“What? No - I can’t take that!”
“Think of the good you could do with them. Sell them and give the money to the poor - they should fetch a few solidi, or ecus, or whatever.” He shook his head. “Use it to build a monastery. You could found your own community. Do good works. Give work to the poor and food to the starving. Treat the people as you say they should be.”
“Why?” Why? Why not? They would only weigh me down. Yes, they could come in useful but I would have to hunt out a merchant who would give me a fair price - or even just a reasonable one - haggle and negotiate, assuming I was in the right town at the right time…They were more trouble than they were worth.
“I can’t.” I assured him he could. He shook his head, vigorously. I reminded him of what he could do with them but he held up his had to interrupt. “Ciaran, you are not listening to yourself. You can’t see what you’re doing. You’re trying to tempt me with stolen goods.” I went to protest that it was my pay but he held up his hand. “No, this is not honest pay for an honest day’s work. You took it from Clovis in anger. He was wrong to try and cheat you - kill you, even, I acknowledge that - but you have taken more than you earned or that your injury deserved in compensation. Anyway,” he continued, “what do you think would happen if I tried to openly sell them? Clovis and his mayors would be on me in a flash, accusing me of theft and all sorts.” I shrugged.
“All right. Take them straight to him. Tell him you came across me and took them from me. When I was asleep. Or you tried to convert me and I gave them to you in a fit of guilt. Tell him anything you wish. He will give you some of their value as a reward. I want you to have them. You can make them work double - save me from the consequences of my theft and return them to their rightful owner. Supposedly. And get some money for your order. You may not be able to build a monastery but you could still do some poor relief, or something.” The monk shook his head. He asked me how he could carry them, being on foot. I had to concede that he had a point. For me, they were just a nuisance; they would be quite a burden for him. He would be likely to turn down the large bag of coins, as well - and they, at least, were easy to use as currency, wherever I found myself. There were Frankish ecus, British crowns, Roman solidi and denarii - quite a mixture, and acceptable pretty much everywhere that men valued coin. Which is pretty much everywhere. I became aware of the small bag of coins hanging from my belt. That would suit him. I untied it and tossed it over.
“Here, then,” I said. “You can’t object to that. It’s rather less than Clovis agreed to pay me and very much less than reasonable compensation for attempted assassination. It is an honest amount, come about honestly.” He started to argue but I wasn’t going to have any more of it. “Take it, leave it, spend it, bury it - I don’t care. It’s yours. Earned honestly, given freely. And now, I’m going. Good luck to you, magister. May all your paths lead to glory.” He raised his hand to bid me good-bye, himself.
“Ciaran,” he called, and I turned to face him. “Riches are a burden. I can see them weighing down on people. They corrupt their souls. They spend their lives trying to get money and wealth - all those baubles - and then they lose sleep at night, worried that someone will come and take it from them. They spend half their wealth hiring guards to protect it. They worry that their wives want them only for their money and do not really care for them. We believe that it is easier for a camel to get through the eye of a needle than a rich man to get to Heaven. Get rid of it. You will be happier.” I had to laugh at that.
“Magister, oh, Dougald,” I shook my head, cheerfully. “I just tried to give it away. To you! And you wouldn’t take it from me!” I chuckled again. “This could be my curse - doomed to carry the wealth of a small kingdom with me and unable to get rid of it. And you, with all your concern for my soul, would not relieve me of it!” I laughed again. Even Dougald had to smile, although maybe reluctantly. “Ah, well. We all have our burdens to carry, whether they be visible or not.” We smiled and waved goodbye. He set off at a brisk pace, heading south-west, and I turned the horses back along the path to the east, and a bridge in a town a few miles back up the road.
I would have to take the time to disguise what I had on Onion. Dougald was right - and so was I. The jewels, rings, bracelets and torcs, all the pretty baubles that were coveted by those who didn’t have them, admired by those who could afford them and which corroded the hearts of those who owned them, were just baubles. And a damned nuisance to look after.
Chapter Five
He Moves Through the Fair
I reached the town shortly after noon. As luck would have it, market day was in full swing. Or maybe it was a festival of some sort. Not a Druid one but the Christians had so many deities and demigods - saints, they called them; mostly dead - peppering their calendar that hardly a week seemed to go by but there was some feast of someone or other to commemorate. Whatever the reason, the town was heaving with humanity and the livestock it had available for trade. Geese hissed, pigeons flapped, unmilked cattle lowed, overcrowded horses whinnied and skinny goats bleated. Vegetable traders bellowed out their wares while fruiterers yelled after young boys who were running off with an apple or two. Where there were crowds there would be castle guards, ready to impose their own kind of order at any excuse.
