Personal Log 101: A Recollection
11 Oct 2016Jemine Caesar
19th August, 3294New Pilkington, Gardenvale
LHS 3447-A5
I was 21.
We had been camped just outside the small farming town of New Pilkington for five days. At this time there were about eight caravans in the troupe; showpeople came and went whenever the fancy took them. We'd just said goodbye to the Tumbler family, who had decided to join another troupe heading towards the bigger cities to the east in search of richer pickings.
It had been a poor week for us. The agri-workers of New Pilkington had proved to be a rather unappreciative audience for our rag-tag show, and mama and I had, unusually, received very few night-time visits from the locals. This had been enough to put a worried frown on papa's face. Although mama and I were glad enough of the respite, we knew that fewer visitors meant fewer credits on the bedside table, and fewer credits meant less food. So Papa decided to supplement our meagre income by joining the weekly troupe card game.
Papa was no stranger to using a certain amount of 'stealth' whenever he played cards. It was, after all, the only way he could generally hope to win when playing in the bars and casinos of the towns we passed through on our travels. Unfortunately, the bars and casinos of New Pilkington had banned travelling showpeople from taking part in their gambling games. Whilst we were tolerated as troubadors and entertainers wherever we went, we were mainly regarded as crooks and scoundrels, and definitely not to be trusted. In the troupe card game, however, 'stealth' was considered dishonourable. Showpeople looked after each other.
Mama and I had stayed in our caravan that night. Mama was reading one of our very few digibooks, while I played dolls with Bekka, who was then 4 years old. A noise at the door signalled the return of papa. Or so I thought. When the door opened, it wasn't papa, but Elias Manston.
Elias Manston had joined the troupe some three weeks earlier. He was a pleasant-looking man of about 30. Nothing was known about his past, since he kept himself to himself. This was the night he showed his true colours.
"Hello, my lovelies!" he announced, striding in confidently. "Lady Luck has smiled on me tonight, much to the expense of everyone else! Now, I'm not a malicious man, and I know that credits are hard to come by for people such as us. So," he continued, addressing mama. "I have done a special deal with your husband, and more importantly," he went on, turning to me, "with your father. He gets to keep all the credits he would otherwise have lost to me, and in return, I get to have you."
An evil grin spread across his face. Mama was incensed.
"Showpeople don't do this to one another!" she yelled.
Manston just laughed, and grabbed me by the arm. "Let's go," he growled, pulling me out of the door and into the night.
He dragged me to a spot beside the nearby Frederick River. I prayed to Gaia to make it quick, and lay still on the damp, stony soil as Manston took what he wanted. When his moment finally came he howled into the night at the top of his voice, a look of triumph blazing in his eyes. I glared back up at him.
"You got what you came for, Elias," I gasped. "Now here's something to remember me by."
I reached up and raked my fingernails across his face. Three thin lines of blood oozed from his cheek. Manston looked shocked momentarily, then his expression turned to utter fury. He lifted his right hand and brought it crashing down with a vicious slap across my face. It was hard enough to knock me unconscious.
When I came to, I was still lying on the ground by the river. My papa was standing over me, tears in his eyes.
Manston had gone. He had been caught, beaten up and chased away by the other men in the troupe. We never saw him again.