They slept a long time, making up for busy nights. In the morning they mounted and headed south. Vince had a skill few rogues bothered with. He knew how to read and understand a map, crude as most of them were. He had studied a map in the Temple of Grasilos, God of Knowledge and Learning. A priest of Grasilos had once explained to him what a map was and how it could help a traveler. Now he knew to go south a day then turn east.
They stopped every few hours to rest and to give Ben and Polly some basic sword training. Polly’s muscles weren’t very well developed and she struggled with the instruction, but didn’t complain. Betsy and Horace took the opportunity to practice their skills too. Rain began in the late afternoon, and they took shelter under a large rock ledge hanging over the trail. The horses, unsaddled, had to stay in the rain, but the riders were dry and comfortable.
The rain continued the next morning, and they decided to stay put and keep dry. Vince looked at Ben and Polly, sighed, and cleared his throat.
“I think I should tell you about me,” he began. “The others know my history, but you shouldn’t join our band without knowing who I am, and what I’ve done. I’ve hinted at some of it, but you should know it all. If you decide not to stay with us after you hear my story, I’ll understand.
“I started out like Ben, but taller, a sixteen-year-old farm boy who wanted adventure. This was almost twenty years ago. A bunch of tough guys rode up to my folks’ farm one day and I stared at ’em in awe. I knew they were adventurers, rogues, wild men of the road, dangerous thieves, rapists, killers, breakers of all of society’s laws. I so wanted to join ’em.
“The leader spoke in a rough voice, ‘What are you lookin’ at, boy?’ He was worth lookin’ at. His beard was immense, covering most of his face, with twigs and feathers poking out from the edges. His trip through the forest had obviously not included any detours. His body was covered in what he considered to be armor, even though the metal bits were only marginally connected enough to protect him. His seven companions resembled him in effect, if not in detail. They all stank vilely.
“‘You, sir,’ I told him.
“‘Never seen a tough man before? Don’t rogues ever come this way, boy? This farm ain’t that far from Milom. There’s regular trade routes in this valley and the next. Trade routes attract rogues and other low lifes like offal attracts rats. How did you git so big without ever seein’ one of us?’
“‘Most rogues stopped at Old Peter’s house, closer to the road down there. But it burned down last fall, and now our farm’s the closest. My folks would’ve made me go inside if they were here, but they went to the market in Milom today. Could I join you? I’ve heard about rogues, and I’d like to be one.’
“‘Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!’
“I wasn’t used to bein’ laughed at. The other boys and young men in the village didn’t always like me, but they never taunted me or told me what they really thought of me. I beat one older boy badly for calling me a thief. It may have been true, but I didn’t like it anyway. But no one had ever laughed at me.
“I grabbed the rider who had moved nearest to me and pulled him from his saddle. The man landed with a grunt and jumped up, sword in hand. Before he could swing the sword, I had punched him in the face and knocked him down again. The man tried to get up, but I put my foot on the man’s chest and pushed him back.
“‘Give it up, Joel,’ said the first rider. ‘This kid is tough. He ain’t afraid of your sword, and he don’t care how good you are with it. Maybe we can use him. Put up your sword so we can talk to him friendly-like. Back off, kid; let’s have a little chat.’
“The men dismounted and let their horses graze on the grass along the road. I sat down with my back to the fence in front of our house, with the rogues in a half circle around me. The man with the big beard looked me over, much like a man buying a calf for fattening, it seemed to me.
“‘My name is Garrett,’ he said. ‘These are Joel, Wayne, Max, Tom, Seth, Clem, and Raul. We’re tough; we can beat most opponents of any sort if it’s an even fight, and sometimes if it ain’t. We’re rough; no one invites us to parties; we have no social skills worth namin’. We have no regard for anyone else’s rights to anything’, property, person, life, anythin’. We take what we want, when we want it, and we don’t feel bad about doin’ that. Well, boys, have I described us well enough for the lad?’
“‘You left out how we live on the road year round,’ added Clem. “‘Ain’t had a nice soft bed in thirteen months, by my reckonin’.’
“‘Not any baths, either, by the smell of you,’ I observed. ‘That ain’t a big deal. We raise pigs among other animals. Pig farmers ain’t too fussy about smells. And I’ve stolen stuff myself. Maybe not on the scale a rogue would, but I’ve taken chickens from the neighbors to feed the family, and helped a few coins disappear from a shop when the owner wasn’t lookin’. Necessity, but that’s what you say, too, ain’t it?’
