Another large boat arrived the next morning and Vince’s gang boarded for the trip downstream. Four days later the boat slid gracefully into the docks at Ongar. As they unloaded their horses and equipment, Ben and Polly looked around at the city. It was larger than Clun, and much larger than Grangus. The docks were full of people loading and unloading boats. Other men were driving wagons laden with large crates and barrels to warehouses nearby. Betsy kept an eye on the two youngsters, to make sure they didn’t get lost in the crowds.
“We made good time getting here,” Vince noted. “I always like to get here early if possible. Makes it easier to get a good place to camp.”
“Yeah, there’s that nice hilltop where we camped a couple of years ago,” Horace remembered. “Rugged climb on three sides and if we get there first we kin spread out over the whole top. Nice view of everything and good security.”
“And a spring in the rocks halfway down the hill,” added Betsy. “That makes life a lot easier too. Water practically at our feet.”
“Don’t forget the trees, either,” said Jenny. “It’s hot and that shade will be a blessing.”
“Are we gonna camp on the ground?” asked Ben. “I don’t mind sleepin’ on the ground, but we got a lot of nice clothes now, ’n’ I’d hate to see ’em all get wet.”
“No, we’ll rent some tents,” Jenny explained. “There’s a merchant here in Ongar who makes a very nice living renting tents for the tournament. The nobility bring their personal pavilions, but poor knights, men at arms, and rogues are all on their own. This merchant keeps track of how many more people show up each year, and makes extra tents in the off season for next year. He doesn’t gouge his customers, though he’s not cheap either.
“South of the city is a very large plain and everything is spread out over it. Just south of the city is a bluff with the camp for all the swells, even the meanest men at arms, protected by the grand duke’s men. South of that, below the bluff, is the tournament fighting areas, then the fair grounds. The rest of us are in a separate camp just south of the fairgrounds. You’ll notice we’re stuck as far from Ongar and the nobles as possible.
“Our camp is also patrolled by the grand duke’s men, not so much for our protection as to keep an eye on us. The duke proclaims a Grand Truce for the length of the tourney. The only fighting allowed is what is part of the tournament or games. Any other fighting for any reason is strictly forbidden. The lightest penalty is to be evicted from the grounds. The duke has been known to hang serious offenders.
“The one exception, for nobles and peasants, is Dueling Island. This is an island in the middle of the river between Adallo and Irith. Even rogues have tests of combat skills using wooden weapons like the nobles do. And you can arrange a duel-like challenge as part of these combats. But if you want to draw blood, you have to go to the island.”
“So what is this tournament like?” asked Polly. “Ben seems to have some idea, but I don’t quite understand it.”
“The tournament proper is for the nobles,” Vince told her. “They and their wives get together and impress each other with their clothes and wealth. It’s also for their sons who want to show off and prove they’re good fighters. Some of the younger sons who won’t inherit are hopin’ to get picked to serve some other lord as a castellan or leader of a troop of knights.
“The knights and men at arms may want to get hired by a better or richer lord. Some of ’em want what the younger sons want, that’s a big promotion for a man at arms. They joust with lances on horseback and fight on foot with sword and shield, mostly. The idea is to show how tough they are, and how brave and skilled. Few men get killed these days, ever since they started using wooden swords. But sometimes a man disgraces himself, and his family, by running from a fight.
“The rules don’t permit anyone but nobles and their retainers to fight. We ain’t allowed to join in the fun. It’s a shame, because some of these people are terrible fighters. Jenny or I could’ve beat the foot champion last time we were here, piece of cake. But it’s their party so only they can play. And they don’t want to be embarrassed by one of us.”
“Is this the only tournament in Orilon?” asked Polly. “You make it sound like everyone comes here from the whole continent.”
“No, there are lots of tournaments all over Orilon,” said Vince. “Even here in the eastern parts. Some are bigger, some are almost local. Younger sons of nobles, and even some ambitious men at arms will travel from tournament to tournament. They want to win prizes and attract the attention of nobles who need new knights and warriors.”
“We also come for the fair,” added Betsy. “Merchants from all over the four duchies come to sell to people who come from all over to buy. And for the other competitions. The dukes call them the ‘peasant contests’ but it’s rogues who enter and win them. There are cash prizes. If you want to compete you pay a moon. The folks in charge take a small cut for expenses, and the rest is the prize. Two or three hundred people enter some of the contests. That makes for a nice prize.”
“All of our gear is new. Will it be safe in our camp?” wondered Polly. “I mean, we’re going to be camped with other rogues, and you’ve told me how free and easy we are with other people’s property. If we were here all the time, no one would dare try to steal from us. Even I could guard it on my own now. Can we leave everything in our tent and find it there when we come back?”
