“Is that the best you can do, little boy?” The hammer swung down, striking sparks and chips of stone from the cobbles as Rudi jumped out of the way. Rudi shook his head. “The best I can do is kill you. Don’t make me.”
“Big words.” The hammer swung again and Rudi leapt backwards, deflecting it with the flat of his sword. The impact jarred his arm and he almost dropped the weapon. “But it takes more than words to kill a Norscan.”
“You broke my nose, you little snotling-fondler!” Cheap-suit staggered to his feet, glanced down at his blood-drenched jerkin, and returned to the attack with a howl of outrage. “And look what you did to my shirt!”
“I’ll do a lot more if you don’t back off!” Rudi cut at him as he raised the club again, opening a gash along his arm. Cheap-suit shrieked and dropped the weapon, just in time to stumble into the path of the Norscan. The blond giant batted him out of the way with his free hand and Cheap-suit fell over again. His friend smiled and drew a sword of his own.
“Let’s see how good you really are with that.”
“My pleasure.” Rudi spun out of the way of another hammer blow, time seeming to slow as it had before when he was fighting for his life. Once again a detached portion of his mind wondered at the power and skill he was displaying, far more than his limited experience should have made possible. On the verge of kicking out at the back of the Norscan’s knee, he hesitated for an instant, unsure if the trick would work against someone so strong, then tried it anyway. To his relief the blond giant fell after all, looking surprised and Rudi struck as hard as he could at the base of the man’s skull with the sword hilt. The hit was a solid one and the Norscan just had time to look surprised before his eyes rolled up in their sockets and he pitched forwards onto his face. “Oh, shut up.” He kicked out again at Cheap-suit, who was still screaming, and the fellow finally lapsed into unconsciousness too.
“Well that’s a relief,” the swordsman said, smiling sardonically. “I was beginning to find all that noise quite off-putting.” He cut suddenly at Rudi’s stomach and Rudi parried the blow instinctively. “Well done. They generally don’t see that one coming.”
“Make a habit of picking on blind men?” Rudi asked, stepping in to counter.
His opponent grinned. “Only if I’m paid to.” He made an attack in earnest and Rudi began to realise that despite his opponent’s flippant attitude, he was facing an adversary whose skill far exceeded his own. His only chance was to finish things quickly, before the swordsman found an opening in his defences.
“Then consider this a bonus,” Rudi said, flinging his purse at his adversary’s face. It opened as it flew forwards, showering the swordsman with stinging copper coins. Despite himself, the man flinched and Rudi rushed in past his arm, slamming the hilt of his sword into his face. The swordsman yelled in anger and pain, all pretence at relaxation gone. He tried to turn, but Rudi was too quick, looping his arm around the fellow’s throat and pulling back, closing off the artery in his neck. The swordsman struggled for a few moments, then went limp.
Rudi released him, letting him fall, and turned towards Tilman, who was still rooted to the spot, an expression of terrified astonishment on his face. Rudi raised his sword and the cobbler took a step backwards.
“Look, there’s no need to be hasty. I’m sure we can work something out…”
“Twelve guilders,” Rudi said, astonished to hear the words falling out of his mouth. “That’s how much we lost.”
“Twelve you say?” Tilman scrabbled for his purse. “That sounds very reasonable. As I said, my reputation’s my livelihood and I wouldn’t want it said that any customer had left my establishment dissatisfied.” He counted out a dozen of the gold coins, then added another. “And that should more than make up for the change you spilled a moment ago.”
“I imagine it will,” Rudi said, stooping to pick up his purse. When he straightened up Tilman was gone, although the echoes of his footsteps were still audible. It wasn’t until after he’d stowed the coins and tucked the leather bag away that Rudi realised the footsteps were getting closer, not further off, and they were being made by more than one pair of feet.
