by David Drake
“Sorry, coz,” I said, walking toward him. I wanted to gasp after my run back at the horn call, but I kept control of my breathing to seem nonchalant. “The chief and I were just discussing her. When we decide what to do, we’ll let you know.”
That was close enough to the truth that the Crow wouldn’t take my head off when he learned what I’d said, and it put Dubnoreix on notice to mind how he went no matter how mad he was. It looked like he’d stroked Alpnu’s cheek and she’d snapped at his finger. I’d have laughed if things weren’t already so tense.
Dubnoreix’s hand quivered toward his sword hilt, and his face got redder yet. “I think you’re forgetting that I’m a thousand-chief, Taranis,” he said, his voice mushy with anger.
“I think you’re forgetting that I’m not in your thousand, Dubnoreix,” I said. I kept my voice calm, for a wonder, but there was the least tremble in it that warned anybody listening that I was getting close to the edge myself.
There was a bustle behind me. That was what I’d been waiting for.
“My blood’s just as good as yours, cousin!” I said. “And that’s if Kervan really was your father and not his horse-holder.”
“Bastard!” Dubnoreix shouted, which would’ve been funny if I’d had time to think about it: there weren’t any rumors about my mother. He swung his shield in front of his body and reached for the sword hanging at his right side. Instead of drawing my own sword, I stepped forward and stabbed at his sword hilt with the javelin in my left hand.
My point clacked against the ivory. Dubnoreix shouted and jerked his bloody hand up. I stepped back, my empty right hand raised at my side.
“Stop this!” the Crow bellowed. “Put away your arms or your heads are forfeit!”
I stuck my javelin into the soil and backed another pace without turning my head. “At your lordship’s command!” I said.
Liscus clanged his sword back into its sheath; the other housemen hadn’t drawn theirs. I’m not sure what Dubnoreix would have done if I hadn’t struck his sword hand, but right now his little finger lay on the ground. He dropped his shield so that he could squeeze the stump with his left hand.
“Dubnoreix, get your rabble to their tents right now!” the Crow said, stepping past me. He’d paused to put on his winged helmet, making him look even taller than before. The other thousand-chiefs had come along with him, but they were hanging well back.
I lowered my hands slowly, but I didn’t budge from where I was standing. I knew the Crow would have words for me after he’d settled with Dubnoreix.
“My lord, he struck me!” Dubnoreix said.
“You drew your sword on a man who wasn’t armed to receive you!” said the Crow. “You’re lucky a finger was all you lost. Get to your tents, I said!”
He pointed with his left arm and two extended fingers. I was looking at him from behind, and he sure as fate chilled my bones.
Dubnoreix walked away straight-backed, but he walked. Liscus picked up his brother’s shield and followed. The rest of the housemen had already slunk off in the direction Dubnoreix’s clan was camped.
The Crow turned to me. I met his eyes, but I said, “My lord,” in as respectful a tone as I could.
“Well, Taranis,” the Crow said. “Feeling clever, are you?”
“No, my lord,” I said. “This was nothing I wanted to happen. I’m sorry that it did.”
That was true, but I liked the result better than I would have liked some of the ways it might have turned out. Dubnoreix and his gang showing up fully armed the way they did must have been a deliberate plan to either make me back down or to start a fight I couldn’t win.
“Are you sorry?” said the Crow. He snorted. “Well, I guess you will be; I’m not having brawls between my chiefs here in the camp. Get out and forage in the direction of Rome. I don’t want you back in the camp for ten days unless there’s a Roman army at your heels.”
I thought of about a dozen ways I could answer that. The best result I’d get from backtalk would be no result; and as angry as the Crow was, I could lose my head if something I said stepped hard enough on his corns.
“Yes, my lord,” I said, bobbing my head. “We’ll ride out as soon as I can gather the boys.”
I looked around. Galo’s horn had brought most of them, though we’d probably want fresh mounts from the remuda. Galo needed a string of horses just for himself.
“Get on with it, then,” the Crow said, turning on his heel and stalking off. When he was angry his face pulled itself thinner, and he looked even more like a hawk.
