Accidental Warrior: The Unlikely Tale of Bloody Hal

by Colin Alexander

  Ten Eyck spent time filling his pipe before he answered. “Wars do not happen overnight, young Hal. Armies must be readied, militia must be called, supplies must be laid in. We woodsrangers can move faster than that. There will be no general war. In any case, we cannot let the Provis go on as they are out of fear that this or that other thing might happen. More than you wanted to hear, I’m sure, but I’m a talkative old man. Still, you asked a good question before I said all that and the answer is no. It won’t start all over again. The governor’s youngest son survived the revolt and escaped to Montreal. He is old enough to rule now. He has declared that people’s freedom and property will be respected when he is restored to Nieuw Amsterdam, regardless of heritage—English, Dutch, whatever. I think he has learned the lesson of this unhappy time.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Hal said. “At least now I can understand why you’re fighting. Is that why Bel is here? I mean, is she your daughter?”

  At Hal’s question, ten Eyck dropped the pipe, scattering the tobacco on the mat. “Good God, no!” He paused to recover the pipe and brush away the tobacco. “If you want to know why Bel is here, you had better ask her. It’s her story, not mine.”

  “I’m sorry again if I should not have asked that.”

  “Never mind. It’s nothing. Let me ask you again, though. Will you join us now that you know you’re not joining a bunch of bandits?”

  Hal considered the possible consequences of saying ‘yes.’ If he joined ten Eyck, he would lose the chance to find out about Magicals and whatever chance he had to go home would probably disappear. What if he agreed to join, then ran at the first opportunity? But, for all his years, ten Eyck did not seem the sort of man he wanted to make an enemy of.

  “What happens,” Hal asked, “if I still say no? I have important business in Nieuw Amsterdam.”

  Ten Eyck did not look pleased. “Your life was spared because we owed you a debt Bel felt had to be repaid. There were no conditions. You are free to go as you like. Some of us will be riding close to Nieuw Amsterdam and you are welcome to ride with us that far. Be warned, though, once you leave us, that debt is paid. If we meet again as we did today, there will be no quarter.”

  Hal looked into ten Eyck’s eyes and believed his words. If he left, he would do well never to see this man again. Still, there might be someone in Nieuw Amsterdam who could send him back to where he belonged. If that was true, it would hardly matter what Fons ten Eyck thought. Even if there was no one, if he was stuck, Johanna would be in Nieuw Amsterdam. She should be. He had seen her coach moving clear of the fight. The most beautiful girl he had ever seen would be in Nieuw Amsterdam. Johanna would remember what he had done during the fight. If she did not, certainly Gustavus would remind her. Surely, Gustavus would have a job for the man who had fought to save his daughter. Hal would be in Nieuw Amsterdam with Johanna. This never-never land might not be so bad, if it came to that.

  “I’ll take your offer of riding to Nieuw Amsterdam, but there I have to leave you. I’ll give you my word, if you want, that I won’t mention any of this to anyone.”

  “So be it,” said ten Eyck. He turned away, refilled his pipe and lit it.

  16

  Bel’s Story

  HAL WOKE IN the morning with a nasty hangover. The tender lump on the side of his head reminded him that this was not the product of strong drink. He stood up and found himself a bit dizzy, although not nearly as much as the night before.

  “Must have a concussion,” he muttered. He was not quite sure what one was supposed to do for a concussion but he doubted that running around in a forest was part of it. Unfortunately, he did not see any alternatives. The woodsrangers were preparing to move on.

  A cluster of men stood around the remains of the campfires, a group of horses nearby. As Hal approached, he saw that they were ten men and one woman. Seeing Bel there made him feel safer. As soon as the men saw him, though, all conversation stopped. He walked the rest of the way acutely aware that all their eyes were fastened on him in unfriendly stares. They stepped back at his approach so that, ultimately, Hal stood in the center of the group, all of them looking at him in silence. It reminded him of the time he had wet his pants in school when he was nine.

