The streets opened after the bridge, leaving the river behind.
‘So here it is’
‘I see, ay’
‘Pay attention now’ she whispered while they both rumbled. ‘Look at the clothes, how the people walk. You shall stroll decided, but not so fast that you could be noticed. Have a shower every day.’ She looked at his companion with repulse ‘No exceptions.’
‘Ye, ye.’
The wooden structures and the yelling collided in a joint of flesh, bone and trickery. The city was busy.
‘I’m serious Boil.’ She grabbed his arm, stopping him. ‘Every day’
‘Ye miss.’ He nodded, turning his fat face to her. ‘Understood.’
They resumed their walk. She kept talking while they went up, from the Butcher’s High Street to the cathedral.
‘Take a different route every day. No exceptions.’ She pointed at a big building presiding the turn to the left in the busy street. ‘People usually take the same route with running errands. If you do so, they will catch you.’
‘I see miss.’
‘Take a look at the buckles. Merchants have them clean, as well as noblemen and their first son. Ignore the people in the church, whether they are going in or walking around. Avoid the monastery next to the inn market. Will only get you into trouble.’
‘Friars and all miss? They were good to me in Toledo.’
‘Specially the friars. Those ecclesiastical bastards want nothing but to lure you in. This is not any walled city down in the plateau of Castilla. This is the port of Bilbao.’ He stood up staring a exceptionally voluptuous lady whose night became day abruptly. ‘Boil. Never look at the ladies. You work with me now; they know who you are. Look at me.’ She took his both cheeks in between her index and thumb fingers. ‘You are not allowed to lay with them. But I will take care of you. If you need something, you know where to find me. The Cheeky Mermaid, down the street of the tailors, over there.’ She said pointing at the very end of the road starting next to the smelly stables.
They flowed with the nasty crowd into a mid-town square. Stairs going up to the upper hill. Cows and horses moving around, nervous for being around the boisterous bunches of folk in the burg.
Suddenly the sea of dirty faces and cheap leather hats became almost impossible to navigate. She tried to get a grasp of Boil’s clothes, with little success. The coats, boots and high heeled shoes merged in a symphony of mud and piss.
‘Boil! Where are you boy?’ She yelled left and right. ‘Boil!?’
He bumped into a lady, rugged face and a pimp on the edge of the big nose. Was tackled to one side, almost got run over a cart that was being pulled by couple of old horses. He stepped into a big pile of shit, a pack of homeless kids crossed him, caressing his brand-new artisan suede fabrics with their tiny grubby hands.
A hand appeared from the air, and he was rescued from the stream of flesh and noise, to one side, right under a sign that specified “Traditional and modern hats” in basque.
‘Never do that again’
‘Sorry lady Zurbaran, will never happen again’
‘Damn right. Where is your sack?’ He looked down into the cobbles and took a good few minutes to run his fat and greasy fingers all over his body.
‘Is gone!’ he shouted ‘Gone M’lady! Those bastards took it! Small filthy rats!’
‘Shut up Boil.’ she said while covering his mouth. ‘Look.’
Coming down the stone stairs, the guard of the city took over. Folk stopped moving, the charlatans, thieves and fortune tellers disappeared. Some stood still. Some kept moving, transforming their high pitch gossips in shallow whispers. The sound of the metallic boots and heavy armours took over, and somehow the animals even respected the military presence. One of them had a banner hanging from the halberd: Yellow and blue stripes. They were the men of Legizamon.
‘Follow me Boil. Do it now’
Zurbaran scattered like a cat does in between a pair of training bulls and a carriage. Boil followed, trying his best not to make any animal or human mad. One of the bulls shook the horny head and kicked someone over the shoulder. Her plan was to stay ahead of the armed men and try to move in stealth in the opposite direction.
A small broken boot tripped over, and Boil fell down over the filthy pavement.
He looked up and saw the guards. Pointy, shiny, with their angry faces. He could feel the pee getting out in between his legs.
‘We got him!’