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LITTERAE
Multilingual literary magazine
Linda Hutsell Manning
From Chapter Four
Moments later, the fog cleared. The creek was much wider now, a river flowing past them. The pasture was not so different but the distant hill was further away than the one they'd left and it rose up to some kind of fortification.
What Jason noticed first was Charlotte's white bonnet. She was dressed, now, in a long, full skirt and a blouse whose puffed sleeves were gathered in at the elbows and wrists. He and Squid wore knee breeches, homespun shirts and black peaked caps.
"I didn't want to do this," Charlotte said, staring down at her buckled shoes and white stockings.
"Don't worry, Lottie," Squid chimed in, strutting back and forth in his knee-high boots. "Where did we slip to this time?"
"I don't have a clue. Germany again?"
"How about Luxembourg?" Jason looked questioningly at Charlotte.
"Why Luxembourg?"
"It looks a bit like the postcard." Jason waved toward the fortification.
"I've still got my pack," Squid said, banging at a brown cloth sack hanging from two ropes hooked over his shoulders. "I'll still have my juice pack in there."
They all still had packs but they were roughly woven cloth now. Hopefully, there might be snacks left, though likely quite different from what he and Charlotte had packed. Squid found a small flask and before Charlotte had time to check it, drank it down.
"Sweet Lottie, like grape juice."
"I hope it was juice," she replied.
"I wouldn't worry," Jason added, hoping he sounded reassuring. "How's your flute?"
"Wooden like last time. What about the horn?"
"I think it's a bit longer and shinier." He undid the belt at his waist, securing the bugle. "Charlotte, I know you didn't want this to happen again yet. Are you sorry?"
" Not much point being sorry. I played too. Anyway, we're here and whatever happens, happens."
"Maybe we'll be smarter this time," Jason said.
"We don't even know where we are."
"What do you think we should do?"
"We have to find some place to spend the night," Charlotte said. "I don't want Squid getting sick like he did on our first trip."
"We march over the hill," Squid cut in, giving his now wooden drum a few rat-tat-tats. "And find the castle again." He grinned and marched off, pounding full force.
"Might as well do what Mr. Optimism says," Jason replied.
They followed the river bank for a while and when it came out onto a road, they turned and crossed a solid wooden bridge toward the hillside. Near the top of the hill Squid stopped. "Hot," he said, pulling off his cap and sitting by the side of the road.
"Listen," Jason said. "I hear voices. Quite a few of them." They all froze.
" Down in the valley," Charlotte whispered. "I don't think we should play."
She listened again. "Even
better, let's hide the instruments in our packs."
"Jason helped Squid pull the brown sack over his drum. It was a tight squeeze.
"There's nothing in my pack but an old blanket and this flask," Charlotte said,
rummaging through her pack. " She shoved the flute in and slung it over her
shoulder.
"Oh well," Jason said doing the same. " Hopefully we can play for our supper."
"Let's walk along as if we're out for a stroll," Charlotte suggested, slinging
the pack over her shoulder.
" Good plan," Jason replied, giving Squid's hat a little tug. "We'll pretend
we're just out for an afternoon walk." Jason winked and Squid winked back.
It didn't take long to arrive at the top of the hill. In the field below, a
group of people, six or seven at least, bustled about hauling things out of
caravans positioned in a semi-circle. A small brown dog ran back and forth,
barking.
"Looks like they're setting up to sell stuff," Jason replied, watching a man put
items on a long wooden table.
"If anyone asks," Jason said, staring down at them, "we'll say we're orphans and
we're on our own."
"Will we understand what they're saying?" Charlotte asked. "We could when we
were in Germany."
"But what if we're somewhere else?"
From Chapter Five
They were part way down the hill, Charlotte and Squid in front, Jason following.
Without warning, someone grabbed Jason from behind, a muscled arm pinning him
across his chest. Oł allez-vous," a bass voice hissed in his ear. A second
person jumped in front of Charlotte and Squid.
"Asseyez-vous!" a woman's voice told them. Jason glanced at her rough cloth
pants and jacket, a peaked cap hiding her face. It's not two men, he thought,
feeling somehow relieved. Maybe we stand a chance.
Charlotte sat on the road and pulled Squid down beside her. Jason was pushed
roughly toward them so that he half fell to a sitting position against Squid.
Their captors stood a short distance away, whispering and obviously deciding
what to do next. Jason wondered if they were part of the group they could see
below. He wished the bugle was tied to his belt. What if these strangers
confiscated their packs?
"Les espions," man said out loud. He removed his peaked cap and ran his fingers
through wavy brown hair.
The woman shook her head. "Les voleurs, je pense." She was trim and with the cap
on did look like a young man.
More whispering.
