Aelfric noticed that several other taverns sported similar signs, although not in the same wording. Tuchek glanced over at him as he also dismounted. Aelfric noticed that Tuchek kept his face close to the side of his horse, as if to avoid being seen. He gave the Aulig a puzzled frown.
"Find out what you can about it." Tuchek directed him. "I'll find a stable and put up the horses. I'll be back at the dinner hour and we can talk."
"Why don't you come in…" Aelfric began, but Tuchek was already walking away.
Haim dismounted and looked at Aelfric, shaking his head at the man's ignorance. "He don't want to show his face, Aelfric, don't you get it? He's full-blooded Aulig and it shows on his features. If there's a war going on, don't you guess who's on the other side?"
Aelfric paused, suddenly comprehending. "You think it’s another Aulig war?"
"What else could it be, Aelfric?"
Together the two young men walked through the doors of the tavern.
The interior of the Silver Penny was as unprepossessing as the exterior. Simple wooden tables and roughhewn chairs covered most of the tavern's floor, and a wide bar stood along one wall. The tables were full of soldiers wearing red tabards bordered in black and blue. One of the soldiers, a stocky man perhaps in his late forties eyed the two of them curiously. His hair was iron gray and cropped short in infantry style, and even sitting he carried himself with military precision. He was obviously the leader. The innkeeper, a fat man with perhaps a third of his reddish hair remaining on a scalp mottled with freckles, motioned Aelfric and Haim to the bar.
"You're late for the luncheon, but perhaps I can come up with a plate of beef and beans for the both of you." The smiling man rubbed his hands together warmly. "Here to take oath with the Tigers?"
"We're just here to eat." Aelfric responded quietly. "And to hear the news. My friend and I have been on the road over the past week. What is this about a war?"
The innkeeper’s eyes widened with surprise. "You haven't heard, then? Ten days ago a king's eye landed over to his Lordship's manor. The muster's been called for a war in Northcraven against the brown devils." He eyed Haim nervously as he spoke. "Meaning no offense, mind." Aelfric waved the comment away and urged the man to continue, although Haim said nothing. "Anyway, since then four or five free companies have started up, as well as the king's soldiers taking in volunteers." He nodded toward the gray haired soldier. "That's Tessil Barith. He's starting up a free company called the Red Tigers."
Aelfric looked the soldiers over. Each man wore his tabard over simple iron chain mail or in some cases ring mail consisting of iron rings sewn on leather jerkins. The leader's armor looked to be silver plated iron chain, and Aelfric saw that he alone wore a scabbarded broad sword. The rest of the soldiers carried short bladed stabbing swords or knives, and a collection of spears lined the wall. Regular king's soldiers did not generally associate with the soldiers of the free companies, gathered as they were from freemen, runaway peasants or in some cases, felons. Aelfric felt no such prejudices, however. His father had begun his military career as a simple free companion despite his noble birth, and had made an impressive military career out of it. Barith nodded as Aelfric looked at him, and Aelfric nodded in return.
Haim's reaction differed from Aelfric's. Like most men born of peasant stock, Haim had sense enough to know that war brought nothing but trouble, and he avoided the eyes of the soldiers. In his freeman's clothing and his simple wool jerkin Haim was unlikely to be taken for an Aulig despite his dark features, but he had no desire to converse with the armed company. He put his eyes on the wooden plate with a few thick slices of beef floating in thick gravy and the accompanying meager collection of tiny beans and kept them there.
"What started the war?" Aelfric asked the innkeeper.
"Well, as to that, who can say? There was talk of some Auligs kidnapping children, then there was some border raiding I heard. The kicker was Hanjenger D'Tarman. The Auligs shot him full of arrows and cut off his head."
"The king's cousin, dead?"
"Yessir. Dead as dead, I suppose, what with his head cut off and all."
Aelfric nodded thoughtfully. What he knew of Hanjenger D'Tarman was little enough. The man was -had been- King Falante D'Cadmouth's second cousin, the former king's cousin, and famous as both a commander and a strong supporter of the king. There were many who said that without Hanjenger's urging, the Duke of Northcraven might have supported Falante's cousin Quelton for the throne. Instead Quelton had remained the Duke of Zoric, and Falante had been elevated to the throne directly from the King's Court. The king would undoubtedly seek to avenge Hanjenger's death in the same manner Tuchek spoke of. It was going to be a long and bloody war.
