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Josephine pushed a cart full of handicrafts, stopping every few steps to raise her lanthorn and survey her surroundings. A little cat peeked out from under her robe; she had done this several times already. The sun was still fast asleep under the Eastern lands, but this market was located at a key point of canal trade, and the daytime crowds were among the largest. It was better to set up her stall early.
"Excuse me," several dealers, each pushing a cart laden with antiques and carrying a large bag of spices on their backs, brushed past her. Passing a few stalls draped with hanging silks and satins, Josephine reached out and ran her hand over the fabrics. In the distance, a fleet of ships on the canal was unloading cargo, strong men shouting as they took turns carrying wooden crates down.
The gilded Buddha statues, crafted using traditional techniques in Patan, clanged as they were pushed. To avoid colliding with others, she nimbly squeezed her cart into a narrow path, weaving between two houses to reach the outer edge of the market.
There weren't many people around here, Josephine naturally slowed her pace, one hand hanging at her side as she pushed her cart. Suddenly, the cart's wheels rolled over something protruding. The antiquarian stopped and brought her oil lamp close to the enormous shape.
How is this a human being! His face is covered in pink, scarred flesh, with only two holes where his nose used to be. "Uh!" she cried out, nearly falling backward, but was caught by a thick arm from behind.
Josephine tried to recover from the shock. The person's half-closed eyes were wide open, their once clear blue pupils covered by a hazy film, and bloodshot veins covered the whites of their eyes; the eyebrows seemed to have fallen off along with their skin, no obvious emotional fluctuations could be seen.
"Sorry that I startled you."
He put a brass mask back on his face; the design with the slits in the eyes was somewhat zany, making him look like a toad.
The antiquarian shone her oil lamp down on him, scrutinizing his features closely; only then did she notice that the giant was barefoot, his limbs bound with bandages, emanating a pungent odor of tissue fluid mixed with medicine, and a massive sword strapped to his back. He draped a white robe over his shoulders, and a hood covered his head.
Josephine stepped on something that spilled all over the ground. In the firelight, she discovered it was a bowl of coins that had been placed beside the hefty man when he was sitting on the low wall, but he had knocked it over. The antique dealer quickly bent down to pick them up.
Carrying a money bowl like a beggar, with festering skin, bandages all over his body, and a huge frame, he should have been unloading the goods, yet he stayed on the outer edge of the market and didn't go in... Josephine quickly came to a conclusion.
"...It's alright, may I ask if you have leprosy?"
"Yes. People see it as punishment from God, but I don't think it means God wants to defeat me, but just turn me around and push me onto a shorter path." His voice remained as calm and composed as before, probably because he was used to such questions.
"Why did you get up so early, instead of resting more? You're so badly injured." Josephine patted the dust off her dress.
"...I feel that my time is running out, and I want to seize every moment to appreciate the beauty of this world." His answer carried the wisdom of a poet.
"After being touched by the creeping curse, we... I left my homeland with other people who also incurred the wrath of the skin. Those who did not know I was sick might think I was immune to all diseases just by looking at this brawny figure that I had honed over the years; what I couldn't bear to tell them was that I, who was walking steadily in the dayspring... might be taken to heaven by the Lord in my sleep that very night."
"My companions fell one by one on the trek, following the Lord. I prayed for each of them and covered them with earth."
"Now, these windows to the soul are almost completely sealed," he said, pointing to the openings in the brass mask.
"Moreover, this incurable malady will rob a person of sensation in their limbs, and soon I will only be able to lie down. Let me listen again to the sound of flowing water, the birdsong at cockcrow, and what my Heavenly Father wants to convey to me through his creations."
He said all of these things with a faint smile...
Was it a forced, bitter smile? In Josephine's eyes, it seemed more like acceptance. He had long since come to terms with the predetermined tragic end of every leper, and there was no trace of resentment towards the Almighty.
"Actually, I've observed your stall from inside a tower before, and even witnessed you being harassed by a watchman here; but to avoid disturbing crowds with this eroded body, I didn't go in. Most of the time, I stay here; occasionally, kind passersby give me small amounts of money, and I pray for their well-being..."
"Wait a minute," he suddenly stopped mid-sentence, "Did I delay your stall setup time?"
"Don't worry, these are the last few batches." Josephine pressed down on the edge of the cart.