  Ten Eyck finally broke the silence. “This group will be riding to Nieuw Amsterdam. We’re not going directly there, we’ll patrol a bit north first, but I promise you that we’ll be on the banks of the Hudson in no more than five days. You are free to leave at any time. If you leave now, go back to the road and ride hard, you can be there in two days.”

  Hal stayed where he was. He would not consider going off alone.

  A man walked over, leading a horse. “This was Jan Leydenhuis’ horse. You killed him yesterday. Just in case you were wondering why we had an extra horse for you to ride.”

  “Brennan.” The single word from Bel was enough to shut up Brennan. His glare was no friendlier, but he said nothing else.

  Hal took the reins without a word. These people all hate me, he thought. Ten Eyck was right, they would love to see me dead. He wondered if accepting ten Eyck’s offer to fight with them would have changed that, then concluded it was probably too late to change his mind. And, anyway, he would always be looking to see if one of them was at his back. Leaving was better.

  The horse was almost as big a concern as the mood of the men. Hal’s head was beginning to feel worse, and he was sure that several hours of being jolted on the back of a horse would not help. There was no way out, though; everyone was watching. He made a leap for the saddle and, more through luck than anything else, landed in almost the right position. The others saddled up without comment.

  Within five minutes Hal was lost, the woods around them appearing the same in all directions. It made him glad he had not chosen to leave on his own. They had camped, he was sure, close to the road, but he doubted that he would have found it. Where were they going now? Ten Eyck had said north. Were they screening the captured wagons, and did this mean that ten Eyck feared a counterattack to re-take them? If that happened, what did they think Hal would do? Even Hal was not sure what he would do.

  Bel always rode ahead of the group, often out of sight. She would circle back periodically but would never stay for long, sometimes riding well to the rear before returning to the lead. On one of those occasions, Hal decided to ride off with her. He had no desire to be the lead scout, but riding with her seemed preferable to staying with the group. Bel said nothing when she saw him approach, but she did not try to pull away either. Mostly, she ignored him, so they rode in silence for the rest of the day.

  They made a cold camp that night. Again, none of the men would talk to Hal, but now he did not care. His legs were as sore as his head by the time they dismounted. He had not spent a full day on a horse since his trip to Gap with Pyke. It was as much as he could do to gulp down some of the dried rations he was handed, spread a mat over the ground, and roll himself up in some blankets.

  The next day they left the camp in what Hal thought was a northeasterly direction. The winter sun had picked up some strength from the previous days, driving the temperature up. After the recent cold, it felt like spring. Overcoats and cloaks were rolled into packs and the company rode along in their leathers. The woods reacted to the warmth as well. Droplets from melting snow fell from branches to create little wells in the snow. That snow packed down, becoming heavier and soggier, and slowed their progress.

  As on the previous day, Hal elected to ride with Bel. While it was clear that ten Eyck’s assurance that he would not be harmed was true, he still felt uncomfortable in the company of the woodsrangers. It would be too easy for him to say something or be baited into some action that would cause an explosion. If that happened, whatever Bel or ten Eyck might do afterward would do Hal no good.

  Bel, at least, showed no sign that she objected to him tagging along. If anything, she slowed her horse to make it easier for him to keep up. Hal assumed that was intentional although, as she had the previous d
ay, Bel kept silent.

  About midday, she came to a halt. In among the trees to the right was the sound of running water. Bel swung out of her saddle and landed softly on the snow. Then she started to lead her horse in the direction of the water. She had gone maybe fifteen feet when she looked back to see Hal, still sitting on his horse where they had stopped.

  “It’s all right,” she said. “I just want to let him drink and feed him a bit. You should do the same. There won’t be trouble here.”

  Of course, Hal was still on the horse not because he was alert for trouble but because, as always, he worried about re-mounting. He could not say that, though, so he tried to copy her dismount and then led his horse behind hers. They came out of the trees on the bank of a small brook. Snow still lined its banks and, in places, arched completely over the brook, but the water ran free and clear near where they stood. Bel watched as her horse bent his neck to drink.

  “Don’t worry. The Provis won’t be here,” she said. “They’ve never been very eager to patrol the woods, and between the weather and the way we’ve harried them recently, they’ll be even less so. I picked up no sign at all yesterday.”

