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Episode #42: “The Passing Bell” by Amy Griswold
Episode 42 is part of the Spring 2017 issue!
Support GlitterShip by picking up your copy here: http://www.glittership.com/buy/
The Passing Bell
by Amy Griswold
My hired horse threw a shoe between Bristol and Bath, and by the time the wearying business of getting another nailed on was complete the shadows were growing long and the wind was sharpening its knives.
“It’s kind of you to put me up,” I said, jingling pennies in my pocket to encourage such generosity. In a town so small it had neither pub nor inn, I considered myself fortunate to be offered the chance to sleep in the blacksmith’s loft.
Hello! Welcome to GlitterShip. This is your host, Keffy, and I'm super excited to be sharing this story with you. Our story for today is "The Passing Bell" by Amy Griswold.
Amy Griswold is the author (with Melissa Scott) of DEATH BY SILVER and A
DEATH AT THE DIONYSUS CLUB from Lethe Press. Her most recent work
(with Jo Graham) is the interactive novel THE EAGLE'S HEIR from Choice of
Games. She lives in North Carolina, where she writes standardized tests as well
as fiction, and tries not to confuse the two.
The Passing Bell
by Amy Griswold
My hired horse threw a shoe between Bristol and Bath, and by the time the wearying business of getting another nailed on was complete the shadows were growing long and the wind was sharpening its knives.
“It’s kind of you to put me up,” I said, jingling pennies in my pocket to encourage such generosity. In a town so small it had neither pub nor inn, I considered myself fortunate to be offered the chance to sleep in the blacksmith’s loft.
“Glad to, if you’ve got the coin,” the blacksmith said. “Only the missus is particular in her way about knowing something about strangers who are going to sleep under her roof. What’s your name, and what’s your age, and what’s your trade, good man? For she’ll ask me all three.”
“Rob Tar is my name, and my age is twenty and six,” I said. “And I’m an able seaman aboard the Red Boar out of Bristol. My girl Minnie lives in Bath, and I’m on my way to keep her company a while until we sail again. I’ve never claimed to be a good man, but I’ll be no trouble to you, and I can pay you for supper and bed." In fact I had three months’ pay, most of it stuffed down my shirt to pose less temptation to thieves. “Will that satisfy your lady?”
“It should,” Mister Smith said, with a sheepish sort of shuffle that would have looked more at home on a boy than a big man with biceps like hams. “You understand, she’s a particular sort of woman.” He seemed to notice for the first time that his dogs were circling me suspiciously, as if waiting for the cue to set their teeth into an intruder. “Get by, dogs, we’ve a guest tonight.”
He led me into a kitchen where a warm fire was glowing and went aside to speak with the presumed mistress of the house, a young wife but hardly a merry one, her dun hair matching her dun dress so that she looked faded, as if washed too many times. I was beginning to get some feeling back into my feet when she came over with bread and salt fish.
“That ought to do for a sailor,” she said, and I nodded polite thanks, though in truth I’d eaten enough fish while at sea that I’d have preferred the toughest fowl or most dubious of hams. “If yo
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Episode 42 is part of the Spring 2017 issue!
Support GlitterShip by picking up your copy here: http://www.glittership.com/buy/
The Passing Bell
by Amy Griswold
My hired horse threw a shoe between Bristol and Bath, and by the time the wearying business of getting another nailed on was complete the shadows were growing long and the wind was sharpening its knives.
“It’s kind of you to put me up,” I said, jingling pennies in my pocket to encourage such generosity. In a town so small it had neither pub nor inn, I considered myself fortunate to be offered the chance to sleep in the blacksmith’s loft.
Hello! Welcome to GlitterShip. This is your host, Keffy, and I'm super excited to be sharing this story with you. Our story for today is "The Passing Bell" by Amy Griswold.
Amy Griswold is the author (with Melissa Scott) of DEATH BY SILVER and A
DEATH AT THE DIONYSUS CLUB from Lethe Press. Her most recent work
(with Jo Graham) is the interactive novel THE EAGLE'S HEIR from Choice of
Games. She lives in North Carolina, where she writes standardized tests as well
as fiction, and tries not to confuse the two.
The Passing Bell
by Amy Griswold
My hired horse threw a shoe between Bristol and Bath, and by the time the wearying business of getting another nailed on was complete the shadows were growing long and the wind was sharpening its knives.
“It’s kind of you to put me up,” I said, jingling pennies in my pocket to encourage such generosity. In a town so small it had neither pub nor inn, I considered myself fortunate to be offered the chance to sleep in the blacksmith’s loft.
“Glad to, if you’ve got the coin,” the blacksmith said. “Only the missus is particular in her way about knowing something about strangers who are going to sleep under her roof. What’s your name, and what’s your age, and what’s your trade, good man? For she’ll ask me all three.”
“Rob Tar is my name, and my age is twenty and six,” I said. “And I’m an able seaman aboard the Red Boar out of Bristol. My girl Minnie lives in Bath, and I’m on my way to keep her company a while until we sail again. I’ve never claimed to be a good man, but I’ll be no trouble to you, and I can pay you for supper and bed." In fact I had three months’ pay, most of it stuffed down my shirt to pose less temptation to thieves. “Will that satisfy your lady?”
“It should,” Mister Smith said, with a sheepish sort of shuffle that would have looked more at home on a boy than a big man with biceps like hams. “You understand, she’s a particular sort of woman.” He seemed to notice for the first time that his dogs were circling me suspiciously, as if waiting for the cue to set their teeth into an intruder. “Get by, dogs, we’ve a guest tonight.”
He led me into a kitchen where a warm fire was glowing and went aside to speak with the presumed mistress of the house, a young wife but hardly a merry one, her dun hair matching her dun dress so that she looked faded, as if washed too many times. I was beginning to get some feeling back into my feet when she came over with bread and salt fish.
“That ought to do for a sailor,” she said, and I nodded polite thanks, though in truth I’d eaten enough fish while at sea that I’d have preferred the toughest fowl or most dubious of hams. “If yo