Lose A Princess, Lose Your Head (Merchant Blades Book 2)

by Alex Avrio

  “If they’ve run away they’ll be in Pella by now,” Kyfer said.

  Hardly, Briggs thought, but kept the thought to himself. He could sense the mood of the crowd. They clung to a hope they knew in their hearts wasn’t real. That hope could turn to anger, and a mob, at a moment’s notice.

  “Have you seen anything at all?” Martha insisted. She must be the mother of one of them, Briggs thought. The soldiers hesitated for a moment.

  “What have you seen?” Martha demanded.

  “Nothing to do with your girls,” Johannes said.

  “What have you seen?” Martha shouted, hysteria in her voice.

  “There was an abandoned camp in the woods. Merchants who were heading this way. We think they might've been killed by robbers,” Johannes said.

  “Where was this camp you speak of, friend?” one of the men seated at the corner table asked.

  Johannes gave a brief account of what they had found in the camp. Charlie suddenly sat back in her seat, trying to hide herself behind Briggs.

  “We searched that wood for the children,” one of the men said. “These bandits must have moved here in the last couple of days.”

  “Well, it wasn’t Mother Spider that took the children,” Martha shouted. “Where are they?”

  Kurt put a soothing hand on her shoulder. She turned to the mercenaries. “Have you seen anyone on your way here?”

  “No ma’am,” Briggs replied carefully.

  “Any gypsies?”

  “Gypsies can scarcely feed themselves this time of the year. Why would they take your children?” Briggs asked.

  “To sell them in Pella or Korthi,” one of the men replied.

  “Or to use them in their ceremonies,” Martha shrieked. “They put them in barrels, spiked inside with nails, and roll them down a hill. Then they drink their blood.”

  Briggs could tell this wasn't the time to defend the gypsies. This crowd was on a knife edge, driven to desperation, and things could turn ugly fast. He’d seen it before.

  “Good folk of Stonebridge,” Briggs projected in the commanding voice he usually reserved to terrorize new recruits or inspire the terrified before battle. “We have not seen your children, but we wish you great luck in finding them.”

  The finality in his words calmed the people into sadness. Martha’s head fell, all hope of news extinguished. The villagers satisfied themselves and left.

  “If those girls are alive, they’re in a brothel if they're lucky,” Eleven whispered to Jackson who nodded. Briggs looked round for Charlie. She’d left the table.

  Charlie grabbed a serving tray and went over to the merchants' table.

  “Can I get you anything?” she asked, flashing them a sweet smile.

  “Get us another round,” one of the men said.

  “Anything else?”

  “Hold on,” the man said.

  “Anything else I can get you?”

  The man studied her face. “I used to know a lad that looked like you,” he said.

  “Might be one of my cousins. Big family. Where did you know him? I’ll tell you which one he was,” Charlie said. Her cheeky grin masked that her stomach was in knots.

  “No matter,” said the man, dismissing her.

  “Sir,” Charlie said to the one sat next to him, “those are mighty impressive scars on your face. Were you in the war?”

  The scars ran down the side of his face to his throat, and a chunk of his ear was missing. This clearly hadn't been by saber or musket.

  “Bad dog,” he said, without looking up from his drink. Charlie gave a beaming smile and left, heart in her mouth.

  Bad wolf, more like, she thought. She passed the order onto a waitress, then went back to speak to Briggs.

  “We’ve got trouble, grandpa,” she whispered in his ear. “They're no merchants. That's the Black Fox’s men.”

  13 MIST OVER WATER

  THE mayor’s house was the grandest in the village, although the ivy climbing the south face was overgrown. The butler greeted Regina and Jaeger and took them down a long corridor, illuminated only by the candelabra in the butler's hand, to the drawing room. The room was too small for all the occupants, most having to squeeze close to each other on the sofas. Regina looked round, wondering what hid behind the smiles. The princess would normally have a couch to herself, but tonight she shared with Adel and Emilia, all three waving their fans demurely. Lieutenant Schaefer sat between Major Morgenstern and Colonel Meyer. The mayor was next to his wife; with the magistrate, priest and doctor squashed alongside. The magistrate was a tall woman, not a spare ounce of fat. Her face was gaunt, her nose beak-like, and she wore her formal court gown. Regina found her mind returning to the people in the cages. A few gentlefolk also stood around the room. Lady Emilia smiled at Regina and Jaeger, and enthusiastically beckoned them to come and squeeze onto her couch.

