BERSERKERS
I came to a little while later sitting at the base of a tree and staring at the bodies of Captain Lynniac and his men. How had they caught up with us so quickly? And more importantly, why had they bothered? Word of Tremondi’s death couldn’t have reached the market until after we’d already left – and even if it had, since when did Knights give a Saint’s testicle about whether a Lord Caravaner lived or died? The only explanation was money: someone had told Captain Lynniac that we’d killed Tremondi and taken off with his money. It wasn’t exactly a noble motive, but these weren’t noble times and, no matter what the old songs say, Knights aren’t noble people.
Blondie and the others were searching the corpses for coin and finding spare weapons where they could. I noticed that none of them tried to pocket what they found but set it out on a blanket that Feltock had laid out in the dirt. There was a fair amount of money there; the men had been well-provisioned, probably from waylaying other caravans earlier in the week.
Feltock put the extra weapons in one of the wagons and divided the coin between his men. He came up to me and handed me a pouch. ‘Market rules. You fought, you feed, same as everyone else. I don’t like Trattari much, but you did your jobs.’
I waved him off. ‘Thanks, but I can’t take it. We only take what we earn as pay. Give it to your rigger. He isn’t healing well, and he’s not being paid for this trip.’
Trin overheard us and came forward. ‘Her Ladyship insists,’ she said. ‘You risk offending her if you refuse.’
‘In that case,’ I said, ‘we’ll definitely pass.’
Feltock shook his head and laughed. ‘Are you serious, man? I never took you for no monks.’
Brasti grumbled from somewhere behind me, ‘Me neither.’
‘That’s the way it goes,’ I said.
The captain must have taken some small liking to me because he put a hand on my shoulder. ‘Listen, boy, you earned this and you take it. I’ve seen lots of Trattari in my time. Trust me, there’s them that take what they can find and count themselves lucky for it. There are even some that have taken to robbing caravans.’
‘You’re wrong,’ I said. ‘Greatcoats don’t steal, not unless the King’s Laws have been broken and the fine has to be collected, and then it’s only from those who broke the law.’
‘Believe that if you want to,’ the captain said, ‘but you’re lying to yourself if you do.’ He wandered off and I thought that was that, but a few moments later, he came back with three wineskins. ‘Here,’ he said, handing them to me. ‘It’s just wine. I reckon you’re still allowed to drink, right?’
I nodded gratefully. A good night of drinking would get the three of us back to right again, or as close to it as we got those days.
Feltock held up a finger. ‘Just promise me you won’t be singing that bloody song all night. Half the men are still humming that damned tune. Is that why they call you a Cantor of the Greatcoats?’
I grinned. ‘Go to any small village and try getting people to remember the details of how a particular law was applied in a particular case, and they won’t remember it past the next night of drinking. In fact, the average person probably can’t name a tenth of the laws that govern them. But give it to them in a song, and they’ll remember it their whole lives. The drinking only helps.’
‘Well, that’s as may be,’ Feltock said, scratching his head. ‘Seems to have worked on my men, anyway.’
He tossed me a pair of coins. ‘It’s this week’s pay. And I’ll give your share of the rest to Cheek – he’s my spearman, the one you embarrassed at the market. It’ll keep him from wanting to kill you in your sleep.’
Comforting thought. I took the coins and wineskins over to Kest and Brasti and we set up camp for the night. The two of them were in an odd mood, so we didn’t speak much at all.
I took first watch and drank a little of the wine to keep me warm. I was surprised when Feltock again sought me out, which was unusual; he didn’t take a watch at night as he had to be sharp all day.
‘Seen anything?’ he asked.
I shook my head and offered him a wineskin. He accepted it and took a swig, dribbling a bit down his chin. He looked as if he’d had some wine already.
‘Lad,’ he began, ‘I need to talk to you about something. Now, I’m an old soldier, and I know how men fight. I know what they can do, and I don’t bandy with false words. So I’ll say it straight out. You’re good fighters. Your man there with the bow is a devil, and the tall one is as fast with a blade as I’ve ever seen.’
