The mayor stood and bowed to both his sides. To the assembly he said, “I thank, we all thank, Captain Stonearm and Masters Spinner and Haft, and all the members of the raiding party for their successful raid. Perhaps because of their efforts, this part of the Princedons will be safer for both towns and travelers in the future.” To the men at his sides he added, “If I have any more questions, I will ask you later. Thank you again.” Once more he faced front. “This town meeting is now adjourned.” He left by a door at the back of the stage, ignoring the questions shouted from the audience.
Stonearm signaled and exited with Spinner and Haft by the same door.
“What’s wrong with them?” Haft asked harshly as they left.
Spinner shook his head again. “I don’t know,” he said weakly.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
The company now occupied space within the outermost houses, close inside the fences. Fletcher led the two Frangerian Marines and the other raiders to it when they left the town hall. The first order of business for Spinner and Haft was to see how the men wounded by the bandits were faring. The people who’d stayed behind during the raid and attended the town meeting followed on foot.
“That’s what’s wrong with them,” Spinner said with sudden revelation. “They have our wounded and dead from yesterday on their minds. Some of the bandits had attacked our women and children while the men fought the rest of them. They’re upset because of that, they think battle, they think women and children being attacked.”
Haft shook his head. “Alyline and Doli knew we were attacking a base before we left, a place that had women and children. They could have spoken up then.” He grimaced. “They’ve both seen battle, they know what happens—and they know we don’t make war on women and children.”
Spinner shrugged. He was satisfied with his answer. “They’ll get over it,” he said confidently.
Haft snorted; he wasn’t confident of anything where those two women were concerned.
Silent said nothing, he knew women’s minds worked in ways incomprehensible to men, and the upset of those two had nothing to do with bandit women and children.
None of the wounded had died overnight or that morning. The town’s healing magician was satisfied with their progress and had packed up his demons and carried them away. Only the company’s own healing witch and two of the older girls were in attendance in the makeshift hospital.
“They’re doing as well as can be expected,” Nightbird said. “Even better, thanks to Eikby’s healers.” She hesitated, then added grudgingly, “Even the healing magician and his demons were a help. Only one of the wounded is still in serious danger, and I believe he has a good chance of recovery.”
Spinner and Haft went from pallet to pallet speaking briefly with each person who was awake and able to talk. All were happy to see them, and happy about the successful raid. Spinner was in higher spirits when they finished, even Haft felt less grumbly.
“There she is,” Spinner said happily and pointed. “Let’s go talk to her.”
Haft looked and groaned. Alyline and Doli stood with their heads close together in intimate conversation as they darted glances at the two men. Haft thought their glances were distinctly unfriendly. Still, he followed. Even if Spinner was walking openly into an obvious drubbing, he had to go along to rescue his fellow Marine. Even when Spinner was being so stupid that he didn’t deserve rescue.
“Alyline, Doli!” Spinner said expansively when he neared them. He stepped close and slipped an arm around each—he felt so good after the night’s raid that he was willing to be friendly with Doli even before she brought herself to his attention.
He blinked in surprise when Doli twisted out of his arm to stand with her back to him, and Alyline pushed him away.
“What? Did I say something wrong?”
“You killed women!” Alyline, fists clenched at her sides, spat.
“You killed children!” Doli spun about and jabbed an accusing finger at him.
“No I didn’t!”
Haft bowed his head and covered his eyes with a hand; this was about what he thought would happen.
“Oh, you change your story now?” Alyline accused, stepping forward in a threatening manner.
“You said you did!” Doli exclaimed and advanced a step.
“But I never . . .”
“How many women and children are dead from your raid?” Alyline demanded, thrusting her angry face up to his.
“Murderer!” Doli jabbed a stiff finger into his chest.
“But . . .”
“You kill women and children, and expect me to allow you to put your bloody hands on me afterward?” Alyline spat into his face.
