Orange Cerlo

By John Rocheleau

Capie, Rees and other craftspeople work to build a new world settlement using ancient arts and commerce methods of the renowned West Indies Company and East India Company. They find balance and success in a new land. Their ways in arts and commerce attract those trying to capture the secrets of the people, and methods, and tools of the fast-growing colony.

The four kids learning a craft at the shop known as Orange Cerlo in the center of the new settlement town get an unexpected education. The shops keeper and master artisan, Capie, has been confronted today with the disappearance of a trusted confidant and fellow artisan. He suspects the involvement of those not of the first comers to the settlement of New Amsterdam. The apprentice says, “These are not ordinary objects. These are not ordinary men, I think.”

Capie prepares for that evenings invite only Pottery Shop Festivity that will bring together other ‘useers’ and shop keepers to show and sell product with special capabilities to local and foreign patrons, artists, and invitees. Mr. Paullette is dispatched with a team of artisan soldiers to recover the missing Mr. Tempaert, who may have been kidnapped or killed, and the stolen unique items from Orange Cerlo and Mr. Tempaert’s burned out business on main street.

There is another disappearance and the town still have not resolved the whereabouts of a trusted confidant and fellow artisan, Mr. Tempaert. Peter and Herb search for the marauders’ escape route on the trail behind the bakery and find bloody booty. Capie, Rees, Marcel and Peter pursue them. suspecting the trail might lead to the rescue of their friend Mr. Tempaert. Mr. Paullette and his convoy run into more danger than he hoped, but not more than he expected.

The Stuyvesant’s daughter Julia encounters would be suitors, and the admirers discover this family may have information about the disappearance of Mr. Tempaert and of everything going on in New Amsterdam. Two men arrive at a moment of disaster for the Stuyvesant’s—to help or hurt.

Maruaders assault Mr. Paullette’s crew again near Fishskill Mill, but Capie and Peter join the battle. After close friends help rescue their daughter Julia from the explosion in the barn, Lawrrens and Judith Stuyvesant, and the Council of Eight, welcome passengers of the Wayward Windsor, but only to help grow the contested eastern cities of Brooklin and Big Eylandt City.

Rees and Marcel go to Brooklin to track down Tempaert and the stolen items. Violent rivals try to abscond with part of the colony of New Amsterdam using advanced and mysterious tools stolen from the missing Tempaert’s business in New Amsterdam. Rees discovers too much and even suspects Marcel. He is kidnapped, and Marcel may have helped in his capture. The Wayward Windsor settles at Brooklin, while Mr. Paullette’s crew recognizes two attackers of Port Hague in town. TenEyck and Schyler chase them north and a brigand frontier garrison makes a hasty departure to Big Eylandt City as Capie’s young apprentices trigger a discovery.

On a stormy night, Orange Cerlo beacons the masters are creating for their new home land as orange hues stream from the roof on a stormy night. Master Minuit Leiden, and apprentices Master Nori Calais, Julia Stuyvesant and Laakma, go to Big Eylandt City to defend threatened settlements. They pursue thieving and competing colonists who try to flee from the Artisan Soldiers.

New Amsterdam pushes forward with the adoption by other colonists of their Magna Charter. If successful, it will spread innovate social and economic principals. Toward this end, they use non-physical plans against their rivals and kidnappers of a master and apprentices. Capie rescues them but is—, as is —, and they concede a part of their colony to the patrons of the marauders, to end hostilities, or so it seems.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Rocheleau
• Release date: Aug 2, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463169407

John Rocheleau

John Rocheleau is a proud parent and has resided on both coasts of the US. He welcomes inquiries from readers about his stories and characters. He can be reached at his email address and facebook or website addresses on the beginning pages of his books.