“Drop the sword!” a voice shouted and a quartet of armed men loomed up out of the mist. Rudi began to bring the weapon up into a defensive posture, then hesitated. Two of them carried polearms, their leader had a drawn sword in one hand and a pistol in the other, and the fourth had a loaded crossbow pointed firmly at the centre of his chest. As they came fully into focus, illuminated by the diffuse yellow glow leaking through the vapour around them, Rudi breathed a sigh of relief. All four were wearing the black, floppy hats Artemus had pointed out at the gateway to the city. Watchmen. He opened his hand and the weapon clattered on the cobbles.
“Good call.” The group’s leader kept him covered with the pistol in any case and stared hard at his face. “I don’t know you, do I?”
“I don’t think so,” Rudi said, returning his gaze levelly. The man had dark hair and a thin, hard visage. A faint scar ran across one brow, making him look vaguely sardonic. After a moment he nodded.
“I know most of the troublemakers around here. Been in town long?”
“Since yesterday,” Rudi said. “And I didn’t make any trouble.”
“Really?” The Black Cap glanced at the trio of feebly-stirring bodies behind him. “That looks like trouble to me.” Then he turned and gestured to his subordinates. “Take them in too. Charge them with brawling in public.” The other watchmen approached Rudi’s erstwhile assailants, producing manacles from their belt pouches as they did so, and he turned back to Rudi. “That’ll do for a start, until we can get to the bottom of this.”
“Hendryk’s Purse!” One of the watchmen rolled the big Norscan over and stepped back in astonishment. “It’s Wulf Hammerhand!” He glanced across at Rudi with wary respect. “He took out Big Wulf!”
“And Dandy Douwe!” One of his colleagues looked up from manacling Cheap-suit. Their leader looked at Rudi appraisingly, his scarred eyebrow rising a little.
“All by yourself?”
Rudi nodded. “They didn’t seem so tough.”
“Really.” The man nodded and pointed to the third assailant. “And he would be…?”
“I haven’t a clue,” Rudi said. “He just came at me with a sword.”
“Watse van Os,” the nearest watchman volunteered, hauling the man to his feet.
“Watse van Os,” the senior Black Cap repeated. “One of the best duellists in the ward. And you beat him.” Rudi nodded. “And the others.” Rudi nodded again. “By yourself.” He was clearly disbelieving.
“I’ve fought bandits and beastmen,” Rudi retorted, nettled by the man’s scepticism. “I killed a skaven with my bare hands. Why should a handful of cutpurses be that much of a challenge?”
“Because they’re a lot more than that,” the Black Cap said. After another appraising stare he tilted his head towards Rudi’s fallen sword. “Better put that away before it rusts.” He waited until the young forester had picked up and sheathed his weapon, then nodded thoughtfully. “And I think we should have a long talk about things back at the watch house.”
“You’re arresting me?” Rudi asked, in outraged astonishment.
The Black Cap smiled sardonically. “I’m inviting you to accompany us. For the moment.”
“I see,” Rudi said, feeling that once again events were getting out of control.
In spite of his apprehension, however, the Black Cap officer continued to treat him as a witness rather than a suspect. The watch house turned out to be surprisingly comfortable, though solidly built with an obvious eye to defence, backing directly on to one of the larger canals. The front faced the street and narrow alleyways ran down either side to meet the small landing stage built out over the waterway to the rear. The main door led directly into a large common room, where several watchmen sat around a fireplace, drinking ale and playing cards, their weapons lying easily to hand. Most looked up with expre
ssions of surprise as the trio of prisoners was escorted through and Rudi noticed satisfied grins on a number of faces; presumably his erstwhile assailants had few friends among the watch.
“Gerrit, get them booked in.” The leader nodded to one of the watchmen who’d helped him make the arrest. “And send a runner to the barracks. I want Captain Roland in on this.”
“Right you are, Sarge.” The watchman, an eager young man not much older than Rudi, nodded and herded the prisoners away. The sergeant sighed.
“Waste of time processing them really, they’ll be out by morning. But the law’s the law and while we’ve got them we’ll stick to due process.”
“Won’t they be tried or something?” Rudi asked.
The sergeant shook his head and ushered him to a nearby bench. “Not those three. Their lawyer will be in here within the hour with enough in his purse to pay their fines and we’ll have to let ’em go. Unless there’s something you want to tell me.”
