By habit, I was about to reject the purse – it was not kingly to rob the dead. I am a vagrant. I convinced myself to take it. Unsheathed, the new sword became a riddle; it was an Assassin sword, yet the old man was not one of them; he was a good swordsman for sure, but still far from their skills. I will never know how he got the sword. A slight disappointment surfaced in my thoughts, there was surely an interesting story behind it.
Ten galbeni, I checked the content of the purse when Delia left me alone, it would have been rude to do it in front of her. A rich one, but the old man was not the usual robber. I now have twenty-three galbeni. With twenty, I can buy a hectare of land. Gran taught me not only how to farm, but the value of land, too. Five hectares of good land could provide a decent peasant family life.
At noon, I was able to ride again, and the caravan continued to Arad with its new and only protector, hired at full price, after I signed the contract with my new name, Tudor. I still did not know why I chose his name; maybe because I yearned to be like him.
Panait stared at my name in the contract then cursed loudly in two languages, leaving me baffled and understanding only the Livonian ones – traveling a lot, all merchants were some living dictionaries of colorful words. Delia moved behind him and gently covered his mouth with her palm, whispering something to him. “Of course I did not curse Tudor,” he protested. “I apologize,” he added in haste, looking at me. “You don’t know how stupid I was. Did you stay in the Caravans’ Inn?” he asked, just to confirm something I was not aware of, and I nodded. “And you cuffed that…” His hand moved up to describe the height of the drunken man. Yes, I nodded again, and Panait took his time to stare at my body, comparing me with the other man, unable to understand how it happened. “Movil recommended you, but I thought I had enough protectors. Quite a stupid man I am. Stupid, but fortunate that you were there.”
“I followed you,” I said, knowing that it would enhance my status.
“What?” he asked, unable to say more.
“I was in the Protectors’ Arena when you negotiated with the dark-skinned robber. He looked impish to me, and I knew that your protectors had been poisoned. That was a deliberate move.”
“Yeah, they were poisoned,” Panait sighed, revealing his sadness. “He did not look wicked to me. As I said, I am stupid and lucky.”
We stopped for the night, and arranged the wagons in an easy to defend square resembling a fortified camp. For me it was strange that nobody had thought of that, but their lack of military knowledge suited me, as Panait and his men had more reason to recognize my value. Delia took good care of me – she knew what would have happened to her, waiting for ransom. Capturing a Mester’s caravan was always a robbers’ dream, both for the rich merchandise and for the money the Merchants Guild would pay for its captured Mesters. Like a spoiled child, I received the best pieces of food, and some men smiled – it was both embarrassing and pleasant.
“Piss on them,” Panait patted my shoulder. “They are worth less than the food they are eating.” There was some anemic laughter, and I had to smile too, still unfamiliar with the merchants’ humor. As I found out later, Panait was a subtle man, able to talk and amuse everybody from stable-boys to Seigneurs, and that evening he was in good form, telling many stories and jokes.
After eating, I set watches, and Delia took me aside, asking me to forgive Panait if his words had upset me; he was just hiding his grief, acting to keep morale up. “We lost eleven people,” she said sorrowfully. “And in caravans we all are more or less relatives.”
During the days, I rode at some height, in parallel with the road, to catch any movement back and in front with my spyglass – our best defense was to foresee. A lonely protector has a dangerous life, and losing a third of its men, the caravan was moving slower than usual – without coachmen, some wagons were tied to the still manned ones. Robbers attacked us twice, but already aware, I ambushed them with my bow, hidden in the forest, and the caravan went on safely with no more casualties. It was a much better strategy than my first attack.
In Arad, I spent two days in Panait’s house, until the smaller caravan, Iaru’s, left for Dorna. Two other protectors were hired, and I proudly commanded them as Lead Protector. Nothing happened, and I returned to Arad, to Panait and Delia – there was no other place I could stay apart of the inns in the city.
In my last day, Delia filled my backpack with food, and she was now trying to add a small box that intrigued me – a faint smell of cakes made me smile.
