“Hanna got him,” Fritz explained happily, unaware that the girl’s expression had suddenly become uneasy True to form, the simpleton had dropped their real names into the conversation, and in a context anyone in earshot would be sure to remember. “Knife to the throat. He went down like a sack of turnips.”
“That’s hard to believe,” the carter said.
Hanna glared at him, nettled. “I can take care of myself. Want to make something of it?” Something of her old fire was visible below the surface now and the man quailed.
“I wouldn’t dare,” he said, saving as much face as he could by pretending he was joking.
“It’s a fine story,” Norbert said, waving for more ale. “But can you prove any of it?”
“I told you we should have kept the bodies,” Artemus said archly, keeping the mood light.
“They’d have got a bit ripe by now, don’t you think?” Rudi was rewarded with another ripple of laughter, which gratified him more than he would have thought possible.
“We kept anything that looked worth having though,” Fritz put in, hoisting the bundle of loot onto the table. “Anyone want to buy a sword?” The room fell suddenly silent as everyone stared at the pathetic collection of odds and ends.
“Simeon Oestlinger’s boots.” One of the customers pointed at the footwear Rudi had removed from the dead bandit and made the sign of Hendrik. “I’d know them anywhere, he had that pattern made specially. Bandits stole them right off his feet about three months back. Remember him limping in here in his stockings, yelling for the road wardens?”
“Then I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see them again,” Rudi said impatiently, throwing them across to the man who’d spoken. Taken by surprise, the man barely caught them in time. Norbert and his friends exchanged looks of incomprehension.
“An honest man’s his own worst enemy,” Artemus said, apparently a local proverb, as his Marienburg accent thickened noticeably as he spoke and knowing nods were mixed in with the laughter that followed. “And this one’s fresh out of the Empire.”
“Well, it’s the only way I know how to be,” Rudi snapped.
Norbert laughed and handed him another mug of ale. “That’s good. A man should be true to his nature. But when you get to the city, you might try being a little less Empire and a little more Marienburg. They do things differently there.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Rudi said, finding the ale fumes clouding his mind a little more than he expected.
Artemus explained. “If this Simeon is as fond of his boots as all that, you might have got a reward for returning them. Now this fellow will get it instead of you.”
“I see,” Rudi said. “You expert me to take advantage of the misfortunes of others?”
“Not exactly,” Artemus said, deflecting any offence the remark might have caused. “More like consider the opportunities they present.” He shrugged. “It’s the Marienburg way.”
Rudi wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it and he didn’t want to lose the goodwill of the crowd, so he nodded.
“I’ll bear that in mind,” he said.
“Good lad,” Artemus said. “Stick with me when we get there and I’ll steer you round the deepest canals.”
“So what would a Marienburger do about the horse and cart?” Hanna asked speculatively. “We can hardly take it all the way back to Gutter’s Wharf, even if there is a reward for it.” Rudi caught a fleeting grin, hastily suppressed, as Norbert rose to the bait.
“I might be able to help you there,” he said.
“That would be most kind,” Artemus agreed, nodding sagely. “I’m sure some satisfactory arrangement could be made, beneficial to all parties.”
“Exactly.” A cunning grin appeared on the carter’s face. “Like, for instance, I’m sure Bardold would pay, oh, ten guilders or so to get his horse and cart back in one piece. Suppose I give you five, on his behalf, and put up the stabling and storage costs out of the rest until he turns up or I can get a message to Gutter’s Wharf?”
“That sounds fair…” Fritz began, then broke off with a puzzled frown as Rudi kicked him under the table.
“Or we could assume our friend Bardold would be so delighted he’d pay twenty,” Artemus suggested. “Which would mean you’d scarcely be out of pocket giving us fifteen on his behalf.”
“I don’t know.” Norbert frowned thoughtfully. “He’s not a rich man by any means. He might go as high as fifteen, which means I could let you have ten…” After a few more moments of apparently light banter and another mug of ale, he suddenly dug into his purse and produced twelve of the gold coins Artemus had called guilders. “That’s it. All I can afford. Take it or leave it.”