Aelfric's father had fought in some of the same battles as the former king, and had supported Falante for the secession. He'd also made it plain, at least privately, that he had nothing but contempt for Duke Quelton D'Cadmouth. If his father were alive, Aelfric would undoubtedly have signed up to lead a regiment of armsmen in this war. As it was, he eyed the soldiers with some envy. Their course was clear, their duty plain, if difficult.
He on the other hand seemed lost in a fog of competing obligations. He wanted to avenge his father's murder, he owed something to Haim for saving his life at the ferry, and he felt a share of Tuchek's obligation to avenge family Haila, even if he hadn't admitted it to his companions. He was also afraid. He had a sense that the Duke of Elderest would not rest until he was dead, and he wanted desperately to live and to escape. These thoughts churned his gut, and he ate his beef and beans delicately.
"You stink."
For a moment the words didn't register. Then Aelfric looked up, his face flushed. Two soldiers were standing next to Haim, looming over the big half breed as he sat at the bar and pretended to ignore them.
The larger of the soldiers, his face red with drink beneath a bowl of dark hair that looked recently cut, nudged Haim to get his attention. "I said you stink, Aulig."
Haim stepped off of the stool and faced the two men, knuckling his brow. The smaller man, equally drunk, had a hooked nose and straw colored hair cut in the same fashion as his companion. "I'm no Aulig." Haim replied, trying to edge away from the men.
"Leave off, gentlemen." Aelfric said, stepping to Haim's side and raising a hand placatingly. "My companion and I are merely having a meal here."
"Talks like a little lord, don't he, Kandos?" Smirked the yellow-haired soldier. "Stinks the same as his buddy, though." Behind the two louts several other Red Tigers were standing, obviously intending to watch the fun.
"Friends, we are just off a long road and we will not be troubling you." Aelfric said, putting his hand on Haim's shoulder to draw him back. Taut muscle bulged beneath his hand with a ready tension. The big half-breed seemed half-reluctant to come away, and Aelfric could tell from the stubborn set of his jaw that he was ready to fight one or both of the soldiers.
"Belike you should have bathed before coming in to our place, then." The dark haired fellow's voice was menacing. "Maybe Feth and me need to learn you some manners."
Aelfric bit his tongue. The last thing the two of them needed was unwanted attention. Urgently, he pulled Haim by the shoulder. Haim resisted, shrugging off Aelfric's hand and pulling forward. Unfortunately the action caused him to bull into the smaller of the two soldiers, Feth, forcing him to step backward to avoid a fall. The man looked startled as he got his feet under him, then his face darkened.
"The bastard shoved me!" He yelled, putting his hand on his sword hilt.
Suddenly five or six other soldiers stepped forward, and Aelfric and Haim found themselves held by several strong arms. The man with the gray hair spoke up sharply. "No weapons, Feth!" The yellow haired soldier pulled his hand from his sword hilt with a sneer.
"What you two need is a bath!" Kandos laughed.
"Leave off, damn you!" Aelfric shouted, but he was helpless to resist the number of men holding him.
"Damned thugs! Get your ha
nds off of me!" Haim struggled mightily in the grip of at least four men. They lifted him from his feet, and the big man managed to get a foot clear of the floor long enough to plant it in Feth's face, bloodying his nose and knocking him to the floor. Haim's arms flailed wildly in the grip of several men, his strong hands clawing for something to break. The men swore as he struggled.
"Strong bastard." Kandos muttered as Feth struggled to regain his feet.
"I'll knife the cur dog!" Feth hissed, reaching again for his sword hilt. Tessil Barith appeared behind him and put his hand over Feth's in a grip the little man couldn't break.
"I told you no weapons, Feth. You disobey my orders and I'll hang you."
Aelfric had no more time to observe, for he found himself hoisted off his feet. He knew it was useless to fight against so many opponents, but he resisted as well as he could, landing a couple of punches against unseen opponents. "Unhand me!" He shouted, more than once, but the men paid his words no attention.
