The sound of blaring trumpets broke the stillness of the warm, midday air. A high and lilting tune, the people of the city were distracted from their daily work. The horns of the watchmen upon the walls gave answer, and the great procession was welcomed through the gate, armoured horsemen at the lead with banners held high. Behind them were more horsemen, great lords of the champions followed by trains of wagons and carts, in which rode the ladies and their retinues. The wardens of the northern borders had arrived at the city to join the gathering of the mighty and wise of the Thane Kingdom, the Great Moot.
Erasmus, clothed in simple velvet tunic and trousers, stood amongst the crowd that had gathered to welcome the procession as it made its way along the main street towards the king’s hall. He did not wave or shout greetings, watching in thoughtful silence as he ate a warm loaf of bread in his hand.
Although southerners from the core imperial provinces were no strangers in the Thane-land, Erasmus still felt like a stranger to these people. Yet he could not help but admire the eagerness for life these northerners possessed. To him, the king of the Thanes and his Moot were but small emulations of the Emperor and the Senate. No one in the capital city would greet a senatorial meeting with such enthusiasm as these people on the fringe of civilisation did.
Erasmus smiled to himself, taking in the joviality. With winter’s end drawing near, the talk at the Moot would be on campaigning. Who would march upon whom? Where would raiders attack? In the northern Marches, the end of winter always brought battle and bloodshed. Yet the Thanes gladly welcomed the spring all the same.
“For pity’s sake Erasmus! What are you doing out here!?”
Erasmus turned to see a small, mousey looking man barge his way through the crowd towards him, wearing a simple homespun habit.
“Oh, Rollo. I… umm… needed some fresh air.” Erasmus said around mouthful of bread.
“Dung! It’s hard enough keeping that face of yours stitched together after your little adventure last night. Honestly, going out drinking and brawling with half your bloody face missing.”
Erasmus’ hand went to the sword cut below his eye, which had to be freshly stitched after a would-be kidnapper punched him there. The pain of it might bring most men to their knees, but he had suffered worse.
“Its not that bad,” the warrior said. “You did such good job on it after all. I had practically forgotten all about it. Feels good as new…”
Rollo stepped forward pressed a finger against Erasmus’ lower jaw beneath the cut, eliciting a pained gasp from the swordsman. Rollo looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
“Well… almost as good as new.” Erasmus said with a lopsided grin.
Rollo sighed. “Gods above and below… that’s going to be one hell of a scar, and its not even the campaigning season yet.”
Erasmus shrugged. “Being up and about helps me forget the pain. I can’t stand being cooped up in bed, you know that. I ought to report to the king later and help settle the new arrivals in anyway.”
“Oh, and I suppose you want me to leave out your red cloak to match that ugly scar?”
“I hadn’t thought of that. Good idea.”
Rollo sighed in exasperation. “You’ll be needing a green cloak to match if you stick around here. All these people and horses everywhere, you’re bound to get an infection. Come on then, its about time I gave it another look.”
“Wait, what about the woman?”
“Who… oh you’re lady-friend. What about her?”
“How is her condition? She had that nasty lump on her head, remember? I told you not to leave her side…”
“She’s fine. As dazed as she was last night, she doesn’t seem to have a concussion. A bit scruffy looking, but not much to fuss about. I have enough on my plate to worry about without you bringing in strays. Couldn’t you have taken her anywhere else?”
“She seemed like she needed help, so I brought her to the best help money can buy!” Erasmus said as he clapped a hand on Rollo’s thin shoulder. The small man didn’t fall for the compliment.
“So let me guess, she’s not a local?”
“Seems not. Probably not used to city life at all, I’d guess. Even if she’s not a foreigner.”
“Surely she came in with the last batch of nobles? Or on a merchant-ship?”
“I don’t know, we didn’t really talk. She just looked like any pilgrim fresh off the road. But I don’t think she has any friends here…”
“Oh, even better. For all we know, you could have brought home a crazed murderer. Don’t blame me if we get back and your little friend has made off with all our goods. Seriously, what sort of person do you expect to be wandering the roads by themselves in this day and age?”
Erasmus shrugged. “A lonely one.”
