by Jules Marks
Sir Hugh smiled back at him. “…And I’m glad to see someone finally noticed that I’m alive and kicking.”
Again came Larkin’s mercurial frown. “Oh, Sir Hugh…I didn’t mean…I already knew that you were all right…I’m so sorry…”
Hugh cut him off with a shake of his head. “Don’t be: I was equally happy to see Gael. Now, Larkin, do you know where Ioan is?”
Larkin nodded and pointed. “I just saw him…moments ago. He was walking towards the stream. I called out to him, but he didn’t hear me.”
The relief on Hugh’s face was apparent. “Good…good.” He looked at me and touched my elbow. “I believe I’ve just spotted Rebeccah near yon campfire. If you’ll be so kind to go get Ioan, we shall need you both to attend the wounded.” He turned away, and placed his hand on Larkin’s shoulder. “Come now, Larkin, let’s see what we can do to help.”
Ioan was easy to find. He was standing perfectly still, thigh-deep in the swirling water, with his face turned up toward the starry heavens. Once again, he looked like a sculpture from the chapel.
I approached him quietly, wishing I did not have to disturb him.
“Ioan…is all well with you?”
There was a slight delay before he answered. “What…what did you say?” He turned round to face me.
“Are you wounded?” I posed the question differently because I’d gotten a better look at him. Moonlight and distant firelight illuminated Ioan’s face and form enough for me to see that he was covered in blood.
He didn’t answer at first, as if he had to consider what I’d asked.
“Not enough to worry about just now,” he finally answered.
His hesitation concerned me.
”Are you certain of this?”
“Yes…yes,” he replied absently. “I just need to wash off some of this blood.” He knelt forward and rinsed his hands, arms, and his face in the running stream. He then emerged from the water, and came to stand beside me. His clothes were yet stained, but his face was not so frightening.
“And you, Gael…is all well with you?” His voice was low as he reached out and clasped my hand to give it a shake.
“It is…now that I’ve seen my friends are safe.” I debated my next words, but said them anyway. “Was it the battle lust? Are you troubled by it?”
He sighed and looked away. “I don’t even know how many I killed, Gael. I hardly knew what I was doing.” His voice was mournful.
“I think most of us could say the same, Ioan. Don’t take it too much to heart. We wanted revenge, and it looks like we got it.” I gestured towards camp. “They’ll be needing us to begin patching people up. It will help to get your mind off…you know…the other.”
He nodded, as if he agreed, and we trudged back towards the glowing campfires, back to the moaning and weeping of the injured.
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I don’t know if there was a man among us who managed to survive the assault completely unscathed, and it was a minor miracle that more of our party were not dead or severely wounded. We had lost six men to the Uplanders’ clubs, spears, and blades, and though we surely mourned those losses, we marveled at that small number, for the Uplanders’ party had been larger than originally estimated. There were twenty-six of their dead in the camp, and later, by morning’s light we’d found seven more dead among the trees. Of course some of their mortal wounds had been self-inflicted: several of the Uplanders had managed to kill themselves before we reached them. Still, we’d taken three of them alive; Akimba planned to interrogate them as soon as we reached Beckman. .
Of those of Akimba’s party who I actually knew, Nordz was the worst injured. He had been stabbed through the shoulder, and it had taken more time than I’d have wished to stop his profuse bleeding. He was terribly weak, and at his age the injury could prove mortal. I could tell that Akimba and Rebeccah were miserably worried about him, but as they had so much to see to, I volunteered to look after the old dwarf.
Both Larkin and Ioan spelled me with Nordz during the remainder of the night, but I knew that they, too, felt the worse for wear. Larkin had had a spear tip slash his forearm, and he’d been struck hard with a club in the lower back. Once his initial exaltation at surviving the battle wore off, the pain had set in, and I caught him stifling a moan now and then. Ioan had suffered several knife cuts—which accounted for some of that excess blood—and he’d been clubbed hard on his left shoulder blade; any movement he made looked stiff and painful. As for myself, I was so sore it was an effort to remain upright. I’d been hit several times during the fight, and I had one long knife cut on my upper arm as well. All we could do was make poultices of calendula and comfrey then bind those wounds; proper stitching would require morning light.
A further inventory of our party’s battle scars was no less severe. Akimba had taken a spear in his thigh; he could hardly walk, and though he insisted he wasn’t in much pain, the sweat on his brow and the expression of hurt that he wore belied his brave words. Rebeccah had been hit in the head with a club. When dawn came and brought with it adequate light, Ioan had snipped and stitched around some of that lustrous hair of hers. I dosed her with a tea of feverfew and willow, and we both told her that she was bound to have a bad headache for several days. Her vision was blurry, but she insisted on doing her part to care for other wounded soldiers. When she passed out as she knelt over one of them, Ioan carried her to her bedroll and nursed her until it was time to travel. Hugh, the soldier among us who most desired death, came out of the battle with one knife cut across his cheek. I stitched it up myself, and assured him that his fine face would only look tougher once it had healed.