One knot of Red Tigers, at least ten, surrounded Haim and hoisted him bodily through the back door of the tavern. He cursed them all the way. A second group of men, perhaps six or eight, lifted Aelfric as well and followed. He, too, cursed them.
In a small courtyard behind the inn there was a shallow stock well lined by a wide circular stone rail. As the sunlight hit Aelfric in the face he heard a loud splash and strong oaths from Haim, then he too was hoisted over the side of the well and into the icy water. He felt himself go under, struggling to swim. After a few moments he realized the water was only neck deep, and he stood and looked at Haim.
The soldiers laughed as they turned away from the well.
"Take a bath next time you come to town, pigspawn!" Kandos' laugh followed the men back into the tavern as Aelfric sputtered.
Haim bristled, but then shot him a rueful grin while shaking his head. "Nothing worse than a bath after all, Aelfric. For a minute there I was afraid we was going to get… Where are you going?"
Aelfric's pulse was pounding, and the world appeared to him through a red haze. He swam to the side of the well and pulled himself up out of the water furiously, his hands shaking with rage. The bastards had put their hands on him, punched him and thrown him into a filthy stock well! He hurtled himself over the stone coping and staggered wetly onto the courtyard's paving stones.
Some of the soldiers had not yet reentered the tavern, and when they saw him emerge, they laughed. Their laughter died on their lips when he drew his sword.
"Who will be the first to die?" He demanded, stalking toward them with grim purpose. Bafflement had given way to rage, and now the rage was replaced with something infinitely worse, a cold and deadly fury. For a week he had been kicked about and harried by his enemies, he had witnessed suffering that still refused to register in his mind, and now these bastards had dared to lay violent hands on him.
He knew that death awaited him at the rear door of the tavern, for he was no Tuchek to dance the blades with eight men and emerge unscathed. He knew that twenty more Red Tigers waited in the tavern, and once he started in on them they would bring him down like a pack of wolves. He knew it and he no longer cared.
The soldiers, sensing this in him perhaps, edged away from the door warily, drawing knives or short swords as they spread out in a ring to surround him. He was the tallest man there, and the sword he carried was half a pace longer than their longest blade, and they saw this, too. They would bring him down, but they knew he would mark them for it.
"I asked a question, damn you." Aelfric faced Kandos squarely. "Who is going to be the first to die?"
"Aelfric, come away from there!" Haim’s voice behind him was urgent and frightened. "It's over. They've had their fun!"
"I haven't had mine yet, Haim." Aelfric moved suddenly toward Kandos, whose short blade came up almost reluctantly to the guard position. "Shall we do this one at a time or all together, Red Tigers?" He taunted the soldiers, taking another step forward and moving fluidly into Endever's first stance for fighting many opponents.
"This ain't a matter for swords, man." Kandos said nervously. "We didn't mean to cause you any harm."
"Ah, but I mean to cause you harm, Kandos. You are supposed to be a soldier." Aelfric eyed him over the tip of his blade. "Are you ready to die like a soldier?"
"Belay that!" A hard voice came from the darkened doorway. Aelfric watched the Red Tiger's commander walk through his men into the courtyard. "Put up your sword, son."
"Lio damn you, man!" Aelfric roared, his cold anger turning hot at the sight of the officer. "You watched your men get themselves into this and did nothing. Why don't you come and take my light damned sword!"
To his surprise, the gray haired soldier bowed abruptly. "You speak the truth, young man. I made a mistake. Please accept my apology and as many drinks as you'd care to have on my account. Only, you've got to sheath that weapon."
Aelfric eyed the man coldly, then he felt the wrath ebbing away as suddenly as it had taken him. He could no longer feel the ready anger burning in his body. "All right." He nodded and put his sword back in its scabbard. From behind him he heard Haim breath a heavy sigh of relief. He discovered he was shaking, but he took a step backward to mask it.
"Take a look, Red Tigers." The commander said quietly to his men, who were warily sheathing their weapons. "There's a man who looked at certain death and was ready to walk right into it. Just goes to show you can never be sure of a man, especially one of these quiet country types. You push them too hard and all you get is a belly full of steel."
