Accidental Warrior: The Unlikely Tale of Bloody Hal

by Colin Alexander

  That statement could cover a number of things. “I won’t.”

  Hal expected the younger Slade to tell him where to find Johanna, but John just stood there and bit his lip. “Listen, Hal,” he said after a minute of silence, “do you know how to use a sword?”

  “Yes,” Hal answered automatically. Then he realized John was not talking about a fencing match and added, “But I’ve never actually fought anyone. Why are you asking?”

  “Because this is Gustavus’ daughter, and Gustavus is important to us. The area around town is quite safe, as you know, no thanks to our valiant Provi guards, but Gustavus will have two of his men along anyway. They will be armed. You should take a sword also, so it doesn’t look like they are protecting you, too.”

  “Take what sword?” Hal asked. “I don’t have one.”

  “This one belongs to the inn.” John picked up a sheathed sword that was leaning against the wall in the entryway. “I pulled it out of the root cellar when Father told me about this. Take it.”

  Hal took it gingerly. The sheath was battered, the hilt unornamented and worn. A leather belt dangled from the clasp that held it to the sheath. Hal drew the blade out and examined it. It was heavier than he expected, but it balanced well. The point was sharp and it was edged on both sides. Although it could have used a sharpening and a polish, it appeared to be a serviceable weapon. He shuddered. This was not for sport, to score a touch. This could kill people.

  “Is something wrong?” John asked.

  “No. The blade could use some work, but it feels all right.”

  “Ah, now the master swordsmith.” John laughed. “Well, look at it this way: if your thrust doesn’t get them, the lockjaw probably will.”

  Hal flushed. “You don’t really think I’ll need it, do you?”

  John laughed again. “Of course not. How many times did we go up Wilson’s Hill before the snow? But Gustavus is sending armed men, so we are sending an armed man. She is the merchant’s daughter and we will be very careful. You be careful, too,” he added. “Don’t forget who she is and who you are.”

  Hal chose to ignore the last remark. “Is there anything else I should know?”

  “I don’t think so. You can take whichever of our horses you like. Then bring Johanna’s; she’s the black one with white stockings. Johanna will meet you at the front of the inn.”

  Horses! In the jumble of thoughts that began with Johanna and ended with talk of swords, Hal had forgotten all about horses. They were going to need them, obviously. Wilson’s Hill was only a moderate hike west of town, out and back in half a day, but Johanna was not going to go on foot. Johanna was going to ride. That meant Hal was going to ride, too.

  He almost begged John to go in his place. He was not going to give up the time with Johanna, though, so he went out to the stables. Trying to buckle on the sword belt while walking and thinking about riding horses was enough to swing the sword between his legs, tripping him. Fortunately, no one was there to witness the wild struggle for balance that almost landed him in the snow. He stopped to finish with the belt, then resumed his walk across the courtyard.

  He picked Alfred for himself, an old brown gelding. The horse stood placidly while Hal saddled him and tightened the belly band. Then he found the black with white stockings. That horse gave him no trouble either. Hal gave a sigh of relief when the saddle was on. He had learned the mechanics of the job well enough, but a frisky horse still gave him trouble. He was going to lead them both out to the street when a thought stopped him. If he did that, he would have to mount in front of everyone, most importantly in front of Johanna. John would have a good laugh watching him sprawl in the street. Better to mount Alfred in the back by the stable, hidden from other eyes.

  He had one foot in the stirrup, the other already in the air, when he realized that mounting a horse while wearing a sword was different than simply getting on. The sword swung around between his legs again. Had he sat down with the sword in that position, it would have been painful. He shifted the position of the belt. This time, the sword swung and whacked Alfred across the rump. The horse whinnied and skipped sideways, landing Hal with a thud in the snow. Finally, by dint of clamping the sword against his thigh with one hand, Hal was able to pull himself into place. He took a moment to slow his breathing and check himself. The only wet spot resulting from his fall was his rear, and that was concealed by the saddle. No one would notice.