I pulled my javelin from the ground and wiped the mud off with my tunic. I was trembling again, furious with Dubnoreix and the Crow both—though I knew the Crow was right—the last thing we needed was a clan fight in the middle of the war band. I’d been looking forward to a few days off, and the boys had been even more of that mind.
“Aw, Top!” Matisco said. “I been looking forward to seeing my girlfriend like you wouldn’t believe. Can’t we stay over tonight at least?”
I turned and raised my hand to knock him down. Galo caught my arm and said, “Top, let him be! We’re all on edge!”
If you want to know how strong Galo was, let me tell you that my fist didn’t move a hairsbreadth after he grabbed me. I wouldn’t say there was another man alive who could’ve stopped me from letting my anger out—on the wrong guy.
Matisco’s just a little fellow and a bloody useful one, I thought. I’d have broken his neck if I’d hit him square.
“Sorry, Top,” Matisco muttered. “I’ll get the packhorses ready.”
“Wait,” I said. My voice was a growl that even I couldn’t have understood. Louder and more clearly, I said, “Hold up, all of you! This job doesn’t need a whole troop, it just needs one man. You’re all off duty until I get back, which I figure will be ten days. Galo, if there’s a problem, go straight to the Crow—but I don’t think there will be.”
“Top, I want to go with you,” Galo said. He was wearing a clear jewel on a gold chain. The loop was almost too tight to fit around his neck.
“Yeah, all right,” I said. I wasn’t surprised, and I was just as glad to have Galo along. “Matisco, you’re in charge of the troop while I’m gone. Don’t start trouble, and if anybody else does let the Crow sort it out. Dubnoreix’s problem is with me, not with you lot, so just make sure it stays that way.”
“Right, Top,” Matisco said, bobbing his head. “We’ll keep outa trouble, don’t worry.”
“Taranis,” the woman said. “Take me too. It’s not safe for me to be here in the camp.”
“Why should I care how safe you are?” I said. It wasn’t fair to blame her for the trouble, but that’s how I felt.
“Why should you care about Dubnoreix having his way after all?” she said, raising a mocking eyebrow. “If you don’t know the answer to that, you’re not the man I thought you were.”
I laughed; she was a sharp little piece, no doubt about that. “All right,” I said, “but you’d better be able to ride the way you claim you can. I swear by the Dagda that I’ll drag you on a rope if you can’t.”
This time she laughed. “Get me a horse, then, and you can judge for yourself. And I think we’d better do it soon, because your chief didn’t sound like he meant maybe when he told you to get moving.”
I grunted and led the way to the corral. Galo stumped along behind.
* * *
Vincingo, the warband’s head wrangler, likes me and my troop. Whenever we stumble on something particularly good, we make sure there’s some of it left for him.
That means we get our pick of the horses; better, we get Vincingo’s pick, because he knows them better than any of us do. We don’t get pretty-looking mounts that don’t have stamina, or are shortsighted, or are likely to kick for no reason except they’ve got a clear shot at your ribs; those horses go to other troops.
Vincingo and his crew had already started to cut out mounts for me and Galo when I arrived at the corral. I’d just
as soon not have been the day’s hot gossip, but it made getting out of camp quicker and easier than it would’ve been if I’d had to explain why we were leaving again when we’d just got in.
Vincingo hadn’t heard Alpnu was going with us, though, and she had her own opinions about horses. They were choosing one for her while the crew put together strings for me and Galo.
While we waited, I had my first chance to relax since we’d gotten back to the camp. That’s what I was doing, leaning on a post and trying to forget the gouge along my ribs, when Galo said, “I wish that woman wasn’t coming along.”
I opened my eyes; looking at Galo was better than the way my memories were turning. “She rides well enough,” I said, nodding toward Alpnu and Vincingo. “Rides better than me, anyhow.”
Another thought struck me, and I said, “Or are you worried that she’ll get away? Don’t be. I think the Crow would be just as glad if she disappeared, given the trouble she’s been already. I wouldn’t mind either.”
