“The streets are unsafe, and this young person has lost her masters. Would you be kind and give her an occupation?”
“And probably a bath too,” Pierce sniffed. “What is her name?”
Josselin turned and looked at the girl, who kept her face low.
“My name is Linet, sir.”
The girl walked away with Pierce. Josselin stayed in the courtyard and looked at the sky. Soon it would be dawn. He thought of the men in the tavern and what he had said to them. Keep the city organized. Louis had insisted on that. Urian and Brother Benedict needed him. I’ll make myself useful too. He had faced a dragon, he could face a plague.
23
The company progressed through the forests and fields at a steady pace. As Ahanu had never ridden a horse before and Eliot was more used to mounting a mule, they did not kick their mounts into a harsh gallop. Lissandro, who had a good sense of orientation, held the map. Selen rode side by side with Folc and enjoyed the wintry landscape. The boy had switched his plate for a hauberk over a warm, dark blue gambeson. Lissandro had said that the temperature must have been lower than thirty degrees. Selen didn’t know what that meant, but it was obvious that the weather grew chillier as the days went by. The nature was silent and, except for the presence of a fox or a group of roe deer in search for scraps of green, void of life.
As they rode alongside a forest, Selen heard the thwacks of axes. A bit further, a couple of peasants emerged from under the trees, carrying bundles of wood over their backs. One of them halted, wiped his brow with the hem of his sleeve, and stared at them, leaning on the shaft of his axe.
“Do you see a village on your map, Lilo?” Selen asked.
Lissandro took the map from his satchel and unfolded it. “I see a dot here called Briarthorpe. We will see if we come across that place.”
Passing on a wooden bridge, Selen saw fishermen on the river shore. They had made holes in the ice, and while some still dragged up lines, others loaded baskets full with their catch on the sides of a donkey. A young boy wrapped up in grey overcoats that made him chubby like a hay doll tugged on the animal’s bridle. Selen couldn’t help but think that if he had lived in Nysa Serin, the boy would be at school by now. And probably sick.
“Look,” Folc said, pointing ahead.
Columns of smoke rose high in the air. Once the riders reached the top of the hill, the small town of Briarthorpe stretched at the bottom of the valley. Selen adjusted his hood to cover his hair. Along the road winding down to the first houses, peasants cleaned the slopes with hoes. As the riders passed by, the men pushed back their gugels to have a look at them. There weren’t probably many strangers travelling the roads by this season.
The small town’s houses were entirely made of wattle and daub. Some went to ruin while others, who had been built on the ruins of previous stone buildings, seemed to belong to the upper class of the village. If it weren’t for the frost, the mud of the street would probably reach the people’s ankles. Straw and filth were sprinkled on the ground, and chickens and geese strolled around in open range. A quack was heard every time someone bumped into one or came a bit too close to a family. Even the temple wasn’t spared the avian invasion as a hen crossed the open doorway. The people seemed to hie in the opposite direction. Curious, Selen and his companions followed the crowd to a small square where two red wagons stood. They dismounted, tethered their horses to a post, and headed towards the crowd.
“What is it?” Selen asked. He felt a bit thrilled by the event. The wagons were decorated with colorful paintings and symbols. Charms hung from the porches, and curtains hid the way between the two wagons.
“It looks like gypsies,” Lissandro said, talking to Louis. “What do you think?”
“It does, indeed,” Louis sighed. “Everyone, watch your back and have a hand on your purse.”
“I stay near the horses,” Ahanu said. Louis nodded at him with gratitude before the Child walked back to their mounts.
Folc, Askjell, Eliot, and Kilda went forwards, but Louis and Lissandro stayed at Selen’s side. In front of them, a young boy in an old uniform who sat on the wagon stairs picked up a drum and rolled the sticks. On the last note, a man with a long moustache dressed in a variegated, tight costume stepped out of a wagon and stared at the crowd while making exuberant gestures.