  The good folk of Stonebridge were displaying their best clothes and their best manners. They had come to pay their respects to their princess – all wanted to catch her attention, or at least speak with one of her ladies. Regina tried to make herself as inconspicuous as possible.

  “Which one of you gentlemen is the engineer?” the magistrate suddenly asked the officers. The question caught them off guard, and they looked around at each other in confusion.

  “My dear Wexen,” the Mayor said, his chains swinging across his chest as he spoke, “now is not the time for business. We shall speak of these things tomorrow.” The magistrate’s piercing stare was directed at the officers like a hawk calculating whether its prey was in range. She said nothing further.

  “We are honored by your visit, Your Highness,” the priest's nasal voice interjected. “May the Mother and Child smile always on you and your esteemed family. And our beloved Emperor, of course,” he added hastily. “May his years be long and fruitful.”

  “May his years be long and fruitful,” Lady Emilia said, raising her glass. Everyone stood and joined the traditional toast of loyalty to the monarch of Eressia. The last to join in was Regina.

  “May he always shine his light on Eressia,” Lady Emilia said, “for he rules by the Blessing of The Mother and Child. The Mother herself put the crown on the first Emperor’s brow.”

  “Here, here,” everyone said. Regina's stomach turned slightly, though she cheered along with everyone else. She was a guest in the house and the country and couldn't afford to insult her hosts or her employers. The Merrovigians had won the war, so she could afford the graciousness of the victor. She sat down and the conversations started to break down into smaller groups. As they meandered in various directions she took in her surroundings. There was a portrait of the Emperor, its frame polished for the visit but with a chunk of the corner missing. The curtains were grand but had seen better days. On the wall opposite the Emperor’s portrait were painted pheasants, ducks, partridges and hares hung by their feet from a painted wooden beam, as if just shot and awaiting plucking or skinning. What a queer thing, Regina thought. Only Eressians.

  A maid with a large silver tray struggled to get around the packed room to serve everyone a cup full of a black liquid. When Regina got hers she realized it was coffee.

  “Major Morgenstern,” Emilia suddenly said. He looked startled. Emilia smiled.

  “I hear you were at the most glorious battles,” she said. Morgenstern shifted uncomfortably. Having been on the other side, Regina was interested to hear what he’d say. She looked at his uniform, and then at the uniforms of all the military men in the room and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. Surrounded by Eressian soldiers, the same she had fought, wounded, and killed. They had killed two of her brothers – many friends – even more soldiers under her command. Suddenly, the memories came flooding back…

  The man strikes at me with his sword. I parry the blow, breaking his hand in the process. There’s no time to stop, no time to pity anyone, not even myself. I kick the horse’s sides and gallop towards the square of our troops. They part so I and a few more from the
cavalry may pass. We are the last they do this for. The enemy’s cavalry have reached the top of the ridge. They stop there and we all know what this means.

  The artillery guns begin to fire. They pound us with cannonballs and shrapnel. My horse suddenly collapses, I am in the muddy ground, my left leg trapped under the weight of the dead horse. An officer runs towards me. The guns go again; in seconds a whole bunch of our troops fall. I’m scared, but they say the only shot you see is the one that kills you. The man helps me heave the horse off me and get up.

  “I’m Major–”

  I never learn who he is. A shot passes right through his neck and he collapses in front of me, blood splattering my face. I look around and realize I might be the only officer standing. I wish for the artillery to give a brief respite but I also know the second it happens the cavalry on top of that hill will charge. And it does.