Book preview

ALSO BY JOHN ROCHELEAU

XN Riders

WildFlower A Day for Everyone

Orange Cerlo

A Novel by

John Rocheleau

COPYRIGHTS

Orange Cerlo: While the authors have made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers and Internet addresses at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the authors assume any responsibility for errors, or for changes that occur after publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2018 by John Rocheleau

All rights reserved. Except as permitted by law, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a data base or retrieved system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Publisher: John Rocheleau [e-mail]

Printed in the United States of America.

Originally published in digital format on Amazon.com by John Rocheleau using Kindle Direct Publishing: July 2018

First Trade Edition: July 2018

First United States Paperback Edition: May 2018

ISBN: 9781982944605

Orange Cerlo: One Day & Orange Cerlo: Two Day published in paperback and digital format in January and February of 2017

Connect with me at:

https://www.facebook.com/jhrocheleau/

DEDICATION

Make Your Kids Proud (Y)

Be Quality Be Prolific Be ‘Mizasen’

Table of Contents

ALSO BY JOHN ROCHELEAU

COPYRIGHTS

DEDICATION

Chapter 1 Orange Cerlo: One Day

1 The Town – New Amsterdam

2 Front Of Pottery Shop

3 Enter The Pottery Shop

4 Pottery Shop Basement

5 Garden Patio Of Pottery Shop

6 Excavation

7 Pottery Shop Festivity

8 Utility Discovered

9 Barn Storming

10 Four Making Pottery

Chapter 2 Orange Cerlo: Two Day

11 Fishskill Mill – New Partner

12 Pottery Shop

13 A WIC

14 The Furrier Shop Visit

15 The Hill Behind The Bakery

16 The Armory and Blacksmith

17 Fishskill Mill – The Tussel

18 The Night Trek North

19 Four Guild Apprentices

20 Family on the Hill

Chapter 3 Orange Cerlo: Three D

21 Fishskill Mill Order

22 Golden Deer

23 Stuyvesant’s Evening

24 River Ferry Island

25 Brooklin Port East River

26 A EIC

27 Big Eylandt City

28 Orange Cerlo Three

29 Puff Pillow

30 Magna Charter Three

About the Author

Orange Cerlo: One Day

The Town – New Amsterdam

The new town had all the people needed to build from scratch a settlement—a colony. The original five businesses still stand in the buildings in which they were started by the families or men with the skills, know-how and tools of those businesses. Rarely had foreigners been so successful entering a new land. Their success had as much to do with their willingness to get to know those whose land they purchased as the useful trade between the old communities, of the native people, and their new communities. The convenient location at the mouth of the sea on two rivers or one major river, depending on how you counted its branches, provided booming trade and natural defensible geographies. Initially trade was light, making travelers of the townspeople to conduct business with other towns and to bring more traders to their New Amsterdam.

A man dressed in a brown-wool shirt, heavy black-wool pants, and a black-ink-stained, blue-dyed apron stands behind a large desk with machines noisily working in the background directly behind him. The man adds a few, last, freshly printed pages to the stack on the desk. The front door opens, rings the bell above it, and pulls a string that rings bells from the front of the printing shop, all the way around the noisy machines in the back. A tall, thin man with blond hair, a white hat banded with a red sash, a thin red shirt, orange leather pants with suspenders over each shoulder and a dark-orange leather, fur-lined overcoat, walks quickly into the printing shop. As the entering man walks towards the desk, he looks up and to his right at the bells still ringing. They announce his arrival to the proprietor as he busily prepares documents for printing next to the noisy machines in the back of the shop.

Capie, says the man behind the desk. You are right on time and so are your announcements. The ink has just dried and I’ve put them in this box for you to carry.

Hello Gert, says Capie extending his hand eager to engage in a hearty handshake with his friendly fellow. This font and block placement is more inviting and colorful than we had discussed.

I have you to thank. The pigments you brought by two days ago blended as we discussed. The colors are vibrant and unique, Gert commends Capie.