“People of Briarthorpe,” the man exclaimed sternly. “From the southern part of the Crysas Peninsula, we crossed the mountains and the deserts to perform in front of such an honorable assembly the magical arts of our people.” The man hopped to the next wagon and stretched an arm towards the curtain. “From the lost city of Azkhan, Hakzeem, the fire juggler!”
A ball of flame was blown from the curtain, and a strong, bare-chested man with dark skin appeared. The man with the moustache sat down, picked up a strange wind instrument, and accompanied the boy’s drum. The man named Hakzeem blew more fire at the captivated crowd. Selen sneered. This was a trick he had seen many times in his previous life. Yet, it was still funny to see people get scared of it. Hakzeem picked up a sword and proceeded in swallowing the blade.
“Should we ask him to try horizontally?” Lissandro whispered. Louis chuckled.
“Hush,” Selen said.
He tried to imagine how the man could fit such a long blade in his throat. The crowd held its breath as the man removed the sword. He turned towards the crowd and showed the spotless blade. Laying the sword on the side, Hakzeem took small torches that he lit with his mouth. Once the six torches were ablaze, he juggled with them. The crowd applauded and uttered its enthusiasm. A boy in red and white clothes appeared from behind the curtain. He juggled with balls and interacted with Hazkeem in a comical way, making faces to the crowd.
“It would be enjoyable if it weren't a bunch of charlatans,” Lissandro said.
“Charlatans and thieves,” Louis said with scorn. “And despicable ones moreover. Stealing from people who are already poor and abusing their gullibility and illiteracy.”
“You’re the king. Can’t you forbid that?” Lissandro asked.
“I can’t execute or arrest people for who they are. Now, stealing money is a capital crime. If they could be caught in the act…”
“Should we go hunting?” Lissandro asked, turning to Louis.
Louis looked back at Lissandro with a grin. “With pleasure.” He laid one hand on Selen’s arm. “Stay here. We’ll be right back.”
While his friends walked through the crowd, Selen turned back towards the show. Hazkeem and the juggler did a short bow and walked under the curtain. The man with the moustache stood up.
“And now, behold, good people of Briarthorpe, for here comes the pearl of the desert, the jewel of the southern sea, the ravishing, the ethereal Lissinia.”
The music resumed. From behind the curtain came a person covered in dark veils. Only her hands and feet, adorned with small bells, were naked. The woman danced in lascivious moves to the rhythm of the music. Progressively, she removed her veils, uncovering a young and seductive body. Her face was heavily made-up with kohl and lipstick, and a golden jewel shone on her nose. Selen sighed. In Knossos, he had seen real veil dancers that could take anyone’s breath with a few acrobatic moves. Though this girl wasn’t a bad dancer, she was but a mere prostitute. Yet, in this world, judging by the faces in the crowd, it seemed no one had ever seen something as sensual as this.
“Lissinia has many hidden charms,” the man with the moustache said. “But she can also read the cards and reveal your fate.”
Selen’s attention was stirred by the man’s words. It appeared that the woman was also an oracle. That was interesting.
From the left of the crowd, Lissandro came back, pushing a bearded man in front of him. The man didn’t look much pleased.
“Did you get one?” Lissandro asked.
Selen turned around. From his right, Louis came back with another man. His friend held his dagger against the man’s ribs and twisted one of the man’s arms behind his back.
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br /> “I doubt there were more than two. It’s a good catch,” Louis said. “Selen, would you mind tying his wrists?”
“But I am watching the show. I would like to ask her to read the cards for me,” Selen said, nodding towards the girl.
Lissandro laughed. “Why? Do you wonder how you can become the queen?”
“Imbecile,” Selen grumbled. He took ropes from his bag and tied the men’s wrists. “Who are they?”
“Thieves. And we will now bring them to this town’s justice court,” Louis said.
“Our group won’t be pleased that you arrested us,” the older man with a beard said.
“Well, they can still try to make you escape from the prison. If you fail, all of you will be arrested and hanged. You can choose to betray them…or you can consider that you had bad luck this time,” Louis said.
“I bet the cards didn’t foretell that,” Lissandro said with a smirk.
