On the road they talked casually, commenting on the beauty of the hilly country, or the ferocity of the early season flies. Horace pulled his horse next to Polly’s and asked her something that had been bothering him for two days.
“While the rest of you was trying to find the hidden trap door, Ah walked around your house. We don’t see the inside of many rich people’s houses, because we generally don’t burgle. It was nice to look at, even with just a little candle, and Ah figure some of the statues in the rooms must have been valuable. But there was something in one room Ah couldn’t figure out. It was a pool table, almost the same as Ah’ve seen in taverns. It’s not something Ah expected to see in a wealthy man’s house. What was it doing there?”
“Oh, that’s a billiard table, not a pool table,” Polly explained with a laugh. “I don’t mean to laugh at you, but it’s a different game. Barnabas told me once that only rich people play billiards, poor people play pool. There are some differences he said, but I don’t remember them because we never played pool. You need to have a separate room for the table because of its size, and even a lot of merchants can’t spare the space. Barnabas bought that several years ago to show everyone how rich he was. He was vain that way. But it was all right, because he played billiards with me. Another of the few things we shared.”
“Ah’ve played pool a few times. You take one of those cue sticks, and tap one of the balls, trying to make it hit another ball and knock it into a hole in the corner.”
“Billiards doesn’t have holes in the table,” said Polly. “You try to knock the other player’s cue ball with a red ball. The rules are different, but Barnabas said the technique was pretty much the same. It takes a lot of practice to become good. You have to hit the ball just right to make it roll where you want. I had nothing to do all day. Rich people’s curse. So I practiced a lot. It was nice to be able to beat Barnabas at something.”
“Look, Vince is giving us a break again. Find a stick and show me exactly what you did. Ah want to see how you strike the ball.”
They dismounted and Polly looked over the debris on the forest floor. She finally found a long thin sapling, broken off by some large passing animal. She asked Horace to trim the small branches off. Then she held it in her hands, the narrow end resting loosely in her left, and the broad end gripped by her right hand.
“See, I hold the cue like this. The left hand just supports the cue and my fingers can help aim the tip. The right hand pushes it forward, a swift jab at the right spot on the ball. Sometimes hard, sometimes soft, depending on what you need to do. It’s hard to explain without a table and balls.”
“No, I git it. It’s just the same as pool. This is wonderful. Vince, come over here! Polly’s gonna use a spear for us!”
“I’m going to do what?” asked Polly, perplexed.
“A spear? Really, Horace?” asked Vince. “What makes you think she can handle a spear? And who’s going to train her? None of us knows much about spears.”
“She plays billiards. There was a big table in her house. It’s almost the same as pool, Vince. And she’s used to poking a small ball with a long stick. Show him how you do it, Polly.
“Look at that motion,” Horace pointed out. “ Ah used to be in a gang with Toothpick Sam years ago. He used a spear, and that was the way he used it. His left hand just held the point up, he moved his feet a little, shifting where the tip was aimed at, and his right hand drove it in with a strong jab. Same thing she’s doing.”
“Yeah, I see it now, Horace,” agreed Vince. “Let’s test her now. Jenny, Betsy, make a shield wall. Horace, you get behind ’em. Ben, come here and stand next to me. Shield up like this. Polly, take that stick and stand behind us. Let it stick out in front of us a bit. We’re going to walk over toward the others. When we get close to ’em, I want you to try to poke Horace, hiding behind their line. Understand?”
“Um, yeah, I guess so,” Polly said, dubiously.
They advanced on the other line slowly. When they were two feet from the others, Vince ordered, “Poke now, Polly.” She poked and caught Horace in the middle of his chest. The tip of her stick had slid between Jenny’s and Betsy’s shields and Horace couldn’t see it coming in soon enough to block it.
“Did I do it right? Did I hit you too hard, Horace? Was that good?”
“Polly, you’re a wonder all right,” Horace declared. “That was perfect. It was not too hard. A bit too light, maybe, but you’ll get stronger. I knew it was coming but not when, and I couldn’t see it until it was there.”
“You want her behind our line, doing this all the time?” asked Jenny.
“How many gangs use spearmen?” countered Vince. “She should still learn sword work. A spearman needs a backup weapon. But it’ll add something to our attacks that may give others a hard time.”
“Who’s going to teach her?” asked Betsy. “None of us knows how to use a spear. Horace has seen someone use one, but that’s not enough. I’ve seen Horace use his big axe for years now, and I can’t use it.”
“Right you are, love,” Horace remarked. “But there are people who kin teach her. Toothpick Sam, for one. He was very good with a spear, and he lives in Clun now. Do you remember my going off one evening a few months ago when we was going north? I had run into Sam and went to visit him and talk about old times. He’s retired now, but still in shape. There’s another reason, too, to go to Clun instead of Barnsley. Nine-fingered Knut lives there.”
“Oooh, yes!” exclaimed Vince and Jenny at the same time.
“Who’s he?” asked Ben and Polly at the same time.
