so, my thief, still licking his fingers, thumbed through the pillow coverings, knocking them to the floor, then casually trampled them as he made his way past, then….. paused to admire the view from the open window?
I went to the window and looked out and around. Nothing. All was quiet and peaceful, not an ornery thief in site.
“Well, it seems this thief was proud of his handiwork, he left his calling card,” Ms. Van Buren was holding up a beautifully full, perfectly formed white Feather. “Where did you find that?” I asked. “It was lying atop where your crystal jewels were displayed before they were taken.” She gestured to the now empty display.
Ah, the rest of the picture came to me. After taking in the view, our thief then ransacked the rest of the shoppe, grabbed some coin, the jewels, (and the precious package of rare, dark chocolate), and breezed out the front door.
Not before pausing, however, to casually take a feather from his cap and lay it in the very place of the now stolen jewels. (No doubt with a self satisfied smirk on his face).
“Must have been a uniquely satisfying experience for him” I muttered to myself, “he left with his arms and belly full! Ms. Van Buren heard that last and looked to me in question.
I pointed out all my observations to her, and my imagined sequence of events. “He ate all the chocolate?” She chuckled wryly for a moment. When I questioned what she was thinking, she described a very different view of our thief, with a penchant for sweets, lumbering unsteadily out the door with the rush of all that sugar coursing through his veins.
I thought it best not to disturb the clues so blatantly and arrogantly left for us, so sunset saw us making our way down the main thoroughfare, over to the “Copper Penny”
to find us a cold drink and a certain Constable.
Joseph was known to frequent the tavern most every night to catch up on all the latest tall tales and spin a few of his own in his ornery way.
To be sure, a tale told in the tavern at night, was gospel to the town folk come morning, and Joseph had apprehended many a mischievous soul by way of entrapment.
He often laughed uproariously in the telling of his latest carefully woven ensnarement, and had the whole tavern in stitches over it.
Though everyone enjoyed Joseph’s stories, no one wanted to be the focus of them, which meant there was often more than one nervous laugh to be heard among his captive audience of a night at the tavern.
Fishmongers and tradesmen alike crowded into the dark, cramped tavern for a Penny Pint and a hot bowl of Amanda’s famous Clam Chowder.
Tonight was no exception, and as my eyes slowly adjusted to the dark of the lantern lit room, I saw all manner of sea folk and travelers crammed along the walls and at every table.
Tankards were being sloshed about in enthusiastic exaggerations of the day’s adventures, and bowl upon bowl of hot steaming soup was being passed from one person to the next in the long line of hungry patrons.
Ms. Van Buren and I struggled past the crowded entryway, through the bar and dining area, and on to the smoking room. A fire was ablaze in the giant fireplace, and many a pipe’s plume of smoke was rising from the tables, where feet were propped, and chairs were reclined.
They were merchants, fishermen, and travelers all, and they were gathered in silence, broken only by appreciative grunts as they listened to a recitation by a familiar voice.
Pete the Poet, known as the town Bard, had just finished the performance of his most beloved masterpiece entitled “Henry, the Harrier” and was deep into his latest composition.
The room was his.
We squeezed our way through elbows and feet and managed to tuck ourselves into a small alcove. Oddly, there was even a table here, so we gratefully sat ourselves quickly down.
I looked around to see if I could see Joseph, but as the tavern was especially full tonight it seemed, I had no hopes of finding him in this crowd of cloaked travelers and bustling activity.
Ah well, I tried to relax and turn my mind and attention to Pete and his eloquent delivery. After a few phrases, I realized that he had composed an ode to the Pirate, Captain Moon.
I found it both interesting and rather brazen that he should try to discover the heart of a pirate, and the events of her life that had shaped her.
Indeed, as his poem went on, and the supposed agonizing events of her life unfolded, the grunts in the room escalated into snickers. I thought with some measure of compassion on the plight of a poor girl forced to become a pirate out of untoward circumstances.
Apparently not many others in the room thought to consider this, but rather enjoyed the thought of Captain Moon enduring some misery, For the derision only increased at her expense.
And still, Pete the Poet went thoughtfully and bravely on…..
“…and what is a pirate’s treasure?
Is it the bounty that is so quickly gone, or is the act
of taking something, not their own?
Some things have no reason or rhyme,
but one can’t help wondering why they choose a life of crime.
Like this Captain Moon, I’ve heard the merchants speak of.
Has she ever known kindness? Has she ever been in….love……?”
As I listened, I must have looked away in thought, for all of a sudden, Pete’s voice was silenced, as was the room. No doubt affected by his own words, he must have swallowed past a lump in his throat on that last word.
I looked around and back at Pete, and there, standing behind him, a cloaked figure was pressing a shiny blade to Poor Pete’s throat.
There was a collective drawing in of breath as one by one, all eyes were turned toward Pete.
I gasped and grabbed Ms. Van Buren as next to us a cloaked figure threw off her mantle.
She brandished her sword in a stylish embellishment of movement, and with a tumbling cascade of sable mane and a flash of shiny boots, she leaped onto our table and loudly proclaimed “I think we’ve heard just about enough! Arrrggh!”
Buzz: Where can you find the products featured in The Treasure Merchants Gift Shoppe & Bazaar?
Shop The Treasure Merchants at:www.thetreasuremerchants.com
Copyright 2009, The Treasure Merchants, all rights reserved.