  Johanna was waiting for him in front of the inn, along with John Slade. Although the long winter riding coat she wore completely obscured her figure, her head was bare in the sun, her blond hair flowing over the back of the coat. Her smile and bright eyes were enough for his mind to conjure an image of the rest of her. John walked her to her horse and helped her mount. Then he walked around to Hal’s side so that Alfred was between him and Johanna.

  With a gentle tug on Hal’s arm, John whispered, “If I were a cruel sort, you know, I would have let you dismount to help her and then watched while you got back up again.”

  Hal made a gargling noise that did not quite become words.

  “Now, I didn’t do that, did I, so why worry?” Then, in a louder voice, John said, “All right, have a pleasant time!” He patted Alfred on the rump and Hal tensed, but the horse responded only with a flick of his tail.

  They rode out of town along the westward road, Hal and Johanna side by side and two of Gustavus’ men behind, their faces saying eloquently that they saw no point to this and would have much rather been in the dining hall with a mug of beer. Wilson’s Hill was about five miles west of Gap, just north of the road. The land fell away steeply on the west side and the hill had an open bluff from which to take in the view. As much as Hal disliked being on a horse, he found himself relaxing once they were past the last of the town buildings. The road was level, which made riding easy and took away his fear of falling off. That let his mind focus on the fact that he was riding alongside a beautiful girl, a sword belted to his side. True, the sword was not magic and was just for show. True, the girl was just going sightseeing and not fleeing barbarian invaders. It still felt like an heroic fantasy come to life.

  The path up Wilson’s Hill was marked by a small cairn at the side of the road. Some old tracks were there, partially filled with snow, but he saw no new ones along the path. Wilson’s Hill itself could be seen through the bare trees as a low mound another half-mile north. Gustavus’ men looked at the path and announced that they would watch the road. Hal shrugged and turned Alfred onto the snowy track, then halted when he realized Johanna was still back on the road.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “I thought there would be at least a cart path,” she told him.

  “There’s nothing in that direction to take a cart to,” Hal said. “At least, not that I know of. Do you want to go back?” He had to force himself to say that, afraid that she would say “yes,” and he would lose her company for the rest of the day. The two men from Gustavus’ troop looked hopeful, but said nothing.

  Johanna grimaced and shook her head. “No, no, I don’t want to do that. Not as long as you think this track is safe.”

  Hal felt his heart thump in his chest. He wanted to throw his head back and shout at the sky. With some effort, he managed to restrain himself and said, “It looks fine down here. Believe me, if it gets too deep, I’ll turn around.”

  “Fine.” Johanna urged her mount forward until she was even with Hal. “You lead and I’ll follow.”

  Hal would have preferred to ride side by side, the way they had on the road. That way, he could have alternated between watching the path and looking at Johanna. Unfortunately, the path was too narrow. Riding single file, all he saw was the path, enclosed by bare trees or green pine, with the hill rising in front of them. It had turned out to be a beautiful day, the sun high in a cloudless blue sky, making the snow sparkle where it lay on the ground or along tree limbs.

  “Aiee! Hal, be careful!”

  The shout brought Hal out
of another daydream he had been developing. He jerked Alfred’s head around, almost losing his seat when the horse reared as it turned. The source of the cry was Johanna, just a few feet behind him. Patches of snow sat on her head and shoulders, with a trickle of water beginning to form down one cheek. There was a dusting of white down the front of her coat.

  “What happened?” Hal asked.

  “You moved that branch when you went past.” She pointed above her head. “Then it dumped all of this on me.” She made no move to brush it off. In fact, she looked as if she was going to cry.

  “Well, hey, come on. Let’s get you cleaned off.”

  Hal gave Alfred a little kick, then checked the horse when he was alongside her. First, he swept the snow off her shoulders and coat. She didn’t flinch from his touch, but she made no move to help him, nor to wipe the snow from her head, which was beginning to form little rivulets down her neck. Hal took a deep breath, then reached out to wipe away the rest of the snow. Her cheek felt soft to his touch, just the way he had imagined it. Her hair felt soft, too. He half-expected her to turn to him as he cleaned her off—more than half, perhaps. After all, why would she sit there with snow on her head if not to give him an excuse—more than an excuse, a good reason—to touch her? But she just sat quietly, looking straight ahead, until he had finished. Then she pulled an embroidered cloth from one pocket and used it to dry her face and hair.