No risk of duplication either. Capie says as he picks up a page and holds it up to a bright candelabra examining the color depth within the paper’s threads. Does it? Capie pauses to see if Gert had tested the paper for a condition they had discussed previously.

It does! says Gert. Come. Gert picks up an extra copy. Let me show you with this proof I used to test the quality for the required appearances we discussed.

Gert grabs Capie’s arm walking him to the right side of the long shop in front of the desk he had been standing where a large window high on the wall beams sunshine on another table against the wall. The two men stand turning the page in the light illuminating the vibrant colors and the weave of the paper, and in it appears some unusual water marks.

Capie is thrilled to see the desired results. Yes, exactly as we hoped. The threads are the right absorption quality against the ink.

It was not easy Capie. It required many tries to get the layering and application timing correct.

Yes. Per mixture prescription. No? Capie is pleased for reasons not apparent.

Gert is curious to know the source of Capie’s knowledge of color combinations on materials like this new paper. Capie, you said this approach has been tried and proven before?

Capie is packing up the box, wrapping a red cloth ribbon around the bottom and top, closing it tightly. Yes.

Gert waits to hear more. Yes?

Capie is thinking about his next stop. Yes. But not on this material. The combination of the inks with this chemical composition long ferreted out on other surfaces.

Gert believes he must be talking about his own business’s artful projects. Your pottery, porcelains, plates and other vessels, and art objects?

Yes. And you’ll be able to see for yourself at the ‘Pottery Store Festivity’ to which I fully expect you will RSVP—yes, at this very moment. Do you?

Gert smiles at his friend’s vagueness despite their close work on the product now securely stuffed under Capie’s arm. Yes. All along but your vagueness on technique alone requires an inquisitive visit to meet the many, much more, in the know on your artful products and willing to share more than you, my hurried friend.

Well reminded Gert, says Capie. Remember it is invitation only—no guests allowed. There will be no shortage of company to keep you engaged as you have already wished. You’ll need the invitation to be admitted, so do not lose your invite.

Capie hands Gert an invitation with a new fresh mark on it, that Gert did not place on the invitation, nor did Gert see how Capie placed it there during their inspection and conversation.

Gert starts to say, I have the proof, so I can invite—, and he pauses after looking at the invite handed to him by Capie.

I know you wouldn’t. Capie mildly chuckles at his friends attempt to undermine the silliness of the now mysterious invite. And anyway, it’s invite only. Capie winks at Gert. I’ll see you there.

Capie exits the printing shop and veers right down the street, watched all the way by Gert. The bells ring again on Capie’s exit startling Gert back to his desk and work.

Capie walks but a few steps and enters a store chock-a-block full of fruits, vegetables, and herbs sitting in baskets in stands, giving a rousing greeting, Hello Mrs. Bigfruit. Desiree, will you be joining me later this afternoon to prune and pick some fruit? Or shall I just have it brought to you? In trade for some of your fine herbs which I must say provide the right strength essence for my blends. By the way, where is your better half—Herb?

Desiree takes in Capie’s words and plays up to the noticeably energetic tone of Capie. MY BETTER QUARTER is out on the hill bringing down some of those very fine ‘herbs’ you wish to trade.

Your better quarter is right here to remind you he surely is not, says Herb dropping two large baskets on the floor and a third and fourth on the counter where Desiree did work to prepare produce for the baskets filling the room.

The baskets of produce radiate fragrances and colors so rich as to require Capie to walk to every basket and he inhales the aromas so deeply that Desiree Bigfruit vocalizes concern. Capie, please leave some scents for the buying customers.

I believe this is what you’re looking for, says Herb Bigfruit holding out a bundle of deep purple herbs for Capie.

Ooww. I’m light headed after that intake, Capie says.

Mrs. Bigfruit seizes the low hanging fruit, I’ve heard that herbs can do that to you.

Herb, an askance eye to Desiree, turns to Capie not sure to be flustered or flattered or both. Oh yes. That one will do that. Be careful. Don’t want to inhale that any more right now. OK?