“Like what?” Rudi asked.
“Like how you’ve managed to upset the league so badly in less than two days. Assuming that’s really how long you’ve been in town, of course.”
“What league?” Rudi asked, his obvious confusion being all the confirmation the sergeant needed. He sighed.
“The League of Gentlemen Entrepreneurs. It’s got other names, but to all intents and purposes it’s a guild like any of the others in the city. The difference is that the business it regulates is generally illegal.”
“I see.” Rudi nodded. “I’d heard the guilds ran pretty much everything here, but I never thought that extended to crime.”
“Only in Marienburg,” the sergeant said, with heavy irony. “Which brings me back to my original question. What have you done to upset them?”
“Let me guess,” a new voice cut in. Rudi glanced up and the sergeant stood, nodding a respectful greeting to a middle-aged man with a well trimmed beard in which traces of grey were beginning to show. Despite this and the beginnings of a stomach, he looked very capable of defending himself if he had to. “Might you have been in the back room of a cobbler’s shop this morning, at about the time an altercation broke out?”
“I might,” Rudi said, feeling there was no point in denying it.
The newcomer smiled and extended a hand. “I’m Gil Roland, captain of the Winkelmarkt watch. Sergeant Rijgen you’ve already met.”
“At Tilman’s?” Rijgen looked sceptical. “His games are always fair. You must have made some mistake.”
“It certainly looks that way,” Rudi said. “Those men seemed pretty insistent on the point.”
“And they’re likely to remain so,” Roland said. “Unless you can get some powerful protection. Which guild do you belong to?”
“None,” Rudi said, feeling bewildered again. “We’ve only been in the city since yesterday. There hasn’t been time to look for work.”
“Then you’d better be quick,” Rijgen put in. “With the right guild behind you they’d think twice before trying again. What do you normally do?”
“I’m a forester,” Rudi said. “I hunt game, mostly.” The two watchmen looked at one another.
“Not a lot of call for that in Marienburg,” the sergeant said.
The captain grinned. “I think we can do a lot better than that,” he said. “You really took all three of them out single-handed?”
“Yes.” Rudi nodded. “I’m sorry if it was against the law, but I tried not to hurt anyone too badly.”
“Did you indeed?” Roland looked dubious for a moment, as if Rudi might simply have been bragging after all, but the sergeant nodded.
“He says he’s killed men before in self-defence and I believe him. If he hadn’t he wouldn’t have been so careful with those three. Besides, he knows about the rodent problem.”
“Does he?” The captain nodded, as though he’d made up his mind about something, and turned to smile at Rudi. “Then I think we can help each other.”
“We can? How?” Rudi asked, confused.
Captain Roland’s smile grew wider. “We can do with someone of your calibre in the watch,” he said. “And if you join us you can be sure the league will back off. If they mess with one watchman they mess with us all, and however hacked off they are with you it’s not worth that amount of trouble to them.”
“The money’s lousy and the hours are worse,” Rijgen added, grinning. “But at least you get a new hat. What do you say?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“What happened to you?” Fritz asked, glancing up as Rudi entered the taproom of the Dancing Pirate. He was still sitting at the same table he’d occupied when Rudi left, although the tavern was now much busier than it had been. Several of the patrons started visibly as Rudi stepped through the door, then took great pains to avoid eye contact. For a moment he wondered why, until he remembered that his new hat did a lot more than keep his head warm.
“I got a job,” he said, removing it, to the barely concealed relief of several of the patrons. Only one of them caught his eye, Sam the halfling, who was occupying the same back table he’d been at last night. He just smiled, as if at some private joke and returned his attention to the platter of food in front of him. He seemed completely at ease, although he sat alone. Rudi assumed he was there to meet Kris and paid him no further attention.
“Me too,” Fritz said, with a wide grin, hitching his chair over to make room for Rudi.