  “Please be more careful, Hal. Now I’m wet underneath and it’s uncomfortable.”

  Christ, it’s not as though I did it on purpose. “Sorry. I guess I’m a bit of a klutz sometimes.”

  “A what?”

  “Huh? Oh, I meant clumsy, that’s all.”

  “I thought that’s what you meant. I just didn’t recognize the word. It is Dutch?”

  “I don’t think so,” Hal said. “It’s just something my mother used to say.” Inwardly, he cursed himself for again using words that nobody understood. Keep it up, old boy, and someone is going to start asking questions you won’t want to answer. He hid his unease by making a production of turning Alfred around to take the lead once more.

  Johanna, however, stayed curious. “You grew up west of the Gap, didn’t you?” she asked from her position behind him. “Were you born there?”

  “I’m not sure,” Hal said. He really wasn’t sure about a lot anymore.

  “What was it like, living out there?” she asked.

  “I really don’t remember. I don’t remember much of anything from before October.” More precisely, he thought, I remember plenty of things. I just don’t know if I should trust what I remember, and I don’t dare ask anybody here.

  “That’s right,” came Johanna’s voice from behind, “I’ve heard the talk that you were hurt in a fight.”

  “I think so,” Hal said. “I certainly got hurt.” That was all he said for a while.

  The trail began to climb the south face of Wilson’s Hill. It was steep in places, so that Hal worried about the horses’ footing. It didn’t seem to bother Alfred, however, and Johanna did not ask him to turn around, so he kept going. In fact, he was not certain that he could have turned Alfred on that narrow path even if he had to. Evergreens crowded along both sides, so that he had to keep turning one way and another in the saddle to avoid hitting the branches. Eventually, the path leveled off as they came around to the west side of the hill. It widened, too, merging onto a bluff, devoid of trees, that looked out to the Gap. Hal rode into the clearing and stared out at the horizon. A line of hills formed a low wall of mottled brown and white against the sky. Just to the right of center was a deep notch, as though a giant had chopped into the hills with an axe. The Water Gap. Hal looked at it with a strange mix of feelings. The Gap was like a doorway, but a door to what? Did it lead to the world he remembered? At first, he did not even notice Johanna as she rode up next to him.

  “That’s it?” Johanna asked.

  The question made Hal realize he had been lost in his own thoughts. “What’s it?”

  “That.” Johanna pointed at the hills.

  Hal turned his head to follow her arm. “That’s the gap,” he said. “It’s as though someone just took a chunk out of the mountains. I thought that’s what you wanted to see.”

  “I thought so, too.” The disappointment was evident in her voice. “They said this was such a good view.”

  “It is,” Hal said. He felt defensive, as though he had told her about the place.

  “I was expecting more. Like a giant canyon, maybe. Not like that.”

  “I’m sorry. I think it’s pretty beautiful, myself.” What he wanted to say was that he thought she was pretty beautiful, too. The wind on the way up had swept several strands of her hair across her face. She took one hand off the reins to push them to the side. Hal wanted to say he found that simple gesture beautiful. He couldn’t think of any words to use for those feelings, however, so he just sat on his horse. Johanna said nothing either. That left no sound except the breeze around their ears. Maybe she was expecting him to come over to her. He could not put it to the test.

  The silence was finally broken by a whicker from Johanna’s horse. “It’s so quiet out here,” Johanna said.

  “I know. Not many people come up here, and there’s almost nobody on the road west now.”

  Hal thought about that after he said it. There was no particular reason for anyone to come around Wilson’s Hill in the middle of winter, except maybe a woodsranger. That thought brought another unwelcome one with it: a scar-faced girl pretending to sell beaver pelts. Might there be woodsrangers around the hill? Hal felt his stomach clench. Involuntarily, his hand went to his sword hilt. Johanna saw the movement and startled.