I would say. Ahh. Yes. Capie stumbles toward Herb before regaining his composure and ability to walk straight. Thank you, Herb. I can use this tomorrow.

I’ll come by later. We can use that fruit tomorrow as well, says Herb.

Yes. Good. The tree needs lightening. Its boughs are heavy from the recent growth of the heavy rains.

Capie reaches out to set down the box on a display in front of him. He raises the top of the box tilting it to one side, pulls an invite out, and closes the box, tying it back up. Pottery Shop Festivity Invite for you both.

Eight PM? Herb asks.

On schedule, Capie declares.

Mrs. Bigfruit says, We’ll bring the invite as before.

Yes. Capie turns to leave the store with the box under one arm, the bag of herbs in the hand of the arm holding the box, and his other hand stuffs some of the herb of his dizziness in his overcoat pocket. He holds his hand out to point, but upon seeing the stained yellow color on his hand from the plant, takes a sniff before saying, And a bushel of those herbs please. Bring those with you then too. It will do well.

Herb adds, It tastes well mixed with citrus dishes. Has rumored amorous qualities. Isn’t that right Desiree?

Capie realizes he is getting too comfortable perusing the delicious fare in this store. Siesta time? Capie looks at his watch before walking to the door. I don’t think we need to ask Mr. Castalada about his tradition, but if you need that validation for permission, I will ask and stick my head back in to let you know if the time is right.

Mr. and Mrs. Bigfruit are disappearing through the back of the shop door from which Mr. Bigfruit entered, turning the corner out of sight.

Capie steps into the bright morning street breathing in the air, not full of the rich panoply of intensity from the garden shop, the simplicity as rich simply due to the contrast from which he just vamoosed. The brief wash of old scents from his olfactory occupies both his senses and mind due to the diversity, the dichotomy, of fragrances which helped create it—the rich ground’s and pure air’s creation. Capie walks past three buildings to the right of the garden shop before being inundated with a man-made wafting of baked garden items. It evokes a welling of saliva followed by a swallow to the thought of the morsel of the day on the display case counter for any who visit the Bakery.

Capie opens the door, and plastered above it, raised a half inch, are the words ‘Puff Pillow.’ Capie is in a hurry. The morning is fleeting from neighborly rounds taking, justifiably, unscheduled time from his tour. No one is at the counter where Capie set the box and bag of herbs. He places a quick sample into his mouth before an unfamiliar man emerges from the kitchen with a fresh tray of breads for the display counter.

Good morning, says the baker with the tray before placing the breads in baskets hanging on the wall behind the counter. What may I help you with today?

Caught off guard by the unknown baker, Capie responds with a kind but quizzical greeting. Good morning. Where is Mr. Tempaert this morning? I believe he was expecting to join me for a Klassieke and Puff Pillow.

You’re Mr. Tempaert’s friend? Oh, yes, he mentioned you might stop by.

Capie anticipates a broken date, Did he?

Yes. He asked that you take this bag of Puff Pillows and he will meet you later at your place to take up your Kaffe Klatch, says the baker.

Off on errands, is he? When do you expect him to return? I can wait. I have something to deliver to him. Capie’s hand is on the box slowly getting a grip to take it away with him.

I believe he will be preoccupied with his chore a good part of the day it being the reason he will stop by—later afternoon perhaps.

Late afternoon, perhaps? Capie repeats the baker’s words.

Here are your Puff Pillows for the taking, says the baker inviting Capie to leave. I have to take some other trays from the oven if you don’t mind. Wouldn’t want them to burn.

Capie, curious about this new assistant to Mr. Tempaert, says, Your name young man? Apprenticing with Mr. Tempaert?

I’m a full baker already. Snodgrass. Ready to take a full role with Mr. Tempaert’s bakery fate’s ventures willing.

Is he? says Capie.