“Yes, the clothes, weapons, and other gear will be safe, especially if we kin get that hilltop,” Horace replied. “That’s part of what the duke’s men are patrolling for, keeping theft down. But our money gotta be stored somewhere else. We spent a great deal of Barnabas’ money, but we still have a lot left. Ah wouldn’t leave it in the tent unattended.”
“There’s a Temple of Pronustio in Ongar,” Betsy informed Polly. “He’s the God of Commerce and Trade. Barnabas probably worshiped at his Temple, probably was a priest even. The Temples offer a service to their worshipers and to others who have a lot of money they want to protect. You give a man called a cashier your money, he stores it away in their vaults, and gives you a receipt for it. Your receipt has a short description of you. When you want your money back, you go to the cashier, even a different man, and he checks your description to identify you. If it’s you, you pay a fee of one moon for every hundred you stored and they give it back.
“There’ll be tons of cash in the Temple during the tournament. Very tempting to ambitious and foolish rogues. It would be suicide to try to steal money from the Temple. There’s a permanent guard of the duke’s men on duty, some of his best. And that’s besides the protection the God gives his Temple.”
“How’s our cash holdin’ out?” asked Ben. “We bought a bunch of stuff in Clun. I spent a lot, but I still got a lot left. Are we all still rich?”
“Yes, Ben, we’re all still rich,” chuckled Betsy. “By the time we sold the jewelry in the chest, we had about thirty-eight thousand moons between us. Our armor and weapons cost us about twenty-five thousand in total. These horses ran another fifteen hundred moons, but we got three hundred back selling our old horses. Three months at the inn cost us a few thousand more.
“Clothes, new packs, other odds and ends of gear, hell, I don’t know. A few thousand, I guess. I’d say we have maybe a bit less than eight thousand moons between all of us. Around thirteen hundred each. Enough for each of us to live at an inn for most of a year, maybe. And that makes us rich, indeed, for rogues.”
***
The hilltop was available and they unloaded their gear all over the ground. Vince and Jenny went to rent a large tent for them all, bringing the mule to carry it back. Horace and Ben led the other horses to a large field west of the camping area that was being used to picket all the horses. Betsy and Polly began the tedious work of hauling water from the spring.
Two hours later the camp looked like it had always been there. The tent was placed in the best spot for afternoon shade. Two large water bags hung from a low branch of one of the trees. A fireplace had been set up, with wood ready to be ignited. Their gear was inside the tent and everything looked perfect.
“Time to go to the Temple of Pronustio and deposit our money,” suggested Vince. “The Temple stays open late during the fair but the sooner we get our money into its vault, the better.”
“We each have about thirteen hundred moons,” commented Jenny. “I want to keep out maybe two hundred for spending money. I know we just bought lots of what we need, but I might want something I don’t need. I might want to place a bet or two on the contests, or even the tourney. So, I’m going to deposit eleven hundred moons.”
“That’s a good idea,” warned Betsy. “Let’s all do that. Ben and Polly, this is silly of me, but I feel very protective about you, like you were my kids. I know, I’m not old enough to be your mother. Maybe like my younger brother and sister. I know you can fight now, but all danger doesn’t come in a fight. You two aren’t used to fairs and crowds, so be careful with your money. Don’t talk about how much you have on you. Not all thieves use weapons to steal from you.”
“Nothing is going to start for two more days,” noted Vince as they started walking. “We can take our time and see who’s here already and learn the layout. The hill has one other big advantage, it’s near the river. The duke keeps a wide clear path along the river, that starts from the docks. The clear path makes it easier for those who want to get to Dueling Island, noble or peasant. It also gives us access to the city without having to go all the way around the nobles’ camp.
“This area here from the river west for a few hundred yards is going to be filled with peasants and rogues camping. North beyond the edge of the camp are the fields where our contests will be held. There will be tent taverns scattered through our camping area, but not until there are enough people to make it pay. Tomorrow, or the next day for certain.”
“Up ahead this rope line marks the start of the fairgrounds,” Jenny described the scene. “It’s only there so people don’t camp in the wrong area. By tomorrow this whole field will be full of tents and pavilions set up by the merchants. We can look in on those who are already here as we go by. Some of them give good deals, some mark everything up. It’s like any other market, but most markets and fairs don’t have the variety of merchants we’ll find here. If you need something, you can probably find it here. There’s a story, which may or may not be true, about a young knight who lost all his gear on his way to the tournament, but not his money. He was able to get entirely fitted out from the merchants.”