  “Are the others concerned the Provis will counterattack?”

  “That’s what they want to guard against. It’s not going to happen, though, not now, not here. But it’s so hard for them to listen to a girl.” Hal could hear the disgust in her voice as she said it.

  “I thought they respected you.”

  “Respect me?” Bel spat into the stream. “It’s not respect. It’s fear. Not a one of them can match me with a blade, or any other weapon for that matter. They call me weinig moordenaar, little murderer, when they think I don’t hear them. Oh yes, they fear me. But that doesn’t mean they like to listen to me.”

  Hal stared at the scars on her face. He remembered how she had fought. The woodsrangers were afraid of her. He should be afraid of her, but she was protecting him.

  “They haven’t killed me because you said you owed me for the fight at the barn in Gap. Thank you for that.”

  Bel’s face took on a crooked grin. “That’s different than telling them what the Provis will or won’t do out here. And my debt has nothing to do with that fight.”

  “It doesn’t? Ten Eyck said . . .” Hal’s voice trailed off in puzzlement.

  Bel gave a soft laugh. “Let Fons think that. It’s just as well. But I saw what happened. The Provi attacked you; you killed him. It was good for us, but I don’t think you planned it that way.”

  Hal stared at her. Then he said, “I don’t understand. I mean, I’m not complaining—my God, you saved my life the other day. But if not because of what I did at the barn, then why?”

  “Because you scolded that boy in the store when he was going to make fun of me. You didn’t have to do that and nobody else would have, except maybe for Fons. I told you I appreciated that.”

  “Christ! My mother always told me to be polite but I doubt she ever had something like this in mind.” That brought another laugh and Hal was emboldened enough to ask another question. “You mentioned Fons then, and he was the one you were traveling with when you came to Gap. Is he, ah, I mean, is he the reason you’re here?”

  “No.” Bel ignored the way Hal stumbled over the question. “Fons has a lot to do with why I’m alive, but he isn’t the reason I came here, nor is he the reason I fight. Is that what you want to know about?”

  “I was wondering.” Now that you have brought it up, what are you going to do? He remembered the way she had cut him off when he had asked about her scars. They probably had more to do with the reason she rode with a band of woodsrangers than anything else. Much too late, he asked himself why it was any of his business. Just because Fons ten Eyck had told him to ask Bel why she was here if he wanted to know did not mean she would tell him. Or that it was a good idea.

  Bel’s face remained impassive, although her eyes stayed soft. That was a good sign. She looked around the embankment as though Hal had done nothing more than comment on the temperature. Finding a large rock that was free of snow and dry, she seated herself on it. From there, she pitched a stone into the water with a splash that caused the horses to look up from their drink. She was silent for so long that Hal was convinced she was going to ignore him, then she spoke up.

  “I was just past my ninth birthday when Nieuw Amsterdam fell to the Provisional Army. Fell! If the governor’s troops hadn’t deserted and fled, they could have held the Provis at the walls. Never mind. In their minds, they were lost after the Battle of Haarlem, and that’s all it took to make them flee when the Provis advanced. My brother died in the rearguard at Haarlem, so at least he didn’t see the futility of his sacrifice. My father was a merchant and pretty prosperous, so we lived in a fine house, my sister and I. We were prosperous, but we were no patroons or retainers. We had nothing to do with the governor and his men!

  “It didn’t matter. The Provis came to our house and broke down the front door. They brought my father out, held him in front of us and cut his throat. When my mother screamed and tried to run to him, they knocked her down and bashed her head in with the butts of their muskets. That left only me and my sister. She was sixteen then, Hal Christianson, and she was gorgeous. I truly mean that. Her skin was smooth and clean, her cheeks were always pink and she had soft brown hair that fell halfway down her back. She had suitors from all the good families, even some of the patroons, but that never made her giddy or self-important. She was always kind to me. They gave her to the Lifeguard Regiment for sport.” Bel pitched another stone into the river, then stared at the ripples from the splash.