“‘Chicken thief is rather an insult among rogues,’ warned Garrett, ‘but you wouldn’t know that, I reckon. Wanderers steal chickens, and anything else that ain’t nailed down. We prefer to take things that are worth some real money. However, I’ll consider that a point in your favor; stealin’ small is still stealin’.
“‘How good are you with weapons? Ever used a sword? A heavy club? A bow or sling? Your challenge of Joel shows you’ve got spirit and courage. You’ll need those if you come with us. Can you fight with something other than your fists?’
“‘Well, I’ve used a big club, and a quarterstaff. I won’t lie and tell you I’m good with ’em, but that’s because I don’t have much practice with ’em. I can use an axe well enough, I guess. I use one to chop firewood, and choppin’ people can’t be much different.’
“‘It is, boy,’ Seth commented, ‘but choppin’ wood at least lets you learn the balance of an axe. The rest is just trainin’ and practice. Trouble is, we don’t have anyone to teach you axe fightin’. We all use swords. And shields. Ever use a shield?’
“‘Um, no,’ I said glumly. ‘I guess I ain’t stackin’ up like a good recruit, am I?’
“‘You haven’t talked yourself out of the job yet,’ Garrett told me. ‘One more question to settle the matter. Do you know of a man named Skinny Raymond, or a place called the Green Mill? We’re tryin’ to find him, or it. He stole some valuables from a baron who’s busy with a small war and can’t go chasin’ after the loot himself. We can make a lot of money if we catch Raymond, but we ain’t got a clue right now.’
“‘Don’t know anyone named Raymond, skinny or fat, but I do know where the Green Mill is. Well, sort of ‘is.’ The stream that ran it shifted course after an earthquake ten years ago, and the mill was abandoned as useless. The earthquake damaged it, too, and it’s mostly fallen down now. The paint has flaked off so it ain’t very green, either. But I know where the ruins are. If I show you, will you let me join you?’
“‘Well, boys, do we need him?’ asked Garrett.
“‘No, we don’t need him particularly, but an extra sword arm is always welcome,’ remarked Joel. ‘And the boy has guts. I’d like to train him and see what he can do. I don’t mind admittin’ I’d like to get somethin’ back at him for the way he treated me. And if I can’t, then he really belongs with us.’
“None of the others offered any objections, except Clem. ‘Does he get a share in this job? He’s goin’ to help us, but our shares ain’t goin’ to be so big we can afford to give this kid much just for showin’ us the way.’
“‘Fair enough, Clem,’ agreed Garrett. ‘A lot of money is what I told the kid, but split eight ways it’s not so much. Split nine ways, it’s even less. I tell you what, kid... say, what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you ‘kid’ if you’re comin’ with us.’
“‘My name is Vince.’
“‘Okay, Vince, here’s what I’ll offer you. You can come with us as a full member of the gang. Joel and the others will teach you to use a sword and shield. You ain’t gettin’ a share of the payout for this job, but I’ll give you Skinny Raymond’s horse, sword, and shield. And any other gear he has that’s not worth sellin’. That’s going to be worth almost what we’ll get each for our shares. Is that a deal?’
“‘Wow! Yeah! I like that a lot. Get mounted and follow me. It’s about three miles off this way.’
***
“Six months later, leaner, tanner, stronger from exercise and hard work, I had some coins in my pouch and was a decent swordsman. Most rogues had some cash, but not all were any good with weapons. Some counted on intimidating their victims by waving a weapon around and making scary noises. That worked on peasants and some others, but if it didn’t work the rogue was in trouble.
“I made sure I could fight well if I had to, and Joel taught me well. He did get a lot back at me, but we wound up good friends as I learned more. I eventually got to be more than just a decent fighter. Practice does that and I was always workin’ on my skills.
“I was sorry to see Joel die so stupidly. It was the usual thing among rogues, what we called the rutting season among deer. Too many men trying to be too tough, and no women to satisfy their urges and drain off their frustration. In a town with brothels, the whores took care of the problem. On the road, especially after a few weeks, the tension and hostility was unbearable.
“Joel didn’t even do anything terrible. He tripped over Wayne’s feet. But they were both in bad moods from lack of female contact. Wayne jumped up and grabbed his knife, cursing Joel for bein’ a clumsy oaf. Joel drew his sword, raising the stakes quite a bit. Wayne wasn’t that good a fighter, and Joel was, but Wayne was quick. He pushed Joel’s sword to one side with his left arm and stuck his knife in Joel’s chest. Joel dropped, with a surprised look on his face.