“Nine-fingered Knut is the greatest maker of mail in the duchy, if not all of the east,” said Vince. “His mail is made with tiny rings, riveted so they don’t come apart. The rings are so small you can’t believe anyone could rivet ’em, but he does. The grand duke has a vest of Knut’s mail under his fancy clothes. Wears it all the time. He’s old and nice, for a duke, but he still worries about assassins.
“Lots of people don’t like Knut’s mail, which just proves how stupid some people can be. They want mail that looks big and heavy and able to withstand any blow. Knut’s mail, they say, looks like gossamer. Too light and delicate to be of any use. Idiots!”
“What’s gossamer?” asked Ben.
“Did you ever see a woman with a really thin veil on her head?” asked Betsy. “Sometimes a guy doesn’t like having other men looking at his wife, so he tells her to wear a veil. She does, but it’s almost sheer, see through. That’s a gossamer veil. One that looks the part, but is too thin to do anything.”
“Right,” added Vince. “But Knut’s mail is strong as you could want. If people realized how good it is, he’d be rich and retired by now. But the fools that most fighters are won’t buy his stuff. Especially at his prices. He charges what his mail is worth, so it’s not cheap. And Horace is right; we need armor, and we have the money to buy the best. We’ll pass through Barnsley and go on to Clun.”
***
It rained hard during the night again and they awoke wet, tired, and grumpy. Their wood was too wet to light, even from Ben’s magic finger. Breakfast was cold sausages and day-old biscuits. Fearless picked his way carefully through the wet grass and returned with a chipmunk. They set off again in a glum mood, but the rain let up by mid-morning. Shortly after that, they saw the Dogleg River up ahead.
“There’s some boats in the river,” noticed Betsy. “I thought you said it was too shallow for boats this far north, Vince.”
“I did, but the spring rains must be keeping it full,” Vince guessed. “Let’s see if those boatmen will take us down river. I’d rather float down to Barnsley than ride.”
“Haloo, boatmen!” cried Horace who had the loudest voice. He was still a couple of hundred yards from the river, but the men in the boats looked like they were about to depart.
“What do you want?” one answered.
“Kin we git a ride down stream to Barnsley?”
There was no immediate reply. The boatmen talked among themselves, looking from time to time at the riders approaching, and then at their boats. By the time Vince’s band had reached the river bank, they seemed to have decided.
“I’m Cedric,” announced the first man. “We don’t usually handle horses in our boats, but we kin take ’em. Passengers ain’t a problem. You’ve got seven horses, we’ve got seven boats, so we kin just do this. You’ll be doin’ us a favor, actually. We had rented these boats out last spring, almost a year ago now, to some people with more money than sense. They wanted to come up here and party, rich folks you know.
“They didn’t pay attention when summer come on and the river dropped. They didn’t care at first, but when they wanted to come back they couldn’t. They wound up walkin’ back. We wanted our boats returned, but the river was too low for us, too, of course. Awfully dry year, last year, couldn’t hardly float a leaf. But with all the rain in the last few weeks, we decided we could get ’em back now. And if you pay us for the ride, we’ll make a bit of profit too.
“With the height of the river and the current runnin’ now, we should get to Barnsley in two days, maybe three. Is that all right with you folks? Good. I’m sorry but we haven’t any cabins for the ladies. And we cain’t give you any meals, either. I almost hate to ask for money under the circumstances, but our wives’ll get mad if we gave you a ride for nothin’.”
“We’ve been riding rough and sleeping in the rain,” Jenny revealed. “Anything that’ll move us farther south to a real town is good. If we gave you five moons apiece if we get there in two days, would that be enough? And we’ve got supplies, so we’ll feed you into the bargain.”
“Well, that’s right neighborly of you, lady. I’m Cedric’s brother Camden, and I’ll take that offer any day.”
***
Late on the third day Cedric and his friends brought their boats to rest along the docks of Barnsley. It took a bit of effort to get the horses out of the boats, but soon the adventurers were ashore and ready to find a decent inn.
After dinner Jenny said, “That boat ride was surely a whole lot more comfortable than going horseback all that way. What about going down to Clun by boat too? We can afford it and it’ll be faster and easier on us.”
“Can we take boats all the way to Ongar?” asked Polly.
“No, this is the Dogleg River, because it has a sharp bend up north,” Vince told her. “It runs into the Hartle River east of here. And the Hartle runs mostly east to the sea. But Ongar is south of here on the Burrit River, which goes south to the sea. From Clun we can go overland to the Burrit River and find boats to get to Ongar on the border of the four duchies.”
“What duchies?” asked Ben. “I don’t know nothin’ about the world, I’m afraid.”
“That’s all right, Ben, you’ll larn quickly,” instructed Horace. “Rogues need to know where they is so’s they’ll know who’s chasing ’em. We’re in the Grand Duchy of Adallo, ruled by our great Grand Duke Gasparillo, who ain’t a bad man for a grand duke. To the south is the Duchy of Phada, ruled by Duke Mittanolo, not as old as Gasparillo, nor hardly as nice. Southeast of Adallo, east of Phada, is the Duchy of Irith, ruled by Duke Dismerana. He helps Grand Duke Gasparillo organize the tournament, and they both make money from the fair, because Ongar is on the river and the river is the border there.
