Parno's Company (The Black Sheep of Soulan Book 1)

by N. C. Reed

  And everyone had to be able to ride, and fight, as cavalry.

  Each month, each company was required to make one long patrol, one hundred miles give or take. Everything they might need had to be in their packs or saddlebags, though in winter, forage for the horses was taken out by wagon.

  Each week, every company was required to march twenty five miles on patrol. While he didn’t envision that the need would arise, Cho had convinced him that the marches were good exercise, conditioning the men to hardship in the field. Parno agreed.

  He wasn’t excused from the patrols, himself, nor was anyone else who might find themselves in combat. He took his patrols with different companies each time, always as just another soldier. He had no desire to disrupt the chains of command that each company had developed. The soldiers he accompanied treated him with no deference to his position, per his own orders. The fact that he shared their hardships was not lost on them, and slowly he won their respect as a fellow soldier, rather than just as their liege lord.

  Glad it wasn’t his turn, this time, to go out, Parno walked on into the headquarters building, and then into the small office he maintained there. Most of his work he did from the house, so he kept an office little larger than a closet in the main building. His argument, when others protested, was that there was little enough room as it was, and he didn’t need a large work area, as he had a spacious study in the main house.

  “Good morning, milord,” Harrel Sprigs nodded as his Commander walked into the building.

  “Morning, Harrel,” Parno replied. “Anything needing my attention this morning?”

  “We have a delegation from the town here, sir,” Sprigs told him, sighing. “Complaining that we are no longer allowing the men into town. Or buying supplies from their merchants.”

  “After the fiasco with the constable?” Parno was shocked. “I’d not have thought they wanted us there again, were we to come bearing gifts from afar.”

  Sprigs shrugged helplessly. There was no accounting for people.

  “Send them into my office in five minutes.”

  “There are several of them, sir,” Sprigs warned. “Eight, to be exact.”

  “Fine,” Parno nodded in satisfaction. “They can crowd in, and stand.”

  *****

  Parno looked up casually as Sprigs knocked lightly, then opened the door.

  “The delegation from Cove, milord,” he said firmly.

  “Very well, show them in,” Parno smiled. He watched as the sullen, even angry looking men trooped into his small office. One of them, well dressed and well fed, looked around him in disdain.

  “I’d think someone of your station would keep better quarters, Prince,” he remarked, just a hint of sarcasm entering his voice.

  “I do keep better quarters,” Parno said flatly. “This is my office. How may I be of service to you, gentlemen.” The slight inflection on the word gentlemen wasn’t lost on the fat man, as he flushed slightly.

  “We’d like to know why you have declared our town off limits to your soldiers,” he said bluntly. “I’m Mayor Hagerly, Prince. Your men used to spend their money in town, and now, thanks to you, that’s no longer the case. Likewise, you no longer give our merchants your patronage when buying supplies. We’d like an explanation.”

  “I see,” Parno nodded, ignoring, for now, the barely disguised ‘demand’. “I’d think that, after the incident two or so months back, there would be no need for explanations, Mayor. My men were attacked in your town, and your constable took two of my troopers, Royal troopers, mind you, into custody for defending themselves. He made it quite clear that my men weren’t welcome in Cove. As did any number of townspeople. I believe you were there, in fact,” he added.

  “That was a misunderstanding,” Hagerly said. “Your men. . . .”

  “Did nothing other than defend themselves,” Parno cut him off. “Something that shouldn’t have even been needed, or necessary, in a town of this kingdom. Men who are sworn to protect the people and land of Soulan should not be targets for those they protect.”

  “That was just drunken brawling,” Hagerly’s face reddened further, “and your men were just as drunk. . . .”

  “You, sir, are a liar,” Parno said it flatly, his voice void of emotion. “I have entertained your desire for an audience today out of courtesy. Yet no courtesy has been returned. You come here, insulting me, my men, my office of all things, and expect to make demands of me.” Parno stood suddenly, and Hagerly and his followers almost jumped back away from his desk.

  “Need I remind you who you’re talking to?” he said softly.

  Hagerly licked his lips, nervously. Knowing as he did Parno’s status among the Royals, he had expected the young Prince to be intimidated.

  “Perhaps we should speak to the Crown, then,” he threatened, trying to regain his composure.

  “Perhaps you should,” Parno nodded. “I’d welcome that, in fact,” he smiled. “Since, once you do, the report of the incident in question will have to be made available to the Crown. Merely as supporting evidence, of course,” he added. Hagerly’s face paled.

  “I. . .I was not aware that no report had been made,” he said quietly. He had assumed that the report had indeed been made, and ignored, due to the fact that it was Parno McLeod who filed it.

  “Not at all,” Parno smiled. “As part of the arrangement with your Constable, and with the consent of the townspeople present at the time I might add, there was a report prepared, but not filed. Had it been, I’ve no doubt that a Royal Constable would have been dispatched to investigate. Attacks upon the Crown’s troopers are not taken lightly.”

  “So I urge you, Mayor, by all means, appeal to the Crown. Lay this matter before the King.”