"Where in the black abyss did that come from?" Haim muttered to Aelfric as they walked back into the bar. His eyes were wide and he was slipping his curved sword back into its scabbard. It was then that Aelfric noticed for the first time that his friend had drawn his weapon, too. "I thought you were going to get us both killed."
Tuchek walked the six horses into the darkness of the nearest stable. Although he was completely confident in his swordsmanship, he knew that only a fool would dare show an Aulig face in this town, the mood being what it was. Several times he noted recruiting signs on windows, and on two he had seen specific references to the 'Aulig War'. With his dark skin, his beardless, angular face and his night-black hair he could not be taken for anything other than the full-blooded Aulig he was, and a northern Aulig at that. Very few of the Aulig descended peasants in this part of southern Mortentia had features as plainly Aulig as his, and none of these would be trusted by their masters with swords. His only hope of avoiding trouble was to stay out of sight and avoid notice.
"Stables for six." He told the hostler, letting a gilder fall on the man's workbench among the tack and harness he was repairing. The coin was more than enough gold to pay for the six stalls, as well as feed and care for the horses for several weeks. The hostler took up the coin and bit it.
"By damn it's real." He muttered, then, catching his first good look at Tuchek's face, he gasped. He handled the gold as if it was hot, dropping it back on the table. "I don't want your money, Aulig. Take your horses somewhere else and count yourself lucky I don't call the watch."
Tuchek stepped forward, looming over the man dangerously. "I'm a Mortentian, hostler. I was born an Aulig, but I fought for the king in the last war. You stable these horses and I'll have another gilder for you when I come for them."
The hostler simply shook his head. "It's more trouble than I need, sir. You may be a Mortentian and all that you say, but I'll not stable your horses. Take them somewhere else."
Frustrated, Tuchek was about to yell at the man before a light, almost feminine voice interrupted. "What is the problem here, goodman Sedger?"
Tuchek turned to see the most beautiful man he had ever known. Celdemer Ferris had been born in the Regency, but he'd come to Northcraven as a young man, and even in his late thirties he looked no older than a teenager. Slightly built, his hair was light blond and fell to his shoulders in shimmering waves, and his armor was steel plate polished to a mirror finish. A two-
handed war sword, looking incongruously large for such a whipcord-thin man, lay across his back, the handle jutting between his shoulders over his head and the scabbarded end nearly touching the ground. At his waist a full-face helmet hung from a silver-studded belt, and a golden circle shone above a stylized eagle inset at his armored breast.
"Beg pardon, Sir Celdemer." The hostler bowed deeply as he spoke. It was always a good idea to show deference to a godsknight, especially one as powerful as the one before him. "I was speaking to this gentleman, here, see, and…"
"I heard you refuse him your services, goodman Sedger. Has he given you trouble?"
"Hello, Celdemer." Tuchek interrupted, and the blue eyed knight looked at him a second time.
"Eskeriel? Is that you? Under the golden sun it is good to see you!"
"Do you know this Aulig?" The hostler seemed surprised.
"Know him? I love him greatly, goodman Sedger." The knight turned on the hostler. "You simply must allow him the use of your stable, and you must not let him pay you. I shall gladly pay any costs for his horses or any other thing that he needs. Make it so." He turned away from the hostler as if his agreement was a foregone conclusion, obviously dismissing the man from his thoughts.
"Thank you, Celdemer." Tuchek turned to the knight, also ignoring the astonished hostler.
"Where are you staying, Eskeriel?
"I haven't yet found an inn."
"Then you simply must stay at mine!" Celdemer exclaimed delightedly. "I am housed at the Golden Eagle. I shall put you in an apartment and pay for it myself." Again the words came out in that definite tone that could not be refused. Celdemer paused to embrace Tuchek, a completely unabashed display of affection that would have earned him ridicule had he not been wearing the armor and cornflower blue cloak of a godskight. "By the Sun, Eskeriel, it is good to see you. I have often thought of you over the years and wondered where you were and what you were doing." A slight frown crossed the godsknight's delicate features. "How did that dreadful business with the Thimenians go?"
War of the Misread Augury: Book One of the Black Griffin Rising Trilogy Page 24
