The Five Pence Shilling

The Five Pence Shilling

The Missouri river breeze was mild like any month of the year in a small village where the Mandan Tribe reside. Zomi, a well-built young man of about 19, is all set to make a trade of horses for gun with the new inhabitants from Europe at Gettysburg. Zomi is a confident young lad who has a business mind since a very young age. He has been with his father to these trade trips since he was five, the farthest he has travelled to being Westfield, north east of the Mandan village. It has been already 10 years since the first American Industrial Revolution, and America has been home to many dwellers from Europe thanks to its alluring resources and growing economy. The people of the Mandan tribe are gifted hunters but they have started preferring gun over arrows to hunt antelopes for their tusks–which pays a good price at the local market in Hayes, south of river Missouri. The traders of the Mandan village buy salt enough for the fortnight and with the money left–drink merrily at the Irish Pub in the busy Hayes market. Zomi is excited about making a good deal today but is at the same time afraid if he’ll be compelled by the merchant to settle for less. Santiago, Zomi’s father is a wise man and he believes it’s time for Zomi to look after the family affairs so he is sending Zomi on his own.

Zomi adjusts the forelock and tightens the muzzle on his brown American warmblood horse and along with 3 black Augeron horses and finally sets out for Gettysburg, a two day trail from the Mandan village.  Once he reaches, Gettysburg, He reaches out straight for the merchant’s place. He makes a deal for six 38 caliber rifles and altogether 200 bullets. He asks the merchant for some gunpowder as a good gesture since it was his first deal as a man. The merchant gave about 500 grams of Gunpowder. Zomi was happy with the deal he had made­–nearly double profit than his father had done in his all years of trade. With these supplies, his family could sustain for almost six months hassle free without having to trade for rifles, and have enough meat for winter. It took the brown warmblood and Zomi a day and a half to get to Oneida, halfway to his home. The tribes of Mandan group were living in small divided groups in the Missouri coast. Just as Zomi was about to cross their village a group of young men, aged probably 14 or 15 stopped him. Zomi said in his tribal language, “I mean no harm. Let me get to my village”. There was the smallest boy amongst the young boys who spoke from the behind, a still silence followed in the platoon that had already made a passage for him to see Zomi. The small boy ordered Zomi strictly that “You need to visit the tribal head of Oneida right now.” Zomi assumed the small boy to be the tribal head’s son and upon his order Zomi agreed to meet the head as he wanted no trouble. The young platoon followed the small boy at the front, keeping Zomi and his brown horse in the middle along the village of earth lodges each not more than 40 feet in area. The women who were busy winnowing grains were staring at Zomi and there were some young boys who would run along the platoon barefoot shouting. Finally, the company came to a stop outside the earth lodge like the earlier ones– except for this one was bigger in area then the preceding ones. There were some men who were sitting near the door of the lodge who seemed to be talking on their own and had no interest in knowing what was going on when the young platoon with a stranger arrived. Zomi assumed this to be the tribal head’s house. The small boy went past the door that had 2 guards with weapon similar to the modern day’s spear and he came back and said something close to one of the guard’s ear. The guard asked Zomi to enter as soon as the people inside were out. Zomi had all the time in the world to wait and as he was waiting he saw a group of people crying and shouting all centered on something wrapped in leaves of banana tied to two logs of bamboo placed vertically. This was a ritual when one dies in the Mandan tribe and he knew it very well.

As the group of grieving people went past Zomi, he heard something about “the never spending money” from the people who were outside the head’s house. Zomi listened carefully to what they said in their own tribal language and heard that one of them had placed a Shilling beside the head of the deceased and he would go to ask for the Shilling at midnight where the dead body was buried. Zomi heard that the men were stressing that he should go to ask for the Shilling without a single thread in his body since it was part of a ritual and not look back once he asks for it. Zomi was a bright kid since his young age and could relate the Shilling and the “never spending money”. Soon the people who were inside the tribal head’s house came outside and Zomi went inside.

The tribal head was a man of very dark complexion and had worn a crown of panther’s fangs. His wrists contained strange marks and he wore a locket of elephant’s tusk. He asked Zomi, “Who are you and which village are you from?” Zomi replied, “I’m from the Missouri and I’m son of Santiago”.

The head sighed, “Ah! Santiago, the trader. How has he been? Convey regards to my old friend” and immediately ordered the guards to make the passage clear for Zomi. Zomi said that his father was old now and it was on him to run the trade now. He then set out for his village. After reaching home, the following day Zomi couldn’t sleep all night–he had the persistent thought of “never spending money” over his head. He thought of the easy life he’d live with his family, when he would have the never spending Shilling. He could buy all the salt he needed and drink merrily in the Hayes and never have to trade again.