“It wasn’t always a simple bit of clumsiness. Sometimes men argued about ‘that redhead in the last town that you spent too much time with, keepin’ me from enjoyin’ her.’ Sometimes they argued even more foolishly over the supposed ‘really nice’ blonde in the next town, a place we had no name for yet. Some of the fights ended in someone getting killed. Some ended with nothing more than hard feelings, but that could tear the gang apart just as easily as death.
“One gang I was in lost half its men in half a year, killed, crippled, or driven off. I left at that point, afraid someone would start something with me. Usually they didn’t because they knew I was good with a sword, but in the rutting mood anyone can be a target. And bein’ good with a sword hadn’t helped Joel. Moving to a new gang seemed the safe choice then, but of course it just meant I was in some other bunch of wild men.
“This went on for several years, the same routine. Join a gang, watch the men fight each other over nothing at all, move on to another gang. I liked the life and the money, but the constant internal bickering and actual slaughter really got me down. Then I joined Whitey’s gang.
“Six men, all tough, as undisciplined as any I’d ever met, but I hadn’t expected anything better. We made money, sometimes robbing, sometimes huntin’ thieves. We were rogues and didn’t care. I certainly didn’t mind how we got rich. Until we kidnapped the girl.
“She was the young, barely teen-aged daughter of some rich merchant. I never knew her name. Why would we ask that? We kidnap her, her father pays a fat ransom, we return her. Why care what her name was? But that wasn’t the way it worked out.
“The ransom was delayed for some reason. Naturally, we didn’t talk to the father face to face. We left a note demanding a ransom to be left in a hollow log. It never appeared, or the father found another hollow log, we didn’t know. But after four days we hadn’t been paid. And the rut was already starting. Whitey, who should’ve kept the rest of us under control, broke first.
“He cursed the merchant for not paying the ransom and said he’d show him what happens to those who don’t pay. I got worried about that. He went up to the girl, ripped her clothes off, and raped her. I tried to stop him, but the other men jumped me and tied me up. They made me watch as they took turns raping her and laughing about it.
“The worst was still to come. When the last man got off her limp body, she rolled over weakly and reached into some guy’s gear. Her hand found a big knife and she plunged it into her chest. I gasped in shock. Seeing her bein’ raped was bad enough, watching her kill herself from shame was even worse. The others laughed at that, and mocked me for not getting my turn. They untied me then, and laughed some more.
“I grabbed my sword and slashed at the man who had untied me, almost severing his head. Two more dropped before they fully realized I was attacking ’em. The other three tried to defend themselves, but I was in a blind, blood rage. The God of War would’ve had a hard time with me then. I killed ’em all, and looked for more to kill. The rage finally passed, and I fell limp to the ground.
“When I regained my strength, I picked up the girl’s body, removed the knife from her chest, and brought her to the stream we had camped alongside. I washed the blood and other stains from her body, and made it as presentable as I could. She was short, and I’m tall, so one of my tunics worked as a dress for her. I washed it as clean as I could and put it on her.
“I took all the loot we had, the horses and saddles, the weapons, all the gear they had that was worth selling, and brought it all, with her body, to her father in town. I apologized for not saving his daughter, and offered everything I had brought as a weregild. Then I left before he could have me arrested. I’ve never gone back there.
Vince’s voice dropped almost to a whisper.
“I wandered. I was lost, dead, unable to handle the girl’s suicide, and the part I had played in it. Sure, I hadn’t raped her, but I had helped kidnap her. That led to her rape and that led to her killing herself. I was guilty. Maybe not as much as the others, but I was partly responsible. I couldn’t chase the awful scenes from my mind, couldn’t sleep properly, couldn’t look at any girl, of any age, in a town without thinking of what I had helped to cause.
“I finally wound up at a Temple of Death. I told the priests everything that had occurred, holding nothing back, making no excuses for myself. They sometimes offer some sort of forgiveness for killing and causing death. Death is a jealous God and does not like it when others do His work without His approval. The priests gave me only a partial pardon. They said that Death may have sent that rage to let me kill the men who had raped the girl. That, they were certain, was a legitimate killing. But I was still to blame, in part, for the kidnapping, and the consequences, including the rape and suicide. They could not offer forgiveness for that.
“I was with ’em for a week, two weeks, a long time. Then they took me to another, smaller, Temple. This was the Temple of Palliarna, Goddess of Mercy. They explained that Palliarna was Death’s sister, His partner in relieving the pains of old age and illness. The priestess there helped me deal with my guilt over the girl. She explained to me that the girl most likely chose death over the shame of having been raped, that she saw it as a mercy to die rather than to live in shame.
