Gold is Still Gold
The lantern above your table flickers as the tavern door opens. Looking up, you see balls of snow crash through the doorway as a cloaked figure enters. As soon as they pass the threshold, they fight the door closed as the harsh winter wind demands entrance. With the fight won, they lower the hood of their cloak revealing an unusual travel for these parts. Long straggles of gray hair cling to his scalp and neck. A sprinkling of jet black whiskers lost in a sea of salt hint of days past. Whipping off his cloak with a theatrical flourish, he hangs it on the coat rack next to him. As he does so, you catch glimpses of the other patrons through it.
He looks through the haze of smoke and music, past the cards and dancing, and his eyes pass every tree in the forest. Taking in the scene, he rests his gaze on you, recognition glinting. Your shoulders stoop under the weight. You’re able to relax as those probing, analyzing daggers lift off and settle on the open chair across from you. He glides across the room with surprising poise, as though his spine has as much steel as his eyes. His smile matches the hearth as he helps himself to your table.
“Good evening friend,” he greets. “I trust I’m not disturbing your meal. Options are limited it seems.” Underneath his beard, you can make out a strong jawline that doesn’t mince words, and above, a complimentary nose whose bridge kinks in several different directions.
“Ah, that looks like a fine meal. I think I’ll have the same.”
You look down at your plate. It’s okay, but nothing to write home about. You decide to let him figure that out on his own. He hails the bartender who pushes his way through the rent payment.
“What can I get’cha?”
“Yes, I’ll have the same as my friend. I think we’ll also have one of everything on the menu please,” he speaks with surprising authority and confidence.
“Yeah, sure. Maybe you’d like me to use clean plates and bring out my best wine while I’m at it,” the bartender smirks.
“That would be lovely,” the stranger nods on the beat. He fishes a hand from his pockets and slaps it into the proprietor’s palm. You hear the unmistakable jingle of coins.
The bartender examines the contents of his hand and his mouth goes slack. “Of course, sir, right away. And I’ll be sure to bring that wine too.” He bows curtly.
“I’m sorry, where are my manners?” He asks to you. “Do you like wine? Perhaps you’re more of a beer person? No matter,” your friend mutters. Looking at the barkeep again, “Bring us beer too. If you make sure our plates and cups are always full, well, I’d be very appreciative.” With just a wink, he sends the man back to fetch the bounty.
“So, tell me friend, do you know how you’re going to die?” The question crashes on the table like a dropped mug. The strange, old man’s eyes squint as he reads your reaction. He pulls out a pipe and smokes as he relaxes into the chair.
“It’s an odd question, I know. What would you think if I told you that I knew how my days would end? Does it change your opinion of me if I told you I knew the exact moment of my last breath?” A curious grin lifts his moustache. After a long draw, he blows perfect smoke rings that circle up and around the overhead lantern.
“I was about your age when I stumbled into the hag’s den. I had gotten lost on a hunting trip, twisted my ankle in a gopher hole, and rolled down a hill into a small bog. I’m not sure how I reached her den. You see, at the bottom of the hill, I hit my head on a rock and took a nap.”
The bartender and a serving girl arrive with plates and bowls of hot food, actual glasses of wine, and silver tankards of beer. Your company smiles warmly and makes another handoff, this time to the server. He takes a huge gulp from his mug and chases it with a refined sip from his glass.
“When I woke up, I was in the creature’s lair. She had her back to me, stirring some kind of stew in a cauldron. Somehow she knew exactly when I opened my eyes, because she immediately began speaking to me. Asking me my name, where I came from, what I thought was going to happen. I was worried, to be sure, but I didn’t think she wanted to hurt me. So I told her as much. That’s when she turned around and smiled,” he pauses briefly to eat some of the first course. “You must try the pork. Perfection.” He takes another bite and slurps his beer. As he sets his drink down, a satisfied belch escapes. Not a raucous, obscene thing like from the other patrons, but a polite release into his napkin. He reads your eyes, “You think I’m a crazy old coot,” his chuckle is infectious. “At least you have the good sense to recognize a fool when you see one.” You share a laugh.