Harsh as it seemed, there were too many Uplanders to bury. Once again we built a pyre. There was no effort to show respect to the fallen enemy; we were all still too upset by the findings in the cave. We simply flung the Uplanders upon the heap and left the bodies to burn…or to rot if the fire went out. We took our own dead with us for proper burial back at Castle Beckman. The wolf carcasses traveled back with us as well: two of the men were intent on keeping their fur.
We surely looked a sorry lot when we arrived midday at Beckman. It was a relief to have the wounded taken off our hands; all the survivors seemed to desire was the opportunity for a meal and the comfort of a bed.
Sir Hugh’s party repaired to his quarters. Weary as we were, we didn’t have much to say to one another. All but Sir Hugh dropped groaning upon our beds. For his part, he dug through his pack until he found something he was looking for. With a grunt of satisfaction, he pulled forth a bundle.
“Larkin, lad, I have something here for you,” he said.
Larkin sat up, and began to stand, but Hugh gestured for him to remain where he was. He walked to Larkin’s bed and bent down to offer him the bundle.
“A gift for a proven warrior,” he said.
Larkin looked up at him quizzically, and then smiled. “Thank you, Sir Hugh.” He turned over the bundle in his hands, and murmured again, “thank you.”
He may have been patient, but I wasn’t.
“Well, we can’t wait all day, watching you be polite. Open it and see what Sir Hugh has given you!”
Larkin blushed, and began to undo the stays around the wrapping. He slowly unrolled the cloth, and then he gasped. “Oh…it’s, it’s amazing!” he whispered.
“Show us,” said Ioan.
With almost reverential respect for the object in his lap, Larkin picked it up with both hands and held it aloft. It was a dagger, still in its highly ornate sheath. The handle was beautifully crafted and carved; the metal of the hilt practically sparkled.
“Draw it forth,” I urged him.
He did as I requested, and the blade’s polished steel reflected the light from the windows.
“It’s a wonderful gift,” said Ioan. He looked from Larkin to Hugh. “Wonderful,” he repeated as he nodded his head.
“What can I say?” murmured Larkin. (He looked as if he might actually cry.) “No one has e
ver given me a gift so rare!”
“You earned it last night,” said Hugh. “It was your first true battle, and you proved your worth many times over. If it is still your desire to be in my service, I would be honored to have you join me.”
Larkin put the dagger aside; he first stood, and then knelt before Sir Hugh.
“It is my greatest desire to join your band,” he said.
Hugh placed his hand on top of Larkin’s bowed head. They were both still for a moment, and then Hugh tousled the lad’s curls.
“Well, then, that’s settled. Now, we could all use a rest.” He pulled Larkin up. “Let us hope you have some time to recuperate before you have to use that dagger.”
Chapter Thirteen
Rest we did. I slept through a good part of the afternoon, and woke only because I was thirsty…and needed to relieve myself. Though Hugh and Ioan were both gone, Larkin was still abed. He was curled into a ball on his side with his hands tucked under his cheek. He looked terribly young and vulnerable. I felt a genuine pull at my heartstrings to see him thus, and after his brave deeds of the previous night, I thought back to what he’d said to me before the attack…that he would try not to disappoint me. Disappoint me indeed! I could not be prouder if he was my own son, and I just couldn’t seem to move beyond that comparison. My first boy, little Seth, had looked like a younger version of Larkin. I felt drawn to Larkin, and as neither of us had any family of our own, the boy had, as Hugh had said, become part of our family, my family.
My other physical needs temporarily put aside, I sat back down on the bed to consider the swirl of emotions troubling my soul. I was genuinely confused. I’d stood there, looking at Larkin sleeping, and felt a spark of hope in my heart. For the first time in months, there was something in the future to look forward to. I wanted to see Larkin survive the coming battle…and he just might need my help to do so.
Before my journey to Castle Beckman, I’d wanted nothing more than to end my miserable life. I still missed Sarei, and I looked forward to a Heavenly reunion with her. But over the past few weeks I’d made new friends, and with them had faced many dangers. The flame, that passion for life that I’d thought long dead, had sparked now and then during our journey…during both times of pleasure and in the face of death. Now, having survived another battle, I’d begun thinking about the future, my future, and I found that flame was burning steadily. In a sense, I felt that I was betraying Sarei by experiencing this new hope, but I knew that loving woman for enough years to realize that what was happening to me would be what she wanted for me.
Facing death had seemed relatively easy. Envisioning a new future seemed much harder…and, in the face of the current circumstances, might be moot. When we met the Uplanders in full-scale war, I could be killed. But, if I survived, what then?
By the saints! I had a lot to think on. I took one more look at Larkin, and then stood up and left the room.