“North of Irith is the Duchy of Ilo, ruled by Duke Sonddor. His nobles come to the tournament, and his people come to the fair, but he don’t care about either. He’s happy Grand Duke Gasparillo is old and not aggressive because he’s got a whole lot of other neighbors who would like to take over his lands. And that’s all you need to know about the world now.”
***
“We can get a big boat down to Clun tonight,” Betsy announced the next day. “Three days travel time, they make a lot of stops along the way. But they have a gangplank for loading and unloading the horses. Ten moons each but they have a big cabin we can all share, and they provide cooked food.”
“That sounds good,” said Ben. “What time do they go?”
“Dusk tonight and we should be on the dock at least by twilight so they have time to get the horses aboard.”
“That’s wonderful,” declared Jenny. “Anyone want to come walking through the market? Maybe we’ll find some bargains.” Horace, Betsy, and Polly went with her.
“I didn’t expect Horace to go with the women, Vince,” said Ben as they ordered beer at an open air pub. “I usta hafta go with ma when she went shoppin’. I hated it, totally borin’. But she needed someone to carry stuff home ’n’ that was my job.”
“Horace loves Betsy. He has for a long time, but Petey’s death and Ellie leaving us shook ’em both up. The fight in the darkened house when we rescued Polly was another reminder that Death is our partner. That’s one reason I want to spend a few months resting and training you and Polly. Those two need a break from danger. We’ll be safe in Clun. We have a few friends there, and no enemies. It’ll be a nice change from bein’ on the road.”
“Do rogues have enemies they gotta worry about? I mean, in the stories Scarnigaro won all of his fights. He killed everyone he fought ’cept for three guys who became his friends ’n’ joined him. Now, I do understand that was a story. But this is the first time you’ve talked about enemies. Do you have any?”
“There’s Amos now, but if he’s smart he’ll forget about losing Polly. There’s no benefit or profit to holding a grudge or lookin’ for vengeance. Other than him, well, of course, there’s Scarface. He seriously wants to kill me.”
“Why? What did you do to him?”
“Nothing actually. But I know how he got the nickname ‘Scarface.’ He’s tough, and uses the name to intimidate everyone. People hear ‘Scarface is coming’ and they run and hide. He’s a stone cold killer. He killed two of his own gangs. Not just two guys from his gangs, but the entire gangs, twice. He’s a bully. He takes what he wants and dares the owner to complain. He… he’s standing over there. God damn! He sees me. Get Jenny and the others, quick!”
As Ben ran off into the market, Vince slowly rose from his seat and stepped into the street. He noticed that Scarface was alone at the moment. That’s something in my favor. I might have a chance against just him, but not his whole gang.
Scarface stood in the middle of the street, his sword in his hand, a shield on his left arm. He was tall and broad, with heavily muscled arms. His face was covered in a dense beard, except across his left cheek. A wide white scar cut through the beard, impossible to ignore.
“Vince, you filthy dirt eatin’ animal,” shouted Scarface. “I finally got you. Today is your last day above ground, you worthless sack of shit. I’ll be nice and give you five seconds to pray to whatever God is willin’ to listen to your sorry prayers. All right, time’s up. Get ready to die. Just you and me, one on one. Come on little boy, you can’t kill me from over there.”
“Always the blowhard, aren’t you Scarface. I just wish the man who told me your story had told me what your real name was. I’d love to taunt you with it now. What is it? Chauncey? Percy? Bruce? Oh, that looked like it might have hit close to home! Brucey? Mama’s little Brucey-woocey?”
There was no more time for insults. Scarface rushed at Vince with a great swing of his sword. Vince ducked under the blow and swung at his opponent’s arm. He wasn’t fast enough and missed. He took a step back and swung for Scarface’s shield arm. Missed again, and he suddenly had to parry two fast blows from Scarface. I wish I had my shield, but wishes don’t help.
As they maneuvered around in the street, circling each other, Vince could see two of Scarface’s men coming up, and his own friends coming from the other direction. Two for him, three for me, four if Ben is bold enough. That makes for a better fight if we can win in a hurry.
Scarface struck twice in a tricky move, a downward blow to Vince’s right, followed by a backhand slash. The first attack missed, but the second caught Vince across his right arm, cutting him open from wrist to elbow. Vince dropped to the ground in pain.
Scarface laughed aloud and was about to drive his sword down into Vince’s chest when Jenny suddenly sprang astride Vince’s body, protecting him. Her face was grim and her sword flashed as it knocked Scarface’s away from Vince. Scarface growled “So the itty-bitty bitch comes to save her little boy. You’ll just die, too.”