  “She’s dead now. At least, that’s what I have heard and I hope it’s true. Me, they decided I was too young for much fun that way—a small stroke of luck, I suppose. Instead, they treated me like part of the loot. The commander, Henry Wycliff, the one who gave my sweet sister to the Lifeguards, kept me to be a house servant.”

  “Jesus, what kind of people do things like that?”

  Bel threw another stone into the brook, then she picked up the story as though Hal had not said a word. “The provisional governor made Wycliff the Commissioner of Tolls. I went to live in his house in Nieuw Amsterdam. Anything that was filthy was left for me to do: chimneys, outbuildings at the toll houses. Sometimes the garbage I took out was better than the food I was given. I ran away of course, the first chance I got. They caught me, of course, and brought me back. So I tried again, and again. And each time they caught me and each time I disobeyed some order, Wycliff had me whipped. He whipped me. He likes it; I’ve seen him whip others. He has a special way of doing it. They tie your hands in front and loop the rope over a hook. Then they haul it up so you’re stretched out, standing just on your toes the only way to take the weight off your shoulders. Then he takes out a whip that has a little metal weight tied at the end, so it wraps around and hits you. Do you know, he names his whips? He’ll tell you which one he is going to use. And then he whips you. And he does it slowly, very slowly, so if you can’t stay on your toes while he does it, it feels like your arms are being torn out.”

  Hal realized he had been holding his breath and let it out in a slow whistle. “How many times did this happen?”

  “Judge for yourself.” Bel stood up from her rock and turned to face away from Hal. Then she pulled her leather jacket and the woolen shirt under it up over her shoulders.

  This time, Hal could not even think of anything to say. Bel’s entire back, from neck to waist, was a mass of crisscrossing scars. There was not a single square inch of smooth skin anywhere. She let him stare for a couple of minutes before she let her clothing slip back into place and turned to face him.

  “I can remember Wycliff saying he had to add a few extra lashes because I had too much scar tissue to feel it properly.” Hal remained silent. “Finally, one day when I was eleven, Wycliff’s oldest son showed up at the house with a friend, both of them so drunk they could hardly walk straight. They called me into the dining hall
and had me stand in front of the fire while they stared at me. Then they told me I was grown enough to be fucked and they were going to do it right then. Wycliff’s son grabbed me and I decided to fight. Useless. When I started to struggle, he pulled a dagger and opened the side of my face. And then did it again. And again.” She ran a finger along her scars as she spoke. “Wycliff’s friend had a sword, but he was so drunk he couldn’t even draw it. I was able to reach it, though. I pulled it free and ran both of them through. I was lucky that day, or maybe I was just so desperate not to be caught that I made my own luck. I stole Belisarius from the stable; no one saw me. It was raining hard outside. There was no one to notice a girl with blood running out from under a hooded cloak. Fons happened to be leading a small band south of Haarlem and I happened to stumble on to them before I bled to death. That’s the story of how I came to be here. Fons saved my life then, although the wounds healed badly.” She touched them again, then shrugged. “Fons taught me my weapons skills, my woods lore. I’m a good student. Better than my teacher now. Much better. I made a vow that day.” Here her voice sharpened. “Before this is over, I will kill Wycliff. I will kill his remaining sons. I will kill his household. I will have revenge on him and also on the Lifeguards and bring down the God damn Provisional Government. I will do this. Do you believe me?”

  Hal stared at her, her face half-turned so that he could see only the scars. There was only one possible answer to her question. “Yes, I believe you,” he said. “Absolutely, I believe you.” He would have agreed with almost anything she said, compelled by the intensity in her voice and eyes.

  “Good.” Bel shook herself as if waking from a dream. “We should see to the horses. Then we must ride back to the main group.”

  “Right.” Hal’s response was automatic. He was too stunned to think of anything else.

  They had gone only a little way back into the woods when Hal recalled a name Bel had mentioned, one that did not seem to fit in this strange place. “Bel,” he said, “when you told me about escaping from Wycliff, you said you stole Belisarius. I don’t understand that. From what I remember, Belisarius was a general in the old Byzantine Empire in Europe.”