Best to leave that for Mr. Tempaert to discuss with you, a friend you are, I suppose? Snodgrass says avoiding Capie’s direct question.

Late afternoon? I’ll have a cold brewed coffee ready for him and one, now complimenting the potential new baker friend, of your fine Puff Pillows. Capie questions whether these were Snodgrass’s creation or Mr. Tempaert’s before departing on his errands for the day.

Yes, my pastries. By Mr. Tempaert’s recipe. It’s his shop’s best seller you know.

If that is true, it’s no surprise to me, says Capie. Good making your acquaintance young Snodgrass. Tend to your ovens. I believe we’ve conversed five minutes too long. Capie sniffs the air and the young baker runs to the back out of sight. Capie hears an oven opening loudly and quickly.

Capie leaves the bakery his arms full of the morning’s early rounds exchanges.

Capie continues walking through town and passes a building with deep-red door and window frames. Its exterior walls are white and the large banner arch above the door is blue with white letters spelling out a symbol of centered ‘A’ above but intersecting with ‘WIC.’ The front window is large and the office inside bright. Capie tries to raise an encumbered arm to say hello to the two men familiar to him at desks inside.

Capie turns into a building at the end of the main street. Displayed inside are pieces of wood harvested from the northern forests and crafted at a mill alongside a newly damned creek. Painted pictures of wood and the mill on canvases hang around this ‘Fishskill Mill’ sales office.

Peter, good to see you. Capie utters quickly. Try a Puff Pillow.

Thank you, Peter says and takes one from the bag held by Capie.

I’m short on time and won’t delay. An invite for you to the Pottery Store Festivity.

Peter matches Capie’s urgency having one of his own. Your order will be delivered in two days. Wood dried a year and of the hottest burning wood we have found so far. The soil chemicals worked. Increases base temp and rate of burn. But you’ll need more wood to keep it going.

Yes. Capie says definitively. How is the Puff Pillow?

Peter thinks about the bite he just took expecting to savor it more than he did. It’s not as I remember it being. An off batch perhaps.

Capie makes note of Peter’s observation. Right. Did you talk with Mr. Tempaert this morning when you opened up?

No. His shop was—dark. At least the front, says Peter.

Isn’t he first to open on the street?

Peter says, Always. First stop in the morning of many.

Capie voices his concern about the new baker. The new baker must have opened late. Getting familiar with being on his own, I’m thinking, with Mr. Tempaert out on other business.

Not aware of Mr. Tempaert’s other business. Something new. Did you check with the merchant bankers?

No. But Mr. Tempaert rescheduled our Klassieke for late this afternoon at my shop. For when he returns.

Well, you learn about his trip then, Peter states.

Capie recognizes that meeting will allay his concern as unwarranted. Indeed. I’m off. Bring invite as usual.

I may have need for my new mill partner to join the second next meeting. I’ve made no mention yet but send a message after you survey the eight of my request.

It will require visits of him in advance. I’ll let you know the timing of the anonymous visits. To the new mill or sales office? Capie asks Peter for clarification.

The Beverwyck Sales Office. He’s there all the time except three days on weekends at the mill.

You’re sure about him Peter? Capie asks.

We voyaged and explored together. Saved my tukus more than once. Has my back. And ours after the second next, all agreeing.

All agreeing. They’ll begin one week’s time. Neither of you will know when, as usual.

I know. Now off with you. I have a customer to assist, Peter says as two men enter the front door of the Fishskill Mill sales shop.

Bye Peter, Capie says softly exiting and nodding as he passes the two men entering the store.