He backed up a step and swung another double, criss-cross combination blow at her, but she parried both attacks. He tried an overhead blow to split her head open, and she blocked that. He made a wild swing at her middle. She sidestepped that and dropped the point of her sword two inches. A quick thrust up and her sword slid under Scarface’s byrnie, up and into his thigh.
With a great cry of pain, he dropped to the ground near Vince. Blood poured from the large wound in his leg and he fell every time he tried to stand. Jenny looked at him, then saw more of his men coming up. I should finish him off now, but I’ve got to get Vince to safety. We aren’t strong enough to take this whole gang on now.
She backed away from Scarface, and covered Polly and Ben as they helped Vince up and away. Betsy and Horace took places next to her, and they all backed down the street. Fortunately, Scarface’s men seemed to be surprised and worried to see their leader badly wounded. At the first bend in the street, Jenny and the others turned and ran after their friends.
Polly and Ben had brought Vince into a small pub and sat down out of sight of the door. Ben took Vince’s arm in his hands and looked at it for several seconds. Polly watched him pull the wound open to look into it and went pale at seeing all that blood. Then she gulped, shook her head, and steadied herself in time for Ben’s order.
“Polly, see if they got any clean water at the bar. There’s dirt in Vince’s wound ’n’ I want to wash it out.”
A minute later she returned with a bottle.
“No water, but the barman gave me this brandy. He said it’s good for cleaning wounds too. What should I do with it?”
“Pour it into the wound when I open it up, Make sure all the dirt is washed out. Easy, Vince, I know it hurts, but I once saw a healer woman treat my brother when he got cut bad. Wash the wound ’n’ bind it up with herbs. I don’t know what herbs ’n’ we ain’t got any here anyway. But I’ll do what I kin.”
He held Vince’s arm in his hands, pressing the two halves of the wound together. He shut his eyes and held the arm tightly. Jenny sat next to him, but he didn’t notice. Half an hour passed. The barman came over to see what was happening, wiping his hands with a rag. He knew the one man had been badly cut, and his clothes were definitely bloody, but the bleeding had stopped. Finally Ben let go of Vince’s arm and sat back looking exhausted.
Jenny looked at Vince’s arm and saw… nothing. There was no gaping wound. There was no wound at all. There was no scar. Just a normal bare arm. She looked in awe and amazement at Ben, who seemed about to fall over.
“Ben, you healed Vince’s arm,” she whispered softly. “How? How did you..., how could you…? Ben, what have you done now? Who are you? What are you?”
“Vince needed help. He’s always been so nice to me. All of you have been. I had to do somethin’ to help him. Did I stop the bleedin’? He was bleedin’ so badly. I just wanted to help him. Is he all right?”
“Ben, look at Vince’s arm,” ordered Polly. “It’s healed. Completely healed. No sign of a cut. Ben, I’m scared of you, but it’s a good scared.”
“He’s passed out,” stated Betsy. “Whatever he did must have worn him out. I saw it and I can’t believe it. Vince, how do you feel?”
“I’m shocked, stunned. I can’t believe it either. He just held the cut edges of the wound together. I was watchin’ the whole time. After a while it hurt less, then just a little, then not at all. And he still held on and the arm felt strong again. What happened with Scarface? Why didn’t he kill me?”
“I jumped in just in time,” Jenny revealed. “We fought and I gave him a nastier wound to his thigh. I would’ve killed him for you then and there, but his boys were coming up fast. I wanted to get you to safety and I didn’t want to waste time killing him. If I had, we’d have had to fight his whole gang. We might all be dead.”
“Thank you for that, Jenny,” Vince replied. “But now he’ll be after all of us, and you maybe more than me. Where are they now?”
“As we retreated this-a-way, they was taking Scarface the other direction,” said Horace. “Ah went out while Ben was holdin’ your arm, and the street’s full of watchmen now. Scarface’s men won’t hardly be lookin’ for us for a few hours at least.”
“Can we get to our inn without going near ’em?” asked Vince. “And can we get to the boat tonight without ’em seeing us? Can we spread the word that you’re taking me to the healer at Alford? He’s a fraud, but lots of folks believe in him.”
“I’ll take care of that, Vince,” volunteered Polly. “I look less dangerous than the rest of you and people might believe me more easily.”
“Jenny, thank you for wanting to bring this silly kid with us,” confessed Vince. “He wanted to be a wizard, that’s all. My Gods, he is a wizard.”
***
Two hours later Ben opened his eyes and looked around dazed. Polly sat next to him, resting his head in her lap. Her basket was on the table, brought by Betsy, and Fearless was gazing intently at the sleeping Ben. Jenny sat across the table from him, smiling as he woke up. The others were gone. He tried to remember what had happened, but his mind was foggy right now.
“Where’s Vince? What happened? I think Vince has been hurt badly. Have you taken him to a healer? I was tryin’ to help him, but I cain’t recall, it’s all so vague. Is he all right?”