‘And?’ I asked.
‘And you’re the one what scares me,’ he said. He waved his hand before I could speak. ‘No, let me say it plain. You’re a good man with the sword, and some Saint made you a damned good tactician. You kept the boys together in that first trouble even when they were acting fools, and you saved us a good deal of grief from this so-called Knight and his men.’ He motioned for the wineskin and took another swig before handing it back to me.
‘I thought you said you were going to speak plainly,’ I said.
‘I’m getting to it, just give me a chance.’ He sighed. ‘You’re a good fighter, but I won’t have no berserkers in my guard. I put up with a lot, Saints know I do, but I won’t have that.’
‘Berserker? Me? Name your Saints and I’ll swear by them: I’m no berserker.’
He looked me straight in the eye. ‘I saw what you did to that great lout with the axe. I never wanted that bugger in my caravan, but her Ladyship overruled me then, just like she did with you. Truth be told, I never even got his name. But the way you went after him, boy, I never wanted to see that again.’
I hadn’t thought about the incident at the market since we’d left – I didn’t really want to. The man was trying to kill me and he was wearing armour and I had no choice.
‘Now don’t go fooling yourself, lad,’ Feltock said. ‘I can see by the look on your face you’re trying to write a story in your head, and I’m telling you it’s false. You say you aren’t a berserker, fine. Your friends swear up and down you aren’t. But tell the truth now: you were growling and shouting nonsense at that man, and you sounded more than a little crazy in that market.’
I thought about that for a moment, then I said, ‘No, Captain, trust me, that wasn’t crazy. I’ve been crazy before, and that’s not what it sounds like.’
Feltock’s mouth was open. ‘Saint Birgid-who-weeps-rivers, boy, what does it sound like then?’
‘Quiet,’ I said. ‘Mostly very quiet.’
He took another drink from the wineskin. ‘And that Knight, Lynniac? You ran straight for him like a madman – any man what knew how to hold a crossbow proper would’ve skewered you. Was that you being your own sane self?’
‘No,’ I said, ‘that was my answer.’
‘Your answer for what?’
I looked out at the night sky and the stars that winked at us as if they were all in on some great joke. ‘Five years ago, after the Ducal Army took Castle Aramor, they killed our King and hauled his corpse up to the top of the castle. They mounted his head on a pike. Some men cheered, some men looked away.’ I took another swig of my wine. ‘And some men just laughed.’
‘So Lynniac was there, was he?’
‘Lynniac was there,’ I said. ‘Commander of a division of Knights. I didn’t recognise him at first, but when he was pointing that crossbow at me and he started laughing …’
Feltock bit the inside of his cheek. Then he said, ‘And you think you remember everyone who was there that day?’
I thought about it for a moment. ‘Not everyone,’ I replied. Feltock was looking at me intently, trying to see if I knew, if I did remember. More trouble than it will be worth, I thought, but I was a little drunk and a little tired so I said, ‘But since you’re asking, yes, General Feltock, I remember you.’
Feltock’s eyes went wide for a moment, but then he gave a bitter laugh. ‘Not “General”,’ he said. ‘Not for a few years now.’
We drank some more in silence.
‘So,’ he said, uncrossing his legs with a crack. ‘Are you gonna come for me next, boy?’
I sighed. ‘No.’
‘Why not? I was there, wasn’t I? I was one of those what took down your King, wasn’t I? So what’s the difference between me and Lynniac?’
‘You didn’t laugh.’
He just looked at me for a while and then said, ‘Huh.’ Then he stood up and started walking back to the wagons.
‘Why “Captain” Feltock?’ I asked when he was a few paces away. ‘Why aren’t you a general any more?’
Feltock turned and gave me a sour grin. He tossed the rest of his wineskin back to me. ‘Because, boy, when they put the King’s head on that pole, I forgot to laugh.’