Front Of Pottery Shop

The Orange Cerlo sign and the store frontage was quaint deceiving the capabilities that resided within the deep building. The shop sign hanging above the door is an inch-thick, flat, oval plate and shows an orange floating on water. The water is a pond and the tree behind it is full of green leaves spotted with ripe oranges, shading part of the pond. The name of the shop Orange Cerlo is above the picture and curves along the longer, top edge of the oval plate. The life-like painted picture on the sign was made in this Pottery Shop. A close inspection while standing just below it reveals fine brush strokes capable only by a trained and skilled painter. The fine painting baked forever into the plate hanging from two silver chains hooked above to a silver bar extending from the building over the door and sidewalk. Capie steps, arms full, over the cobblestone sidewalk, after crossing the street from the buildings he just visited and glances up at the sign above his Pottery Shop. Its colorful sharp lines are bright on this sunny day. He opens the door and enters setting down all he carries on a long table in the shop.

Enter The Pottery Shop

Capie walks to the back of the long room, pours water into a pot, and places it in the hearth of a fireplace. From the mantle above the fireplace, he lifts a set of ornately decorated cups and saucers to the square table on the left of the hearth. He sits in a chair and pulls toward him from the center of the table a plate with eight built-in round trays filled with assorted color powders made from crushing different ingredients. A small silver spoon is in each round tray and he takes three different spoons filling a crucible also on the table. He reaches into his pocket removing the herbs he placed there on his visit to the garden shop. Capie picks up a heavy, rounded-head pestle, and turns and rocks it left, right and round the crucible with occasional, small, upward movements. He centers the pestle over uncrushed remnants of the herb and repeats his movements to create a new color for one of the empty trays on the round plate. The plate painted with its own ivy green leaves, and climbing roses randomly explore all the contours of the plate as nature would have it in fine detail.

The kettle of water steams whistling to Capie his water is ready to join the tea. He pours the water over a strainer filled with tea above the cup until filled and then drops the strainer into the cup to steep.

Capie is not surprised to hear a noise coming from somewhere above and stands, grabbing another cup and saucer, placing it on the table, waiting for what seems like an expected guest.

The measured steps are loud, an occasional knock on a wall by the items carried, as the person comes down three flights of stairs. The steps get louder like a ticking clock approaching taking long enough to allow steeping of the tea and Capie’s first sip of tea. The door to the room behind Capie opens ringing the arrival of Rees Van Weuthersweep for tea.

Rees, you’re like clockwork. Capie informs his friend.

You could hear me coming down the stairs? Rees asks knowing full well it was the case. It has been Rees’ way of finishing work. A cup of tea ready and waiting on the table, Rees’ hope is fulfilled. But seeing a plate of a few Puff Pillows also on the table, his morning job’s hope is exceeded.

And Mr. Van Weuthersweep please take those out back. The soot will get all over. We had to repaint the place last time one of those sweeps skid down the wall. The mural is quite a fine piece of work no complaints there—the wall a masterpiece by all accounts but let us not have to try to better it this time.

Yes. I’ll remove the overalls too. Your chimneys were particularly full not tended over the winter. As well …

Rees stops talking and walks through the back door to the patio and backyard, disappearing for a minute.

Capie places a Puff Pillow on Rees’ plate, sliding it in front of the seat, and is ready with a tea cup for Rees.

Capie, the lightning rod is clean and in good shape and ready for late spring storms.

Capie is not surprised. Did you expect something else?

No damage of the winter. The second is now installed. As specified."

Capie anticipates a punchline. Good. Rees what is it?

As you know, the tiles are specially fastened individually to the roof and the extra strong timbers and thicker roof boards.

Rees drinks his tea washing any soot from his work down, then wipes his hands and face with a cloth napkin before picking up the Puff Pillow. He digests his first bite while simultaneously re-digesting a previously surmised conclusion on what he found on the roof. Both digestions complete, Rees finally tells Capie his concern.

There was a section of tiles missing on the roof.

Storm? Trees swept them off? Lightning strike? Birds? Inquires Capie knowing it is not possible.

Rees blurts out. No damage to the roof. No broken ties or bolts or broken wood.

Capie now has the concern Rees was careful to digest again before disclosing.

Yes. They were methodically removed. Rees strongly states.