“Ben, darling, you saved Vince!” gushed Polly forcefully. “You healed his arm. Completely. There’s not even a scar. You are so amazing, so wonderful. That was such a great thing to do, Ben. I, I love you.”
She blushed deeply as she said that, and Ben blushed even more deeply. The awkwardness only got more intense.
“Ben, I love you too,” agreed Jenny. “Not the way Polly does, but because you saved my man. That was a serious wound, and might have left him a cripple for life. Even healers might have trouble with a cut like that. A rogue who can’t use a sword is out of a job. We have enough money now that he could retire, but he’d miss the active life he leads now. You heard him talk about that the other day. It would kill him. And you saved him. Thank you, my darling Ben.”
“Where’s Vince? ’N’ the others?” asked Ben. “Why ain’t he here now?”
“He’s gone with Horace and Betsy to our inn,” Jenny explained. “While you were asleep, we made some discreet inquiries and learned that Scarface and his men don’t know where we are or where we’re staying. We’re going to head back to the inn as soon as you wake up, which is now. Just before twilight, we move the horses to the dock for loading onto the boat. Then we get aboard, Vince and I will come last, as dusk settles in and makes spying hard. Let’s go now.”
***
The boat left the dock slowly, laden with horses, passengers, and a lot of cargo, its real purpose. The crew used large poles to push it out into the main current which carried it downstream at a decent pace. Leaving Barnsley at night meant they could arrive at their first stop at dawn, and make two more stops during the day.
Vince and his band were the only passengers, which was fine with them. They didn’t try to deny they were the ones involved in the fight near the market. If a crew member talked about it later, the news would be old, and maybe not even reach Scarface. Vince hid his arm, not wanting to let anyone know he was already healed. Even in a world without magic, someone might guess that only magic could heal him so quickly.
“Stop thankin’ me so much, Vince,” complained Ben. “You’ve said we’re all partners in this band. You’ve all been so good to me, ’n’ I ain’t done so much yet. You didn’t want me along, ’n’ Jenny said ‘Bring him’ ’n’ you agreed. But after that I don’t think you’d have let me leave if I wanted to. You’ve made me a part of your band. I needed to do somethin’ for you. That’s all.”
“But when did you learn to do that?” asked Vince.
“Larn? How could I larn somethin’ like that? Who could teach me? I just thought about the wound bein’ healed up. ’N’ I guess that did it. I don’t know how, though.”
“That is magic, you know. Serious, impossible magic. No one has done that for hundreds of years, that I know of. Kings, dukes, counts suffer horrible wounds, and live as cripples because no one can heal ’em. Ben, we’re all so amazed and impressed by you. We don’t know how to treat you.”
“Treat me the way you treated me last week. Treat me like anyone else in the gang. Treat me like a goofy kid who wants to go adventurin’. Just don’t treat me like a freak. Please.”
“All right, Ben,” laughed Vince. “You’re just an ordinary young rogue, with no fighting skills, who needs training and toughening. Well, maybe not toughening. You’ve kept your head in a couple of tight spots already. I do want to reward you in some way. I need to, Ben, to make us even. All right? So what do you want?”
“I want to know why Scarface wanted to kill you so badly.”
“Yes, I guess you should know that. You too, Polly. As members of my band of rogues you will be in danger because of this, whether you know the story or not. He will assume I have told you, so I will. Jenny, Horace, and Betsy already know. Scarface now has a double reason to kill you, Jenny. He assumes you know this story, and he will want revenge for the wound you gave him.
“Well, Ben, and Polly, a long time ago, before I met Jenny or the rest, I was with a bunch of young kids tryin’ to be adventurers. We roamed about and made just enough to keep from starvin’. Scarface had the nickname, but he wasn’t famous as Scarface then. I’ve never known his real name, always heard him called Scarface. I met a guy who was part of his gang, a guy who was trying to get away from the gang.
“He told me about the nickname. Some time earlier Scarface and his boys had been in a fight. Scarface was always aggressive and he ran into the thick of the other bunch, swinging his sword wildly. He was just another young, inexperienced fighter himself then. He swung too wildly and his opponent ducked. The momentum of the swing carried the sword around in a circle, and Scarface hit himself in the head. It sounds unbelievable, but it can be done if you’re careless enough.
“He gave himself that big scar with that blow, and almost got himself killed by his foes, too. He went berserk and started flailing around like a madman and got wounded twice more. His buddies joined in the fight, and they managed to win the fight and keep him alive. The wounds healed, but the scar was very noticeable. Everyone started calling him ‘Scarface’ and he hated it. It reminded him of his carelessness.
“So he started killing off his own gang, to keep the secret. This fellow I ran into was one of ’em and wanted to run off and keep living. He told me, but Scarface caught him anyway. And Scarface found out that I knew the story. I had already left the area, thinkin’ I had just heard an interesting but not very important tale.
“Scarface recruited another gang, who somehow learned the story too. So he killed all of ’em, too. He went out on his own then, being tough enough to handle several foes at once if he had to. And he started to hear about this great legendary fighter named ‘Scarface’ who had single-handedly wiped out two gangs of bandits. No one associated the nickname with him, and he realized that the name now scared people. So he began using it himself, and raised a new gang.