Myra awoke to the sound of horns and trumpets. Her eyes flickered open, the dim sunlight behind the curtains too bright for her. She grunted in annoyance and buried her head deeper into the pillow, trying to block out the outside world. Of course they would be making such a racket outside, she was always criticised for sleeping in late. Any minute now her mother would barge in and scold her for neglecting her chores…
Memory returned to Myra like a clap of thunder. She shot up, suddenly awake. When she did, she felt a throbbing pain in her head that made her wince. She felt a tender lump beneath her hair. She remembered why. Scanning her surroundings, Myra found that she was in a scarcely furnished bedroom, merely a square room closed off by a curtain. The walls were made of imperial style bricks, while the window was sealed with glass. Lying atop a feather stuffed mattress, Myra felt a warmth and a comfort she had not felt in a long time.
She was wearing a simple linen smock, which she quickly remembered to her embarrassment that she had not been wearing before. There was no sign of her belongings anywhere. Rising to her feet, she realised with a start that heat was emanating from the tiled floor, as she had heard that houses in the southern provinces often did.
“What the hell have I gotten myself into…”
Peeking through the door-hanging, she a saw a wide room with table, chairs, cupboards and wall-hangings. There, in one corner of the room, she saw her belongings, her traveller’s habit neatly folded and her sheathed dagger resting atop it. She crossed the room and took up her dagger, feeling assured by the familiar weight of the weapon. Looking around the room again, she was unsure and out place. She felt the need to take action, to do something. But what?
She remembered Garth. And the head-hunter.
Her face darkened, her hand gripped the handle of the dagger until her knuckles went bone-white. She was only in this mess because of that man. The man she had come to this city of liars and slavers to find. Her mind was made up. The longer she waited around, the harder it would be the track him…
“Don’t you dare even think of using that pig-sticker in my building.”
Myra whirled on the voiced, half drawing her knife from its scabbard. Standing at the door was an old woman, broad and bear-like with a deep scowl on her leathery face.
“Heavens… look at you. You look like a damn she-wolf. And I thought Sir Erasmus had better taste in women.”
“Erasmus?” Myra remembered the name. The man with the scar… “This is his…”
“His room, damn straight it is,” the old woman huffed, ignoring the knife in Myra’s hand. “This is an old apartment complex the imperials left behind, well what’s left of it. Now it is the barracks for the king’s household champions. I hope you don’t get too familiar with it.”
“I don’t intend to,” Myra snapped, forgetting herself. “I’m leaving this place as soon as I can…”
“I thought so, you’re kind always do. Oh I knew I smelled wine on Erasmus’ breath this morning. He’s always so prim and proper, he should know better. All because he lost some fight with some vagabond. Honestly, wound a man’s pride and his virtues go straight out the window!” The old woman turned and left the room in a bluster. Leaving Myra alone, knife still half-drawn.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Myra scowled after the old woman, thinking of all the insults she wished she could have thought of sooner, most of them cow related. Her mind was made up. Cities and towns were all the same, little more than human cesspits. The sooner she took to the road again, the better.
Changing into her travelling gear, Myra made her way out, cautiously walking past the many doors and down a flight of stairs. She drew her hood low over her face, avoiding eye contact with any stranger she might pass. It was day, and the streets were crowded. She could fall in with a party of travellers leaving the city and go unnoticed by the gate-guards.
And resume the hunt.
She rounded a corner, skirting a public fountain and the people gathered there filling earthen-ware jugs. She had nearly reached the other side of the square until a voice made her stop in her tracks; “Wait! You there! Lady!”
Myra flinched, fighting back the urge to reach for her weapon. She turned, and saw a man with the stitched scar coming her direction. She took him for a guard, feeling compelled to run. Then she remembered the name.
Erasmus.
“Hang on, where are you going?” said Erasmus. “Are… are you well? You took a blow to the head last night. I was afraid you might have a concussion.”
“I told you she was fine,” said a short, meek looking man who strolled up behind Erasmus. “But still, what’s the hurry? You didn’t filch anything on your way out did you?”
“Rollo please, not now.” Erasmus turned back to Myra. “I’m sorry, a lot has happened in the past few hours. You remember what happened last night, do you?”
Myra nodded her head slowly. “Aye… I do. That boy lured me into a trap. Then… you were there.”
Erasmus sighed in relief. The one called Rollo piped up; “Then you didn’t lose your wits. Very good, our work here is done. Erasmus, you ought to shake her down and make sure she hasn’t taken off with…”
“I haven’t stolen anything.” Myra snapped. At least that was true for the last few days. “I… I didn’t mean to run off or nothing. I’m… not good in large buildings.”