  Hagerly looked like a trapped rat now. He had intended, indeed, he had promised, to force the Prince to allow his men into town once more, and to resume purchasing his supplies from the local merchants. At a substantial profit, of course. Now, he had walked into a bear trap, and there was no available escape route.

  “I think this matter is concluded, gentlemen,” Parno said finally. “Mister Sprigs will show you out.” As if he’d been listening all the time, which, of course, he had, Sprigs opened the door.

  “This way if you please, gents. I’ll show you to your carriages.” Two large, stone faced Royal Troopers were now in the hall. Placed there by Sprigs.

  “I’m sorry we disturbed you, milord,” Hagerly managed to say without venom. “And thank you for your time.”

  “No problem at all, Mayor,” Parno smiled. “I always have time for my people.” Hagerly flinched at that but made no other comment as he and his ‘delegation’ were shown the door.

  Parno sighed, sitting back in his chair. He’d thought that whole mess was behind them for good.

  Maybe it was, this time.

  *****

  The day wasn’t over for Parno. Just after lunch, there was a soft knock at his office door. Parno looked up from the stack of company progress reports.

  “Milord, there’s a visitor here to see you,” Lt. Sprigs said quietly.

  “Who is it?”

  “He says his name is Hubbel. Whip Hubbel.”

  “Hubbel? The archer?” Parno asked, eyebrows raised. Sprigs nodded.

  “I think so, sir. He’s carrying a magnificent long bow.”

  “Show him in!” Parno exclaimed, rising. Springs bowed slightly and retreated. Seconds later he ushered the man in question into the room. Hubbel was a large man, wide of shoulder, and tall. He was weathered looking and heavily muscled. He wore buckskins, Parno noted, not unusual for men who lived in the mountains.

  “Prince Parno, Whip Hubbel,” Sprigs announced calmly, and then closed the door.

  “Welcome, Mister Hubbel,” Parno smiled, extending his hand. Hubbel took the proffered hand with a firm grip. Not crushing, not limp, simply a strong, firm grip. Parno returned the pressure equally.

  “Thank you for seein’ me, milord,” the older man
said gruffly.

  “Certainly,” Parno nodded. “How may I be of service?” Hubbel grinned at that, and Parno noted that the man’s weathered face crinkled in amusement.

  “Was thinkin’ it was me, might be o’ service to you, milord,” he replied. Parno chuckled softly.

  “I’m thinking the same thing, sir. May I offer you anything to drink?”

  “Beer, if’n ya got it’d go mighty fine,” Hubbel said. Parno’s grin returned.

  “This is an army post, Mister Hubbel. If we didn’t have beer, we’d have a mutiny on our hands.” The older man chuckled this time. Parno walked to a small barrel, where a large chunk of ice was floating in clear water, and removed two bottles.

  “You don’t mind if I join you, I hope?” Parno asked, uncorking the bottles, and handing one to Hubbel. “Please, take a chair.” The two men took seats, and each raised their bottle.

  “Your health, milord,” Hubbel smiled, and took a large drought.

  “And yours, sir,” Parno replied, taking a healthy drink himself. With the formalities out of the way, Parno turned to business.

  “What’s on your mind, Mister Hubbel?”

  “‘Spect it’s wrong, man o’ yer station callin’ me ‘sir’, or ‘mister’,” Hubbel noted. Parno shrugged.

  “I’m not much on ‘stations’ Mister Hubbel. But if you prefer I call you something else, I will oblige.”

  “Whip’ll do, I reckon,” the older man rumbled after a pause. “I must say, you ain’t what I expected.”

  “I hope that’s a good thing,” Parno managed to smile. Whip nodded.

  “It is,” he assured the young prince. “I expected a fop, or fancy pants, playin’ at bein’ somethin’ he ain’t. You don’t ‘pear to be neither.”

  “Well, I’m not much on pretense either, Whip,” Parno shrugged again. “This is what I am.” Whip nodded.

  “Hear tell you need bowmen,” the older man changed the subject. Parno regarded the man carefully.

  “I need bowyers,” Parno corrected. “And bow masters. Bowmen I have in plenty, provided I can find someone to teach them.”

  “I see,” the older man mused. “I’m a fair hand at bow makin’,” he said after a few seconds.

  “You’re said to be the finest bow-maker in the Apple Mountains, Whip,” Parno smiled slightly. The old man looked at Parno intently, then laughed out loud.

  “I see you’ve done yer schoolin’, Milord.”

  “I do what I can,” Parno nodded. “But I’m curious. Where you interested in enlisting? You do realize that this regiment is made up of former prisoners and men who have found themselves on the wrong side of the law, so to speak.”

  “So I’d heard,” the old man nodded. “Might be I was thinkin’ on it,” he added carefully. “Bein’ as I might be wanted, a bit.”

  “A bit?” Parno’s eyes rose. “How much of a bit?”

  “Mighta killed a deer or two I hadn’t oughta,” the old man shrugged. “Mighta had need, at the time.”