“His current gang doesn’t know this of course. They’re happy to work with the roughest, toughest, meanest man in the entire continent of Orilon. He’s not, of course, though he ranks pretty highly down here in our corner of the continent. He wants to kill me to bury the story. He assumes that anyone in my band will know the truth, which you all do now. So he wants to kill you too.
“As we started fighting, I briefly toyed with the idea of telling the story to the crowd. I wanted everyone to know how he hit himself. But it’s not a story that can be told quickly enough. In a few seconds I was too busy to tell it anyway.
“So, that’s the story. Maybe we should tell it to some bard and have him make an insulting poem about Scarface. Naw, where could I find a bard that fearless? Still, maybe spreading the story around will take some of the heat off us.”
***
Barnsley had been a large town, but Clun was a medium sized city. The grand duke’s capital at Filton, downriver, was even bigger, mainly because it was the duke’s capital. Clun was a major center for trade from many parts of the duchy, and its merchants flaunted their wealth in their elegant houses. Big decorated brick houses nestled up against larger stone mansions. Stone carvings, part of the facade or added as plaques, alternated with painted fronts. Less wealthy citizens enjoyed large half-timbered houses painted in bright colors, often with large murals depicting the city’s past.
The docks along the river were lined with warehouses, cheap inns, and cheaper taverns. Behind them rose a short bluff topped with the mansions of the leading merchants. They could watch their businesses below and display the profit from them above.
“Horace, you know where Toothpick Sam lives, so lead us to an inn near him,” suggested Vince as they got their horses and gear off the boats. “Once we get settled in comfortably, we can make plans for training. We still have almost four months before the tournament. Allowing a couple of weeks for travel, we still have over three months to train.”
“It’s not much,” countered Jenny. “Ben’s had a bit already, and he does seem to take to sword work well. Polly is going to get the worst of it. She needs to build up her muscles and strength, she needs to learn spear from Sam, and she needs to pick up at least a bit of how to use a sword. Sorry, Polly, we’re going to wear you out.”
“This here is Sam’s house,” indicated Horace. “There’s a few inns nearby that look all right. But Ah want to ask Sam which he recommends. He always knowd the best places to stay.”
A thin man in late middle age appeared in the doorway when they knocked and looked out at the travelers. He spotted Horace, removed a toothpick from his mouth, and his face broadened into a smile.
“Horace, old buddy! How are you doin’?” asked Sam. “Didja make any money up north? Never thought it was a good idea going up there. Sure, there’s merchants there, but the richest ones are here or in Filton. These your partners? Introduce me, already. You didn’t bring ’em with you last time.”
Horace made simple introductions, “Vince, Jenny his woman, my gal Betsy, a new kid Ben who’s talented, and Polly. We’d like to talk to you about trainin’ her, and the rest of us need a place to practice and train Ben in sword work. We also need a place to stay for a few months. Someplace nice, price no concern.”
“So you did make money up north. Good. Right down the street, on the other side, is the Old King’s Arms, best inn in town. They don’t normally take adventurers, but if you have cash in advance and promise not to make trouble, I think they’ll ignore their prejudices.
“Practice yard is harder. I don’t train anyone anymore. Usta rent some space behind a warehouse, but they expanded the buildin’ and that spot is gone. We kin always go outside the city walls. There’s a lot of open fields, some not even good for pasture. But we kin fight there without anyone carin’. We just got to let the town watch know what we’re doin’. Don’t want ’em thinkin’ it’s a real fight. Git your room and when you’re settled in, come back and I’ll show you a few good spots.”
Money did, indeed, make them more acceptable guests at the inn.
“We’d like to rent some rooms here,” Vince declared. “Probably for three months, maybe a little more. We need, let’s see. One room for Jenny and me. One for Horace and Betsy. One for Ben, and one for Polly.”
“One for both of us,” whispered Polly, blushing deeply. “I want to marry him. Is that all right with you, Ben?”
“Wha? Um, uh, yeah, sure! Oh, thank you, Polly! Yes! YES!”
“Unmarried couples? Highly irregular! This is not that sort of establishment!”
“Are you deaf? They just said they’re getting married,” Vince corrected. “All right, three rooms, on the same floor if you can do it,. We can pay for three months in advance if you want. And for the horses, too, of course. We are adventurers, as you can see, but we‘re peaceable enough. We have friends in Clun, and no enemies here to fight. We’ll stay to ourselves and not disturb your classier clientele. Is this fine with you?
“Well, yes, paying customers are always welcome here. The stables are behind the inn. Bring your horses through the little alley on the right. Three rooms on the second floor. They’re in the back, I’m afraid. I could give you rooms in the front, but only on the fourth floor.”
“Second floor rear is fine,” Jenny remarked. “Thank you for your courtesy and understanding.”