“This here next rope line is more important,” continued Horace. “It marks the division between the fair and the tourney field. Anyone kin watch the tourney, but no one kin go through the middle of the field. Even nobles have to go ’round the west end to get to the fair. They cain’t come down from their bluff to the river walk without going through this field, or going into the city to the docks. We, however, kin watch from the river end of the field, and keep on along the river to the town. Our one bit of superiority.”
They went into the town by the river gate and found the Temple of Pronustio. They were welcomed by a young man dressed in neat but not expensive clothes.
“The blessings of Pronustio upon you and your endeavors. I am Arnold, an initiate. How may the Temple serve you? Are you members of a distant Temple of Pronustio, or travelers who need one of our services?”
“Thank you, Arnold, for your blessing,” bowed Vince. “We’re here in Ongar for the peasant contests. We have a moderately large sum of money which we do not want to leave unattended in our tents. We’d like to deposit it in the Temple vaults.”
“Of course. A wise precaution. I’ve been with the Temple for several years and know the tourney and fair attract many people, some of whom are less than honest. Your money will be well protected here. How much money do you wish to deposit? The cashier here will assist you.”
An hour later they were finished and left the Temple. The sun was getting lower in the west and they realized they hadn’t eaten since morning. Walking back through the fairgrounds they came upon a food dealer opening his pavilion for the evening. The tent covered a space about thirty feet on a side, filled with grills cooking a variety of meats. Wonderful smells of cooked meats spread out into the grassy path next to the tent.
“Roast leg of lamb, mmmmm,” murmured Ben. “All shepherds love to eat lamb. We have no sympathy for the evil beasts, always runnin’ off into thickets ’n’ gettin’ stuck in deep ditches ’n’ swamps.”
“Ah don’t have your professional feelings, but Ah love lamb, too,” agreed Horace. “That joint there should just about be enough for the six of us. Ho, master! How much for this here marvelous leg of lamb?”
As Horace was paying for the meat, Vince and Jenny had gone to a nearby tavern tent and returned with a half cask of beer and some wooden mugs. Betsy added some loaves of bread from another stall. There were tables in front of the food tent and they sat down to dinner. Vince’s magic knife easily sliced the lamb into six portions, and Betsy poured beer for each of them. They ate heartily and were talking over the scraps when some men came their way.
“It’s her!” cried Jeff to his red-haired companion. “That’s the girl we kidnapped! Her clothes are different, but I remember her face, dullest face I’ve ever seen.”
Amos the Red was leading his men through the partly filled fairgrounds and stopped at Jeff’s cry. A party of nicely dressed rogues sat around a table, obviously having just finished eating. That is the girl. How did she get here? What is she doing with that bunch of rogues? Why does she have a sword at her side? Kin we grab her again and make another try at a ransom? Kin we grab her without a fight? These folks have weapons and look like fighters, despite their nice clothes. How do I handle this?
“Hello, Polly,” he said at last, with a smile. “It’s been a long time since I last saw you. Who are these people you’re with? Friends? I’d like to have a private talk with you if I might. Would you like to come over here with me and chat?”
“No, I really don’t want to talk with you, here or anywhere,” warned Polly. “And if you try to force me to go with you, I’d have to cut your throat, and that might get me in trouble because of the Truce.”
Fearless looked up from his scraps of lamb and growled at Amos.
“Ah, you must be Amos,” Vince observed. “I saw you from a distance at your house, but it was dark and I didn’t get a good look at you. I must say I admire your audacity now, expecting to persuade Polly to just leave her friends and go along with you. Bold. Daring. Doomed to failure, of course.
“I’m Vince, leader of this little band. This is Jenny, Horace, Betsy, Ben, and, of course, you’ve already met Polly. Sit your men down and have something to eat while we talk. They have good meat here, and that tavern has some good beer. If you really want to fight, you should feed your boys first. Look, we rescued her from you once. If you manage to take her again, we’ll rescue her again. If we have to. She probably will cut your throat.”
Amos’ men didn’t know what to make of the conversation, but wanted dinner. They sat down, ordered food and beer, and watched the strange debate.
“I see only six of you around that table,” remarked Amos. “Five, because little miss merchant’s daughter ain’t no threat, no matter how tough she talks. I’ve got eighteen men with me. We kin kill you all, grab Polly, and be safely away before the duke’s men kin get here. Why not just let us have her now, nice and peaceful like?”
“Six,” corrected Polly. “Jenny trained me, and Toothpick Sam. It’s not just talk.”
