"It's easy," offered Arnim. "I could show you if you like?"
"That's very kind of you, sir, but I don't even know you. How do I know you aren't working for the smith, here?”
"I've never met him before," complained the merchant.
"That's easy enough to settle," said Arnim. "My name is Richard Arendale."
"Glad to meet you, Richard, my name is Rowan Spencer. Are you new to Colbridge?"
"I am," replied the knight. "I heard the duke was looking for soldiers and thought I'd make my way down here. It's always nice to have a little coin in the purse."
"Have you found employment yet?" asked Rowan.
"No, I only arrived last night. How about you, what's your story?"
"I'm part of the levy. We've been enlisted to beef up the defences, though for the most part, we've been doing manual labour."
"You don't say?"
"Oh yes. Now that rebellion is in the air, the duke is all concerned about reinforcing the city walls, and we're desperately short of people. Why don't you come and join us? We could always use another pair of hands."
"A fine idea, Rowan. Are you billeted nearby?"
"We're the levy, not a regular company, so we all live in our own homes, but the headquarters isn't too far from here."
"Then lead on," said Arnim.
"Hey," called out the smith, "what about your weapon?"
"My mistake," said Rowan, scooping his coins up and dropping them back into his purse. "I'll come back later for a weapon. It's unlikely I'll need it for some time anyway. It's not as if anyone is going to attack in the middle of winter. Come along, Richard, I'll introduce you to our captain."
Arnim was led up the street by his host who proved to be most talkative.
"Colbridge is an old town," Rowan was saying. “Have you been here before?"
"I'm afraid not," Arnim replied. ”I was raised in Wincaster, though this city is very similar."
"I imagine it is, but Colbridge is much older. It is the second city of the kingdom."
"Second city?"
"Yes, Kingsford is the first city founded by our ancestors, while Colbridge followed soon after."
"Interesting," mused Arnim.
"Of course," his host continued, "back then it was a bustling port city, and one of the most populous of the entire realm."
"Was? What happened?" Arnim said, feigning ignorance.
"The Great Swamp, that's what happened," explained Rowan. "It's been spreading for generations, even closed off the mouth of the river a while back."
"Couldn't they just clear it out? Surely it wouldn't be that much work."
"It's not just the plants, it's the creatures that lurk there that are too terrible to mention."
"How long ago did this happen?" asked Arnim.
"About two hundred years ago, give or take a few decades. They tried clearing it out many times, but they lost too many ships. There hasn't been a seagoing vessel at our docks for many generations."
"But surely the river is still navigable?"
"Oh, aye, the river provides trade opportunities, but they pale in comparison to what we did in our heyday. Of course, when the foreign trade dried up, so did our population. People sought out opportunities elsewhere. Well, those that could afford to, at least."
"And so now you have a large city with a much smaller population."
"Exactly," agreed Rowan. "For years the city has been neglected. The walls were built long ago when money poured in from overseas trade, but now there are no coins in the coffer, and the walls are tumbling."
"Surely it can't be as bad as that? What about all the troops you have here?"
"That's from the Royal Purse, or so I'm led to believe. It appears the duke is in the king's favour, a benefit for staying loyal, I suppose."
Rowan paused, looking left and right, "Ah, we're almost there. Just up ahead you'll see some men standing around."
Arnim glanced up the street to see what his host had predicted. The men looked more like common labourers waiting for their assignments, for none of them were carrying weapons.
"How many are there in the levy?" he asked.
"I'm told there's only about two hundred of us. This is the northern company, but there's another in the south end of the city."
"So what do we do now?"
"Just wait. The captain will appear soon enough, and then we'll have plenty to do."
As if on cue, the captain arrived; a dour-looking man with a humourless face. Pushing his way past the crowd, he opened the door and entered the building, leaving the men to follow him in. Arnim and Rowan waited until the crowd thinned and then joined the end of the line.
The captain sat at a table, a ledger placed before him. As each man came up to him, he asked their name, scribbling it into the ledger with his quill, and then dropping a meagre few coins into the waiting hand. At Arnim's approach, the officer looked up.
"I haven't seen you here before," he commented.
"I just arrived in Colbridge," Arnim offered.
The captain looked him up and down, nodding to himself, "You look able enough. Name?"
"Richard Arendale," he replied.
The captain wrote the name down in rough lettering, then dropped three coins into Arnim's palm. "You'll be working on the north wall today. Report to Sergeant Hawkins. Rowan, here, will show you the way."
Arnim moved aside and waited, while his new friend collected his pay.
"Come along, Richard," said Rowan, "we must hurry. Sergeant Hawkins is not one to welcome tardiness."
They hurried off to their day of labour.
* * *
Nikki sat, nursing a cider. The common room of The Mermaid was busy, and she cast her eyes about, examining each of the patrons. In order to carry out her assignment, she needed information, and the tavern on the first floor of this inn was likely to be the best place to find it.
Most of the people here were simple workers, though the occasional merchant showed his face. People came and went, the entire room constantly humming with conversation. It was nigh on noon when she finally overheard something of consequence. Two men were talking in hushed tones, something about an incoming shipment and their eagerness to avoid the town guards. It immediately piqued her interest, and she shuffled closer, the better to listen.
