by AJ Adams
I’d known it. Female thralls are welcomed, but males are mostly considered too dangerous to have around. But I hadn’t ever really thought about what happens to unwanted thrall infants.
Lind did, though. “And if it’s a girl, she’ll know he’ll sell her to the highest bidder. If the kid’s lucky, she’ll just be a thrall for life. But she’s just as likely to end up in a brothel.”
“Lind, not everyone’s a monster.”
“Bloody Duggard is. And even if he weren’t, everyone knows a thrall can be had by her master whenever he pleases. Violet will probably have to witness Duggard defiling her daughter.” Lind’s eyes were iced stone. “I was eight.”
My heart stopped as my stomach lurched. I couldn’t breathe. Spots danced before my eyes.
In my travels I’d bought girls in inns and accepted it when hosts sent me their thralls. It never occurred to me that they might be unwilling. I’d never thought about it. In war, I’d never stooped to rape.
I’d thought myself a good man, a dutiful one. Now I was looking at Lind with horror because I knew myself to be a monster.
“She’s probably not even called Violet,” Lind went on. “The Caern castle people name their women after flowers, so Duggard probably just bought this one and gave her that name to be posh like them.”
I just stared at her. “Really?”
“Yes!” she snapped at me. “Didn’t you know? We don’t even own our own bloody names!”
“Master Fletcher, a word with you?” It was the pottery cart driver, barging past Lind as if she weren’t there. “Thank you, sir.” He was wringing my hand. “If it weren’t for you, we’d all be dead.”
Lind sat down on the grass, furious still but silent. I don’t know what I said to the driver, something conventional probably, because he went on talking. “The way you brought out those bandits and took them down was masterful. I’ve never seen shooting like it. The flaming arrows were heaven-sent. And you took down more men than anyone!”
The driver of the sword cart came over too. “Thank you, Master Fletcher. You saved my cart, my horse and me!”
“Actually, Lind saved your horse.”
“You are modest.” He was all over me, smiling and laughing. “You saved us!”
“Master Fletcher. Thank you.” The velvet maker’s driver, a man who’d been yelling at me just the evening before. “Bless you, sir!”
“I said we couldn’t trust a Llanfaes man.” Duggard’s whine was piercing.
“I agree, cousin.” Jarvis was there, ably seconding every moan and whimper. “I can take over as chief ranger.”
So he was hoping to delay anyone finding out what he’d been up to. The time was ripe to take them down.
“I don’t think so,” I spoke up loudly for all to hear. “Like I said, I think we should check our supplies.”
“Oh, do shut up.” Duggard played right into my hands. “My cousin is perfectly capable.”
“Actually, I’ve been wondering why the migrants have as many eggs for breakfast as we do,” the potter said loudly.
“Me too,” the velvet maker’s driver agreed.
“Nonsense! You’re talking nonsense!”
But Duggard’s protest was moot, because the driver of the sword cart simply marched over to one of the supply carts and pulled up the canvas at the back.
There was a gaping hole where there should have been a stack of boxed eggs. “Someone’s been at this,” the driver said seriously.
As Duggard mouthed silently, a guard was jumping in another cart. “Hey,” his voice carried clearly. “This cart should be opened last, right? But there’s sacks of peas missing. And the oats have been got at, too.”
“But, but, that’s impossible!” Duggard was white faced and witless. “Of course everything’s in order! Jarvis! Tell them this is a mistake!”
I caught a glimpse of Lind, grinning with sheer delight. The fowler was there, too, looking angry, as were several guards.
Jarvis was rallying fast. “It’s not me. It’s those damn migrants.”
“Is it hell!” The fowler was on that instantly. “We’re lucky because the fletcher and his thrall helped us, but some of the others were so desperate that they’ve been handing over their last coppers to you.”
“That’s a lie!”
“What’s going on here?” Kennard popped up, looking at the open carts with horror.
“The migrants are stealing supplies!” Jarvis yelled. “And they’re blaming me!”