“She pointedly told me that this was no excuse for me, nor did it relieve me of my guilt. I would have to work out a penance for that on my own. Only the dead girl could forgive me, and, bein’ dead, she couldn’t. I would have to live with the guilt and try to purge it as best I could. She offered me no solace or clemency but I still felt better for having been honest with the Gods.
“That’s who I am, a man haunted by a dead girl I didn’t kill, but didn’t save either. There were times in the past when I wasn’t a good person. Maybe not evil, but certainly not good. I don’t claim to be good now, but I’ve moved toward bein’ good to make up for that past. You have to decide if you want to be around someone like me.”
“Now I understand why you rescued me,” whispered Polly in a small voice, hugging Fearless to her chest. “I’ve never heard so awful a story in my life. I’ve really been sheltered from the world, I guess. But you didn’t intend to harm her. Why should you feel so guilty?”
“Everything we do has consequences. Sometimes we can see ’em coming, sometimes not. I didn’t see this coming, but I should’ve considered it a possibility. I was with a rough gang that didn’t care about anything. Law, morality, decency, these were just words to us. Us. I was like them, then. That’s my guilt. I had never complained before about anything we had done. I had approved of it all, and how could this be different?”
“But you ain’t that way now,” said Ben. “You’ve been extremely protective about Polly. You said you wanted to kill all the men who kidnapped her. You’ve changed.”
“Yes, I have, but the guilt is still there. Remember what I said the other day about revenge eatin’ away at you? Guilt does the same thing. I can forgive an enemy whom I hate; I can decide not to take revenge on him. I can’t forgive my own guilt. Only that dead girl can do that. It’s my problem, not yours. I have to live with the pain and guilt, but you don’t, even if you stay in the band. I keep it private.”
“So, how did you start this band, then?” asked Polly, trying to turn the subject to something less horrifying.
“I was at the Temple of Palliarna for another couple of weeks or so, then I went wanderin’, thinkin’ about my life. I liked the rovin’ rogue life, but I had more and more problems living with the infighting, the disregard for other people and the harm we did ’em, the selfishness of living only for myself. I went to Temples everywhere, all the major Gods, Commerce, Knowledge, War, Justice, Mercy, Death of course. I tried to learn what the world was like, and how I might fit into it.
“I wandered for a couple of years or more. I worked odd jobs as a caravan guard, or chased small bands of bandits. I couldn’t handle too big a gang on my own; even a skilled fighter has his limits. But I was good enough to beat the usual riff-raff of banditry, even three or four if they weren’t good, and most weren’t. I came to feel good about takin’ out the nastier sort of rogues, like I was makin’ the world safer for young girls. Well, that was just my pride fantasizing. But I could make a living doin’ that, and it really did help others.
“I wound up in Ongar just in time for the rogues’ tournament. The prize for best swordsman was big that year, and I was runnin’ low on cash. I figured I’d have an easy victory and a full pouch again. The prize is only the obvious pull for fighters. There’s also a lot to made from bettin’ on the fights. Some don’t fight, they just bet. I had to do both to make a good pile of money.
“I had so little cash I could only bet on my fights one at a time. I was just another rogue to the bookies, and they didn’t rate me very high. I got great odds on my first fight. I could’ve had those odds all the way through the tournament if I could’ve put the money down for all those bets. But I had to win a fight to get the money for the next bet, and every win changed the odds.
“It didn’t matter, I was filling my pouch with every victory. I wasn’t worried about my competition because most rogues ain’t really very good fighters. They get just a few days of trainin’ with sword and shield, enough to survive a fight with scared peasants or outnumbered caravan guards. Against a properly trained fighter, they haven’t a chance. And I had been trained for a month by Joel. That wasn’t really enough either, but I had taught myself a lot, too.
“Win a fight, pocket the winnings, make another bet. It was a good couple of days. I had had long odds the first few fights and made a lot. Later, my successes shortened the odds on me, but not that much. I went into the last fight hopin’ to clean up. But I didn’t bet everything on myself. I needed money and if I didn’t get the prize I’d have nothing. So I only bet half of my winnings. I was feeling good about the outcome, though. I was facin’ a woman. How hard could this be?
“The woman, of course, was Jenny. My most embarrassing fight ever. Jenny will tell you all about it. Not that there’s much to tell. It was over in a flash.”