“Let him go, Delia,” Panait said amused. “He looks like a child, but he is not a child. Well, not in the sense that you are spoiling him,” he laughed this time, and she menaced him with the small box in her hand. “I have not yet the guts to send another caravan in mid-year. Our next one moves in autumn, and I will not leave without you,” he patted my shoulder.
Delia found a way to arrange the box, and I was free to leave south to find Nasaud, the place my tutor mentioned to me.
Chapter 7 - Codrin
In the middle of a warm day, the forest is usually quiet. A bird may sing here or there, in short outbursts, but the loneliness and the landscape’s beauty invite daydreaming. For a lone traveler it could be the last dream, if he cannot ignore pleasant distractions. Sinuous, the road passed through some small mountains, and watching the road, I gave the horse its head.
“From the other side of the mountains you can see Severin,” Panait had told me before I left Arad. “But don’t expect a large city like ours,” he bragged. “S’Arad is the most powerful Seigneur after the Dukes in the north,” he added, just to give me a hint about the local hierarchy.
Usually, a Seigneur’s name was derived from his main city, so Orban S’Arad was the Seigneur of Arad, and the name of his house was S’Arad House. The prefix S was just an acronym for Seigneur, or Signora for ladies. There were exceptions too; when the name of city ended with the letter ‘a’ the S was left off and the suffix ‘n’ was added, for a reason that was long lost. The Seigneur of Dorna was Dornan. My knowledge of the region was slowly expanding. Hateg, Arad, Midia, Dorna… now I am adding the road to another city. Maps are useful for a caravan’s protector, and slowly I drew one for each road linking important cities.
A clap of thunder scared Zor, and scattered birds left the trees around. It was close. A horse neighed not far away from me, and I rose in the saddle – horses usually do not move alone. Occasional droplets hit the road, leaving small craters in the dust, but the rain did not come. Another curve revealed movement between the trees on a small meadow inside the forest, and I left the road, approaching cautiously, hidden by some bushes. Six soldiers… Well-armed and trained. From their horses and weapons, they were elite fighters, nothing like the caravan raiders I had met before – only the old man was a real swordsman. There was a curious thing that bothered me: none of them had any heraldic insignia. Assassins? No, they are not that good, I calmed myself, and suppressed a sudden impulse to run. There are always ways to estimate the value of a fighter from his gear and stance.
Fifty steps from me, half-hidden, one of them was holding a bunch of horses; the other five gathered around a woman wrestling on the ground. Assassins kill, they don’t rape… I tried to convince myself again that they were not that dangerous, thinking that I should help the woman. The image of my sister came to my mind, and I shook my head in pain. There was no way the woman could escape, yet she was not crying, just trying in vain to free herself. She fights well though… The men were laughing and playing by letting her body free for a moment, just to put it down the next; they could have immobilized her in a moment for all her effort and fighting skills. Six men… Too many. In that moment, she let out a cry of despair. Six men, I feared again, undecided if I could help. I should not make the same mistake... One horse moved between the watching man and the group. Annoyed that he was being left out, and now losing sight of the show too, he stepped forward. My arrow pierced the man’s neck, and he fell with almost no sound. The horses tr
otted away. Don’t neigh… Laughing, and busy trying to undress the woman, the five thugs had observed nothing. Uneasy, and ruled by their herd instinct, the horses moved closer to the group, hiding the fallen man. Five men… Better suited to fighting alone against many, I took Tudor’s Assassin’s swords with me, keeping the bow too, and followed the horses, just thirty steps away from the group. Just five men, I tried to encourage myself. Dressed in expensive clothes over his armor, the leader kneeled in front of the woman, who was held tightly by the other four. The leader… You kill the leader, you are half way to victory, I remembered Tudor’s words. I aimed carefully; he had just raised the lower part of his ring-mail, his neck and head hidden behind the man restraining the woman’s right leg. My arrow pierced his buttocks, the only visible, naked part of his body from where I stood. The mind has a morbid penchant for details in dangerous times, maybe just because even the smallest element can be lifesaving. The arrow passed from one side to another, and his lower back looked like an impaled apricot. With a strident wail, he fell, pushing away the man on his left. Stunned for some moments, they allowed me to release three arrows, in swift succession, into their legs. For the face or neck, you need quality aim. I did not have that time, their bodies were covered by ring-mail, and I was afraid of hitting the woman by ricochet. The one still unharmed, jumped toward me, unsheathing his sword. He tried to split me in two with one strong, vertical cut, a raw move I did not expect from an elite fighter, maybe just because he underestimated the youngster he faced. Tudor taught me that the easiest way to overcome an enemy is to let him defeat himself, so I ducked, and he went down on all four from his own inertia. My long sword fell on his neck like in a mundane execution. The other three moved in an almost normal succession of steps, trying to encircle me – hardened fighters, the wounds on their legs were not incapacitating them. The woman sprang up suddenly, hitting one’s leg with her own, and he tumbled to the ground. There was an elegant efficiency in her movement, and she was now crouched, a dagger balanced in her hand, ready for everything.