“She asked me why I thought I was safe. I told her that if she wanted to hurt me, she wouldn’t have taken the time to bandage my head and put a splint around my ankle. For some reason, we both chuckled, and that turned into full blown laughter. All the tension was gone, and we chatted like old friends. I ended up staying with her for three days. When I was strong enough to return home, she asked if I was interested in what the future held for me. I was young and my hubris strong. To have such an opportunity, to be able to know the mysteries of life, I leapt at the chance. Gazing into her crystal ball, I watched my final day play out. If I could go back, I honestly don’t know what I would do.”
Just then, calls of cheater and bastard and a slew of other curses interrupt everyone’s meals. Looking past the man’s shoulder, you can see a card game going south. Pistols out, four men eye each other through the sweat and bloodshot.
“Ah yes,” the old man sighs. “You’ll want to duck now. That chubby fellow is a terrible shot.” Heeding his advice, you dive under the table just as the room fills with thunder. Peeking out, you see two of the men sprawled on the floor. One of them is the ‘chubby fellow.’ Another man sits in his chair, hunched over, hand pressed deeply into his stomach. He finishes his drink and slowly smokes a cigar. The last one sweeps coins and cards off the table into a bag and runs out the door. Another patron closes it behind him to keep Jack Frost out. From the corner of your eye, you see a cigar fall from a slumped head.
Getting up, you see a bullet hole in the back of your chair. The ball still embedded in the splinters. Using a knife from the table, you pry out the warm shot and watch it roll across the floor. “Such a waste, sad really. Oh well, what’s done is done and we all have to live and die by our choices. Please, sit. Don’t let their ignorance disrupt our fine meal. I have it on good authority that we won’t be bothered like that again.”
Taking your seat again, he calls for refills. “Once I saw how it would end, I said yes to everything. I was able to cheat at life and took advantage of it. Adventure after adventure, I traveled the world. Hesitation comes from fear, and fear comes from the unknown. Remove the what-if’s and you remove the hesitation. I must have done it all.”
A hypocritical pot is set on the edge of the table. The server from before places bowls and spoons in front of both of you. She ladles a delicious-smelling broth. Tender chunks of meat and vegetables dance and swirl.
“Take your time and enjoy,” the girl says. “When you’re ready, I’ll bring out the next course.” She smiles and gives a polite, if somewhat awkward, curtsy and flies off to help other tables.
“Sweet girl,” mutters the old man in between slurps from his spoon. “Where was I? Ah yes, I had just left the bog. Returning to my little village I felt like a new man. It didn’t take long before an opportunity came my way. Merchants passing through were looking for some hirable hands. I was so eager to start my travels, I forgot to pack a proper bag. I didn’t even have my handkerchief,” he chuckles. “While the trip ended up being uneventful, it did take me to a city for the first time.”
“It was there that I lost all my money. Perhaps lost isn’t the right word. After getting paid, I took a stroll to see the sites. All I seemed to find was poverty. Orphans, crippled veterans, and all manner of downtrodden fellows. My heart was young and easily melted. Before I knew it, I had given away everything I had. My entire allotment from the merchant, even the spare coins I had in my pockets. Funny as it seems, I must have given out currency from three different nations. No one really cares whose face is on it, as long as the metal is right.”
A cooked turkey with all the fix’ins is set in the middle of your table. “After that, finding more work was easy enough so I took off again. I guarded a few more merchants, helped explore uncharted lands, and became a diplomat to savages. Even with all that excitement, I became bored,” he explains, tearing off a leg. “I grew tired of safety. I decided to test the hag’s vision. I began to take risks and tempt Fate. I fell into a company of brigands and soon stole from the merchants I once protected. After a while, I turned to piracy.”
He chased another gulp with a sip. “It was when I set sail that I was able to leave monotony behind. I was on a ship called Miss Fortune though it had been misspelled into a rather unlucky word. Cannons roared and waves crashed as we circled opposing vessels. You don’t know what thrill is until you’ve stood on the deck of a ship and exchanged broadsides. Crewmates took cover as hot metal and splintered wood filled the air, but not me. I stood against the railing and watched each ball soar. Every time one looked as though it was headed my direction, my heart would skip. But something happened to alter their course. Some fell short, or the boat would turn just enough to avoid it, and once, I swear I saw a cannonball change its downward course and fly overhead. Even as the ships closed in and swords decided the outcome, my experiences were the same.”