"Thank you... Well, since you've come here all alone to make your way in the world, if you don't mind, I can pray for you now."
He closed his palms, preparing to speak to the Lord, "I am Baldwin, and who are you?"
"...Josephine."
Am I some kind of virtuous lady worthy of blessing? These hands are stained with the blood of an innocent woman.
Baldwin nodded, then clasped his hands together and began to recite his prayer. Josephine pulled at her face scarf and tilted her head.
The woman relaxed after seeing Josephine's guideman fall, a hint of gratitude appearing on her face, thinking she was about to be saved; little did she know that Death was not that man, but Josephine. Her expression froze the moment Josephine plunged the curved blade into her left breast, blood slowly trickling down her lips.
The triangular ornament, with the man and woman occupying the top two empty spaces. Josephine, while conducting business, was trying to find the right final sacrifice; the recess on the trinket, which now held a faint glow, is a reminder that they were just around the corner.
Josephine was about to refuse when she noticed something protruding from Baldwin's baggage. Upon closer inspection, she realized it was a conch shell.
"A right-spinning one..." Josephine's keen eye for treasures caught its uniqueness. "...Although it's not the same kind, in India, the ‘Dakshinavarta shankha,’ —chank shells that grow like this are associated with the Lakshmi, the wealth goddess, and are sold at high prices as amulets. Offering them is believed to bring prosperity; of course, more often than not, if a merchant claims to have such a rare item on their stall, one should first suspect that it might be a cheap, counterfeit handicraft."
"Speaking of it..." The leper took the conch shell out of his pouch. "I found it on a beach somewhere while we were wandering." He brought the conch shell close to the light of the oil lamp so that Josephine could observe the raised structures and patterns on it.
"Do you know any more mythos about shellfish? I can't travel to those faraway lands, but I can still... listen before I lose control of my legs," Baldwin smiled.
"...Shellfish, I can talk about them a lot, we could talk about them until dawn breaks in the east, even til the market opens." Josephine felt a surge of pride as she had the chance to showcase her talents.
"For example, goddess Lakshmi who I just mentioned."
Lakshmi, the goddess who favors wealth, holds a fickle nature; she doesn't stay in one place for long and always leaves when she wants to, which means that the fortune you just acquired may vanish in an instant.
Josephine opened one of the pouches and carefully took out a handful of pale yellow cowrie shells wrapped in red cloth, placing them in her palm. "In the Indian mythology ‘Samudra Manthana,’ all kinds of new life and treasures floated to the surface with her when the gods stirred the Ocean of Milk. Besides conch shells, pale yellow cowrie shells were also used in her offerings." Her fingertips traced the small serrations.
"Also, I read in an illustrated book of nature that these cowrie shells have a distant relative in Japan—'Koyasugai'. Because its shape resembles a woman's lower body, it is used as a blessing for childbirth, praying for the safety of both mother and child. Midwives will place them in the hands of the mother in labor, so that she can hold it tightly during childbirth and flex her abdomen to push out the baby."
"If I had to name some shellfish, scallops would be the one I remember most vividly. One of my... ministers once returned safely from the pilgrimage route of St. James, bringing back several scallops. This signifies that he had traversed the path to heaven and that his soul had been reborn."
"Everyone believed that he had unfortunately perished halfway there, after all, countless believers of all places and social classes had set off there with their families and never heard from them again."
"I didn't meddle with him at the time. How many of the scallops he hung inside his cloak were picked from the carrions?"
"...Minister? You were once a king?"
"Indeed, I have a request... Please don't tell anyone. I don't want to disturb people or cause them trouble."
"I once embraced my people who were afflicted by the same plague, despite the objections of my ministers... Even though they had been abandoned by their loved ones, as the ruler of a country, I had a duty to share their anguish and not to abandon them when the plague struck, leaving them feeling isolated and helpless."
How could you be so determined to make such a sacrifice for folk that is considered unclean? If leprosy hadn't befallen you, you would probably have become a wise and virtuous ruler, remembered in history and praised by future generations.
Compared to someone like me... who kills simply out of curiosity, Baldwin possesses a saintly quality and deserves redemption. Even today, leprosy remains incurable; is there some divine physician descended from heaven in this area who can grant him a new life?
Shocked by the former crowned head's past, Josephine felt she was inferior compared to him.
