Red Kent came over from the barrels, his helm brimming with ale. Never happen, he said. He lifted the helm and half-drained it in four swallows. So youre Prince of Ancrath? A copper-crown kingdom. Must be dozens with as good a claim on the high throne. Each of them with their own army.
More like fifty, Rike growled.
Closer to a hundred, I said. Ive counted.
A hundred fragments of empire grinding away at each other in a never-ending cycle of little wars, feuds, skirmishes, kingdoms waxing, waning, waxing again, lifetimes spent in conflict and nothing changing. Mine to change, to end, to win.
I finished my beer and got up to find Makin.
I didnt have to look far. I found him with the horses, checking his stallion, Firejump.
What did you find? I asked him.
Makin pursed his lips. I found the pyre. About two hundred, all dead. They didnt light it though probably scared off. He waved toward the west. They came in on foot, up the marsh road, and over the ridge yonder. Had about twenty archers in the thicket by the stream, to pick off folks that tried to run.
How many men altogether? I asked.
Probably a hundred. Foot soldiers most of them. He yawned and ran a hand from forehead to chin. Two days gone now. Were safe enough.
I felt invisible thorns scratching at me, sharp hooks in my skin. Come with me, I told him.
Makin followed me back to the steps and fallen pillars at the burgermeisters doors. The brothers had Maical staving in a second barrel.
What ho, Captain! Burlow called out at Makin, his voice still hoarse from Rikes strangling. A laugh went up at that, and I let it run its course. I felt the thorns again, sharp and deep. Sharpening me up for something. Two hundred bodies in a heap. All dead.
Capn Makin tells me were going to have company, I said.
Makins brows rose at that but I ignored him. Twenty swords, rough men, bandits of the lowest order. Not the sort youd like to meet, I told them. Idling along in our direction, weighed down with loot.
Rike got to his feet all sudden like, his flail rattling at his hip. Loot?
Slugs, I tell you. Growing rich off the destruction of others. I showed them my smile. Well, my brothers, were going to have to show them the error of their ways. I want them dead. Every last one. And well do it without a scratch. I want trip-pits in the main street. I want brothers hidden in the grain-tower and the Blue Boar tavern. I want Kent, Row, Liar and the Nuban here, behind these walls to shoot them down when they come between tower and tavern.
The Nuban hefted his crossbow, a monstrous feat of engineering, worked in the old metal and embellished with the faces of strange gods. Kent tossed the dregs from his helm and set it on his head, ready with his longbow.
Now they might come over the ridge instead, so Rikes going to take Maical and six others to hide in the tannery ruins. Anyone comes that way, let them past you, then gut them. Makin will be our scout to give us warning. The good father here and you five there, youre going to stand with me to tempt them in.
The brothers needed no telling. Well, Jobe did, but Rike hauled him out of the beer quick enough and he wasnt gentle about it.
Loot! Rike shouted the words in his face. Get digging trip-pits, shit-brains.
They knew how to set up an ambush those lads. No mistake there. No one knew better how to fight in the ruins. Half the time theyd make the ruins themselves, half the time theyd fight in somebody elses.
Burlow, Makin, I called them to me as the others set about their tasks. I dont need you to scout, Makin, I said, keeping my voice low. I want you two to go to the thicket by the stream. I want you to hide yourselves. Hide so a bastard could sit on you and still not know you were there. You hide down there and wait. Youll know what to do.
Prince Brother Jorg, Makin said. He had a big frown on, and his eyes kept straying down the street to old Gomsty praying before the burned-out church. Whats this all about?
You said youd follow wherever I led, Makin, I answered. This is where it starts. When they write the legend, this will be the first page. Some old monk will go blind illuminating this page, Makin. This is where it all starts. I didnt say how short the book might be though.
Makin did that bow of his thats half a nod, and off he went, Fat Burlow hurrying behind.
So, the brothers dug their traps, laid out their arrows, and hid themselves in what little of Norwood remained. I watched them, cursing their slowness, but holding my peace. And by and by only Father Gomst, my five picked men, and I remained on show. All the rest, a touch over two dozen, lay lost in the ruins.
Father Gomst came to my side, still praying. I wondered how hard hed pray if he knew what was really coming.