"What did they say, Lottie?" Squid grabbed Charlotte's hand and his bottom lip
quivered.
"They think we're spies or thieves," Charlotte said quietly. "It's French,
Jason."
"I'm getting it ," Jason replied grimly, "and I hated French in school."
"Are we in France, then?" Charlotte said, putting her arm around Squid.
Jason shrugged.
"Get up," the man said roughly, pulling his cap back on. "For now, we'll take
you to the camp."
"They won't be wanting three more mouths to feed," the woman added.
The children scrambled to their feet and were escorted down the hill, the man
pushing Jason ahead, his hand around the back of Jason's neck . The woman walked
ahead of them, holding firmly to Charlotte and Squid's arms. Jason noticed her
uneven gait, as if one leg was a bit shorter than the other.
Everyone stopped to watch as they were marched down the hill toward the
semi-circle of caravans. Jason noted plank tables set up in front of each one.
"Look who we found spying on us," the man called, letting go of Jason. Two more
men approached, then a woman. Jason glanced at Squid and Charlotte. She held her
head high, staring straight ahead. Squid had his face pressed against the folds
of her skirt.
"What do you say for yourselves?" their woman captor snapped, folding her arms
and staring at them.
"We're not spies or thieves," Jason said slowly. "We're...
"Orphans," Charlotte said firmly. "We're just trying to find our way."
"Your way?" one of the two men questioned, coming forward. "That's too vague."
Jason noticed this man had same wavy brown hair as his captor.
"Their accents are foreign," the other woman added, coming closer. "It is
certain they are not French." Her long blonde hair was tied back with a
colourful scarf and she had a patch over one eye.
A second man came forward, solidly built and with a heavily pocked face. "We
should give them the chance to explain, Friede," he began. "Foreign
accents or not."
"They could be servant runaways, Klaus," Friede replied, glancing his way. She
pulled off her cap, tossing silky blonde hair behind her. "Who knows, there
might be a price on their heads. We could pick up some extra cash."
A large woman pushed through in front of the men. "And who's this?" she said,
coming right up to the children. She smiled and looked questioningly at Friede.
"We found them up on the road watching us, Bertha," Friede replied.
"They say they are orphans. Sander thinks they're spies."
"Not spies," Squid said, turning toward the woman and rubbing tears from his
face.
"Friede, Friede," Bertha replied, bending down to wipe Squid's face with part of
her apron. "They are just children."
"We should take them to Captain Arned, then," Sander interjected. "He will
decide."
As they were led through the camp Jason counted five horses, all unhitched and
grazing a short distance off. The caravans were covered and Jason noticed pots
tied to the back of one and clothes hanging on a line strung between two more.
He wondered if these people might be gypsies.
A short, wiry man with a leathery face and grey hair fell in step with Bertha. "
Do we have guests?" he asked, glancing at the children.
"Friede and Sander think they are spies, Viktor," she replied.
Viktor snorted quietly and shook his head.
At least we can count on these two, Jason thought.
Linda Hutsell-Manning's
publications include juvenile fiction and plays, poetry, short fiction and
TV scripts. She has worked as a free-lance journalist, taught creative writing
at several community colleges, hosted author reading series and
promoted her work internationally. Born in Winnipeg, Manitoba, she moved to
Ontario at age nine. After Ryerson Polytechnical Institute and Toronto
Teachers' College, she taught for two years in a one room school. She has a
B.A. from the University of Guelph and began writing full time in 1981.
Married with three adult children and four grandchildren, she has lived in
many Canadian communities from Kamloops, BC to Cobourg, Ontario, where she
now makes her home.
Selected Publications:
Jason and the
Wonder Horn: Coteau Books, fall 2002
"Frightseeing in Northumberland County" in Watershed Magazine, Sept.
2001
"For Once in Your Life" in Litwit Magazine, Winter 2000
"Settlers" in County of Northumberland, Wallbridge House Publishing,
2000
"Agnes" in Going It Alone. Plays by women for solo performers.
Winnipeg: Nuage Editions, 1997.
Dinosaur Days: Toronto, Ontario: Stoddart Canada, 1993; USA:
Breakwater, 1994.
"Wolf." Great Canadian Murder and Mystery Stories: Kingston, Ontario:
Quarry Press, 1991.
Awards:
Maxum Mazumdar New
Play Competition, Alleyway Theatre, Buffalo, NY
Juvenile Play Award for Marcie Saves the Circus, 2000, Canadian
Children's Book Centre "Our Choice" Award for Dinosaur Days, 1994
Shortlisted: Stephen Leacock Poetry Award, for "Walking on Broken Glass,"
1994. Shortlisted: Short Grain Award, for "Dementia Days," 1991.
Shortlisted: Writer's Quarterly Poetry Competition, for "Freak Show," 1988.