After I’d attended to my own needs, I decided to go in search of Nordz. Though Akimba had offered to have him moved to a select place in his own chambers, Nordz had declined, saying he’d be more comfortable in his regular surroundings. I asked for directions to Nordz’ quarters. It was there, in his modest chamber, that I visited him.
When I saw him, I tried to mask my alarm. The little dwarf’s color was practically gray, as if Death already held Nordz in His grip.
He was awake, alert. He gestured to the old woman who was attending him and then pointed to me.
“Here, Meren, is Gael, a friend who can double as a nurse. If you leave me here with him and get yourself a hot meal, I shall be in good hands.” He took her hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “Go…go on. I promise I won’t die while you’re gone.”
Her sweet face crumpled into grief when he spoke those words, but he shushed her, and sent her on her way.
He indicated that I should take the chair she’d just vacated.
Nordz sighed. “Meren and I have been friends for more than forty years. She’s not taking this well. First Halwick died, and now this: it has been a terrible week for her.”
I leaned closer and tried to reassure him. “There is still a chance for recovery, Nordz. Yes, you lost a great deal of blood, but the wound…”
He’d held up a hand to stop me.
“I’m developing a fever, Gael. I won’t live out the week.”
I shook my head. “Still…” I considered the potions I’d brought along, and then thought to include Ioan’s in the inventory. “We haven’t tried everything, Nordz. The fever isn’t a good sign, but I’ve seen men recover from much worse, as I’m certain you have, as well.”
“But I’m just so tired! I’m tired of trying, Gael. I love Akimba and Rebeccah, but with Lord Halwick gone, there just doesn’t seem to be much point.” The lines in his face suddenly intensified…I couldn’t tell if it was from pain or grief until he spoke his next words: “I miss him so much! And I do not know what happened. I am tormented, literally tormented by the thought that someone, someone here in this castle, killed him!” He sighed. “Ahhh, Gael, you know of loss; it has been your constant companion over these several months. You should know how I feel: I have no desire to continue; the effort requires too much strength, and mine is all spent.”
I demurred, and proceeded to tell him my tale of loss and recent gain. I told him of Hugh’s dream, and reiterated its point: that God would choose the time, and we were not to give up until that happened.
Still he shook his head. “Surely you must see that God has chosen, and it is my time. I have spent most of my life serving a master that has just been taken from me. Perhaps God will be gracious and allow me to rejoin Lord Halwick to serve him once more.”
I couldn’t help but throw in a bit of my own renegade philosophy. “In Heaven you will be equals, not master and servant.”
“Perhaps so,” agreed Nordz, “But even in Heaven, Halwick will still be my greatest and dearest friend, and I will desire to be by his side.” Tears were trickling down the sides of the old dwarf’s face, down onto his pillow. “I shall leave the revenge to someone else,” he added.
“Between Akimba and Rebeccah, that shouldn’t be a problem,” I assured him. “But upon whom should they avenge themselves? Do you truly believe that Halwick was murdered?”
He looked at me, and then looked to the door before nodding his head. “Yes, I do; I believe that he was murdered…I do now, that is.”
“But why…why now?”
“Have you not heard the news?” he asked.
“What news?”
Nordz absently pulled at his braided beard. “The servant who was supposed to be attending Halwick during that fateful night of his death, that servant whose story of the incident was subject to question, was found dead last night…while we were gone fighting the Outlanders.”
“Dead? How? Wasn’t he confined to his quarters?”
Nordz nodded. “Yes. He’d been locked in his room since Halwick’s body was discovered.”
“Then how?”
Nordz grimaced, and then pulled a finger across his neck. “His throat…cut. He was in his bed; they found the bloody knife in his own hand.”
“So he killed himself?” I remembered considering cutting my own throat when I’d been so close to suicide, but I had quelled at the thought. The man must have been a determined sort.
Nordz was shaking his head.
“That is what we were meant to believe, but I feel certain that such is not the case.”
“Why?”
“The knife had been placed in his right hand. Gael, Baldrig was left-handed, so he couldn’t have killed himself.”
“There wasn’t a guard outside the door…no one who would see someone enter or leave?”
Nordz shook his head. “Remember…we sent fresh meat back yesterday afternoon. There was feasting here in the Castle last night. The door to the chamber was sturdy, as was the bolt; having a guard seemed unnecessary. Baldrig was left alone in his room until someone th
ought to bring him some supper.”
“Oh, I see. This really does complicate things, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, most certainly.” Nordz adjusted his position slightly, and groaned as a result. “There is a murderer at large, and no one has any idea who it may be. This is all quite a quagmire.”
“Aren’t you curious to stay around and see how it all ends?”
He looked at me sideways with eyes narrowed. “Of course I am curious, but there’s nothing I can do about it. God will have his way: it is my time. I feel it.”
“Perhaps God will give you just a bit more time. When Meren returns, I am going to leave you to find Ioan. He knows some herb lore that may be new to this place.”