“Oooh, Jenny trained you!” mocked Amos. “The only Jenny I know of who’s worth worryin’ about is Jenny the Blade. This bunch jumped us up north, and Jenny the Blade only works in the southern parts of the duchy and farther south. And I don’t see anyone here who looks like Jenny the Blade.”
“So you think you know what Jenny the Blade looks like?” asked Jenny. “Just what does she look like?”
“She killed a troll, cut him in half. Some stories say she cut him from side to side, some that she split him from head to crotch. Either way, she must be big and strong. I don’t see anyone at your table who could do that except that big guy with the brown beard. And I doubt his name is Jenny.”
“Horace probably could cut a troll in half,” Jenny laughed. “There aren’t any trolls in the duchy, though. You did know that, didn’t you? It wasn’t a troll I killed, it was a man nick-named ‘Troll’ because he was so big. He wasn’t much of a fighter and I only slashed him across his gut. He died in one piece.”
“You! How kin a little pint-sized thing like you be Jenny the Blade? She’s famous across the whole southeast of Orilon. You don’t look like you could beat a small boy.”
“Look, Amos,” cautioned Vince. “We really don’t want any trouble here. We came for the fair and the contests and to look for work. Same as you, I suppose. You took Polly from her home nice and easily, a well-planned job. I congratulate you on it. We took her back almost as easily. You lost. So did we. Her father cheated us out of the reward he offered for her return.
“That means he’d never have paid you a ransom either. Not then. Not now. Accept reality. You were never going to get anything for her. You want to fight us for her? Such a silly thing to do. Yeah, you have us outnumbered, but Jenny’s trained us all except Horace. I was good before I met Jenny. I’m a lot better now. You could kill all of us, including Polly whom you want alive, and we’d probably kill half of your men.”
“Twelve, minimum, Vince,” Jenny calculated. “And you’d be one of the first to go, Amos. Being a leader doesn’t make you safe, you know. Is that kind of loss a good idea? Without any possibility of a ransom?”
“I don’t like being pushed around by a smaller band,” grumbled Amos. “It makes me look weak to my men. No leader kin let that happen. You talk so tough, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll fight your little lady Jenny one on one, on the island. Winner gets the girl. Right now, there’s still enough light.”
“Ah, Amos, you just keep making bad decisions,” sighed Jenny. “All right. No interference from anyone. Just you and me. First blood? Death? How do you want to do this?”
“First blood is no good, you might have a sneaky move to nick me. Death settles everything.”
They walked to Dueling Island. Amos and Jenny crossed the small bridge over to the island and took up positions facing each other. Amos’ men gathered in a group near the bridge, still eating their dinner. Vince’s band stood a bit to the south of them, drinking the last of their beer.
Amos ran up to Jenny and swung his sword at her left arm. Neither of them had a shield or armor, not having planned on fighting this evening. Jenny turned her upper body, letting Amos’ blow pass harmlessly. As she did so, her sword curved with the turn and caught Amos high on his left arm. A tap, a slight wound, hardly more than a scratch.
They turned and circled each other. Jenny’s sword flashed toward Amos’ head but actually landed a blow on his chest. Another light blow, but blood showed.
Amos threw a flurry of blows in quick succession, hoping to overpower or at least confuse Jenny. She parried or dodged all of them. As Amos’ sword pulled back from the last blow, Jenny’s followed it and caught his right arm just below the elbow. A trickle of blood seeped out.
Amos looked surprised and failed to see Jenny slip her sword down at his thigh. Another small cut. Then another one on his opposite calf. He swung his sword at her head and she parried it. Her sword touched his forehead, drawing another line of blood.
He tried another fast series of attacks to overwhelm her guard, without success. Every blow he threw was parried or dodged. He couldn’t find an opening in her defense. After his last swing, he found her sword point at his throat. He felt a prick but couldn’t see the single drop of blood it drew.
“Let’s just call it off, Amos,” suggested Jenny. “I never use the name myself, but I am Blade Jenny. Do you still doubt that? Do I actually have to kill you?”
“No, I’m beat,” admitted Amos, dropping his sword. “I’ve never seen such a display of skill with a sword. You must be Jenny the Blade after all. I apologize for doubting you. Men, the fight is over. She won, fair and square. If I kin accept this, so kin you. This is over.”
“No! It cain’t be over just like that!” cried Fred. “We still have the numbers. She cain’t fight us all at one time. We kin triple team ’em! No way this lot kin beat us that badly! That little girl beat her fists on my chest when we carried her off and I hardly felt a thing. Her fight us? That’s a joke! We cain’t give up as easily as that. You give up now and you have no more gang, Amos!”