That last part wasn’t quite true. Alpnu was a puzzle, and I like figuring things out. The problems I play with aren’t usually people, though. If she ran, I wasn’t going to hunt her down.
“I’d like it if she disappeared,” Galo said, wrinkling his forehead. “Etruscan women are witches, you know.”
I laughed and said, “All women are witches, Galo, I figured that out before I was sixteen, and nothing I’ve seen since has changed my mind.”
The sun caught the clear jewel on Galo’s chest. It was a perfect sphere the size of the nail of my index finger. It hadn’t been drilled: gold wire held it to a gold neck chain.
“Galo,” I said, “where in hell did you find that necklace?”
I spoke partly to change the subject. I didn’t know what I thought about Alpnu, and at the back of my mind I was afraid Galo was right.
“It was in the box that the Etruscan chief wore around his neck,” Galo said uncomfortably. “Do you want it, Taranis? You killed him, I guess.”
Something as valuable as that ought to be turned over to the Crow, to be granted at his will. That would generally be to the warrior who took it, but you didn’t want to get above yourself with the Crow. On the other hand, Galo didn’t take anything for himself—and I took bloody little. If he wanted this bauble, I’d make it all right if anybody pushed the point.
“No, I don’t like things around my neck,” I said. The stone didn’t have any color, but sometimes the sun hit it so that it blazed like when bellows drive a smith’s fire. “Why d’you suppose he wore such a pretty thing in an iron box?”
Galo shrugged. “I just like it,” he said. “It makes me think of the woman I dream about.”
I clapped him on the shoulder and said, “It’s yours, then. And here comes Vincingo and Alpnu back, so I guess we can be out of here as quick as we want to. Which I say is pretty quick!”
* * *
Galo was leading like he usually does when we’re heading out from camp. Normally there’d be a couple of the boys as outriders, but it’s Galo who says which way when a path forks or we have to pick our way through tangles, which is often enough.
The locals—the Etruscans—farm, but they keep moving the plowed fields around so most of the country is growing up in brush at any one time. Not a life I’d want.
Galo had his prybar crossways on his pommel like always. He was too clumsy on his legs to fight in the line, but believe me, nobody got up after Galo hit them with that length of iron.
I wasn’t planning to fight on this outing. If something came up, though, we’d deal the best we could, just as we did when it was my whole troop.
“Has your man always been crippled or did he break his leg as a child?” Alpnu asked. We were side by side on this path. She rode well, but she’d never had to lead a string, so I led the remounts for me and Galo and the packhorse with the tarp and food for a couple days.
“Don’t let him hear you call him crippled,” I said. “He’ll tell you he’s as strong as any two men, and that’s true of any two men I’ve met. But yeah, he was born like he is now.”
There weren’t any wheel ruts in the path, but the vegetation alongside was grass that came up to the horses’ knees, no trouble to ride through. I had enough slack in the line that I usually didn’t have to pull up when one of the horses paused to shit; that was the closest thing there was to a problem.
“Galo isn’t really ‘my man,’ either,” I said. “He’s wellborn, as good as anybody, but he’d have had a hard time of it if he hadn’t stuck to me from when we were boys. His leg you see, but he’s a little funny in the head too.”
“You’re a kind man, Taranis,” Alpnu said.
I looked at her, about as surprised as if she’d just flapped her arms and flown away. “I’m as hard as I need to be,” I said. “Don’t you ever doubt that.”
“I don’t,” she said. “Why doesn’t your friend Galo like me?”
I pursed my lips, then laughed. “Galo thinks you’re a witch,” I said. “Don’t worry, I’ve told him you’re all right. He won’t cross me.”
“I am a witch,” Alpnu said, meeting my eyes. Her voice was calm as you please. “Does that change your opinion of me?”
Yeah, it feels like somebody’s cold hand just grabbed my heart, I thought, but that wasn’t something that a man says. Besides, she was making a joke. A bad joke.