“There’s no need to apologise,” said Erasmus. “You’re no prisoner. You’re free to come and go as you wish. I brought you back to my quarters last night after the fight when you lost consciousness. My servant Rollo here saw to your wounds and assured me you were just sleeping.”
Myra remembered the last few moments of the event before everything went dark. She remembered she had burst into tears. Erasmus didn’t mention that.
“It was rather late, otherwise I would have taken you straight to the queen and left you in the care of her household. I still can if you’d like. Unless you have other friends or family here?”
Myra shook her head. “No. I… do not intend to stay for much longer.”
“Oh?” Erasmus looked concerned. Rollo raised a cynical eyebrow.
“I hoped to have been on the road again by this morning. I have no business here anymore.”
“After what you went through last night, is that wise? Are you really well enough to be travelling?”
I’m safer outside these walls than inside, Myra thought bitterly. “Oh, I didn’t mean to brush you off though,” she said, remembering the man in front of her. “You saved my life. I should really thank you for that. I… have a bit of money left to me, to repay you for your time…”
“Nonsense.” Erasmus shook his head. “I am a guard, and this city is my home. It was my duty. If you really wish to leave here and now, then you may do so. But at the very least, may I have your name? I am Erasmus Gracchus, honoured to meet you.”
“Yes, what a lovely picture of chivalry we paint here.” Rollo turned his back to them and walked away. “Better not find anything missing. Because I’ll be checking! Don’t say I didn’t tell you so Erasmus.”
“Um, sorry about that. I’m not very choosey when it comes to hired help.” Erasmus laughed, but trailed off awkwardly when he realised Myra wasn’t.
“So, I guess you’re leaving now. Is there a travelling party you’ll be joining?”
“Aye, I’m sure I can find one.”
“I see. But wait, what about your luggage? Spare clothes? Food?”
“I… I can arrange it.” Myra stammered.
Erasmus frowned a little. “You’ve got nothing but what you’re holding now, don’t you?”
Myra looked down at her booted feet, not feeling the strength to lie very much anymore. “Aye, only this. Everything else I had in this world was… taken from me.” She said no more on that.
“That’s a shame. I’m sorry if you’ve fallen on hard times. You’re clearly much too proud to be a beggar. Well, there’s still much of the day ahead. If you will let the road wait a little longer, would you allow me to get you something to eat? I know a nice little place that does great soup. I even get a discount. What do you say?”
“That’s… well… I don’t want to impose but… if that’s your wish.”
“Excellent. Come, you won’t be disappointed. Nothing like a good meal after a day of too much excitement. Gods know I need it. But wait, I still didn’t get your name.”
“Myra,” she said. “My friends call me Myra.”
“That’s a nice name.”
Myra and Erasmus sat on a low bench just outside the food vendor, dipping bread into their bowls of spiced stew. Myra had forgotten how ravenously hungry she was, but she ate slowly and methodically, unable to bring herself to wolf it down. She thought of the last time she tasted spice like that. It had come from a merchant caravan heading westwards. She remembered how the merchant himself had died on the end of her arrow. Myra had lived an entire decade of her life as an outlaw, but now the memories of that made her uneasy. She looked over to Erasmus, who was offering a bit of meat gristle to a mangy cat that had waddled past. Did Erasmus know that merchant? Were they family? Myra didn’t want to know. At least Erasmus had chosen a quiet spot.
“So how do you like it?’ the imperial said. “The stew, I mean. I suppose the spice might be a bit much. Its quite cheap down south so I used to have it all the time as a child. It’s just a little taste of home.”
“You miss your home, don’t you?” Myra said, the spell of silence broken.
“Maybe a little. Maybe I just miss the simpler times. I knew I shouldn’t get too attached to any one place when I chose to become a career soldier.”
“So what are you doing up here then?” Myra asked. “Living here, I mean, with the Thanes. Are you an emissary to the king?”
“No, I could never do something quite important as that. I’m just one of King Magnus’ household warriors. He might be a barbarian king, but he’s an Imperial Duke ruling Imperial lands. I get to keep some honour at the very least.” Erasmus laughed.
“But why though? There’s not much up here other than trees, sheep and outlaws… not much reward for a … man like you.”