“Look, we don’t want trouble,” countered Vince. “I keep saying that, and you keep not hearing me. If we fight, even on the island, the duke’s men will drive the winners into exile. They don’t like big fights here during the Truce. We can fight a ‘practice’ battle, with wooden weapons if you want. It’s allowed in the peasant version of the tourney, and we can do it tomorrow.
“The wooden weapons have all the pretend sharp bits covered in red chalk in a sticky base. Anyone showing a red mark is ‘wounded’ or ‘dead,’ and two wounds equal dead. We each choose judges to watch the fight and count people out of the fight. Nobody has to die. Nobody has to worry about being exiled. The only thing we risk is our pride. Are you willing to do that?”
“I’m wounded,” Amos mentioned. “Not badly, and my men kin fight well enough without me, but they’d do better if I was with ’em.”
“I kin help with that,” offered Ben. “I know somethin’ about makin’ wounds heal faster. Your wounds ain’t that serious anyways. Let me bind ’em up tonight, ’n’ you’ll be fine in the mornin’.”
“Ben, what are you doing?” asked Betsy in a whisper. “Remember what I’ve told you. You shouldn’t give away your secret. If you heal Amos, the whole world will find out you can do magic. People might try to force you to work for them.”
“I know, you all keep tellin’ me that,” whispered Ben. “’N’ I keep tellin’ you I’m not that stupid. It’s all right, trust me. Get me some honey ’n’ some brandy.”
“Anyone can stop the bleeding,” stated Amos. “These cuts aren’t deep, they’re just painful. But if the kid thinks he can bind ’em up nicely for me, I’ll let him.”
Betsy returned with a pot of honey and a flask of brandy. Ben had gone to the food vendor and bought a few pinches of the herbs used to season the meat. He poured some of the brandy into the honey pot and mixed the herbs in to make a sweet smelling goo.
He rubbed the goo onto Amos’ wounds and bound them up with clean rags. This was all show. The real magic was Ben holding the wounds as he wrapped them, and his thoughts about healing by morning. Soon he was done and Amos was well-bandaged.
“Tomorrow at noon in the fighting field,” declared Vince. “We’ll pick five judges, you pick five. It should be fun. Ben and Polly ain’t been in a real fight yet and need to get some experience.”
As they walked back to their hilltop camp, Vince asked Ben “Did you really heal Amos?”
“I think so. Betsy was mad at me too for doin’ it. But I’ve been practicing’ the magic. Now that you’ve convinced me I really do magic, I’ve been thinkin’ about what I do. ’N’ I wanted to practice healin’, so I kin do it without passin’ out. I’d cut myself, just a little, ’n’ then heal the cut. I’m gettin’ perty good at it. Amos should be all healed by mornin’.
“But I was worried by everyone sayin’ that powerful people will try to get control of me ’n’ force me to do magic for ’em. So I thought, if the wound don’t heal right away, mebbe they won’t think it’s magic, just good folk medicine. Anyway, I’d have time to go somewhere else before they figured it out. I tried to learn how to delay the healin’, just an hour or so at first. I kin delay it for several hours now if I want. Amos’ wounds were minor, ’n’ he may think I just had a really good ointment.”
***
“He said the two young kids haven’t been in a regular fight yet,” argued Jeff. “I don’t care if that is Jenny the Blade, it’s only been four months since we grabbed the girl. No one kin become any good with weapons in just four months.”
“I’m only agreein’ to this fight for two reasons,” said Amos. “One, because you guys insist on it and won’t stay with me if we don’t fight. Two, because we’re using wooden weapons and no one ain’t gonna get killed. That is Blade Jenny, believe it or not. She’s the best swordsman in all of southeast Orilon, maybe all of eastern Orilon. What she doesn’t know about sword work ain’t worth knowin’. You saw how she carved me up yesterday. Any one of those little taps she gave me coulda been a hard, cripplin’ blow. She was toyin’ with me, and I couldn’t stop her. But you want to fight, so we’ll fight.”
“I wish you hadn’t been so hard-headed about this, Fred,” objected Slim. “Yesterday was a little fight that no one else saw. No one else would ever know about it. Today the crowds are arrivin’ and half of Adallo is going to see us. If we win, we’re bullies, pickin’ on a smaller gang. If we lose, we look pathetic and incompetent. Who’ll want to hire us for any jobs then?”
“What’s done is done,” Amos told them. “Fight as hard as you kin. I’m feelin’ good today. That kid’s gunk stopped the bleedin’ and didn’t even leave a scratch. We should get his recipe. Okay, let’s go.”