Doli elbowed Alyline aside so she could get directly in Spinner’s face. “You go out with a mere twenty men to attack a stronghold of more than two hundred bandits, and you expect me to greet you with open arms just because you’re lucky enough to live through it?”
Alyline barely glanced at Doli; she instantly turned her attention and ire on Haft. “Is that all you will ever be?” she scolded him. “A fool who forever rushes into situations that should kill you? How many times do you think you can get away with that?” She punctuated her questions with jabs that left fingernail impressions in the top of his chest just below his throat. “Sometimes I think you are learning, that you are becoming less of a fool. Then you turn around and do something like this! Do you want to die in hopeless combat?”
“But, But . . .” Haft backpedaled in a vain attempt to get away from her sharp nails.
“You keep raising my hopes and, every time, you do something stupid and dash them!” She jabbed her fist into his chest hard enough to stagger him back a step, then spun about and grabbed Doli’s arm. “Let’s go away before I get violent with them.”
“And you stink!” Doli shouted over her shoulder as Alyline dragged her away.
“Bu-But . . . ,” Spinner stammered.
Rubbing his sore chest, Haft grabbed Spinner’s arm and turned him about. “Time to go, Spinner. Let’s get out of here before they change their minds and come after us again.” He dragged his friend away. “Face it, Spinner,” Haft growled, “you just made a single-handed frontal assault on a well-defended position. You lost.” He shook his head, wondering why Alyline had turned on him the way she had. It was almost as though she cared what happened to him. He thought he’d rather not have her care. “Let’s go before our casualties get worse.”
When Spinner resisted, Haft grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around by main force, then pushed him away. He sniffed. “Doli was right, we both need a bath. Let’s get one, then go into town.” He looked about for the campsite’s shower station.
At least the bucket-boys who kept the shower’s reservoir tank filled with warm water treated them with proper respect and admiration.
Later, when they were feeling refreshed if no happier, bathed and in clean clothes, they were about to head into Eikby proper when Captain Stonearm intercepted them. He wanted to show them the progress of the fence construction.
“The mayor always objected that putting up fences would take too long,” Stonearm observed, “unnecessarily take too much work away from agriculture and other activities.” He snorted derisively. “A thousand people have made short work of it.”
They certainly had. The frames of all the western and southern fences were up, and the northern fences were beginning to go up. The western fences had wire strung top and bottom. Workers were busy stringing the main wires on the rest of the frames; other teams were stringing vertical strands between the horizontal wires to make crossing the fence more difficult for footmen, and yet other teams were twisting short, pointed lengths of wire into barbs on the wires.
“When all is done, it will take a much larger band than we first expected to get through the fences in large enough force to defeat Eikby,” Stonearm said with great satisfaction. “If the Rockhold Band’s survivors are foolish enough to come now, we will d
efeat them.”
For their part, Spinner and Haft were very impressed with the progress.
Then Stonearm took them to where Fletcher and the Zobrans and Skraglanders who hadn’t gone on the raid were drilling the Eikby guard. When they arrived they found the soldiers using wooden swords to demonstrate how skilled troops with swords could defeat a larger number of less skilled swords- and pikemen. They were demonstrating on two squads of guards—swordsmen and pikemen who used their normal weapons.
“All I can reasonably say,” Fletcher calmly told the guardsmen, “is you weren’t as bad as the last time. This time you lasted almost two minutes—but you still didn’t hurt any of the attackers.” He shook his head sadly.
“But we restrained our blows, sir!” one of the guardsmen objected. “To avoid badly injuring one of your soldiers.” The Skraglanders and Zobrans burst into laughter.
Fletcher instantly jumped in the face of the guardsman who’d spoken up. “These soldiers are professionals!” he roared. “You could lay a blade on them only by sheerest accident!”
The guardsman quailed.
“Now, change defenders,” he bellowed, “and this time try to hit them. Try hard!” He signaled to the soldiers, who laughingly formed up to attack the guards again.
