Naive Young Man Steps Out Into the World

Ian Nevin’s house lay on a quiet street. Bartholomew anticipated another companionable evening. However, Nevin met him at the door. Without beckoning him in, he said, “if you’re up to it, let’s go to the Nag’s Head public house. I told Fred and Col to meet us there.”
“I’m up to it.” A public house?
Bartholomew’s feet tapped rapidly in the short time Nevin took to fetch a hat before locking the door. Mama disapproves of public houses. She believes only the riff raff frequent them.
The two walked towards the high street in silence and crossed over a small wooden bridge. Light hung in the air and illuminated the hard-packed road. They turned onto the high street and stopped at the Nag’s Head door.
“Been here yet?”
“Never.”
“I’ll show you around.”
Smoke assaulted him and he coughed. Sound rose and fell as if the wind pushed it around the room. There were no chairs; all the men stood. Bartholomew didn’t spy a single woman. A fireplace taller than either man glowed red, an unnecessary feature after a day of fine summer weather. Nevin pushed forward to a counter, slid coins across and received two tankards in return.
Bartholomew sipped at the offering and gagged. The most he imbibed was the watery wine served with dinners and only when he dined with others. He had no alcohol at home.
“There!” Nevin shouted. Two young men approached, each holding a tankard. “Bartholomew de Courcy, these are the Bryan brothers. Their parents are egg factors.”
His free hand paused in reaching out to shake hands. “What’s an egg factor?”
The two brothers threw back their heads and roared. Of similar height, they were shorter than he, with dark blond hair. The smoky interior didn’t permit his discerning much else.
One stopped laughing to grin. “Egg collector, sort of middleman for eggs. We know everything there is about eggs and chickens.”
“What do you do once you collect the eggs?”
“Sell ‘em. That way folks in Barnsley Cross know where to get eggs if their chickens aren’t layin’ and they need ‘em.”
He was digesting this information, never having wondered what people did who might need eggs, but didn’t raise chickens when Nevin poked him.
“Fred and Col can work short-term for you. Especially since you can pay better than their parents.”
“I appreciate the help. It’s repetitive work but with your help I’ll triple how quickly I get through the days.”
One of the Bryan boys tossed back his tankard then held it aloft. I know what that means.
He leaned toward Nevin, “I don’t have any coin on me. Can you stand me?”
“Got it.” Nevin returned not with one tankard, but four fresh ones. Bartholomew eyed the new one with tentative eyes before reaching for it.
“By the by, who is the scamp you use to send messages back and forth? He wouldn’t tell me his name. Said he’d charge me.”
That elicited another roar of laughter, not just from his companions, but the surrounding men.
Nevin wiped his eyes. “Eli Dodd. His only goal is to make blunt. He’ll land before Coffin and be thrown in jail one of these days.”
“Coffin is the local magistrate, I take it?” Nevin nodded. “Why use Dodd?”
“He’s mostly honest.” The other two snickered. “Mostly.” No one seemed inclined to discuss work. The four men drank and listened to others speak about tough days of long work.
I understand why Mama doesn’t want me here. However, the men in the Nag’s Head didn’t appear to be villains, as she often asserted. I have much to learn.