"The God I believe in is not the same one as yours. If your subordinate was able to successfully return from that path to heaven..."
"Regarding what you've said earlier, that you thought your days were numbered, I don't think He would be in such a hurry to take away a man of honor like you. You are like a living saint, He certainly wants you to stay in this world a little longer, to be someone else's... guardian or something." Josephine's hands kept fidgeting with the hem of her robe.
"To call me a saint is an overstatement; I was merely fulfilling my duty as a ruler."
"My Lord, He will listen to everyone's complaints; people in every corner of the world are His children. Even the crusaders, who indiscriminately plunder the people of other lands in His name, whose armor is soaked in the blood of the innocent, are the same."
He took out a musical instrument from his luggage; it was a reed flute.
"Before sunrise, I dedicate this song to you, which I wrote myself; as a reward for your willingness to listen to my past, and also to all the people in the market who are striving to live their lives."
"It’s no big deal..."
A melodious tune rose on the wind that carried the damp scent of the Rhine. The former monarch's flute sang along with the leaves, playing the prelude to the day, and aureate light shone on the land where the two stood.
Josephine munched on a pastry she'd bought from a bakery, watching the bustling crowd. So far, antique sales were good; a collector had purchased several Ghau boxes, and the Thangka scrolls had been appreciated by a discerning eye and ended up in the hands of an Arab scholar.
Her organs were busy digesting the food, the merchant's eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Josephine slumped onto the table, preparing to take a siesta.
"Ye brat! ‘Was picking up some loose change from the ground, and saw ye tryin’ to get away with it!"
Wow, gone all her sleepiness. The leather vendor across the street had a loud voice that cut through the market's noise. The crowd gathered in front of the leather stall, finally stopping to stare at the two figures, one burly and one slim, facing each other behind the long table surrounded by hanging animal hides.
A boy carrying a lute stood in front of a stall, his left hand half-raised in the air and his right hand clutching a bag, unsure whether to move or not.
" ’Tis mine! I just dropped it down in front of your stall as I was walking, I didn't even touch your stuff..." He hurriedly shook his head, forcing a smile to appear calm, his German mixed with an Italian accent, the "t" at the end of each word was swallowed up.
Suddenly, the vendor stretched out his thick right arm and grabbed the boy's slender left wrist. Josephine then realized that although the boy was not short, he had not developed much muscle; if it was because his income from performing was unstable, malnutrition was inevitable.
"Quit making up stories! I have to rely on stealing to make money? I only sing and dance with my ma outside the inn in the market center, do all my shopping and eating there, and sleep in their stable when I'm tired," the boy involuntarily backed away, but the vendor tightened his grip on his right hand to keep him from moving away, and the boy's expression twisted into a painful grimace.
"And, moreover, I sometimes perform tricks in their tavern on the first floor and don't charge a penny! The regulars, employees, and owner there can testify to that!"
"And another thing, the reason I made a special detour today is because I need someone to fix the strap of my lute... You, you might as well admit you're wrong now and fix it for me, I'll see if I can pay a little more..." The boy waved the hand holding the leather bag behind his back, gesturing for everyone to look at the lute. Sure enough, the leather strap on it had quite a few signs of wear.
"Why so eager to explain? He might actually be planning to swipe it."
"Look at those tassels and jewelry, he's clearly not a local..."
Murmurs arose from the crowd. Some were discussing his makeup—white paint with red teardrops, while others mentioned that he kept making various hand gestures with his left hand as he spoke. Josephine frowned when she heard several children deliberately imitating his accent, which kept failing to pronounce the last syllable.
"Excuse me, may I get buy..." A woman squeezed into the crowd. Like the boy, she had a bright red headscarf wrapped around her head, a strand of curly black hair hanging in front of her eyes, and holding a tambourine in her hand. She had obviously been dragged back halfway through the performance.
"Sarmenti?!" Her heart sank when she saw the boy being restrained; her deep brown eyes held only surprise. "What's wrong, Sarmenti...?"
" ‘Tis your son? Come and hear what he's done! A few days ago, when I was checking the inventory, I found some accessories were missing. I figured I was just unlucky that night; I probably wasn't paying attention when buying the goods," the vendor released his right arm, pressed his left arm against the boy's shoulder, and gave him a push to turn around, so he could face his anxious mother's gaze. "I didn't expect to catch him red-handed today!"