I’d had no choice but to retrace part of my steps, back towards Clovis’ camp. I had little doubt that word would have been spread about me. Horse-thief or assassin? How had they cast me on this occasion? I had taken the time to throw a blanket over the more bulky treasure bags and to carefully arrange my tent to give an untidy appearance, as it seemingly threatened to split itself out from its restraints. I couldn’t go round the town in either direction; I had to use its bridge to cross the river and head north or surrender myself to walking south, without the horses. But I hadn’t counted on such crowds. Crowds are trouble, almost inevitably.
“What have you got in there, mister?” Right on cue. A poorly-dressed youngster with a dirty face was trying to lift the blanket on Onion.
“Nothing that need concern you,” I replied, as my own mount was brought to a sudden halt. An older man was holding the headpiece.
“What’s the hurry? If you have goods to sell, our coin is as good as anyone else’s. Let’s have a look.”
“No sneak previews. If you want to buy something, go to the marketplace. Now, let go.”
“All in good time,” he said, and came towards me with an unpleasant smirk on his face. His mouth was very sparsely populated with teeth. I could smell his breath from where I was mounted. The youngster was still trying to see what was under the blanket and tent. “Not polite to cut off a friendly conversation. What are you hiding?” He had come within reach and I leaned down to touch him. I didn’t want him to descend into madness - that would attract even more unwelcome attention - so I kept my Power to the bare minimum. I just wanted to frighten him off.
“See this sword?” I had my hand on his shoulder and nodded at my Big Blade. He looked at it and nodded, nervously. “If you wish to keep your head on your shoulders, you will take yourself and your catamite somewhere else. Do you understand?” He nodded again. His face had turned white. He let the headpiece go and called for the youngster, who had managed to get deep enough under the blanket to catch a glimpse of something better left unseen.
“But Sixt -” he began, and got a heavy cuff on the head for his pains.
“Leave it, Artifex. Softer pickings somewhere else,” the man said. He risked one furtive glance back over his shoulder. My steady look encouraged him to pick up the pace of his retreat.
The crowd continued to press in as I tried to make my way to the bridge. The market square was somewhere near the river crossing - maybe even on it - so I really had no choice; any alternative route I might have tried would have been just as bad, if not worse. All I could do was keep my wits about me, keep my eyes and all senses open for pickpockets and anyone else with too strong a sense of curiosity, and make my way as best I could.
What I did not expect was for there to be guards at the bridge, which was a sturdy old stone construction left by the Romans. By the time I realised they were there it was too late to turn aside. The crowd was sweeping me towards them - and as the only mounted person in any direction, I was hard to miss. I had no choice but to allow myself to be guided - almost carried to the guard station, where I was ordered to dismount. I pointed out the crowd around me and it was then that I had a bit of good luck. The guards pushed the people aside and set up a block, to prevent any more coming onto the bridge itself. It took some doing - crowds are insistent things - but they managed it. The attention of 10 of the dozen guardsmen was totally engaged in holding back the crush. I dismounted and asked what the problem was.
“We are looking for a horse-thief,” the guard replied, curtly. “What have you got in the packs?”
“You can see I have my sword - I make no secret of it. I earn my living from it,” I said.
“What about the packer?” he said, as he came to check the handle of my Big Blade. He was close enough for me to touch him lightly on the hand. Just enough.
“These are not the horses you are looking for.” He looked me up and down and then briefly considered my packhorse.
“These are not the horses we are looking for,” he repeated, and he stepped away.
“There’s no need to inspect the baggage.”
“No need to inspect the baggage.”
“I will be on my way, then.”
“Be on your way,” he said, and waved me through.
I remounted and took Onion’s lead rein, and thanked him. The guards behind had done a fine job of holding back the press of people; there was an open space before me and the crowd was thinner for several yards. I was able to make progress, quite quickly - which was fortunate. The guard who had waved me through was being harangued by his commander. I was too far to hear exactly what was being said but I had a pretty good idea. Half the troop started running after me - as far as they could. The crowd behind had been released and they had swarmed forward to the stalls on the bridge, which was becoming packed again, very quickly. It was still thinner in my vicinity and I urged my animals to make as much haste as they could. It took a few minutes - it seemed forever - but I could make it to the far side; it was almost in touching distance. The crowd was then flowing against me - and there was another guard post. The troop behind was trying to make its way as fast as it could and shouting the alarm. I was far too obvious on the top of a horse so I dismounted again and led my pair towards the next picket line. The end of the bridge and the other side of the town was tantalisingly close but now I wasn’t sure I could make it. The captain signalled me to halt as his troop held back those seeking to get off the bridge from behind me and those in front from trying to get on. It was noisy and chaotic and could soon explode into something worse. Especially if I needed it to. The soldier approached and did something unexpected. He reached up to his neck and casually loosened his short scarf, opening it just wide enough to allow me to catch a glimpse of a pair of small amulets, one shaped into an emblem of a bee, or maybe a cicada, and the second into a representation of a bull. The symbol of Mithras, the soldiers’ god - it had been a long time since I had seen something of that nature. It certainly wasn’t a Cross. He tightened his scarf with a tug, and the amulets disappeared.