“Doing what?” Rudi asked suspiciously, dropping into the seat next to him. Nikolaas seemed far too sensible to have taken Fritz on as a potboy and he couldn’t imagine any other employment his companion could have found without leaving the premises. He glanced around—the room was crowded with patrons and on the whole he thought it best not to mention that he’d recovered their money from Tilman until they were alone. By way of an answer, Fritz nodded affably to someone approaching the table with a couple of mugs of ale.
“You remember Mathilde?” he asked. Taken aback, Rudi simply nodded. For a moment he’d mistaken the woman for a serving girl, although she was hardly dressed like one. She smiled and sat opposite the two youths, handing one of the mugs to Fritz.
“How could I forget?” Rudi replied, covering up his momentary confusion as best he could. The bodyguard grinned at him.
“You made quite an impression yourselves. That’s why I’m here.” She signalled for another drink and passed the second mug to Rudi. He took it and drank gratefully. The sausage in the marketplace had been a long time ago and an awful lot had happened since then.
“I’m not sure I follow,” Rudi said. Koos wandered over with Mathilde’s fresh ale and he took the opportunity to order some food.
The woman nodded. “Good idea. Three of those and some of that Bretonnian bread with the garlic in it.” She grinned at Rudi’s horrified expression. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. The boss had some business in Couronne a couple of years back and I got a taste for the stuff while we were there.” She handed the potboy a guilder. “And get yourself a drink while you’re at it.”
“Thanks. I will.” Koos wandered off, looking slightly dazed, and Mathilde chuckled.
“You know the best thing about working for nobility? The expenses. He’s got no idea what things cost in the real world, just keeps handing over more cash whenever I tell him it’s gone. You’re going to love it.”
“Love what?” Rudi asked, feeling as dazed as Koos had just looked.
Mathilde smiled again and started piling into the food as soon as it arrived. “Didn’t Fritz tell you?”
“I was trying,” the simpleton said, clearly as overwhelmed by the torrent of words as Rudi was. He turned to the young watchman. “The graf was impressed with the way we handled ourselves this morning. He wants us to go and work for him.”
“Doing what?” Rudi asked. In spite of his confusion, the odour of food was too strong to ignore and he began spooning up mouthfuls of fish stew.
“Helping me,” Mathilde said cheerfully “After this
morning he feels one bodyguard might not be enough while he’s here. I suppose I should feel insulted, but it’s his money and I always feel happier with some expendable muscle standing between me and the crossbows, anyway.” She frowned at Rudi’s expression and grinned again. “Hey, I’m kidding about the expendable part. Mainly. But when push comes to shove and the job’s about protecting the boss whatever it takes.”
“Your job,” Rudi said. “I’ve already found one.” He indicated the hat which he’d folded and tucked into his belt.
Mathilde stared at it and laughed again. “As a Black Cap? You’re joking, right?” Rudi shook his head.
“I signed on this evening.” In actual fact he’d simply scrawled a ragged X, next to which, for reasons he couldn’t quite fathom, Captain Roland had insisted he dab his thumb after dipping it in the ink.
“Tell them you’ve changed your mind.”
“I can’t,” Rudi said. “I swore an oath.” He’d recited a promise to uphold the law which Rijgen had prompted him through line by line, with the air of a man for whom the fine sounding words had long since ceased to have any meaning. They’d sounded resonant enough to Rudi and he still felt the power of them and the sober weight of the responsibility they’d conferred.
“You’ve got principles. Good for you. Not that they’ll do you much good in a place like this.” She turned to Fritz and grinned again. “Looks like it’s just you and me then.”
“I’m sure that’ll be enough to keep him safe,” Rudi said sourly. “Assuming he hasn’t been assassinated while you’re off on your dinner break.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Mathilde said cheerfully, taking a bite out of the bread she’d ordered and chewing with every sign of appreciation. “He’s tucked up safe and sound in the Imperial embassy. No one’s going to croak him there, too many guards.” The grin was back on her face. “So tonight I’m footloose and fancy free. And one thing you can say for the boss, he does have a knack of finding interesting places to spend your leisure time.” She wiped the remains of the bread around the bottom of her bowl, chewed it, and swallowed with a sigh of satisfaction. “Care to check a few out?”
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