On the stage, the show was over. The crowd dispersed, and their companions came back. Folc and Askjell had sparks in their eyes.
“This girl was beautiful,” Folc said with awe.
“Yeah, sure. And sweet as a lamb too,” Lissandro said, sarcastic.
“What would you know about women?” Folc replied. Selen frowned at the boy, but Folc ignored him.
“I don’t need to be into it to see the trap,” Lissandro whispered to the boy. “But well, it’s your money.”
They walked to the justice court, pushing the two men in front of them. The low building was in grey stones that were stained black on the base of the walls and where unlit torches hung. Decaying organic matters added a green touch to it. A short, balding man in a ragged, brown tunic with a thick sheepskin cut as a jacket stepped outside. In his hand, he held a wooden stick he spun around casually. The man drew closer and unexpectedly delivered a blow to one of their prisoners’ stomach. The wounded man fell in the mud with a groan.
“What’s that about?” the short man asked.
“We bring these men caught pickpocketing to the local jurisdiction. Where can we address ourselves?” Louis said.
“I’m the jurisdiction. My name’s Baldric,” the man grumbled. “Follow me.”
They passed under a porch and walked across a courtyard. Along one of the walls, a man was locked to a pillory. He had been pelted with mud, rotten food, and all the filth the population had put her hands on. Shit still hung in his hair, and dead rat corpses lay at his feet. As they passed in front of him, Lissandro bent down and picked up a rotten beet. He raised his arm behind his head and aimed, his tongue sticking out in concentration.
“Lilo,” Selen hissed.
His friend turned to him and made a face. “Oh, come on. As if you had never wanted to try.”
“You don’t even know what his crimes are,” Selen said.
Lissandro looked around. Under the reproachful gazes of his friends, he gave up and let go of the beet. Selen heard him mumble until they entered a room on the other side of the yard. The place was dark and reeked of piss. On the side were empty cells, where litter hadn’t been collected for ages.
“Throw these scumbags in one of the cells,” Baldric said as he took a book from a shelf. He opened it and took a quill. “You know their names?”
“No. They are with the group of gypsies on the square. They had that on them,” Louis said, throwing several purses on the desk. The short man snorted and gave a nasty sneer. “Are you the only authority here?” Louis asked.
“I’ve got lads helping me from time to time,” Baldric mumbled while he wrote down notes in the book.
Louis frowned at the answer and took a few steps to the window. “What are the charges against the man on the pillory?”
“Coining, blasphemous words, and buggery.”
Louis pivoted. “Coining is a capital crime. But blasphemy and buggery are no crimes,” he said, shocked.
“That’s too bad. We’ve already hanged the goat,” Baldric said, raising his head to look at Louis.
Selen, Louis, and their companions gaped at Baldric, speechless. Lissandro put a hand on his mouth as if repressing laughter.
“What laws do you follow here?” Louis asked, containing his anger. “Who dispenses justice for serious matters?”
“I administer justice according to the laws we have always followed. Who the hell are you anyway?” Baldric said with his fists on his waist.
Louis sighed. “Folc, show him your insignia.”
Folc stepped forward and took out the unicorn insignia he used to have over his royal guard outfit. The boy presented it under the man’s face. “Recognize that one?” Folc asked.
“Oh,” Baldric uttered. “Well, I follow the law.”
Louis laid his palms on the desk to lean closer to the man. “It’s been more than a year that new laws have been in application. If you don’t want to be arrested for offence against the Crown, you better follow them,” he hissed. “And who is your superior?”
“I have no superior,” the man said, stoical as certain to be well within his rights. “It used to be Baron Rauel, vassal to Lord Pembroke in Embermire, but we received words from the capital which said that local justice courts should refer directly to the laws and no more ask for the lords’ opinion. My hands are free.”
“Free? You’re here to serve the people. Your qualification is confined to their interest. They can declare you incompetent. Besides, you answer to the state, and the local justice courts must be more than one man. You can’t make such decisions on your own initiative,” Louis objected with vehemence.
“But who?” Baldric asked, unsure what Louis was getting at.