"Who's bringing it in?" asked a swarthy fellow.
"Garan," replied the elder of the two, a white-haired man.
"When can I get it?"
"Tomorrow morning."
"Can I pick it up here?"
"No, of course not. Come down to the Pearl and speak to Harriet."
The swarthy fellow shook the older man's hand then left, leaving his companion to finish his ale in peace.
Nikki considered approaching the man but then thought better of it. She waited till he finally left, then rose from her table, determined to locate the Pearl by following him. Of course, she had no idea if he was making his way there directly, but decided it was worth the gamble.
The white-haired fellow wandered down the street, taking his time. He stopped to chat with a local merchant who was unlocking his door, forcing Nikki to duck into a doorway to avoid discovery. She looked around, aware that anyone who had seen her would think her actions suspicious, but no one seemed to take any notice. Breathing a sigh of relief, she returned her attention to the white-haired man. He had continued down the street, and she stepped out of the doorway to follow. This individual appeared to know everyone, for he stopped on multiple occasions to talk to vendors. On at least one of these occasions, she spotted coins changing hands, and then she understood; her target was collecting money, likely payment for protection. It was an old racket and one she was all too familiar with. This was getting more interesting by the moment.
She managed to get a little closer the next time he halted, enough to hear part of the conversation. What she heard confirmed her theory, for the merchant was obviously not happy with having to pay. It seemed this fellow was well known t
hroughout town, for his appearance brought instant obedience. Nikki became more convinced that he represented the local power hereabouts and resolved to continue following, hopefully to the Pearl.
Her efforts were finally rewarded as her target's meanderings brought them to the docks, which lay on the west side of town. There, he entered a tavern, its placard proclaiming the name for all to see, The Pearl. She halted, watching from a distance; it wouldn't do to enter the place without an appreciation for the type of clientele. She spent the rest of the day observing, taking note of the people coming and going.
* * *
That evening Arnim and Nikki met back at The Mermaid. They were both tired but knew there was still work to be done.
Nikki sat on the bed, removing her shoes, "Did you make any progress today?"
"I did," said Arnim. “I joined the local militia."
"And?" she prompted.
"And not much else," he confessed. "I spent the day doing heavy labour. The troops are mainly being used to haul away broken bits of stone, but I did make some valuable observations."
"Where were you working?" she asked.
"The north wall. It seems there are a few sections that have crumbled over the years. I'm no engineer, but I think the stone they used is the wrong type. There are large cracks everywhere. I don't imagine it would stand up to a siege for very long."
"So why are they clearing out the rubble?" she asked. "I would think it would help hinder an attack."
"I'm sure it would," he admitted, "but they've brought in some large timbers. I think they're going to try bracing what's left of the wall."
"Valuable information," she said. "I would think, considering what you've observed, that it would be the perfect place to assault."
"Yes, though perhaps a little too easy to defend, if they put their minds to it."
"Care to explain?" she asked.
"If I were in their shoes, I'd let the wall fall, then lead the attackers into a trap. With the right preparations, it could be deadly."
"How would they do that?"
"By funnelling their enemies through the hole, and then boxing them in. I saw them building some barricades nearby."
"How do their numbers look?"
"They have a lot, but their quality is doubtful. I suspect most of them have been called to arms with little or no training; half the militia doesn't even have real weapons, just pitchforks and knives."
"Knives can still kill," warned Nikki.
"Yes, but almost useless in a battle. How about you? What did you find?"
She smiled, "I think I've located the lair of the local crime lord. I'm going to try contacting him tomorrow. If anyone can arrange things, it would be him."
"Be careful, Nikki, they're likely to be dangerous folk."
"Hey, it's me, remember? I'm used to people like that."
Arnim broke into a grin, "Maybe they should be worried?"
"That's more like it," she replied. “Now get over here. My back is sore from standing all day, and I need you to rub it."
* * *
The next day found Arnim once again hauling stones, in a chain gang of sorts, with the larger rocks passed along the line to be stacked out of the way. Other men shovelled smaller stones and dust into wicker baskets and buckets to be taken away, out of his sight. It was back-breaking work, but at the noon break, as he quenched his thirst at the water barrel, he overheard the captain say something interesting.
"Sir Nigel," the man said, "I didn't expect to see you here today. Is there a problem?"
"Nothing urgent," replied the knight, "but I need some advice. We have a new contingent of knights due here by the end of the week, and I'll need more stabling."
"Surely not," said the captain. "Wilkerson has stables enough for at least two dozen."
Sir Nigel frowned, "Would that it was enough, but the king has seen fit to double our numbers."
"How many are we talking about?"
"By the time they arrive, we'll need stabling for fifty."
"Fifty! Saxnor's beard, that's a lot. Surely the king doesn't expect an attack?"
"I doubt it," said the knight, "but I'm sure we'll start becoming more aggressive come spring. His Majesty may wish to use Colbridge as a starting point for his coming campaign."