I had an ache in my head now, like a hook inserted behind both eyes, tugging at me. The same ache that started up when the sight of old Gomsty made me think of going home. A familiar pain, one Id felt at many a turn on the road. Oft times Id let that pain lead me. But I felt tired of being a fish on a line. I bit back.
I saw the first scout on the marsh road an hour later. Others came soon enough, riding up to join him. I made sure theyd seen the seven of us standing on the burgermeisters steps.
Company, I said, and pointed the riders out.
Shitdarn! Brother Elban spat on his boots. Id chosen Elban because he didnt look like much, a grizzled old streak in his rusty chainmail. He had no hair and no teeth, but he had a bite on him. Theys no brigands, look at them ponies. He lisped the words a bit, having no teeth and all.
You know Elban, you might be right, I said, and I gave him a smile. Id say they looked more like house-troops.
Lord have mercy, I heard old Gomsty murmur behind me.
The scouts pulled back. Elban picked up his gear and started for the market field where the horses stood grazing.
You dont want to do that, old man, I said, softly.
He turned and I could see the fear in his eyes. You aint gonna cut me down is you, Jorth? He couldnt say Jorg without any teeth; I suppose its a name youve got to put an edge on.
I wont cut you down, I said. I almost liked Elban; I wouldnt kill him without a good reason. Where you going to run to, Elban?
He pointed over the ridge. Thats the only clear way. Get snarled up elsewise, or worse, back in the marsh.
You dont want to go over that ridge, Elban, I said. Trust me.
And he did. Though maybe he trusted me because he didnt trust me, if you get my meaning.
We stood and waited. We sighted the main column on the marsh road first, then moments later, the soldiers showed over the ridge. Two dozen of them, house-troops, carrying spears and shields, and above them the colours of Count Renar. The main column had maybe three score soldiers, and following on behind in a ragged line, well over a hundred prisoners, yoked neck to neck. Half a dozen carts brought up the rear. The covered ones would be loaded with provisions, the others held bodies, stacked like cord-wood.
House Renar doesnt leave the dead unburned. They dont take prisoners, I said.
I dont understand, Father Gomst said. Hed gone past scared, into stupid.
I pointed to the trees. Fuel. Were on the edge of a swamp. Theres no trees for miles in this peat bog. They want a good blaze, so theyre bringing everyone back here to have a nice big bonfire.
I had an explanation for Renars actions but as to my own, like Father Gomst, I wasnt sure I understood either. Whatever strength I had on the road, it came to me through a willingness to sacrifice. It came on the day I set aside my vengeance on Count Renar as a thing without profit. And yet here I was, in the ruins of Norwood, with a thirst that couldnt be quenched by any amount of festival beer. Waiting for that self-same count. Waiting with too few men, and with every instinct telling me to run. Every instinct, except for that one to hold or break, but never bend.
I could see individual figures at the head of the column quite clearly now. Six riders, chain-armoured, and a knight in heavy plate. The device on his shield came into view as he turned to signal his command. A black crow on a red field, a field of fire, Count Osson Renar wouldnt lead a hundred men into an Ancrath protectorate, so this would be one of his boys. Marclos or Jarco.
The brothers wont fight this lot, Elban said. He put a hand on my shoulder-plate. We might fight a path out through the trees if we get to the horses, Jorth.
Already twenty of the Renar men hastened toward the tree line, holding their longbows before them so they wouldnt snag.
No. I let out a long sigh. Id best surrender.
I held out my hand. White flag if you please.
The house-troops had deployed by the time I made my way down toward the main column. My flag should properly be described as grey. An unwholesome grey at that, torn from Father Gomsts hassock.
Noble born! I shouted. Noble born under flag of truce!
That surprised them. The house-troops, fanned out behind our horses, let me cross the market field unhindered. They looked to be a sorry lot, the metal scales falling from their leathers, rust on their swords. Homebodies they were, too long on the road and not hardened to it.
The lad wants to be first on the fire, one of them said. A skinny bastard with a boil on each cheek. He got a laugh with that.
Noble born! I called out. Flag o truce. I didnt expect to get this far with my sword.
I caught the stink of the column and could hear the weeping. The prisoners turned blank eyes upon me.
Two of Renars riders came forward to intercept me. Whered you steal the armour, boy?
Go fuck yourself, I said. I kept it pleasant. Whove you got leading this show then? Marclos?