“When we ran out of coppers, you took wedding rings!” The fowler yelled right back.
“Not true!”
“Then we’ll look in your cart and see, shall we?”
The guards were now cornering Jarvis, and so the drivers were able to uncover his stash instantly.
“This was hidden in his pack.” The velvet Guild driver was holding up a small bag. “Look. Wedding rings.”
“They’re mine!” Jarvis squealed.
“Six of them?”
It was complete pandemonium.
“This is brilliant.” Lind was at my side, glowing with delight. “Will Jarvis be whipped for this?”
“Probably. The laws about selling the duke’s supplies are very strict.”
“Good. I want to watch.”
“Yes, of course.” And I should be up there too, right alongside him, being punished for rape. But the words wouldn’t come.
“They might lynch Duggard, too. And Kennard.”
It was turning ugly. The drivers were crowding around, frightened at the sight of the raided supply carts.
“There’s not enough for us to get to Tanweld.”
“We’re going to bloody starve!”
“But I had no idea!” Duggard was blustering. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“You’re convoy leader. You’re responsible.”
“And you’re his damn cousin.”
“Wait! I didn’t put him in charge of supplies!” Duggard dumped Kennard in the shit without compunction.
“Look, let’s all take a breath.” Kennard was scenting murder, and knew he’d be right in there with his cowardly cousin.
“That’s what we’ll be taking!” one of the guards yelled. “We’re going to run out of supplies a week before Tanweld! That fucker Jarvis has sold more than half the eggs and salted fish!”
“So let’s cut down on the mouths we need to feed.” That was the pottery driver, being practical if somewhat murderous.
“Gentlemen, that’s enough.” I stepped in, judging it time. “We’re not murderers, nor are we judges. We cannot execute the duke’s men at will.”
“I don’t mind being judge and jury,” one of the guards muttered. “The duke will understand. Selling supplies is bloody murder.”
“So’s being in cahoots with the poxy bastard!”
At this point, Kennard went white. “Look, we can fix this,” he pleaded. “I made an error to trust my cousin, but I didn’t know what he was doing.”
“Didn’t listen to Master Ware, either, did you?” the guard replied nastily. “He was thinking of us all the time, but all you worried about was your damn family.”
I stirred the pot nicely. “I’m willing to let bygones be bygones, but selling supplies is against the duke’s law. It’s a very serious matter. Twenty lashes, I believe. For all involved.”
“Wait!” Duggard was grasping at straws. “We can buy supplies at Torre’s Halt.”
“At this time of year? No way!”
“What do you think they’ll give us? Spring water? Mouldy apples?”
“Right. We should have ordered weeks ago.”
“There will be sheep. Pigs, too.” Kennard said quickly.
“And who’s going to pay for that?”
Kennard stood swaying with sudden fear. “A line of credit?” he gasped, knowing that was nonsense. Villages deal in cash or trade. Credit is only given to Guild members in cities, and even then the fees are horrendous.
“We’ve got
the wedding rings.” Incredibly, that was Duggard, and the bastard was smiling. “We’ve got six, after all.”
I put a stop to that immediately. “A thief took wedding rings from the unfortunate women who couldn’t bear to see their children go hungry. We don’t profit from that.”
There was an uncertain silence as the guards and drivers hoped someone else would volunteer to be the bastard.
I took advantage and handed the rings to the fowler. “Hand them back, will you?”
“I don’t want to rob women, but does that mean we give up and go back home?” the upset guard asked. “We can’t travel on an empty stomach. Or fight off bandits.”
“I told the steward and the sergeant that I suspected a problem,” I reminded him. “When they wouldn’t listen, I sent the rangers forward.”
All eyes were on me. It was glorious.
“I have arranged for supplies to be collected at Torre’s Halt. It won’t be the best, but we’ll have greens and oats, as well as barrels of smoked pork.”
“And payment?”
“I’ve paid already.” Then I put my knife in Duggard’s heart and twisted it. “As it is the Guild who lead here, I’ll settle this with them later. I’ll keep accounts and charge a minimum fee. If the Guild disputes, the duke of Caern can be our judge.”