“You said Mamurcus was a witch too,” I said, “and he didn’t give me much of a problem. I guess I’ll take my chances with you.”
“You took Mamurcus unaware,” Alpnu replied, just as calm and serious as she’d been before. “Besides, you were holding iron in front of you. Mamurcus kept me bound within iron and under a roof, too; my powers come from the sky, not the ground like his.”
I laughed. I suppose it sounded phony. Dagda knows, it deserved to sound phony.
“So if Dubnoreix had dragged you off to his bed, you’d have turned him into a toad?” I said. “That’s what you mean?”
Alpnu smiled. If I’d seen that smile on the face of a man coming at me, I’d have known to be careful.
“No, but before morning he might have felt a dagger coming up through his kidney,” she said. “I suppose it would be a matter of how much pleasure he’d given me. I’ve found that most men aren’t worth keeping around.”
I didn’t blurt anything, but she’d shocked me. I swallowed and said, “My people expect our women to be faithful.”
I sounded like one of the priests lecturing boys on the customs of the tribe. I felt myself blush, and that made me even madder than I’d been before.
Alpnu smiled again. This time it was the kind of expression a warrior gets from women often enough after a victory celebration … as I know well.
“Then you’d better not take your women from my people,” Alpnu said.
The path was narrowing with spiky brush on either side. She clucked at her horse and rode ahead.
That suited me better than I’d have cared to say.
* * *
We rode through the afternoon and into the evening, much longer than I’d planned. We needed to get a ways out from the camp, but I’d have been willing to set up anywhere after the first five miles. Galo kept pushing on.
I didn’t move up alongside Alpnu again when the path would have permitted it. She glanced back over her shoulder once, but she faced front again when I pretended not to notice.
I didn’t know what to think about her. Not thinking about her seemed a better idea.
The dark clouds didn’t improve my mood. I wasn’t hearing thunder, but occasionally heat lightning flickered to the south.
The farms and villas near the camp had been deserted. Occasional chickens and a goat or two wandered about, probably wishing they hadn’t been left behind when their owners rushed in panic into Caere.
Farther on we didn’t run into any habitations, abandoned or otherwise. I wasn’t worried—I’ve slept rough often enough in the past—but it puzzled me. Galo was leading us more di
rectly eastward than most of our foraging runs had been. That was the direction of Rome, which is where we were supposed to be going, but we weren’t crossing any roads. There must be some; Rome claimed to be the chief city around here, after all.
I thought of asking Alpnu what she knew about the region, but I decided not to. Or I could bring Galo back and talk to him directly; it was about time to take a break and switch out our horses again.
A young goat poked her head out of the brush up the slope to our left and watched us. That decided me: if she hadn’t moved, I probably wouldn’t have noticed her.
Sorry, girl, I thought as I transferred one of my three javelins to my right hand. I spitted her through the neck, which wasn’t a bad cast at fifty feet from horseback. She bounded out of sight, spraying blood. She wouldn’t get far.
“Galo!” I shouted—he was over a hundred feet ahead. “Come back here and we’ll camp!”
I wouldn’t normally have made so much noise when we were in the field, but we hadn’t seen any sign of humans for over a mile except for maybe the goat. Even she might have been born wild instead of having been abandoned when the Crow moved south.
I swung off my mount, wondering if it would stand if I dropped the reins. I hadn’t ridden this one before. Alpnu walked her horse back and took the reins from my hand without speaking.
Galo was picking his way toward me; he didn’t look happy. Well, I wasn’t happy either. I didn’t like this place, and it didn’t look like we were going to find a better one before night—and maybe rain—caught us.
I unlaced the goat where it had fallen and lifted it by the hind legs to drain as much of the blood as I could. Blood spooks a lot of horses, and all it would take to finish off this wretched day would be to have to hunt our skittish mounts in a rainstorm.
I brought the goat back to Galo and the woman. Before I could speak, Galo said, “Look, Taranis. Let’s just go over the hill ahead, all right? I think it’s close.”
“Bloody hell, Galo, what’s close?” I said. “I don’t like this place!”