Horace and Ben led the horses to the stables behind the inn and arranged for their care. The others carried all their baggage up to their rooms. The stables formed a U-shaped courtyard behind the inn. The fourth side of the yard was the back of the inn, open for deliveries of food and drink. The second floor rear rooms were slightly above the smells of the stable, but had only that to look at. The beds were just large enough for two people, though Horace and Betsy were a bit crowded. Each room had a table with a pitcher of water and a wash basin, and a commode under the bed. The rooms had plaster walls, painted in fresh colors.
When Horace and Ben joined the others upstairs, Vince brought them all into his room.
“Polly, are you serious about marrying Ben? And Ben, are you serious about that loud ‘YES’?”
“I like Ben, a lot. He’s been kind to me, even more than the rest of you, and that’s something. I’m plain. No boys ever looked twice at me in Grangus. Even the old merchant only wanted to marry me for Barnabas’ money. I’m plain and Ben likes me anyway. At least, I think he does. But he doesn’t try to, um, bother me. My maid told me how guys try to get girls into bed, and Ben said he has a way to talk girls into his bed. And he hasn’t done it to me. I think that means he wants to treat me with respect. I like that. So, yes, I do want to marry him.”
“Have I ever lied to you, Vince?” urged Ben. “Even if I did lie, I couldn’t lie about Polly. I think she’s a wonderful girl. She likes me even though I’m goofy lookin’. I don’t hafta try to talk her into likin’ me, she likes me without that. How could I not want to marry her?”
“All right, it’s still early in the day,” declared Jenny. “We can postpone our meeting with Sam until we visit the Temple of Eunetia and get you two married. I hope you do as well as Vince and me, and Horace and Betsy. Let’s go.”
Three hours later, after a quick wedding and a lengthy return to the inn, they all walked back to Sam’s house. Sam was sitting on a bench in front of the door, waiting for them with a long staff in his hand.
“I was about to give up on you. What in tarnation took you so long? I’m not gittin’ any younger, you know.”
“Sorry, Sam, but Polly wanted to marry Ben,” Betsy explained. “That seemed more important than looking at empty fields.”
“Oh, yes, I guess so. I forgive you,” said Sam with a smile, standing and leaning on his staff. “Congratulations, kids. Hope you have a long happy marriage. Now, about those empty fields. Come with me and we’ll go this way to the east gate. The ground out that way is no good for farmin’, and won’t grow much grass, either. Makes a great practice area, though. So you want me to train this young newlywed girl? Train her with what?”
“ Ah think Polly is gonna be a good spearman,” suggested Horace as they walked down the street.
“Spearman, huh? What makes you think you kin use a spear, youngster?”
Polly asked to borrow his staff and held it the way she held the imitation billiard cue the other day. She thrust this way and that, shifting her aim easily. Sam looked on with satisfaction.
“Well, yes, you’ll do well with a spear. That’s not quite the right technique, but it’s close. I kin fix that without much trouble. Is that all you know how to do?”
“Yes, sir. Horace said that was what you did with a spear. I don’t know anything else, sir.”
“This is good enough if you’re behind a line of shieldmen, but you need to know how to fight without someone in front of you. You have to be able to defend yourself if you get separated from your friends in a fight. Even behind a line, there are other things you kin do besides play pokey-pokey. How long do I have to train her, Vince?”
“Three months, maybe a bit more. We’re going to the tournament and fair. You set your own training schedule and we’ll work our other training around it. She needs some work with sword, in case the spear breaks. Ben’s going to get the full sword treatment from Jenny. I think Betsy and I will do some practicing to keep in shape. Horace is on his own.”
“Three months? Yeah, I kin do it. I think her stance and motion is good. She needs to adjust some things, and learn a lot of others. But if she’s smart, no problem. Jenny, kin you get by with only two or three hours a day for her training in sword?
“Yeah. When we got the idea of training her with spear I knew I’d have less time to teach sword. I can give her enough instruction to keep her alive with just a couple of hours a day. You should start out the day, and I’ll take her in the afternoon.”
“That’s fine,” agreed Sam when they reached the field beyond the gate. “All right, Polly. It is Polly, ain’t it? I hate callin’ people by the wrong name. Makes me look old and addled. Now, Polly, I’m gonna work you hard for hours every day. No offense meant, but you look soft and weak. So the first week you’re gonna pull the rocks out of this field. They should stay put to git you used to fightin’ on an uneven surface, but it’s more important to git some muscles built up. Nothin’ like diggin’ up rocks and haulin’ ’em away for buildin’ muscles. The holes the rocks come out of will be uneven enough, anyway.
“I’d kind of appreciate it if the rest of you was here all the time, too. I want you to see how I’m trainin’ her so if you have any objections or questions we kin deal with ’em right away. And I’m gonna need people for her to make attacks against. We’ll start first thing in the mornin’.”
“That’s good,” Vince said. “Thanks for taking on this job, Sam. We haven’t talked about your fee yet. How does a thousand moons for the three months sound?”