The other squad of swordsmen and the squad of lancers, dismounted, set their formation in two ranks, swordsmen in front of the lancers who leveled their lances between the swordsmen.
The soldiers conferred among themselves for a moment, then faced the guards and charged in two ranks of their own, the Zobrans in front of the Skraglanders. The Zobrans stopped short of the guards and fenced at the lance points with their wooden swords. Angry at the taunting, Eikby’s lancers pushed ahead to get their weapons close enough to break past the Zobran swords, crowding their swordsmen ahead of them as the attackers pulled back. In seconds, their ranks were confused and the Skraglanders in the rear rank shouted then ran around the sides of the deteriorating guard formation and fell upon it from behind. In seconds, all the Eikby Guards were on the ground or staggering beneath blows from the wooden swords.
“Stop!” Fletcher bellowed, red in the face. “What happened to your discipline? You fell for one of the oldest tricks swordsmen play against spears and pikes! Always remember to maintain your ranks and your discipline, or you will be killed as quickly as you would have been now if these soldiers hadn’t been using practice blades!”
Snorting heavily, he turned from the guards and stomped over to Spinner, Haft, and Stonearm. His chest heaved as he brought his breathing back under control. Normal color quickly returned to his face and he grinned at the trio.
“Captain, your men are willing enough, but they don’t know the first thing about fighting.”
“I’m not surprised,” Stonearm said sadly. “It’s as I keep saying—I was never allowed to give them proper training.” He paused, looking speculatively at Fletcher. “I mean no offense, you’re doing a good job, but do you have experience in training troops?”
Fletcher shook his head.
“But you do know fighting. I know fighting and training. Together, I think we can quickly teach them the basics, would you agree?”
Fletcher’s grin broadened. He, too, recognized the sergeant that Stonearm used to be. “I do indeed.”
“Then shall we?” He turned to Spinner and Haft. “May I?”
“Please do.”
“All ranks, form on me!” Stonearm called out in a drill sergeant’s voice as he strode toward the guards. “Now that you know you don’t know how to fight, we are going to teach you how to fight.”
Haft looked at Spinner and saw the sadness on his face. Whether it was because of the guardsmen’s fighting ability or the way Alyline and Doli had assaulted him, Haft didn’t care. He slapped Spinner’s shoulder and said, “Come on, my friend. We don’t know any more about how to train fighters than Fletcher does, and we both need a drink. Let’s visit that inn. We can get a meal, too. I’m hungry.”
Spinner nodded morosely and followed Haft into the center of Eikby.
The Middle of the Forest Inn was the second largest building in Eikby, but not by much. It had to be large to accommodate the large, heavily armed, groups that were all that could traverse the forest with any degree of safety from the bandit bands. Attended cloakrooms stood to each side of the main entrance. A prominent sign barred entry to the corridor that led to the main common room, two smaller commons, and the private dining rooms. Between them, they had just enough written Zobran to translate it:
ALL WEAPONS
ARE TO BE
CHECKED WITH
THE CLOAKS
Spinner and Haft looked at each other; they’d seen such signs only in the more formal common rooms of expensive inns in large cities, never in a wayside inn—and no matter how big the Middle of the Forest Inn was in Eikby, the whole town was small enough to count as little more than a wayside itself.
Word had come ahead that they were on their way and the innkeeper bustled up to greet them personally. He was a stout man, rather larger through the belly than the chest. He briskly wiped his hands on his apron.
“Welcome, Master Spinner, Master Haft,” he said with an innkeeper’s unctuous smile and a bow. “The Middle of the Forest Inn is most pleased to serve such distinguished visitors as you. My name is Dommuz, and this is my house.” He snapped his fingers and an attendant scurried over to accept their weapons.
Haft reluctantly turned over his axe; Spinner more readily divested himself of his quarterstaff. The attendant stood as though waiting for something more.