Vince had persuaded the marshal of Duke Dismerana of Irith to provide five judges for the combat. When Amos had heard that, he asked the marshal to offer five more, and the marshal had obliged. The ten men wore the duke’s livery, brown tabards edged with a silver band. Each held a long staff as a tool and symbol of his function.
The real tournament did not allow missile weapons. They weren’t considered proper for nobles to use. Swords, axes, spears, lances were proper. Adventurers were less fussy about the weapons they used, and all rogues used bows, crossbows, and slings when they fought. For a “safe” fight like this, special bows of low draw weight were used with red daubed tips on the arrows. Slings were loaded with sponges soaked in chalky red water.
The field was a hundred yards on a side, more than enough room for today’s fight. The two sides took their positions near the center of the field and waited to be dusted. Several men with buckets of powdered white chalk went about and dabbed each fighter liberally with the chalk. The stark white background would make it easy for the judges to see the red chalk marks indicating a hit.
“I want you in a double line,” ordered Amos. “We have eighteen to their six, so let’s take advantage of our numbers. Six in front to hold their line in place. Six behind ’em, including the archers, to fill in if someone is taken out, and to provide muscle to push ’em back. Three on each side to go around their flanks and attack from behind. Rogues’ rules, anything goes.”
“They’re setting up two deep,” observed Vince. “And they’ve got some guys ready to go around behind us. So we’ll do our normal thing. Ben, Polly, that means we make one line, except for you, Polly. We’ll line up like this from left to right: Jenny, me, Ben, Betsy, and Horace. Polly you’ll be behind us with your spear. Jenny and Horace will cover our flanks when they try to go around us. To begin with we hit ’em with arrows and sling ‘stones.’ Ben, have you charmed enough of these fake stones for you and Polly?”
“Yeah, I did two apiece. I don’t think we’ll have time to throw more than that.”
“Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!” shouted a herald. “This ‘friendly’ battle between these two sides is about to begin. All weapons have passed inspection and are safe to use in this fight. The rules, for any who do not already know them: Any red mark on a body counts as a hit. A red mark to the torso or head is considered the equivalent of a fatal blow. Two red marks on limbs is also considered fatal. A judge will tap with his staff any fighter showing these marks and that fighter must leave the field at once. Violations of the rules will be deemed to be violations of the Truce. Let the battle begin!”
As the word “begin” rang out the air filled with arrows and red sponges. Amos had six archers in his back line, but all their arrows bounced off shields. Betsy took more time and shot at an archer whose shield man was sloppy, hitting him in the face. Her second shot found another archer’s arm.
Ben fired his sling sponges at the legs of the men on the flanks. He had learned how hard it was to guard a lower leg with a shield, and knew these would be good targets. Two men on one side had red marks on both of their calves. The judges were busy removing fighters from the field.
Polly had had only minimal training with a sling. She had been too busy learning spear and sword to practice sling. But Ben wanted her to have some missile skill, so he showed her how to twirl and fling a stone. Skill didn’t matter with Ben’s charmed sponges. He had magicked two for her that would hit a head, and they did.
The two sides hadn’t even gotten into close combat, and Amos had already lost five men, with another “wounded.” He led his men forward, hoping to do more damage when his superior numbers could come into play. Vince moved his line forward, telling Ben and Betsy to take their places in the line, and Polly to get her spear ready.
Wooden swords made a great hammering sound as they hit wooden shields. The two lines were now pressed together, shield almost against shield, swords trying to find some opening to break through. Unnoticed by Amos, a spear shaft slipped past him and its point touched Fred, hard. He grunted and stepped back, staring down at a red mark on his chest. A judge tapped his shoulder and he left.
Jenny had only one flanker to worry about, thanks to Ben’s sling, and his guard was open. She slashed across his belly and put him down quickly. She took a step forward and took on the men on the end of Amos’ double line. Vince took the opportunity to crowd the man he was facing, pushing him slightly out of position. A spear shaft poked into the opening and Slim felt a hard jab in his gut, and a tap on his shoulder.
Horace swung his axe at the head of the first man to come around his end of the line, taking him out. A backhanded swing caught the second across his middle, and he went down.
Betsy was taking on the two men at her end of Amos’ line. She parried one with her shield while trading blows and parries with her sword on the other. He was busy defending himself and forgot about his team. As his shield shifted to guard his head, the spear flicked by and caught the man behind him in the leg. That was the archer whose arm had been hit earlier, and he was out.
Ben was fighting Amos and Jeff in the middle of the line. He hit Jeff a clean shot to the head, after a dozen failed attempts to get past his guard. But he left his arm out in front of himself too long. Amos hit it, and so did another man in the second rank. Ben felt the tap of the judge’s staff and walked away glumly.