“A thousand moons! You did indeed hit the jackpot up north! Yes, I’d be happy to lighten your load that much. I’ll see that she learns everythin’ I kin teach. Cain’t promise about the part that talent plays in fightin’, but I’ll do my best to bring out what she has. See you in the mornin’.”
***
Nine-fingered Knut had a shop in Armor Lane of course, down on the seedy end. His neighbors sold cheap mail, with the rings only butted together, and none too well at that. Their leather armor was thin, the boiled leather armor was easily bent, the brigandines badly riveted together. They sold to cheap rogues, men who either didn’t know good armor or couldn’t afford it.
Knut only made mail armor. And he only made excellent armor. He kept his shop at the wrong end of the lane because the rent was as cheap as his neighbors’ goods. Knut charged several times what his neighbors did, and at least twice what the armorers at the top of the lane did. But he didn’t sell often. As Vince had noted, his mail didn’t look as strong as it was. People who wanted impressive armor bought heavier mail from someone else. The few who knew what good armor looked like bought from Knut, but they were just a few.
Knut had just finished a short byrnie and was draping it on a wooden stand to display it when he noticed some people looking through the door. He turned to face them directly and stared at them for a while, then smiled.
“Vince, Jenny, how good to see you again! It’s been years and I almost didn’t recognize you. Not that I should. You didn’t buy anything the last time you were here. I did enjoy your stories of life on the road, and I appreciated your praise of my work. So, are you here with more stories, or more praise? By the look of your worn out clothes, I figure I won’t be selling you anything today either.”
“Wrong, good Master Knut,” countered Vince. “We just got into town today and haven’t had a chance to get new clothes. But we pulled in some real money and intend to spread it around. We all need new armor and yours is the best available. We’re looking for full hauberks, and trews. We want to be protected down to the ground. For once, we can afford it.
“This is Horace and his wife Betsy, and Ben and his bride Polly. We’ll take anything you have in our sizes and pay you to make any pieces you don’t have in stock. We plan on staying in Clun for maybe three months before going to the tournament and fair.”
“I have a lot of mail on hand, as usual. Mostly in large sizes but there’s some more medium sized pieces too. Jenny, I’ve got nothing on hand that’ll fit you. But three months should be more than enough to make a good hauberk for you too. My Gods, six hauberks in one day! I haven’t had such a day in a long time.”
“I want something more,” added Jenny. “I’ve been in too many fights and know that even good armor can get damaged. It’s going to be difficult to find someone to work on your mail, and I don’t want some bumbler trying to patch this fine riveted work with big butted rings that won’t fit anyway. Sell me some of your rings, and some wire for rivets. Then teach me how to make repairs. There’s time; we’re here for three months. Name your own price, of course.”
***
“That’s good, Polly, back up like that when someone tries to close in on you,” instructed Sam. “Lots of guys think they kin step inside past the point and just walk up and kill you. Backin’ up like that keeps ’em away while you make some adjustments.
“First thing you want to do is turn your spear almost vertical, point down. The butt spike is now high, and you kin bop your opponent on the head with it. Won’t do much damage, but it’ll distract him. The real reason is to hide the point down low. Your opponent is lookin’ at the shaft, or maybe the butt spike if you tapped him with it. He’s not lookin’ at the point and that gives you an opportunity.
“Keep the point on his sword side, away from his shield. Mostly that’s on your left side. When you’re ready just pull back hard with your upper hand, and push out really strongly with your lower hand. Both thumbs should be pointin’ at each other. It’ll feel awkward at first, but it works best that way, and practice will make you comfortable with it. Pull hard and push hard, and fast. You want to get your point inside his guard, past the edge of his shield, and stick it into his gut. Do it quickly and strongly and he’s done for.
“We’re gonna practice that for the next week. I want you to do that as well as you poke now. Then we’ll do slashin’ with the spear blade, usin’ it like a really long sword. Cut into someone’s legs and he’ll drop like a rock. The week after we’ll start workin’ on this other trick of mine. It’s not often you’ll have a need to use it, but it works almost every time. It’s simple but most of your opponents will be too busy attackin’ to pay attention to what you’re doin’.
“Suppose some guy is chargin’ at you when you have no defender near you. He’s comin’ fast and doesn’t want to make a long fight out of it. Your other tricks take time he won’t give you. Here’s what you do. Stick the butt spike in the ground, hard and deep. Tilt the spear forward toward your opponent. If it’s a man on a horse, aim it high; chest high for a man on foot. Then put your back foot on the butt spike to keep it in the ground.
“Your attacker is rushin’ you and thinks he’ll overrun your defense. He figures you cain’t do anythin’ to stop him. This will. The time is so short, he’s runnin’ at you, you’re leanin’ your spear at him, and he cain’t figure what that means. Until all of a sudden, he’s impaled himself on your spear. His speed drives him right onto the point, and buries it deep in his chest. You won’t need this all the time, but when you do need it you’ll be mighty glad you learned how to do it.”