Days went passing and one day, there was a death of Zomi’s relative not so far from his house. Zomi had long been waiting for this day now. He went to the mourning with a five pence shilling that his father had given him on his first trip to Hayes–when he was just five. He then placed it under the head of the dead man when nobody was around. On the same day at midnight, Zomi set off for the graveyard not so far from the village –east of the Missouri river. He went off without a single thread in his body, the moon and his own shadow were the only companions that night.

As, Zomi reached the graveyard, he could easily recognize the grave of his relative since, the soil was not so compact after the burial. He went on and asked the grave, “Where’s my 5 pence shilling?” for about three times. As Zomi turned in dismay, he heard some noise at back of him. He remembered what the men at the tribal head’s house had said, “not to turn back”. Zomi was now shivering with fear, yet didn’t lose his cool. He set out for his home. As he was walking ahead, he could hear the sounds of coins jiggling and no sooner had he walked one or two steps ahead, he could hear someone in a hoarse but a familiar voice–out of this world, “Here come take your coin”. Zomi’s fear now had no bounds, yet he kept on moving ahead. He crossed the Missouri river and was about to reach his home. He could still hear the jiggling of coins and the hoarse voice. He soon reached his house, entered his room and locked the door still not turning back and slept straight away. The voice kept on jiggling coins and calling Zomi to take his coin at one or the other corner of the earthen house every now and then throughout the night. Zomi feared if the voice would enter the house from the termite wrecked wooden doors but it didn’t. Zomi couldn’t sleep all night but just as it was dawn the voice stopped, and he could find some sleep. When Zomi woke up and to his surprise he could find the exact 5 pence shilling he had kept under the dead man’s head. Now, he wanted to test if this shilling was spendable. He set off for the Hayes market straight away and bought salt enough for six months with his five pence. Zomi gave the money to the merchant but was soon able to find his five pence shilling in his own pocket. He went to the Irish pub to drink merrily. To validate again that by no coincidence the five pence shilling was still with him–he drank to his fill for all the beer he could have for five pence. He gave the barman the five pence and set out for his home and as he checked his pocket, he could still feel the five pence shilling.

Life was now easier for Zomi’s family, he kept the five pence shilling history a secret even from his own family. He married and became a father of a son and a daughter. He would set off from his home, now not to trade for guns but to buy them for five pence. He would go to Hayes not to trade antelope’s tusk anymore but to buy salt and to drink merrily.

With the advent of the First American Industrial Revolution, the cost of living was raising all over. Five pence, now could only buy salt enough for one month that would earlier be enough for six months, could only buy a few grams of gunpowder. In fact, Zomi was in need of more shillings now than ever. Just as Zomi was leaving to Gettysburg for some gunpowder his father asked him to meet the tribal head of Oneida since he was not feeling well? He reached for Oneida and like before he was beside the doors waiting for his turn. He could this time see the same men (now old) who were talking about “the never spending money”. They didn’t seem to be bothered for an attention when Zomi waited all along. The small boy who had trespassed Zomi’s way long before was now young and muscular, he looked more of a leader now–capable enough of taking his father’s place. Zomi was curious what the men outside were talking about and just when he was listening carefully he heard one of them say, “today’s been 15 years since Opries passed away in pursuit of the never spending money. Actually, no one has ever survived who has tried bringing money from the dead”.  As soon as the people inside the tribal head’s house came out Zomi entered. As he was just inside he could he see the tribal head was in agony and was lying on the ground. The tribal head called Zomi spreading his hands as if he had something to say or ask him. Seeing this Zomi went close to the tribal head and lend his ears to listen carefully to which he heard “Here give me my coin back”. No one knows if the coin Zomi gave to the merchants, ever dropped in their closets. The five pence shilling is still said to be in use in the world today, maybe it’s with you this time?

This has so far been my first attempt in story writing though this story has been said in a different version to United school boys (2070 B.S.) This story (slightly different version than this one) used to be thriller and horrifying every time my dearest grandpa used to tell me whenever I used to trouble him to tell me bed time stories. How badly I wish you would tell these stories to more generations of the Budhathoki family grandpa! Though I’ll never be able to tell this story as you would, I promise I’ll pass it to the forthcoming generations of our family as long as I live. For all the ones who’re so lucky to have their grandparents today, make sure you love them and have the best out of their company. You never know when you’ll be dying to have one more moment with them. Do help me with constructive feedback in the comment section below or you could DM me personally. Live,love,laugh and enjoy! Good day people J