“No-no-no-no!” Duggard was purple. “Absolutely not! We’re Guild, man! This is nothing to do with the duke!”
“Twenty carts in this convoy were sent by the duke as payment to Tanweld, so he has the right to know what happened here.” I spoke mildly, as if Duggard was a childish fool. “I’m sure he’ll not blame you, Steward. After all, family can be awfully difficult.”
By now everyone except for the cousins were smiling.
“Thank the gods you’re here, Master Fletcher.” The pottery driver was shaking me by the hand again. “You’ve saved us—again!”
“Yes, you should lead.” The fowler was grinning at me. “We’ll feel better following you.”
“But-but-but!” Duggard was speechless while Kennard was grimly silent. “Have you forgotten who he is?”
“He’s Ware Fletcher, master craftsman, and he saved us.’ The fowler was loud. “You may have tricked him into looking bad, Guild Steward, but we’ve seen through you. And your cousins.”
“Yeah, we want Master Ware to lead us.”
The gods warn against pride, but I did feel it. All the humiliation was washed away now. I’d beaten Duggard, Kennard and Jarvis, and restored my reputation.
Duggard would have fought, but Kennard knew when to admit defeat. “Of course the steward must lead,” he said. “The law demands it. But we will follow Master Ware’s advice. Won’t we, cousin?”
The steward stamped off, which we all took as agreement.
“Well, Master Fletcher, what now?” Kennard spoke nicely, but I noted the gritted teeth.
“Jarvis is to be sent to the back of the convoy, to walk with the migrants. He’s forfeited his right to the supply carts, but for decency’s sake we’ll have to give him basic rations.”
“He doesn’t deserve that,” a guard said.
“As he’ll be manacled, he won’t be able to forage.”
Manacles weigh a tonne—they’re punishment as well as restraint, so that went over well. I punched home by taking over. “We bury our dead and move on.”
“What? Bury all of them? We’ll be here all day!”
“The bandits don’t deserve our time. They will be moved away from the road and left to melt. But we bury our own.”
That’s time-honoured custom, and so an hour later, pouring Apollo’s water over the stones that marked the newly dug grave, I said the proper prayers.
Lind stood by my side, dry-eyed but sombre. “Kids shouldn’t die,” she sighed.
I wanted to speak to her, to apologise, but shame and horror rose up and stopped my tongue. I had no idea what to say to her. For all my posing as a dutiful man, an honourable man, I now knew I was another Jarvis, another Duggard.
“Are you okay, Ware?” Her eyes were concerned and she took my hand. “You’re frozen,” she said calmly. “Come on, we’ll be moving soon. That will warm you up.”
“Lind.” The words just wouldn’t come.
“What?” Lind was looking over my shoulder. “You know, I hate myself for saying this, Ware, but you’re right.”
I stood silent, wondering what was going through her mind.
“Freedom without money and skills is worthless,” Lind mused. “I mean, you’ve given them back their rings, right? But they’ll sell them again soon enough. Or starve.”
“I know.” My thrall was as helpless as a newborn babe. Without my care, she’d starve. Back in Caern it had been the way of the world. Now the knowledge crucified me. “They’ve nothing but their strength.”
“I know. I was that way, but thanks to you I’ll soon have skills.” She tucked my hand into her side. “Come on, let’s get this show on the road.”
Chapter Eighteen: Lind
We were attacked and finicky, proud, posh Ware kicked ass! It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been in some scraps, so I know what I’m talking about.
There was no sign that anything was wrong. One moment everything was serene, and the next there was green fire in the sky.
“Blessed Ullr! It’s a sign!” One of the Brighthelme women was on her knees, the silly cow. “We see you, lord!”
A second later Ware came galloping over. “Lind! Get under the cart!”
I was diving under it when the first arrows began to rain down. The clever fuckers attacked us from cover, so there was no way of knowing where they were, never mind how many there were.