“You have no reason to fear us, Prince Ciaran. Your command saved a lot of lives and delivered us a great victory the other day,” he said. “The attempt on your life was poor payment for what you did. We would not see such an injustice go, if there is anything we can do about it.”
“Thank you. But not everyone agrees with you,” I replied. “How did you know about the assassins?”
“There was talk in the camp. A request for men to volunteer for a special task. We have been around long enough to know that such things often involve treachery. Me and my squad kept our heads down. We had no idea it was you they were targeting until afterwards. On behalf of all that fought in the army that day and lived because of you, I’m sorry,” he said. “Now, we must get you away. Leave it to us.”
“You can say that I caused you confusion - that I threw a spell or glamour over you. I can do it, if you wish, just to be on the safe side?” The captain smiled and shook his head. But he also made a small sign against the evil eye.
“No need, although I am sure such a tale would be readily believed. The word has been put out that you are a demon in human skin.”
“Do you believe that?”
“No. You are a man, although you obviously have some powers that I don’t understand and that these Christians fear. My people talk of them so I’m not afraid of you - I have every reason to be grateful. If you couldn’t divine the future, we would not have had the right strength of men in the right place to win the day. I believe you are on our side.” I mentioned that I maybe had taken more from the king than I really needed as a reward and offered him and his troop some of it, as thanks for their help. He refused. “You earned every penny of it. Even if you hadn’t, you deserve it because of their treachery. And I would have a hard job explaining how we suddenly came by such wealth when you have clearly passed through our patrol and out of the town.”
“Very well. But I shall leave an offering…” I thought for a moment and saw what to do. “There is a tree about half a mile out of the town, up the slope to the right about fifty paces from the road that heads to the north-west. It is by an old shrine and it has a small hollow in it, a little above your head height, that has been used by birds as a nest in years past. I shall leave a few coins there. If you wish to have your just reward, that’s where it will be. If not, then the gods will surely direct someone in need to find it.” The captain nodded and urged me on my way. “What is the name of this place?” I asked. He replied that it had been named Saint’s Cape, after the Christian legionary who became Bishop of Tours. He was supposed to have effected a miracle cure there. He told me not to tarry any longer and then turned back to the way I had come.
“There appears to be a disturbance on the bridge,” he called out to his squad. “We had better attend to it before it gets any worse - I see our comrades from the other side are trying to restore order. Form up men, and let’s get this rabble under control. You may go on your way, sir,” he said to me. Eight of his men formed up in a line, lances across themselves and marched onto the bridge, holding the crowd back. The captain called for order. The other three in the squad opened a space in the crowd to the north and I began to make my way through. Within fifty yards I was able to remount and proceed more easily. I reached the edge of the town a few minutes later and finally left the melee behind.
The road to the north-west forked uphill to the left and I took it, without obvious urgency or haste, even though the horses were all too aware of the tension and were eager to break into a gallop and run from whatever the threat was. I managed to keep them under control and restrained their pace to what could be best described as a brisk walk.
I remembered my promise to the captain who had helped me and dismounted near where I had seen the tree. It was quite easy to find - when you know what you are looking for - along with its small shrine to the local god of the spring whose waters burbled down the hillside to join the Saône and find their way, ultimately, to the Mediterranean, hundreds of miles to the south. I placed a handful of coins from my bag of treasure in the nearly invisible hollow at the junction of a branch and the trunk, just at my head height. I was pleased to see that they were mostly gold. I hadn’t looked when I grabbed them. They fell quietly into the remains of feathers and twigs that had been left behind by its previous inhabitants. Each of the helpful squad would find their lives a little easier. Or some fortunate wanderer or devotee to the god of the little spring would find themselves suddenly quite rich. Whatever the gods wanted; I left it in their hands.
It was a pretty spot, with a pleasant view down the valley but I didn’t have time for sightseeing. The confusion in the town would be sorted out soon and then they would be on my trail again. I remounted Sage, collected Onion and urged them off up the road. We didn’t stop until near sundown, when we pulled well off the road and settled down for the night in a clearing, well away from passing traffic. The animals had plenty of grass to eat but all I could risk was some bread and an elderly apple. Lighting a fire would draw too much attention.
Lockeran (Prince Ciaran the Damned Book 2) Page 4