They exchanged a look at that. A wandering hedge-knight probably wouldnt know one son of the House Renar from the next.
It doesnt do to kill a noble prisoner without orders, I said. Best let the Count-ling decide.
Both riders dismounted. Tall men, veterans by the look of them. They took my sword. The older one, dark bearded with a white scar under both eyes, found my knife. The cut had taken the top of his nose too.
Youre a bit of an ugly mess arent you? I asked.
He found the knife in my boot as well.
I had no plan. The pain in my head hadnt left any room for one. Id ignored the wordless voice that had led me for so long. Ignored it for the joy of being stubborn. And here I was unarmed amongst too many foes, stupid and alone.
I wondered if my brother William was watching me. I hoped my mother wasnt.
I wondered if I was going to die. If theyd burn me, or leave me as a maimed thing for Father Gomst to cart back to the Tall Castle.
Everyone has doubts, I said as Scar-face finished his search. Even Jesu had his moment, and I aint him.
The man looked at me as if I were mad. Maybe I was, but Id found my peace. The pain left me and I saw things clear once again.
They led me to where Marclos sat on his horse, a monstrous stallion, twenty hands if it was one. He lifted his visor then and showed a pleasant face, a bit fat in the cheeks, quite jolly really. Looks, of course, can be deceiving.
Who the hell are you? he asked.
He had a nice bit of plate on, acid etched with a silver inlay and burnished so it shone even in the dreariest of light.
I said who the hell are you? He got some red in his cheeks then. Not so jolly. Youll sing on the fire, boy, so you may as well tell me now.
I leaned forward as if to hear him. The bodyguards reached for me but I did the old shake and twist. Even with me in armour they were too slow. I used Marcloss foot as a step, where it stuck out from the stirrup, and got up alongside him in no time at all. He had a nice stiletto in a sheath set handy in the saddle, so I had that out and stuck it in his eye. Then we were off. The pair of us galloping out across the market field. How to steal a horse is the first thing you learn on the road.
We bounced along, with him howling and shaking behind me. A couple of the house-troops tried to bar the way but I rode them down. They werent going to get up again either; that stallion was fearsome big. The archers might have taken a shot or three, but they couldnt make sense of it from that distance, and we were headed into town.
I could hear the bodyguard thundering along behind. It sounded as if they knocked a few men down themselves. They came close, but wed taken them by surprise, me and Marclos, and got a start on them. And as we reached the outskirts of Norwood they drew up short.
At the first building I wheeled sharply, and Marclos obliged by falling off. He hit the ground face first. Another one that wouldnt be getting up again. It felt good, I wont lie about that. I imagined the Count getting the news as he broke his fast. I wondered how hed like the taste of it. Would he finish his eggs?
Men of Renar! I shouted it hard enough to hurt my lungs. This town stands under the Prince of Ancraths protection. It will not be surrendered.
I turned the horse again and rode on. A few arrows clattered behind me. At the steps I drew up and dismounted.
You came back Father Gomst looked confused.
I did, I said. I turned to face Elban. No fighting a retreat now eh, brother?
Youre insane. The words escaped in a whisper. For some reason he didnt lisp when he whispered.
The riders, Marcloss personal guard, led the charge. Now that they had fifty foot soldiers around them, they had found their courage. Up on the ridge the two dozen house-troops took their cue and began to run with the slope. The archers started to emerge from the thicket for better aim.
These bastards will burn you alive if they take you that way, I said to the five brothers I had with me. Then I paused and I looked them in the eye, each one. But they dont want to die. They wont want to go back to the Count either way. Would you take old bonfire-Renar his dead son back, and smooth it over with an oh yes, but we killed scavengers there was this boy and an old man with no teeth ?
So mark me now. You fight these tame soldiers, and you show them hell. Show them enough of it and the bastardsll break and run. I paused and caught Brother Roddats eye, for he was a weasel and like to run, sense or no sense. You stick with me, Brother Roddat.
I looked to the thicket, over the heads of the men surging up from the market field and saw an archer fall among the trees. Then another. An armoured figure emerged from the undergrowth. The archers in front of him still had their eyes on the advance. He took the head from the first one with a clean swing. Thank you, Makin, I thought. Fat Burlow came out at a run then, barrelling his armoured bulk into the bowmen.