“We have several rooms for dining, each for a different taste,” Dommuz continued. “If mightily drinking is your pleasure, we have that. Another room has the most pleasant and pleasing music to serve as dining background. Or if you prefer to hear a skald tell stories, or watch jugglers and acrobats . . .”
“Lead us to the room with the best music, please,” Haft said, determined not to let giving up his axe bother him. He stepped toward the corridor.
“Ah, sir?” Dommuz said apologetically. “Your belt knife.”
Haft turned back to him. “My what?”
“Your belt knife, Master Haft.” The innkeeper shrugged and spread his hands. “The Middle of the Forest Inn allows no weapons of any sort within its public rooms.”
“But this isn’t a weapon,” Haft said, patting the scabbarded knife on his belt.
“Sir, it has a blade, no doubt a sharp one. It can easily be used to wound or, gods forbid, kill a man.”
“This madman wants me to give up my knife?” Haft said to Spinner.
“Why such strong insistence?” Spinner asked.
“You understand, sir, that we get many very rough men here, often violent men. So we allow no weapons. It is a town ordnance.”
Spinner nodded. “I understand.” He took the knife from his belt and handed it over. “Give it over,” he told Haft.
Haft gaped at him, then asked the innkeeper, “And with what do we cut our meat, or are we expected to gnaw it like wild beasts?”
With considerable effort the innkeeper puffed up his chest so that it stood almost directly above his belly instead of sloping back sharply from it. “Sirs, our meat is the most tender to be found within several days travel. And we cut it into bite-sized pieces in the kitchen before it is served. Eikby may not be a grand city like world travelers such as yourselves are accustomed to, but neither are we rustics. Our dining rooms offer forks for our guests to eat with!”
Grumbling, Haft handed his knife to the attendant.
Spinner laughed. It wasn’t much of a laugh, but it was his first since they’d visited the hospital. He clapped Haft on the shoulder.
“Come, Haft. You heard Master Dommuz, they have forks. Even The Burnt Man Inn didn’t have forks. Anyway, if trouble comes I’m sure we will have warning enough to get our weapons before we are set upon.”
“What if we don’t have time?” Haft grumbled, almost to himself.
>
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your hand-to-hand?”
Haft looked like he wanted to spit in disgust, but the cleanliness of the inn’s floor restrained him.
They followed the obviously relieved Master Dommuz along the corridor and into a common room holding not quite twenty tables, each with seating for six or so and sufficient room for the serving maids to maneuver between the tables even when they were all filled. More than half of the tables were occupied, and more than half of those had open seats. Several of the men who had been on the overnight raid were drinking and eating. They shouted and lifted flagons and cups in salute to their commanders. Haft cheerfully shouted and waved back, Spinner waved with less enthusiasm. The innkeeper led them to an open table near the small stage, where a troubadour played a mandolin. A young woman in milkmaid garb stood next to him as they sang a duet.
A serving maid appeared at their table as they were sitting.
“Serve Masters Spinner and Haft our best,” Master Dommuz said then bowed himself away.
“Ale, sirs?” she asked as Haft eyed her. She was lovely and blond, smiled prettily and was garbed modestly in a dress that left bare only a smallish triangle at the top of her chest, and whose skirt extended to midcalf. The bodice was snug but not tight, and the skirt was loose but not enough so for a rude hand to flip it up. She looked to Haft to be a year or two younger than he and Spinner.
Spinner, lost in his own thoughts, nodded absently.
“Ale,” Haft said.
“Our best,” she replied and hurried off. A moment later she was back and gracefully placed two cold tankards in front of them.
“Would you like some supper, masters?” she asked.
Haft had already looked over the menu posted above the kitchen door. “Do you have any specials today?” he asked and quaffed deeply of his ale.
“Everything we have is special,” she said proudly. “It’s all posted.”
Demontech: Rally Point: 2 (Demontech Book 2) Page 16