  I draw my sword and step forwards. The men are holding the square. Four lines of men, the front two kneeling, bayonets fixed on their muskets, acting as lances against the cavalry. The other two aiming, ready to fire on command. A command I must give. The horses race down the hill. Heavy cavalry. The horses are enormous, the men riding them the biggest and bravest their country has to offer. The plumes on their helmets give them another foot of height. They’ve almost covered the ground brandishing their naked steel. Mother and Child, those blades are six feet–

  “Hold,” I shout at the men. And hold they do.

  “Hold.”

  There is no reason to start firing yet, the muskets only have a range of a hundred yards. But soon now.

  “Hooooold men. Hold.”

  Soon. Any moment.

  “Fire.” All the thunder the Mother ever made erupts from those muskets. Men and horses fall together, their flesh mangled from the fall, their blood mixed together in the muddy earth. They crash like a wave on the shore and turn back just before they are impaled on the wall of blades. And the guns start firing again.

  Regina wanted to stand up and run out of the room, get some air, but there was no way out, and she didn’t want all these people to notice her. She started taking deep breaths.

  “I fear tales of the battlefield are inappropriate for evening entertainment and delicate dispositions,” Morgenstern said. The princess’s eyes gleamed with mischief.

  “I believe, dear Major, that we have a bit more strength than you give us credit for.”

  There was polite laughter. She continued:

  “How did you get your scar?”

  Morgenstern’s left cheek twitched. Schaefer gave him a sympathetic look. She must have been asked the same question many times. Regina was glad she'd escaped the conflict with no visible disfigurement. Many times she’d had to tell battlefield stories for the entertainment of family and acquaintances. Always a sanitized version, no mention of the dirt turned to mud from the blood, the screams of the injured and the dying, the crows circling the piles of the dead, picking out their eyes. No word of how far a man’s blood sprayed when you cut his throat, or what was left after a cannonball took someone's leg off. Just noble duels and victorious cavalry charges. She could understand now why her late brother, Daniel, only told them the glorious versions. She'd had to find out the bloody truth herself.

  Morgenstern couldn’t avoid a direct question.

  “It was at Alux,” he finally said. “A horseman caught my face. A slash of his sword. I had to keep fighting with my cheek hanging by a thread. The surgeon stitched it together, between cutting a man’s leg off and sewing another man’s guts back into his belly. I was pleased he got the operations the right way round.” Morgenstern had a humor only soldiers could appreciate.

  Regina sipped her coffee. She wished it was fortified with something stronger. She drained the cup, and had a shock. The face of the Emperor of Eressia stared up at her from the bottom of the cup. Regina spat in the cup, watching the spit covering the face in silent satisfaction.

  Emilia turned a saccharin smile to Jaeger. “Maybe Kapitan Jaeger can entertain us with a story from the Merchant Blades.”

  For a moment Regina was worried he’d produce the penny pamphlet and start reading the spicy scenes with the King’s harem, or tell a story about escorting caravans of prostitutes, a lucrative source of income for the Merchant Blades. Regina breathed more easily as Jaeger started a story she’d heard before. A moderately funny, cleaned-up version of a hilarious story unsuitable in its full version for the delicate ears of mayors and princesses.

  14 BRIDGE TO NOWHERE

  REGINA and Jaeger walked briskly back to the Stonebridge Inn after the evening of Eressian entertainment. Regina was thankful that Jaeger had done the entertaining while she kept quiet in her little corner. By the end of the evening Lady Emilia was looking at Jaeger with a little sparkle in her gaze and a soft smile. That’s all we need, Regina thought. The weather had taken a cold turn and the air was filled with mist rising from the river.

  Regina stopped and turned sharply.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I thought I saw a shadow.”

  “Bound to be a few shadows creeping around,” Jaeger said pointing to the lantern that was lighting their way.

  “Not like that,” Regina said, lowering her voice. Jaeger looked around.

  “I feel something too. In the darkness,” he whispered to her. They both quickened their step until they reached the inn. Athough the sky was covered with thick clouds, they both sensed the full moon beyond.