"Hey, that’s too hard! It hurts!" he protested.
"My son, if he wants to earn money, he always sticks to me and performs." The woman pressed her chest, repeatedly inhaled and exhaled, and spoke in a trembling voice.
"He just told me that his strap broke and he needed to find someone to replace it, so he specially traveled a long way to this area. You mean if my son stole something, it’s impossible because he just performs at the inn ..." She tried to explain in broken German, but later mixed in her mother tongue, and her sentences began to break down, becoming more and more incoherent.
"Mama, no need! I know you learn slower! You..." The boy then shouted a few words in his mother tongue. He knew that his protective mother was eager to defend him, but she was powerless to do so due to the language barrier.
"Letting fortune tellers like you in is never a good idea." The vendor just sneered. "And I've seen plenty of outsiders like you. You just steal things and pretend you don't know any words, right?"
"But did he?"
All eyes that had been fixed on the boy turned to Josephine. She rose from her seat and asked, her arms crossed. She slowly walked through a few people to the space between the boy and the vendor, pointing to the leather bag the boy was clutching.
"You're saying this is your commodity?"
She didn't look at the boy or his mother, but suddenly stared at the vendor.
The vendor paused for a moment, then nodded subconsciously. "Of course they're mine. They've been displayed with these since this morning." He pointed to the leather accessories of varying lengths and widths on his stall.
"Let me see yours first," she said, picking up one of the handbags, pulling off the drawstring to examine the leather's texture and stitching. She repeated the same steps on the other items.
"Let me see this one too." Josephine snatched the boy's pouch and went through the same process.
The same comparison clearly reveals who is innocent. The pouch did indeed belong to the boy; the vendor was simply mistaking it for his own.
"It is indeed his." Josephine glanced sideways at the boy.
"What?! "
"Look for yourself, even a layman can spot several differences in the stitching inside." Josephine tossed the bag to the leather vendor to catch.
The vendor frowned, muttering to himself, "How could this be?" as he opened it. To his surprise, the seam... ah, it really wasn't the sewing technique he was familiar with.
This is embarrassing, but since he started it, backing down is as difficult as climbing to heaven.
The vendor's expression changed. "Then, that might be a mistake on the part of the makers! Maybe they accidentally put it in my batch, or maybe it was given to different people to sew, or something like..." He hesitated for a moment, Josephine began to get impatient.
Finally, he glared heatedly at the boy, "...Anyway, it just disappeared! Who else could it be the thief but him?"
Josephine fell silent, then suddenly reached inside her apparel. She took out a small pouch of silver coins, picked one out, weighed it in her palm, flicked it into the air and caught it again, making a crisp metallic sound.
"Since you insist," she tried to keep her tone calm, "I'll double it."
Everyone, including the vendor, was stunned, and someone in the crowd whistled in admiration.
"Consider it a way to put your mind at ease. Just let this matter go for now, adults shouldn't bother the youth so much." She continued.
He was initially full of confidence, but hesitated when he heard the word "double".
He gritted his teeth, instinctively trying to grab more. "No, it wasn't just that one, there were originally more..."
He froze halfway through his sentence. The expressions of those around him changed, and "Oh!" and "Woah." rang out.
"Oh, so there's more than one?" Josephine deliberately raised her voice, responding sharply to the pale-faced vendor as she took back the silver coins.
"So you weren't robbed at all. You just picked someone you thought wouldn't fight back to make up for your loss."
"It's alright. If he tries anything else, I’ve got other plans." She moved closer to the boy's mother, her tone softening, right hand resting warily on the scabbard of her kukri knife.
The woman paused for a moment, then gripped her son's hand tightly before bending down to hug him tightly.
"...Mama? Uh...Everyone's still watching. Consider hugging me later?" The juvenile named Sarmenti was a little flustered and tried to pull his mother's hand away.
Josephine placed her hands on their shoulders and gently pressed down. "When I first came here and set up my stall, aside from other disputes based on the authenticity of antiques, I also had similar experiences to what you just went through. Considering that we are all outsiders, it was really hard not to lend a hand."
"Show, show me the straps then, and I'll give you a free ride as compensation. Don't tell anyone..." The vendor walked towards Salmenti, his voice no longer rising, hanging in the air like a deflated sack.