His departure created an opening in the line and Amos tried to take advantage of it. Crying “Follow me” to the men behind him, he rushed forward. He wanted to get behind Jenny and Vince, but found himself facing Polly. She smiled and poked him in the chest.
Betsy found herself crowded by the men who had followed Amos. They had turned away from Jenny, hoping to find an easier target in Betsy. She was now facing four men and took two steps back to give herself some space. A shield fell open and her sword went in to slash the man’s chest. Another man struck at her exposed arm, wounding her. Horace finished off his last opponent and went to help his wife. Her foes backed off before his axe and began to spread out. Maybe they could offer one man as bait while the others got behind the couple.
A triumphant cry from behind made them turn to see only Jenny and Vince. The rest of their team was on the sidelines, watching their utter defeat. They looked back to see Polly’s spear nudging a shield open and Horace’s axe raised high over their heads. They dropped their weapons and gave up. John tossed his sword to the ground in disgust and grumbled, “Hell, it’s only a game.”
“That was embarrassin’,” confessed Amos. “Vince, Jenny, I’m sorry I put you through this. My men insisted on a full fight.”
“And we were wrong,” admitted Fred. “No, I was wrong. I’m glad I didn’t insist on live steel, Vince.”
“I want to apologize to you, Polly, for kidnappin’ you, and threatenin’ you again here,” offered Amos. “You certainly got your revenge on us.”
“I forgive you, Amos. I hated you when you kidnapped me, but it turned out to be good for me. I wouldn’t have met Vince and Jenny, and Ben, my husband. I was a weak, mild little girl when you kidnapped me. Now I’m physically and emotionally strong, tough, thanks to them. And indirectly to you. I don’t hate you any longer. Just don’t try to kidnap me again.”
The fighters moved off the field, removing their armor and brushing the chalk dust from it. A tavern had just opened at the edge of the field and they all went there. Vince bought a couple of kegs of beer and they sat on the ground, drank, and talked.
“So, where do we go from here on?” asked Amos. “I don’t want to fight any of you again. Jenny said we’d kill all of you and lose twelve. We killed one, and lost fourteen. I’ve lost fights before, but not so badly. It’s embarrassin’.”
“I told you and told you, I didn’t want any trouble,” declared Vince. “If you finally agree with me about that, we can be friends. At least until the next time we have opposite sides of a deal. You do have good ideas for tactics, Amos. Your formation here was good. Your ambush after you kidnapped Polly was very good, caught us completely by surprise and cost us two good fighters.”
“Two? I only thought we took out one.”
“You did, but his wife left us the next day,” explained Jenny. “She was only with us for his sake, and couldn’t bear losing him. But we picked up Ben, and then Polly wanted to join us to spite her father. She’s taken to fighting like a duck to water, too. I hated losing Petey and Ellie, but we’re a better, stronger team now than before. All thanks to you.”
“Well, I’ve got a more beat up, depressed team now,” grumbled Amos. “We lost half a dozen men when you took Polly back, and I ain’t had no replacements for ’em. We hoped to make a fortune from her ransom. No chance of that, huh? Oh well, we couldn’ta known that. We’re gonna have to win some prizes at the contests here or leave broke.
“We’ve been havin’ a really bad year as a gang. We were three separate gangs until a year ago. Jeff, John, and I met in a tavern and decided to merge our gangs into one big outfit. We thought we could do better as brigands, bigger crimes, bigger payoffs. John’s gang is smaller, newer, and less experienced. They kin fight, though, which is somethin’.
“There was a jeweler with some nice goods on hand, worth stealin’ and easy to sell. But the town watch was good, and the local baron lived in that town. Too many warriors for one small gang to fight. As a group we managed to steal the jewelry and get away. We did well from that raid, but our next job was robbin’ a caravan. Nothin’ but cloth, tons of cloth. Fences won’t take cloth, even at a steep discount. We had another job planned, and some count was comin’ to the city for some ceremony. We were all set, and here’s dozens of trained men all over the place.
“By the time we grabbed Polly, we had gotten desperate. We had spent everythin’ we had made earlier, and had no other prospects. We had had fairly good lives as bandits, and thought that workin’ together would make us successful brigands. It turned out we didn’t really have the stomach for brigandage. We couldn’t torch a whole town just for the fun of it, the way some brigands do. Even goin’ house to house to steal everythin’ in sight seemed, well, just wrong. Robbin’ merchants never bothered us, but when you thoroughly loot a town, you’re stealin’ from ordinary folks, too. We couldn’t do that. What a bunch of silly, soft-hearted brigands we make.