  They banged on the door and after a few minutes the innkeeper tentatively opened it a crack, and then welcomed them in. Regina headed straight for the stairs.

  “Are you coming?”

  “In a little while,” Jaeger said, putting some coins into the innkeeper’s hand. Regina went up alone. Kurt reached for a brandy bottle and passed it to Jaeger.

  “Women trouble?” he asked.

  “Is there any other kind?”

  “Want to talk?”

  Jaeger pulled the cork out. The innkeeper offered him a glass, but Jaeger shrugged it away.

  “Not really,” he said, taking a swig. Kurt nodded and turned to return to his bed.

  “You know, I lied.”

  “Did you, son?” Kurt said turning back. “About what?”

  “Oh, so many things,” Jaeger said. “Too many.” He took a long draw from the bottle. “On this occasion I lied when I assured you nothing is happening–”

  “I’ll stop you right there, son,” Kurt said. “You’re not the first pair of officers that have gotten close.”

  “Yes, but we shouldn’t.”

  “Well, things happen, son. Enjoy it.”

  “You don’t understand,” Jaeger took a breath, “and I can’t begin to explain. All these feelings, all this lust. It's not real.”

  “Drunk cheer isn’t real either, but makes people happy for a while all the same.”

  “My mind, it says no for all sorts of valid reasons. Then my body takes over and I can’t stay away from her.”

  “Said every man who ever entered a brothel.”

  “But she’s not a prostitute. I have to be with her night and day. I do respect her.”

  “Those are called wives,” Kurt laughed. Jaeger laughed with him. “Unless you already have one?”

  Jaeger shook his head. “I pay for the upkeep of family but no wives. Or children of my own. A legion of nephews and nieces. My brothers didn’t keep their breeches buttoned, it seems.”

  Kurt gave him a sympathetic look. It was a common story in Eressia after the war. “Is there another woman involved?”

  “Ah. Here’s where it gets interesting.”

  “I’m only an innkeeper, but here’s my two copper coins’ worth. Don’t think about it too much or too long. You’ll wake up and you’ll be my age.”

  Jaeger laughed.

  “What, you think I never was as young as you? Pick one. Pick the one you want to be with while you can, or your mind will be made for you.”

  “It al
ready has. That’s what I don’t like.”

  “I’m sure there’s more to that tale. The lady looks worth the while,” Kurt said, his eyes going upwards.

  “There’s plenty more to the tale, my friend. But she doesn’t deserve getting stuck with someone like me. I’m not a good man.”

  Most of the contents of the bottle were now gone.

  “None of us were, in the war,” Kurt said darkly. “Now we have a chance to build our lives better again.”

  “I was a good man during the war,” Jaeger said bitterly. “It was after the war–” He swallowed another mouthful from the bottle. “But when this drunk cheer passes and we’re not bound by the moon anymore, she'll drop me faster than a sack of rotten potatoes. Then what will I be left with?”

  “That love’s a bitch? Bed.”

  Regina opened her eyes. The first cock hadn’t crowed yet, and it was still dark outside. She turned towards Jaeger, still fast asleep, reached and stroked his hair, gently pushing back a strand that had fallen on his forehead. He’d come up drunk but coherent. They both knew what was going to happen. Regina had decided this time she’d swim with the current. They’d spent so much time fighting it, and it’d led nowhere. They kept telling themselves that this wasn’t real, that these feelings didn’t belong to them, were a cruel trick for Nephthys' amusement. But what was real? They'd seen many things, things they’d thought impossible at the beginning of their adventure, become real. Couldn’t this be one of those, as real as Abidari and the other things of darkness? A tiny and fragile flicker of candlelight in so much darkness.

  He’d come to her and kissed her, his hands on her hips, drawing her close, lips pressing on hers, giving her time and space to push him back. Regina didn’t know if that was what he hoped for, but it hadn’t happened: her desire had matched his. A dark carnal lust to be fulfilled and, perhaps the greatest desire of both, to hear a few soft words spoken in passion.