The tavern has started to grow quiet. Many patrons have retired to their rooms, gone home, or have passed out at their tables. The food and drinks continue to make their way to your table. The old man stares off into the past. He has taken a break from the banquet and chews the end of his pipe. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, he raps his pipe on the table and clears out the burnt remains.
“Once boredom found me again, I knew it was time to travel. I wanted something else, something more. I found myself in a faraway kingdom, this was when I was a mercenary. The local lord dreamed of an empire, so I decided to make a fortune helping. Before long, I had befriended the lord’s children. Fighting side by side, it’s easy for such attachments to form. Eventually the lord died, his son took the throne, and I married his sister. We grew the empire, life was good, but restlessness visited me again. I decided I could lead better than him, so I devised a plan. All you need to take over an empire is a little poison. Perhaps I planned too well, or maybe no one really cared, or something else had its hands in the whole affair, but the plan went off without a hitch. No one even sniffed in my direction, not even when my wife was named queen.”
A bard enters the tavern, buys himself a drink and starts playing the piano in the corner. The tune lifts the room, people dance, and your table bumps to the rhythm of tapping toes.
“I had everything; a beautiful wife, eventually children, and the world bowed to me. I must confess that such power is more intoxicating than any brew or herb, and I would know. I stopped listening to the people. I sent advisors away. I…” he stares at his plate. “I mistreated my family. When the revolt came, I knew I was safe. As the mob stormed in, I didn’t even leave the throne. I knew this wasn’t how I died. Such a fool.”
He goes quiet and slowly pecks at his plate. Another round of refills goes by in silence. The bartender returns after some time, “S’cuse me sir. It’s getting late and we’re quite busy. Will you be need’n a room? It would be better to claim one now, before we fill up.” Looking up at him, the man smiles.
“No need to worry about me. I have it on good authority that there’ll be an open room in the back with a view of the stables. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to retire.” The bartender nods his befuddled expression and leaves.
With a huff, he looks back up at you. “She showed me the end of the trip, not the journey. I failed to realize the difference. That revelation didn’t come to me till after it mattered. The following years were spent in a haze of incarceration, escape, and running. Eventually the years took their toll, and I decided to travel the world one last time. It seems only fitting that I should arrive here, at this time.
Before I left to see the world again, I found my family and paid them a visit. My wife had passed some time before. Tuberculosis. Her grave is simple but nice. It’s well-tended and visited regularly. That’s all any of us can ask for, and more than some deserve. I don’t know what happened to my son. I shudder to think how he ended up with the lessons I gave him. My daughter and her husband have a lovely home. Enough land for a couple cows and a horse. It took me two days to muster the courage to knock on their door. When I did, she answered. Her eyes lit up when she saw me, not with excitement, fire. She told me to enjoy my trip through the Nine Hells and to never come back. All I told her was that I understood, and to be happy.”
He raises his napkin to his face. He catches a choked sob. “While I was there, I did manage to see that she had a few little ones running around. If I’m lucky, she’ll never tell them about me. To be honest, to see them playing and being able to hear their laughter was more than enough.” An empty smile lifts his glassy eyes. “I left her door, but I can’t seem to get out of her living room.” His face changes, as if telling his story has aged him considerably. His tired eyes have sunken into his sickly face.
“I think it’s time for me to retire. Thank you, friend, for indulging an old fool. Please, take this,” He leaves a small purse on the table. “Their minted value isn’t the same, but they’ll spend. Enjoy your journey, you never know when a stray shot might end it.” He slowly stands, his posture stooped by heavy shoulders. He limps to the bar. You can’t hear their conversation, but see him take the last room key. He shakes the bartender’s hand and heads for the stairs. Going by, he turns and gives you one last wink. After he disappears upstairs, you open the purse. Gold coins filled to the brim and each one has the same picture. A man’s face with a strong jaw, complimentary nose, and sharp eyes.