“Bitch!” the soldier growled and stood up fast, turning to her, then changed his mind coming toward me, late enough to make my fight easier. “I’ll deal with you later,” he said to the woman over his shoulder. Our swords sang loudly in short staccato, and another thug fell a moment later.
Only three left. She really helped.
In that moment, for whatever reason, the woman chose to run toward some bushes inside the forest.
Kneeling again, now for a very different reason, the one with the arrow in his buttocks finally broke its triangular iron point, and was now trying to take the wooden shaft out of his body. Tough man. I ignored him; he was too busy to be a threat.
Stepping back fast, I forced the two thugs still able to fight to follow me, then I fully disengaged, running around, counting on their weaker legs, until one of them was between the other and me. I ducked his blow, and cut his face with a swift cross cut, on the run. The last standing one turned toward the horses, trying to escape. Scared by his jerky movement, the horses moved away from him. Mistake. Before I could catch him from behind, an arrow put him down. I jumped aside, glancing back, ready for anything. Kneeling on the ground, the woman had a bow in her hands, and seemed accustomed to using it – her arrow pierced the neck of the running man. With the leader, I played the same game they had played with the woman, allowing him for a moment the impression that he could escape. He did not.
I half-kneeled beside the woman; she was breathing hard, still trying to understand what had happened. I had a habit of leaning my sword on the knee that was not on the ground, and accidentally my blade touched her body. She stared at me, her eyes widening.
“No fear,” I said one of the few phrases I knew in Frankis. “No fear,” I repeated after a while, as my first words did not calm her.
In silence, her nostrils were flaring, and still unable to speak, she pushed my blade away with a stiff hand.
“Sorry,” I suddenly realized, and put the sword on the ground, raising my empty hands in front of her. That improved the situation. With a thin smile, I slowly pulled her until she was finally standing. In the silence that followed, I stared at her, unable to speak; her beauty erased any trace of Frankis from my mind.
“Thank you,” she said, stepping back, measuring me with curious eyes, her face already composed, as if she had the strength to erase every bad memory from her mind.
Beautiful... The most beautiful woman I ever saw. She will not bite if I speak wrongly. “Codrin,” I patted my chest. Very impressive speech. “You?” I pointed with my finger toward her. You must be surprised by my fluency.
She slapped me with surprising force, pushing my body into Zor, already staying behind me – a habit from his training. He moved unsteadily, prancing on the ground. Stupid woman! I just want to know your name. If I wanted something else… I had never hit a woman, but there was also a look in her eyes telling me that she was genuinely angry, frightened and determined for I did not know what, and all those feelings enhanced in a strange way the gracious contours of her face.
Easy... She must be in shock. Let’s try again. “I am Codrin,” I finally found the right Frankis words. The slap worked well… “Who are you?” I pointed again toward her with my finger. Realizing too late that twice I had given her my real name, I cursed loudly at my own stupidity. Spoken in Arenian, by habit, the curse had no influence on her.