Rudi glanced at Artemus, who nodded almost imperceptibly.
“That’s very kind,” he said, taking the money and dropping it into his purse. “Bardold’s lucky to have a friend as considerate and generous as you.” The thought suddenly surfaced that Bardold might well be dead and Norbert the proud new possessor of a horse and cart for a tenth of their actual value, but that wasn’t his problem. Luck or fate had contrived to hand them enough money to survive in the city for some time to come, and he silently blessed whichever gods were responsible.
The next morning dawned bright and clear and Rudi made a hearty breakfast with his companions. After the privations of life on the road, he’d slept more soundly than he could have believed possible on the softest bed he’d ever felt in his life, and the hot water he’d washed in the previous evening had left him feeling relaxed and invigorated. Everyone else seemed in high spirits, particularly Hanna, and he smiled at her over the wooden table.
“Feeling better this morning?” he asked.
“Much. Even…” she broke off. “You know.” Rudi nodded and she went on. “It’s eased off a bit. I seem to have found something which helps relieve the pressure.”
“That’s good.” Rudi changed the subject hastily as Artemus and Fritz appeared and began helping themselves to smoked sausage. “I didn’t realise how grubby I was feeling.”
“You and me both.” Hanna stretched. “I didn’t realise how much I was missing clean clothes.” Another shilling had been sufficient to get their laundry done, and her blue dress seemed a different shade. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her headscarf.
“Did I exaggerate?” Artemus asked, his mouth full. Rudi shook his head. “Was the accommodation here not more than adequate?”
“You were right,” Rudi conceded. The brief interlude of rest had been good for them all and he tried not to think about the impression they would have made. If Gerhard met one of the travellers who’d been in the taproom last night he’d know precisely where they were.
“I invariably am,” Artemus said. He indicated the bundles of possessions they’d brought in from the cart the previous night. “Are we ready to go? Even on foot we should be there before nightfall.”
“I’m ready,” Rudi said. A small flutter of excitement tickled the base of his stomach as he shouldered his pack and quiver. After all this time he was almost at Marienburg and the chance to discover the answers to the questions which continued to torment him.
“Me too.” Hanna took up her satchel, her purse a few shillings heavier after managing to dispose of the weapons they’d taken from the dead bandits. Many of their listeners the night before seemed to think it had been worth buying something simply for the pleasure of hearing the story and Rudi hadn’t been inclined to argue about that.
“So am I.” Artemus stood too, leaning on his staff and collecting his bundle of belongings. He turned to Fritz, who was finishing the last of his breakfast with a thoughtful expression. “How about you?”
“In a moment,” Fritz said, standing slowly. “I just want to stop by the stables first.”
“The stables?” Rudi shrugged, not understanding. “What on earth for?”
Fritz turned reproachful eyes on him. “To say goodbye to W
illem, of course,” he said.
CHAPTER NINE
After several days of riding on the cart it felt odd to be walking again, but Rudi found he was enjoying the experience. The day was fresh, with the first hint of the coming autumn chill on the breeze just sufficient to offset the heat generated by the exercise. He inhaled the scent of growing things from the fields around them with pleasure sharpened by the reflection that it could be some time before he was able to savour such things again. The thin straggle of farmsteads had developed into larger, more prosperous ones and the late summer sun fell on waving fields of yellowing grain as far as the eye could see. Hanna walked beside him, apparently feeling better than she had in some time.
“I never knew there could be so many people about,” she said. By this time the steady trickle of traffic on the road had swollen to a constant stream in both directions, wagons, carts, riders and travellers on foot mingling with one another as they passed or overtook. Many of them were dressed in fashions Rudi had never seen before and several times he heard snatches of conversation in a language he didn’t know. Bretonnian, he assumed, as that was where the road went, but for all he knew he could be hearing others too.