How would they get up there? We’re higher than our neighbors.

Capie? Come on, says Rees. Who and what do we do?

There may be more. Capie jumping to conjecture based on the theft.

More?

Mr. Tempaert wasn’t at the Bakery this morning. A new baker, not apprentice.

Why is that a concern? Rees does not see Capie’s reason for concern.

We were supposed to meet. He’s always there. What else does he have to attend to?

There’s a lot of town folk setting branch businesses up north and east of here. Would he tell you that?

Not necessarily but he would have planned his trip and told me he couldn’t meet.

Go over tomorrow. Rees suggests to Capie. He’ll be there.

Capie quickly says, No. He’s coming here this afternoon. Puff Pillows. As Rees pulls another from the plate. Leave some. Why don’t you join too?

Can’t. Winter sweep of the chimneys of two of the buildings across the street.

The bakery? Capie asks hopefully.

Yes, says Rees questioning what Capie is thinking.

Keep an eye out. And stop by after. Mr. Tempaert will be here at three. Or later this afternoon. If you can’t make that and he doesn’t show, we’ll need to get all the matters together before calling a meeting.

Capie, I think it was just a theft by someone looking to build a roof.

That would be great. Capie thinks, it would be great, if that were true. Were any of the neighbor’s roof tiles taken?

No other roofs, says Rees knowing the point before asked.

We’re on for later.

Rees takes a last sip of tea, wipes his mouth, and stands nodding to Capie at the puzzling events, putting a hand on Capie’s shoulder.

Later Capie.

Rees walks to and through the door to the back room and continues to the patio and backyard not returning.

Pottery Shop Basement

It’s about noon and Capie cleans off the table, puts the plates into a basin at the back of the room, and cleans them. He then reaches into an oven in the back right of the room with heat gloves and a long metal pincer made for extracting hot delicate objects from this oven. He sets the items on a cooling stone and continues to remove other newly minted objects from the oven. He places some items on small pallets, or oven plates, and sets the pallets and plates on the cooling stone. He closes the oven, sets the metal pincer rods in a nook between the wall and oven, takes off the gloves and hangs them on a hook near the upright standing oven tongs.

Capie walks along a wall from the back of the shop to the front and the large open room is full of tables and cupboards and shelves stocked with all types of utensils and pottery. He stops at a section to make room for placing of the new pottery and porcelain. Capie returns to the back of the shop and enters a side room on his left, closing the door behind him. In this side room he opens a closet, or on first entering this room one would assume a closet. He lights a three-prong candelabra on the wall and grabs another sitting on a shelf carved into the wall and walks deeper into this seeming closet and descends some stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, after walking ten steps forward, is another door which Capie enters and closes behind him as he steps into another hidden room. A very large and open room rises the height of the earthen walls and then continues to the height of the building around it. The building above designed like a large barn housing a blacksmith shop, but much cleaner and ornately decorated with finely and delicately made pictures, housewares, and other objects. There are many articles or art works lining the walls, floors and shelves of the room and the metal and stone looking object at its center. The art works are large and small, square, oval, round, triangular and sometimes unusually shaped plates, bowls, cups, urns, pitchers, vases, spoons and ladles, and other utensils or murals or multi-panel screens. Painted expertly or with specific intent, often stories within them but sometimes gardens, panoramas or other decorative pictures or designs. The art works are ordered in a methodical way, a code and label under each. All accessible by the stairs, landings or ladders leaning against the large, multi-story, metal and stone object, or the room’s walls. The walls and the object rise from the subterranean floor to the top of the barn five stories above. Stairs wind around the large object in the center of the room. The object is part of the earthen walls below ground in the subterranean room, and the barn stands on parts of it. There are landings and parapets along the walls of the stone or metal object at the center of the room. The openings—sealed by perfectly-fit doors—into the large and tall object are varied sizes and at various places and heights and most have stairs and landings leading to them. There are