“Two weeks! I was to have three more months!”
With a hint of a distant sadness, Calis said, “Arutha is dead. Nicholas was not told of his father’s plan until the day after hearing of his death. It was a shock. He’s not convinced of the wisdom of what we do.” He turned and looked at de Loungville. “Two weeks, and any man who isn’t reliable, hang him.” Without another word he returned inside the building.
De Loungville glanced from face to face one more time, then said, “Be very afraid.”
The next morning, the hill of rocks was gone. The men in black had been ordered to remove it, and thirty of them had made quick work of the pile. Erik and the others had been taken to another part of the compound by Corporal Foster.
He had stood before them and said, “Any of you murdering mother-lovers think you know how to handle a sword?”
The men glanced at one another, but no one spoke. They had learned within a few hours of arriving at camp that when Foster or de Loungville asked a question, you had better be absolutely sure of the right answer if you opened your mouth.
“I thought so,” said Foster. “Easy enough to club a man from behind in an alley, eh, Biggo?” He grinned without humor.
Foster moved down the line. “Or slip a dagger into a man’s back when he’s drunk in a tavern, eh, Luis?”
When he got to Erik he said, “Or you can just hold him from behind while your little rat-faced sweetheart sticks a knife into his gut.”
Erik said nothing. De Loungville had a harsh nature and was a tyrant, but didn’t seem to find particular pleasure in his work. Corporal Foster seemed to enjoy insulting the prisoners. Billy Goodwin had lost his temper with Foster the second day and had endured the humiliation of being soundly drubbed by the experienced soldier before the entire company in the compound. The men in black had gathered to laugh at the thrashing.
Two soldiers approached, each carrying three swords. “Well,” said Foster, “these two lads and myself are going to attempt to show you a thing or two about using this weapon, so you don’t hurt yourself if you happen to find one in your hand someday.” Taking out his own sword, he said, “Better men than you have managed to cut off their own foot.”
The soldiers passed out a blade to each man. Erik held his awkwardly. It was a common Kingdom shortsword, heavier than the fast rapier, shorter than the broad-, bastard-, and greatswords used by some fighters. It was, he had been told as a boy, the simplest weapon to train with.
“Pay attention,” said de Loungville. “Your life will certainly depend on it.”
So began an intensive week of arms study. For a half day they stood in the yard, slamming away at one another with wooden practice weapons, until every one of them was covered in black-and-blue welts. Then, after the midday meal, they were taken to the stable area.
“Who’s a rider here?” asked de Loungville.
Erik and Luis raised their hands. Two horses were led toward them, and de Loungville said, “Get aboard and let’s see what you know.”
Luis quickly mounted, but Erik walked around his horse and inspected the animal.
De Loungville said, “Waiting for him to invite you up, von Darkmoor?”
Ignoring the sarcasm, Erik said, “This animal isn’t sound.”
“What?” asked Robert de Loungville. “He looks sound enough to me.”
“He’s off in the left rear.” Erik reached down and ran his hand along the animal’s left rear leg, and the gelding obligingly raised his font. A thick mat of dirt, hay, and dung was packed in the hoof. Erik reached for a pick that hadn’t been on his belt for a month, and smiled to himself ruefully. “Old habits.” He looked up. Without a word one of the two grooms handed Erik a hoof pick and he pulled the mass loose. Even standing a few feet back, de Loungville could smell the stink.
Erik held the hoof, inspecting it. “Thrush. That won’t make him lame until the hoof rots off, but there’s certainly something else here.” Erik dug into the frog and the horse protested and began to pull away. “Hold!” shouted Erik and gave the horse a backward slap with his hand, more an admonishment than any real punishment. Sensing he was being treated by someone who knew what he was doing, the horse quieted, though he obviously wasn’t pleased. “Got a rock here, small one, but in there good.” Suddenly it popped out and blood and pus oozed after it. “A couple of days of soaking that hoof a time or two in hot salty water should fix him right up. Just needs to be packed with poultice to keep it from festering.” He let go of the leg. “Someone’s not taking proper care of these horses, Sergeant.”
De Loungville said, “Someone is going to find himself shipped back to the Shamata garrison at first light tomorrow if there’s one other lame horse in that stable tonight!” To one of the grooms he shouted, “Bring another mount.”