  “I see,” Parno nodded. “Well, Whip, I’m sorry to say that I don’t think I can use you in the regiment. Despite your notable abilities you’re a bit old to enter military service. Not that I doubt your stamina,” he added when Whip frowned. “But this truly is a young man’s game and the training is rigorous enough that even the younger men are finding the going difficult.”

  “What I can use you for, however, is to teach my men how to use their bows better, and to teach the actual archers how to make their own bows. All of my men are required to be able to use a bow, but several of them are already fairly adept and the long bow is their primary weapon.”

  “If you’re interested in that, then I can offer you a position.”

  “What about my wants?” Whip asked, sounding unconvinced.

  “I can take care of that,” Parno smiled. “And, as you aren’t a convicted criminal,” Parno added slyly, “I can pay you for your services and provide you a place to live.” Whip looked at Parno for a long minute. Parno sat quietly, returning the older man’s gaze levelly. He needed this man’s help and they both knew it. There was no point in pretending otherwise and, as he’d said, Parno didn’t much care for pretense.

  “I got a daughter, milord,” Whip said finally. “Just turned seventeen. Need a place for her. A safe place, was somethin’ to happen to me. Ain’t no one but me and her, anymore. I’m all she has.”

  “All the men’s families are welcome here, Whip,” Parno replied. “Your daughter is no different. Should something, untoward, shall we say, happen to you, then she’ll be welcome to remain here. Many of the men’s family members work here as well. In the kitchens…doing laundry…sewing…any number of things. All paid work, by the way. No one’s required to work, but the work is available.”

  “Girl’s a fair hand with the bow, herself,” Whip commented. “And knows how to fashion a bow herself.”

  “Does she now?” Parno leaned forward, eyes alight with interest. “That. . .that might change things a bit, then,” he smiled. “Perhaps she’d like to actually work for me. By which I mean, the regiment. We’ve need of skilled bowyers, and arrow makers as well. Is she up to that, you think?”

  “She is,” Whip nodded without thought.

  “Well, then, Whip,” Parno smiled. “Let’s discuss terms, shall we?”

  *****

  Winifred Hubbel, ‘Winnie’ to her father and few friends, eyed the assembled company in front of her with no little trepidation. She refused to let it show on her face but she was sure that the Captain standing in front of her could see it in her eyes.

  Winnie was a comely lass, tall, willowy, and rather full of figure. Pretty, with green eyes and flame colored hair she looked far older than her seventeen years. Life in the mountains could be hard, and very unforgiving.

  But her bow, made by her own hands, was obviously a fine one.

  “We’ll be here with you, miss,” Captain Roland, commander of Archery Company ‘B’ assured her. “And they’re not a bad lot, ma’am.”

  “I ain’t scared of’em,” she assured the Captain, with more bravado than she actually felt. She could hear some of the troopers, who had yet to be called to attention, had to say.

  “A skirt?”

  “What’s next? Kiddies to teach us how to fight?”

  “Whose blunderin’ idea was this, I wonder?”

  Suddenly tired of the muttering, she drew and knocked an arrow. The target line was over fifty yards down range, about the best the men before her could be hoped to attain. She turned, raising her bow in a fluid motion, and let fly.

  The talk behind her trickled, and then halted, as the arrow lodged firmly into the target’s center. Her hair trailing out in the light breeze, Winnie turned back to the assembled men.

  “Any more questions ‘bout why I’m here?” she demanded, her voice carrying easily across the company assembly.

  “Bleedin’ hell,” someone gasped. The archers were all open mouthed. Roland, having already been informed of who his young charge was, smirked slightly. She was all that the Prince had promised, and a good bit more, besides.

  “Sergeant Price,” Roland said softly.

  “ATTEN-SHUN!” the non-com boomed, and the soldiers almost clicked as they assumed the rigid posture. Roland nodded slightly, then stepped to the front of the ranks.

  “That, gentlemen, is the proper way to use a long bow,” he said, his voice almost, but not quite, taunting. “Something none of you, I might point out, have so far been able to demonstrate. This young woman,” he indicated Winnie, “is our new instructor. Her name is Hubbel. Winifred Hubbel. You will refer to her as ma’am, or Miss Hubbel. And you will listen raptly to her instructions.”

  “You will give her your undivided attention at all times when she is speaking. And you will exhibit exemplary behavior in her presence at all times. Is that understood?”

  “YES SIR”! Company ‘B’ shouted. Roland nodded.

  “She can make you better archers,” h
e continued, his voice not quite so frosty. “And she can teach you to make your own bows, so that you no longer have to depend upon bows made by someone else.” He turned to Winnie.

  “Miss Hubble. They’re yours.” She nodded, stepping forward without hesitation.

  “Today we will focus on proper form, and execution,” she announced. “I’m informed that this range will accommodate one entire platoon at the time. While that platoon is on the line, I ask that you pay particular attention to the instructions given. It will speed your training and get us to the point where we can begin your own bowyer training. Perhaps then we can move into arrow making as well. Sergeant Price?” she called and the large non-com snapped to.