  “Is there something wrong?”

  “N—no. Not that I know of. We were just talking about how there’s nobody around here and I was thinking about woodsrangers, and whether they might come through here.”

  The moment the words were out of his mouth, he wanted them back. Johanna’s lips pressed together into a thin line. Her eyes were frightened.

  “If there are woodsrangers around, I shouldn’t be here. Not without a real guard.”

  That stung. Hal wanted to say that he was perfectly capable of taking care of her, but he wasn’t sure that was true. “I really don’t think there’s a problem.”

  “I don’t want to take that chance. I thought this would be a grand spectacle, an adventure, not a risk like that.” Johanna had her horse turned around before she finished speaking. “I want you to take me back now.” She delivered that over her shoulder, as though she was ordering a servant. Hal was left with no option other than to follow her down the trail to the main road.

  It was a silent ride back to the inn. Hal wondered if Johanna was angry at him, but he couldn’t think of a reason why she would be. He could remember every word they had exchanged since setting out. Consequently, he was more than a little irritated to see John Slade waiting for him at the barn, an exaggerated wink on his face.

  “So,” John said, “how did it go, this romantic ride of yours into the woods?”

  “It went peacefully and uneventfully in all regards,” Hal said sourly.

  “Ah. I’m sorry to hear that, I think. We have to keep a close eye on our workmen around here.”

  “Thanks for the warning.” Hal threw one leg across Alfred’s back and, with a sigh of relief, slipped to the ground. “Did you make a special trip out here just to console me?”

  “Console you? Never!” John clapped his hands together and laughed. “I won’t mock you either, though, and that’s not a bad deal.”

  “If you say so.” There was a twinkle in John’s eye that Hal could not figure out. “So why are you here?”

  “Why indeed!” John swept his hand around, encompassing the stable in its arc. “Old Salem is not here this evening, Father having other work for him. That means the care of these two horses is left to you.”

  Hal peered around the barn. There was no sign of the man who normally c
ared for the horses. “Wonderful. I hope your mother is going to save me some supper. And you, I take it, came to bring me this news personally?”

  “No, no! My dear friend, Hal, I came to help.” John took hold of the bridle of Johanna’s horse and began to lead it into the barn.

  “You came to help?” Hal asked. “Just out of your good Christian nature, I assume.”

  “Well, that, of course,” John replied. “But also so that my good friend Hal can tell me all about Our Goddess Johanna of New Sweden. Now, that sounds like a fair deal, doesn’t it?”

  “I suppose.” Hal couldn’t suppress his grin. Knowing Jack and Nell Slade, he couldn’t understand where John got his impish sense of humor.

  The work was not hard. The saddle had to be pulled off first, of course. There was a rack along one wall where those were hung. Then each horse had to be brushed down, put in a stall and given its feed. Not hard work, but it took time. It was good to have someone to talk to.

  “So, what is she like?” John asked, almost as soon as they were inside the barn.

  “What is she like?” Hal parroted back. “You can see what she is like. Tall, blond and beautiful. That’s with her clothes on, and that’s the only way I’ve seen her, so you can see as much as I.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” John protested. “I mean, what is she like to talk to? Is she nice?”

  “You know, it would be hard for me to tell you,” Hal said. “She really didn’t say much to me except for telling me what she wanted or what she didn’t like.”

  John considered that for a moment. “Well, I guess that’s not surprising,” he said. “It’s not as though you’re the son of some rich merchant for her to make small talk with.”

  “Thanks for the reminder.”

  John ignored the sarcasm. “Was she nice when she did it, though?”

  “Did what?”

  “Told you what she wanted.”

  “Yes, I suppose,” Hal answered. “Except for the one time I was careless going past a tree and dumped a load of snow on her.”

  “Oh, good!” John’s shout rang through the barn and was answered by a number of whinnies. “The wealthiest merchant in all of New Sweden brings his daughter to our inn and our good Hal Christianson dumps snow on her head. What did she do? Throw it back at you?”