Artemus laughed. “If you think this is crowded, wait till you see the streets in Marienburg,” he said. He stood aside to let a young woman on a pony trot by, with a smile and a nod of acknowledgement. She was dressed in mail, with a dark travelling cloak thrown over it and a sword at her belt. A shield, embossed with the twin comet symbol of Sigmar, hung over her shoulder and out of the corner of his eye Rudi saw Hanna flinch at the sight. She didn’t seem to be the only one, though. As the young woman rode on into the distance many of the passers-by glared at her with barely-concealed hostility.
“Who was that?” Fritz asked.
Artemus was watching her go with a puzzled expression. “One of the sisters of Sigmar. A warrior order, dedicated to the service of your Empire god. Unusual for one of her kind to have business in Marienburg.”
“Why so?” Rudi asked, feeling a chill of apprehension in his stomach. Gerhard was a templar of the church of Sigmar, he’d said as much the first time they met, and it was possible the woman was an agent of his.
“The worship of Sigmar is…” Artemus paused, choosing his words carefully. “Not encouraged in Marienburg. After all, he’s the patron deity of the Empire we seceded from. The state religion is the cult of Manann, although the common folk swear mostly by Hendryk.” As he pronounced the name he made the coin-counting gesture Rudi was beginning to associate with the deity.
“The gods of commerce and the sea,” he said. “That makes sense, I suppose.”
“We are, after all, a maritime trading nation,” Artemus said. He paused for a moment and inhaled deeply through his nose. A beatific smile spread across his face. “The sea! Can’t you smell it?”
Rudi tried, but all he thought he could smell was the dust of the road.
“So any agent of the church of Sigmar would find it difficult to get cooperation from the authorities?” Hanna asked casually.
“Extremely difficult, I would have said. It would depend on their business, of course, but they’d need a deep purse and a lot of patience to get anything done if you ask me. Even witch hunters have a hard time of it and they’re the most likely to find someone to listen to them.”
“So there are no witch hunters at all in Marienburg?” Fritz asked, disbelief palpable in his tone.
Artemus laughed and shook his head. “I said no such thing,” he corrected gently. “The templars of Morr are as welcome in Marienburg as they are anywhere in the old world and the Solkanites aren’t too worried about what people think of them anyway. There are usually one or two of each wandering around the city looking for signs of Chaos; probably a few more these days, after all that unpleasantness in the north last year. But it’s mostly the temple of Manann that deals with such matters, and quite efficiently too if rumour is to be believed.” He made another sign with his hand, like the movement of a fish, as he spoke. “But it’s best not to dwell on topics like that.”
“Quite,” Rudi said, with a glance at Hanna. The girl nodded her agreement, but he knew her well enough to tell that she was quietly relieved at the news. It seemed that even if Gerhard was able to track them to Marienburg he would be hindered in his attempts to find them. Hanna smiled, and to his delighted astonishment slipped her hand through the crook of his arm.
Around noon they stopped for something to eat, patronising one of the wooden stalls which had begun to grow up alongside the road to cater for travellers. They still had some supplies left in their packs, but the aroma of hot food was almost irresistible and a penny apiece bought them bowls of vegetable stew which filled their stomachs and left them feeling warm and invigorated.
“That beats bread and cheese again,” Fritz said, with a satisfied sigh. The booth was doing good business and several other customers were standing on the grassy verge spooning down the pottage with every sign of satisfaction. He scraped his spoon around the wooden bowl a final time and looked around vaguely for somewhere to put it.
“Here, let me.” Rudi collected the receptacles together and took them back to the booth.
“Much obliged, squire,” the owner said, barely glancing up as Rudi balanced the stack precariously on the rim of the counter and turned to go.
“Pardon me.” Another customer stepped back hastily as Rudi turned, almost colliding with him, and glanced at the wares on display. “How much are those pasties?”