The captain looked at the wall, "I thought all this was just to keep the troops busy. Surely we're not going to war?"
Sir Nigel cast his eyes about, but Arnim, ever on the alert, bent to the task of watering himself to avoid suspicion. "The rebellion is spreading, and the king wants it crushed as quickly as possible. Come spring, troops will be on the move, for he wants it all handled by summer. Now, you do me this favour, and I'll see to it your name is mentioned. Come summer, there'll be rewards for those that came to the king's attention."
The captain's back noticeably straightened. "Carsons, down by Silverstones Ave."
"Thank you," replied the knight, extending his hand. "And remember, no one else is to know of this."
"My lips are sealed," promised the good captain.
Arnim turned, ready to resume his work but a voice called out, halting him in his tracks.
"You there!" yelled the knight.
Arnim froze, then turned slowly. "Who me?" he asked.
Sir Nigel walked toward him, "Don't I know you?"
"I don't believe so," he replied.
The knight was not having any of it. He strode over, halting just in front of Arnim, staring into his face as his mind struggled to think. "I've seen you somewhere," he said. "Where are you from?"
"Wincaster, Lord," he replied, trying to sound courteous.
The knight's face suddenly dawned in recognition, "You're one of those bastard Knights of the Hound. Guards! Seize him!"
Arnim reacted quickly, drawing his knife and stabbing forward. Sir Nigel was armoured in chainmail but had forsaken his helm and coif this day, thinking himself safe within the walls of the city. Arnim's knife plunged forward, striking the knight in the throat. It wasn't a deep cut, but enough to stagger the man backward, clutching at his wound.
Arnim turned and ran as fast as his feet could carry him, while a hue and cry arose behind. He went for the nearest cover, a small alleyway, and ducked down the narrow confines. Voices echoed off the buildings as he sprinted and then a man appeared at the end of the narrow passageway, his sword raised. Arnim slowed his pace, his knife ready for a fight.
His enemy's blade slid forward, but Arnim ducked to the side, the edge tearing across his tunic but doing little damage to his skin. His knife struck out, and his target dropped his blade, clutching his injured arm. Arnim sprinted away, past the injured soldier, turning right, running farther into town. He cast his eyes about, desperate to find some place of safety, but he was unsure of the layout of this great city.
Ahead of him, others had taken up the cry, and a group of men with spears jogged toward him. Seeing a door to his immediate right, he pushed it open and ran in, only to crash into someone. He lashed out wildly, knocking them to the ground, and then looked around. He was in a tavern, and as his luck would have it, it was full of soldiers. They'd heard the cry of alarm and were standing, but his sudden appearance had taken them all by surprise. He spotted a set of stairs and rushed toward them, but there were men everywhere, and then he suddenly felt the impact of something hitting the back of his head. His vision blurred and he staggered forward, intent on reaching his destination, but hands dragged him down, and then he fell, his desperate struggle ended by the blackness that overtook him.
* * *
Nikki entered the Pearl. The place was ordinary enough, with the smell of cheap alcohol permeating the air. She sat on one of the bench seats that lined the walls, a small table before her. Soon, a woman walked over.
"What'll it be?" she asked.
"I'm looking for a man called Garan," she said. "I understand he frequents this place?"
She noticed a slight look of fear on the woman's face. "Why in the Three Realms would you
want to see him?" she asked.
"I have a business proposition, one that could be quite profitable to him."
"I'll see that he gets the message," the barmaid replied. "Come back tomorrow."
"I'll stay," Nikki said. "I've a feeling I won't have to wait long. Take him this," she said, passing over a coin.
The woman looked at the gold. “This is Westland money," she said in appreciation.
"Yes," said Nikki, "and there's lots more where that came from. What's your name?"
"Harriet," the woman replied.
"Well, Harriet, there's a gold crown in it for you when you come back."
Nikki kept her eyes on the woman as she left, tracking her movements. Harriet ducked behind the bar and whispered something to the barkeep, who looked in Nikki's direction and then nodded. A moment later, Harriet left the room, using a door behind the bar as her egress.
It didn't take long for the door to reopen. A dark-haired man, complete with ponytail entered the room, heading straight for her table. He sat down without introduction. "You wanted to see Garan?" he asked.
"Yes," she admitted.
"What's this about?"
"I have need of his services. I need to get some people out of the city."
"How many," he asked.
"Only two, but I'd prefer it to be kept quiet."
He looked to his hand, which held the gold coin she had passed on earlier. "This is Westland gold," he said. ”Do you work for them?"
"No," she responded, "though I've done work for them recently. I have plenty more where that came from, Garan."
He looked up in surprise. ”What makes you think I'm Garan?" he asked.
"I've been watching this place for a while. You always travel with an escort. Either you're Garan or the Duke of Colbridge."
"You're a smart woman," he said, "perhaps too smart for your own good. What makes you think I wouldn't just kill you and take the money?"
"I've done this type of negotiation before. I know not to have it all on me. What's your price?"
"When would you need transport?" he countered.
"Sometime in the next few days. Perhaps as early as tonight, but more likely a day or two from now."
Fate of the Crown Page 5