"That's more like it!" Sarmenti broke free from her mother's embrace, took off his instrument, stuck out his tongue triumphantly at the vendor, and strummed the strings a few times. "You're not very bright, so it's no wonder you got robbed earlier."
"And let me tell ya, it's not just the materials inside these small bags, even the leather hanging at your stall has loose textures and flaws. Don't think that no one will notice just because you've turned the flaws inward. If any customers try to bargain with you over these flaws, don't even think about arguing with them." Josephine glared at the man teasingly, sorting through her extra discovery.
The vendor, who was caught out, didn't dare to utter a word and silently returned to his stall to search for a suitable leather strip.
"I almost forgot," the antique dealer said, pulling out the purse of silver coins again.
"My stall has been doing pretty well since the market opened, please accept these."
"For me?" Several coins were placed in the boy's palm. Sarmenti's eyes, the same color as his mother's, gleamed with excitement.
"Yes, I heard what you said when you had that big argument with him. Go use this money to buy something nice for both of you."
"Thank, thank you for your help?" The boy's mother was quite surprised by her sudden gift and covered her mouth with her hand.
"Hey, my saviour, I’ve something to give you too," Sarmenti said, rubbing his hands in his trouser pockets for a moment before pulling out a deck of cards. He flicked the cards from one hand to the other, making them flow like water.
With his nimble, slender fingers, he drew out four of them and handed them to Josephine, the backs facing her.
"These four are all kings. I don't know when we will part ways... You may continue to set up your stall here for a while, but if the city's night watch don't like me and my mom, they might dig us out of the stable in the middle of the night and kick us out. The chances of us meeting again are slim. You can remember me through these cards."
After speaking, both mother and son wore helpless expressions.
Josephine closed her eyes, ran her index finger along the edge of the four cards a few times, and then pinched one of them between her middle fingers.
"Diamonds? If I remember correctly, they symbolize wealth, value, and the pursuit of material things. So for a dealer like me, it's a good omen..."
"I guess so, ciao Ma~" The boy waved to his mother who was turning back to perform.
The crowd cleared a path on their own.
"Hiya." Josephine was brushing the dust off the vajra when a pair of calloused hands climbed onto the long table in front of her. It was Sarmenti.
"You're back again. Didn't we say see you tomorrow?" The boy said this as he had his lute strap finished changing to return to perform at the inn.
" ’Was carrying my drunk girlie back to her house." Sarmenti spread his arms wide and spun around on the spot. He was probably also drinking, as his face was flushed.
"You already have a lover?"
"Yeah, I mean, the original plan was to come back tomorrow and chat with you for a bit. And then~𝅘𝅥𝅮"
"I ran into her while I was toying with cards... Anyway, long story short, I took a shine to that bespectacled lassie at first sight. Since she didn't seem to be in a good mood, I offered her a drink. But she claimed she'd tried all sorts of drugs and stubbornly ordered a hard liquor that she then got sloshed."
Sarmenti stroked his chin, a smug look on his face, still savoring his recent romantic encounter.
"I originally wanted to walk around with her in this area until the sun went down. I don't think I'll be able to forget those green eyes anytime soon... Oh, this is a great inspiration for the arrangement!" He swung the lute on his back in front of him, his fingers brushing across the slightly rusty strings, plucking out a few clear notes.
"Anyway, thank you for your generosity, which allowed me to speak with my soulmate. 𝅘𝅥𝅮"
"You're talking so passionately, what if she forgets you once she sobers up?" Josephine chuckled at Sarmenti's intoxication; she never imagined she'd be playing the matchmaker for someone.
"Hmph, no big deal. Even though she just drew the King of Spades, a symbol of bad luck and power struggles... misfortune is about to befall me, but David still managed to kill Goliath... I have a feeling we'll meet again. Ha! Ha~"
Sarmenti burst into laughter, brought out the lute whose strap had just been changed, and sang loudly:
“ 𝅘𝅥𝅮 I sleep beneath the market tent, 𝅘𝅥𝅮
𝅘𝅥𝅮 My dreams are sold for just one cent. 𝅘𝅥𝅮
𝅘𝅥𝅮 The stars they wink, the moon she grins, 𝅘𝅥𝅮
𝅘𝅥𝅮 ‘Play your song, forget your sins.’ 𝅘𝅥𝅮 ”