“Gather every man of the village and draw lots. It will be fair and representative,” Louis said.
Incredulous, Baldric stared at him. “I’m the only one here who can read.”
Louis stood silent and looked at Selen out of the corner of his eye. Selen winced, as embarrassed as his friend was. Louis composed himself. “Well, at least follow the new laws. If you don’t have the code, ask Embermire’s county jurisdiction for an exemplar.”
They left the room in silence and returned to the street.
“At least we arrested two rascals,” Lissandro said. “We should return to our horses before Ahanu gets worried.” They all mumbled with approval. “I should have thrown that beet. Poor goat,” Lissandro whispered.
The Child had not moved away from the post. “Trouble?” he asked them as they approached.
“Not at all,” Folc said. “I think I saw a tavern on the main square. Maybe they have rooms.”
They untied the horses’ bridles from the post and walked with their mounts to the main square. A weather-washed, wooden sign representing a rooster on a barrel hung on the eaves of one of the buildings. An adjacent porch indicated that the tavern had a backyard for wagons and maybe a stable. Askjell and Eliot decided to stay outside with the horses. The rest of them opened the low door and went down a few steps. The main room was windowless, the light coming exclusively from the hearth and the few candles lit on the wagon-wheel chandeliers. The walls were decorated with agricultural tools high enough to be out of reach in case of a brawl. A flight of stairs near the bar led to the upper floor. Being probably the only place for the villagers to socialize, the tavern was crowded. Selen put one hand to his nose until he got used to the cabbage and vinegar smell and followed his friends towards the bar. Lissandro stretched over the board and hailed at the bartender.
“Hum. Excuse me,” Lissandro said, trying to pierce over the hubbub. “Excuse me!”
The bartender turned around. At the sight of the woman, Selen squirmed with disgust. It was less her ruddy-cheeked, pustuled face that upset him than the blatant animosity in her dry eyes. She stared them up and down with scorn. Obviously, they didn’t welcome strangers in Briarthorpe.
“Would you have four rooms for me and my companions, please?” Lissandro asked.
“What do you think this place is? The king’s castle?” she said an
d snorted. “We have one room. That’s all.”
Lissandro turned to them. “One room?”
“We’ll do with it,” Louis said. “We need something.”
Lissandro turned around. “May I know if you have stables?” he asked the bartender.
“In the yard. But it’s your business. We have no lad to do your chores.”
You could spit directly in his face at this point, witch, Selen thought.
“I’ll fetch our friends outside,” Kilda said.
“And food? Do you have food or do we have to share the hay with our horses?” Lissandro insisted, now in the same irritating tone as hers.
“If they have food, you can be sure they spat on it,” Selen grumbled to himself.
The horrid woman cocked her head towards the tables. They left the bar and walked through the crowd in search of a place to sit. A few dogs trotted between the benches. People played dices, fondled girls, or chatted cheerfully. Yet, as soon as they caught a glimpse of Selen’s eyes on them, they turned silent and stared suspiciously at them. Since most of the customers huddled around the hearth, their group found an empty table on the other side of the room. Selen checked the bench with his hand before he sat down. He removed his gloves and tossed back the flaps of his cloak. The hood over his head was warm enough already.
“What a charming place with pleasant folk,” Folc said, sarcastic.
“Don’t be too hard on these people,” Louis said. “They are poor and exhausted from their daily chores.”
Kilda came back with Askjell and Eliot. They carried trays with jugs, pies, and pork chops. It had a pleasant smell of rosemary and thyme.
“I figured we would have clean food if I sent the boys to ask for us,” Kilda said.
She filled the mugs with dark ale and distributed them around. Selen took his and picked up a chop from the plate. Looking around the table, he noticed that Eliot jumped on the meat as soon as he sat down. Selen, who had worked at the hospital, remembered that the priests and Brother Benedict always recited some kind of prayer before they touched their food. However, the monk was young and probably took it easy with the strict religious rules now that he was by himself.
Light from Aphelion 2 - Tears of Winter Page 19