“True. But still, it just feels right. Self imposed exile, and all that. I feel like I shouldn’t be too comfortable. I used to be a Legion officer actually, up until a couple of years ago. My commander gained enough popularity and support amongst the legions of the south to make his claim as emperor. We won the following war, but the whole affair didn’t sit too well with me, so I resigned my position and found my way here.”
“You didn’t like your commander?”
“I didn’t like what he became.”
“But now you fight for the Thanes? Is that much different?”
“To me it is. The folks up here are rough around the edges, but they need fighting men here on the frontier something bad. And well, I figured I’d be doing something more useful here than I would be fighting in yet another civil war.”
Erasmus paused, quiet in reflection.
“Well, at least that’s what I tell myself. Maybe the frontier just seemed safer than the battlefields in the south. It doesn’t really matter all that much. But what of yourself? What place do you call home?”
Myra hesitated, thinking of an answer.
“You don’t have a home, do you?” The empathy in Erasmus’ voice only deepened Myra’s sense of guilt.
“No… I… I was born to a family of shepherds in some hills, I can’t really remember where. It was dull but… peaceful. But then outlaws came…” Myra thought of Garth and how he had came into her life that day, riding through her village looking like a prince out of legend. She hadn’t thought twice about joining him.
Erasmus misunderstood. “I’m sorry. We take that kind of thing for granted in the core provinces. I couldn’t imagine what people up here must feel like, afraid of outlaws at every turn.”
“Aye…” Myra turned her mind away from Garth, remembering the head-hunter. “That bastard took everything I had in this world away from me…”
“Is that it then? Revenge?”
“Yes. I had hoped to find him in this city. But… I don’t think he ever came here…”
“I didn’t think you were just any pilgrim. You look like you could handle yourself in a fight. You wear that dagger of yours like someone who knows how to use it.”
Myra was surprised that Erasmus had even noticed her knife, hidden as it was in the folds of her clothes.
“I’m sorry for being so secretive. You saved my life, and I can hardly begin to repay you for that.”
“Don’t worry about it. You seem to have much more on your plate to deal with right now anyway.”
The two finished their meal, idly strolling along the city streets.
“I would remedy your hurts, if I could.” Erasmus said suddenly. “But I wouldn’t recommend this quest of yours. Not much good can come out of it…”
“Aye, but its all I have…”
“That can’t be true. There’s always other options. But I’m not the one to preach that. I could have been a clerk or a grocer instead of coming up here to fight for a barbarian.”
“I don’t know, I’m no city-dweller. I’ve never got along well with most people. Everyone I’ve ever cared for is gone.”
“Do you intend to die on this quest?”
“Maybe. The Fates will decide that. All I know is that I can track and use a knife. Better it would be to die fighting for the sake of my family, than turning my knife on myself.”
“I wish I could talk you out of this. But if I had been good at using words, I would have never picked up a sword. But, if you would repay your debt to me, then consider staying for a couple days more. Maybe until after the Moot? I know you don’t like it here much, but use the time to rest, gather your strength. Who knows, the Moot attracts more traffic here than usual, maybe you can find someone who can help you better.”
Myra chewed her lip. Suddenly the decision to go had become much harder to make. What Erasmus said made sense, but could she risk staying longer? No matter what the imperial thought of her, she was still an outlaw. If someone were to discover her for what she truly was…
“Hold on, what’s all this?” Erasmus said. Around them, people were hurrying past in the same direction.
“Hold friend! What’s the commotion?” the swordsman said to a passerby.
“More arrivals, at the gate sir!”
“Arrivals? Strange. I though we received the last party for the Moot earlier today.”
“Not Thanes. Rangers! Painted Folk!”
“Rangers?” Erasmus said, suddenly interested. Myra had heard the name before. Strange stories were told concerning the Painted Folk. “Come lady Myra, let’s take a look.”
Like an excited child, Erasmus followed the crowd, Myra half-reluctantly following after. Making their way through the throng beside the road, Myra saw a small party of riders passing through the gate. They were a strange looking lot; three wild looking men bearing spears and bows, wearing gaudy but finely made cloaks and arm-bands and bearing swirling patterns tattooed on their faces. At their head was a queenly beauty, wearing a white travel cloak, a band of gold holding back her hair. Following a little behind the main party, slumped over his horse’s neck, was a rider cloaked in grey, glowering darkly at the crowd.
Myra watched him pass, speechless for words. Her mind was made up. She was going to stay.