A flurry of feelings reflected again on her face, then she smiled coyly, staring at me. Is she stupid? Her hand moved slowly to my face – and again I forced myself to stay still – until touching the same part that she slapped before. I had to recognize that I was totally aghast, my experience with women was close to zero, and anyway there was nothing usual in her behavior or mine. In another surprising move, she grabbed my hand, arranging my fingers until I was pointing at her with two of them. What’s wrong with one?
“I am Jara. Sorry. You are so young. Never…” A mumble of completely unintelligible words followed.
“I don’t understand,” it was my turn to mumble something.
“Never … one finger … woman.” She spoke slowly this time, and the four words I understood made me guess that it was more than rude to point with one finger at a woman.
If you say so. “All right,” I shrugged. “Horse,” I pointed with one finger, and she burst into laughter. It must be wrong with the horse too. What could the link be between a woman and a horse?
Annoyed, I ignored her and went to the thugs’ dead leader. She grabbed her bow from the grass and followed me. I glanced curiously at her feline movement. Catching my eyes, she just shrugged. I turned his body face up; everything about him suggested he was a Seigneur, yet I did not know him – nothing unusual for a stranger like me. There was no reaction on Jara’s face either, just a deep gaze, as if trying to anchor his hated face in her memory. He is dead… I shook my head, and stared again at his body. The armor… My ring-mail was now too small, and the cuts on the laterals were endangering me. He was almost as tall as me, with a larger frame. I will fill it in a year or two. It was not easy to take off his armor, but it was worth the effort. A heavy purse followed, his heraldic ring that could help to identify him later, then I saw the necklace with a small medallion. Tomis, I instantly recognized the place where it was made. Really far from here. Tomis was east of Arenia, but there is no other place in the world able to beat them in crafting gold and gems.
Jara reacted strangely after seeing the medallion. Her eyes widened, yet I did not see greed in their sparking eyeballs, just sadness and grief. Uncontrolled, her hand moved, stopping just before grabbing it from my hand. She froze instantly, then her hand recoiled, her lips moving with no sound.
It must be a sad story… I guessed. “Jara,” I said gently and offered the medallion.
There were tears in her eyes when she took it from my hand. “Thank you,” she said. I understood nothing from the torrent of words that followed.
In silence,
I pointed to the bodies, and she nodded. One by one, we carried them toward a deep ravine, fifty steps deep, inside the forest and threw them there. That man was a Seigneur at least, and his people could come and follow us. You will be in danger, I glanced at her, supposing that she was living nearby. I looked for their horses, but they were all gone; the smell of blood had frightened them off. There was nothing left to show that death had visited the place, apart from some dark spots of blood on the ground. They will vanish with the first rain. Hidden hoof-beats came to us from nearby, and I could not know who those horses belonged to. Time to leave. Fast. Instinctively, I grabbed Jara and raised her onto my horse’s back. She stiffened, but I escaped unharmed. I was lucky. She swiftly passed one leg to the other side of the horse. You are a rider, I realized and jumped in the saddle, passing the halter over her head. “Where?” I asked.
“That way,” she pointed toward a small path into the forest, then another rain of unintelligible words followed. There was no need for more, and I pushed the horse into a gallop. After a while, she realized that I could not understand and fell silent.
My mind became suddenly free, and realized that I was holding a woman in my arms. It had never happened before. What if…? I slowly relaxed the halter until my arms tightened on the sides of her waist. If she felt something, she did not react, and anyway it was a stupid idea; there was nothing to feel through my ring-mail. I hope I did not harm her. The horse thought wrongly that I wanted more speed and moved faster. I tried to slow it down, pulling the halter back, and my hands touched her breast. I let them down fast and hit her thighs. I recoiled again. Confused by my hieratic moves, Zor pranced nervously and I almost fell from the saddle, while her laughter filled the forest. The rain started a moment later, and I hoped it could bring some cooling into my head. A minute later, another horse appeared, riding in parallel with us, and Jara stopped me. The mare came to her and she mounted fast, pushing the horse to a gallop, leading the way.
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