“However much they are you can pay for them yourself,” Fritz said, looming up behind the fellow, the familiar truculent expression on his face. Rudi shook his head warningly, fearful of attracting attention again, and put out a restraining hand to take the simpleton by the arm. Fritz shrugged it off.
“I intend to. If it’s any of your business,” the man said. He was a thin-faced, sallow individual, who somehow reminded Rudi of a ferret.
“Good. Then you won’t need my friend’s purse, will you?” Fritz tightened his grip around the man’s wrist. Ferret-face tried to pull away, but Fritz was by far the stronger and lifted his hand clear of the concealing folds of his cloak. Sure enough, a familiar leather pouch was gripped tightly in his fingers.
“Hey!” Rudi said, understanding at last. “That’s mine!” His hand darted to his belt, finding the pouch of money gone.
“No it’s not!” Ferret-face raised his voice. “I was just taking my purse out and this ruffian assaulted me! Someone fetch a road warden!”
“How inconvenient,” Artemus said, materialising at Fritz’s shoulder. “There never seems to be one around when you want one, does there?” He smiled at the stallholder. “I’m sure we can sort this out amicably enough, aren’t you?”
“Nothing to do with me,” the man said. “I just serve the food.” He turned away to stir a pot of the stew.
“It’s mine, I tell you.” Ferret-face raised his voice again. “Help! Thieves!” Out of the corner of his eye Rudi caught a glimpse of a couple of bystanders edging closer, hands beneath their cloaks. He rested a hand on the hilt of his sword and they backed off a little.
“You’re the thief, you pathetic little piece of refuse.” Hanna glared at the man, daring him to contradict her. “That’s his purse and you know it.”
“So you say.” Ferret-face was apparently emboldened by the appearance of his confederates. “It’s just my word against his, though, isn’t it?”
“This should be an easy matter to resolve,” Artemus said. He pulled a scrap of parchment from his pack, and a stick of charcoal, which he held out to Rudi. “My young friend here will write down how much was in the purse.”
Rudi felt his face flush. “I can’t write,” he said. The thief looked at him scornfully. “You’ve got some nerve,” he said, “an ignorant bumpkin accusing honest people of thievery.”
Rudi’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. “I don’t need to be able to read to know a knave when I see one,” he
said.
“I’ll write it down,” Hanna said. “I know how much he’s got.” She took the implements from Artemus, scribbled a moment and folded the parchment before handing it out to Ferret-face. “Your turn.”
“I… can’t write either,” the man said hastily.
“No matter,” Artemus said cheerfully. “Now my young friend has written it down all you have to do is name a figure. Surely you know how much is in your own purse.”
“Three guilders,” the man said hastily, “mostly in copper.”
“Not even close,” Rudi said, holding his hand out. He appealed to the stallholder. “Could we ask you to look inside and tell us how much you think is there?”
“All right.” The thief shrugged. “Let’s get this farce over with.” He opened his hand, letting the purse fall to the grass. As Fritz made an instinctive grab for it his grip on the thief’s wrist loosened and the man twisted free, running into the crowd surrounding them. Fritz picked the purse up and handed it to Rudi with a nod. Somewhat to his surprise the older lad didn’t seem inclined to pursue the thief, which was probably just as well as his confederates were quietly slipping away too.
“Thanks.” Rudi took the pouch and made sure it was securely fastened somewhere rather less accessible. “I owe you one.”
“Three of those guilders are mine,” Fritz pointed out reasonably.
Despite Rudi’s misgivings, the incident at the food stall didn’t seem to have attracted much attention and he began to feel a little more secure among so much traffic. Even if Gerhard was in hot pursuit, he would hardly be able to pick them out from so large a throng, and Rudi was able to enjoy the walk almost as much as he had in the morning.
“The nerve of that man,” Hanna said, still seething over the encounter with the thief.
“A very minor thief,” Artemus said, “to be working so far outside the walls. No doubt his masters have a low opinion of his abilities to give him a patch where so many potential victims will be unaware of the danger.”
[Blood on the Reik 02] - Death's City Page 9