“Unlucky ones, too. That place you rescued Polly from was just a place we stumbled on one day. A house, some cabins, a corral for our horses. It seemed the perfect hideout. A few days after you were there, the real owner showed up. It was some baron’s huntin’ lodge. He showed up with a bunch of his friends, and all their escorts. We were outnumbered, and barely made our escape alive and with our gear.”
“My men and I broke away at that point,” continued John. “Too many disasters, too little money. They went off one way, we went another. Unfortunately we took the bad luck with us. We was breakin’ camp one morning and had just got our horses saddled. Our gear was loaded, everything was ready, except our armor. We had really stiff boiled leather, with some scales tacked on. Badly made and uncomfortable as hell, so we never put it on until we was ready to leave. All we had to do was get armored, mount up, and ride.
“The local baron’s men was lookin’ for some other bandits and found us instead. They didn’t care if we warn’t the ones they wanted, and attacked us. We had just time to mount and ride off, leavin’ our armor behind. We were naked, well, we felt naked. We managed to find some inexperienced bandits halfway here from Filton and stole their armor. It was just leather with a few studs, but it was somethin’. We found Amos and Jeff again and apologized for leavin’.”
Polly had gone back to the rogues’ camp and returned with her basket. She opened it and Fearless popped out. He looked at all the new people, and went around sniffing each of them. He remembered Slim’s scent from the kidnapping and hissed at him, and growled again at Amos.
“Look, last night we were talkin’ about today’s fight,” Amos revealed. “Some of the guys were havin’ doubts about our chances, especially the ones who believed Jenny was Jenny the Blade. Slim brought up the question, if we lose today, should we ask to join with your band. We’d have two dozen people again, and numbers kin make a difference in a fight. You’re a good leader, too, and havin’ two good leaders could be very useful. And let’s face it, you’ve got Jenny. And Horace. Even Polly. I can’t believe what she was doin’ with that spear. So, what about it? Can we join up, make up one big band? Is there too much animosity?”
“We don’t hold grudges, Amos,” replied Vince. “Petey was a good fighter and a good friend, but he’s dead now. And killin’ you or anyone else won’t bring him back. Why ruin my own life trying? Polly has forgiven you for the kidnapping. You made us fight a ‘friendly’ battle here. Big deal. We won, so we have no complaint. You might, but I hope not. Your team fought well.
“But joining up our teams might lead to new problems between us. Two good leaders can be useful, unless they can’t agree on what to do. Jenny and I talk out our plans. So that would make three leaders, five if John and Jeff are your advisers too. Now it’s gettin’ complicated. I’ve been in big gangs, but I’ve never led more than ten at a time. Maybe I could manage more, but I like the smaller group. I know these people very well. Even Ben and Polly who have only been with us a few months.
“There’s another definite problem. We’re three married couples, not just six fighters. I’ve been in too many gangs in the old days that were all men and all brawling. Aggression in a fight is great, but not in the camp. Guys without wives, girlfriends, whores, whatever, get too disagreeable to be around. How often did your men get out of hand up in the hills in those cabins?”
“Too often. But not many women want to go adventurin’. It’s hard, it’s dangerous. If nothin’ else, you get rained on too much of the time. So, you’re sayin’ no merger?”
“Not now. Not as our groups are. I wouldn’t mind a slightly larger band. Two more, four more. No more than twelve, I think. But look at the numbers. Even if you get women who don’t fight, that’ll give you thirty-six people to feed and pay and find shelter for. With our six, that’s forty-two. How many jobs pay enough to make this merger profitable?”
“Listen, Amos, you’re looking at adventuring the wrong way,” explained Jenny. “Most people do, even experienced rogues. You think a bigger band makes things easier and therefore you’ll be more successful. It can make fights easier, but not necessarily. We have six fighters who care about each other. If one goes down, dead or wounded, that’s a big loss for us.
“If one of your two dozen goes down, it’s not so big a loss. And if it’s Joe that Bob has been fighting with on the side, Bob may not care that Joe is dead. That’s bad for keeping your group together. If Bob isn’t willing to fight for Joe, the whole group can lose. That’s one big reason we beat you today. We care about each and every one of us. Can your crew say that about themselves?”
“Jenny’s right, Amos,” added Vince. “That is the key to our success, such as it is. I won’t try to convert you. You have your style of leadership, I have mine. We have different ways of looking at this. I don’t think we can merge now, but we can be friends. Will that be enough?”
“We’d rather be your friends than your enemies,” admitted Fred. “Maybe it won’t make any difference in anything we ever do, but I’d like to be on your good side.”