The deadly arrows were everywhere, all at once, and everyone was yelling and taking cover—except for Ware. The fletcher very coolly reached into his quiver, lit an arrow and then, quicker than the eye could see, he was firing.
Instantly there were explosions coming from the trees. Then it was the bandits screaming. Ware flushed them out faster than a pack of hounds after rabbits.
Kennard was yelling, getting his men running around, but Ware didn’t move. He must have been a hundred paces from his targets and there was a wicked wind, but he just reached into that quiver, and then the rain of arrows was going the other way.
Wolf wasn’t exactly useless, either. That clever horse was moving parallel to the bandits, doing his own thing without a sign from Ware, because the reins were lying knotted loosely on his neck.
I was just lying there, open-mouthed, as I watched the two of them cream the enemy. I wasn’t even scared, which was a first for me. I’ve been in two convoys that were attacked, and it was fucking scary. Both times I avoided trouble by dint of hiding: in a muddy ditch the first time and up a tree the second.
With Ware and Wolf taking care of business, I was so together that I spotted one of the wagons being set on fire. The robbers were thinking that the drivers would be rushing to put out the flames, which would give them time to get their hands on the loot.
I don’t give a stuff about the Guild, you can rob them blind as far as I’m concerned, but one of the horses was already hitched. The poor thing was going crazy with fear, and I knew it would very quickly be burned to death.
So I went to the rescue.
I still don’t know how that happened, because running around in a battle is not a sensible thing to do. But I did, and I got the horse free, but then the bloody buggery bandits spotted my collar.
“Silver!” one screamed. “Fuck me! She’s wearing silver!”
“Get the bitch!” his pal yelled.
Luckily they were armed with staves, which is all you need when you’re fighting drivers up close and personal, but I had Ware’s best knife. He’d made it himself, layers on layers of thin steel, so it cut through the leather traces easily, and as I found out, it does a damn good job on cowardly fucks who attack girls, too.
I’m not a fighter, but I am a tumbler. I bounced straight
past them and was about to make a run for it when a third bloke was on me. That whoreson was armed with a sword. He swung it at me, and I thought I was toast—until I realised you don’t have to hold a knife. I chucked it at him, and it went right into his arm.
He plucked it out, chucked it back and missed. Then he fainted. I was about to make a run for it when one of the others bashed me on the head. I was half out of it as they began dragging me into the bushes.
“Get that knife off her.” I heard one of them say.
Not good, right? I was able to get it together and kick. Again, I’m a tumbler and I’m bloody strong, so I got them good. I held on to the knife, too. And then it was two of them against me.
I was absolutely petrified, but I made a brave show and challenged them. “Tyr take you, you poxy whoresons!”
Unfortunately, they were clever. They were using their staves, staying out of reach and taking turns to bash me. I was losing, and I knew it. But I cursed them anyway.
I was convinced I was dead when Ware and Wolf burst through the trees. The fletcher was on his feet, tossing one bandit to Wolf, who promptly raked a hoof down his chest. I didn’t see what Ware did, but there was a quiet squeal and then the fletcher was stepping over the bandit’s fallen body.
“Lind, are you okay? Are you hurt?”
I gave him hell. “You almost got me killed!” I whacked him a couple of good ones, too.
You know what? Ware was angelic. He just let me bash him, and when we got back to camp, he didn’t say a word, either.
I got the shakes, delayed reaction, I think. There were bodies everywhere, mostly bandits, but a couple of guards were killed. I didn’t care about them, it’s not like they were ever going to be anything but evil to me, but the sight of a poor little baby who’d been shot really got to me.
So did seeing Duggard’s golden-haired girl was preggo. Tansy tea isn’t foolproof, but even so, it upset me to see Violet had been caught out. I mouthed off to Ware about that, too, and again, he was nice about it. No lectures about respect or anything.
By the time I calmed down, everyone else was getting themselves together again. Kennard was running around, chasing the few bandits who’d survived, and Duggard was wailing in complete terror, the red-haired coward.
