Two Men and a Cart

7th Day of Harvest,

766 Karloman’s Peace

The cave entrance was wide and opened immediately into a large chamber, as if the entire hill had been hollowed out. The stench of rotten meat and human waste assailed Ekkehard as he and his three brothers crept into the chamber.

Inside was a disorganised and chaotic campsite. At least thirty straw beddings were scattered about at random intervals, most clustered around smouldering campfires. Remnants of broken carts and traders' wagons had been stored along the perimeter of the cave walls, and various animal carcasses had been piled here and there at the back of the cave.

At first, Ekkehard thought the campsite abandoned, but he soon noticed two men at the far edge of the cave.

Both men appeared to be trying to fix the wheel of a loaded cart, unaware of the newcomers sneaking into their home. As he and his brothers slowly approached the men, Ekkehard examined the contents of their cart. It was filled with crates, each overbrimming with goods of minimal value; in fact, as far as Ekkehard could tell, they were loaded with nothing but junk.

He couldn’t help but think that the two men’s efforts would be made easier if they unloaded it first. Something that might have occurred to them if they stopped squabbling for a moment, but that didn’t seem likely to happen.

'Just put the fucking wheel on,' the shortest of the two men shouted at the other, 'it's not that hard, you useless moron.'

The shorter man was lifting the cart with both hands as the taller man knelt trying to attach a loose wheel.

'It doesn't fit,' the taller man replied through gritted teeth.

'It fits, it's the same one that fell off, isn't it?' the short man shouted in response.

'If it fit, it would slip on. It is not slipping on. So, it doesn't fit!' the other man retorted.

'Just put it on before my back snaps, you twat; this is heavy!' the struggling short man pleaded with his counterpart.

'Just try and get it a little higher, maybe then I can do it,' the taller man requested as he continued to push the wheel pointlessly onto an axle clearly too large for it.

‘Higher? You lift it fucking higher, why don't you!' the short man bellowed before dropping the cart, which thudded into the ground. Two crates fell from the cart as it landed, their worthless contents spilling across the floor.

'It might help if you empty the cart first?' Florentin suggested, causing both men to jump in response.

'What the shit?' the taller man shouted as he spun on the spot and discovered the Reubke brothers blocking their only exit.

Neither man had a weapon on their person, and the shorter man's eyes darted around the cave, looking for the spot where his small hand axe lay. When he saw it lying among a clump of dirty linens a few feet away, he took a panicked step towards it.

It was a foolish move as Audomar bore down on him in a flash. The tip of the eldest Reubke's spear nestled itself just before the man's throat.

The bandit stepped back from the weapon. Audomar circled around it and kicked the axe further into the cave behind him.

The taller man didn't even bother looking for his weapon; he just raised his hands sheepishly, as Florentin sauntered up and rested the tip of his blade on the man's chest.

The shorter man slowly wiped away a bead of sweat forming on his forehead before taking a deep breath and getting things underway.

'Well, come on then,' he began, 'who are you all supposed to be? Bounty hunters? Soldiers? Travelling preachers? Which is it?' he asked.

Ekkehard scowled at the shorter man and took the chance to examine their captives. Both were as filthy and ugly as the dead they had discovered this morning. The shorter man was potbellied and older, maybe forty years of age, while the taller was skinny and young, maybe only twenty, with a slack-jawed face and a permanently dumb expression. They shared some facial features, and Ekkehard imagined them related, perhaps father and son or uncle and nephew.

'None of the above,' Audomar said to the man, fixing him with a predator's stare as he twisted the spear from one side to the other, 'we're the ones you tried to murder last night.'

'Last night?' the taller man questioned in response, 'you're with the group Jeltse spotted? You've got us all wrong, friend. We aren't hunters. We just sort the junk the others find, that's all.'

‘Shut up, lad,’ the short, fat man interjected.

'Dag, these guys killed like a dozen men last night,' the taller man failed to whisper to his companion, 'What are we gonna do?'

'Shut up boy,' the other snapped. Addressing Audomar and the others again, he said 'listen, friends, I am sure we can sort this all out.'

As the brief conversation was had, Ekkehard noticed his youngest brother had backed away from their group. He could hear the boy’s heavy breathing. Looking back, Ekkehard noted the tight grip Gerwald had on his blade and his tightly wound jaw. They had all entered the cave ready for a fight, one Gerwald was eager for, and Ekkehard worried his little brother was unable to let go of that temperament.

Further, there was no sign of Gisla, and Gerwald would struggle with that, Ekkehard thought.

He needed to do something before Gerwald did.

Turning back to the two cowering guards, Ekkehard marched over to them and grabbed the taller by his hair. He pulled the man’s head back taut and tight. The man groaned as he did.

Ekkehard leaned in close and hissed through gritted teeth, 'Listen, you dirty, degenerate, dick, I will burn you alive right now if you don't tell us where our fucking sister is!'

Ekkehard was surprised by his own anger as he acted. He had meant to be calmer in his approach, but his heart had raced, and his choler rose from the first step he took.

‘Ah!’ the younger man exclaimed as Ekkehard twisted his scalp, ‘you don't gotta get all like that. Nuttin was personal. People gotta survive and all.’

‘Let him go!’ the man named Dag shouted. ‘Harsh fucking world makes harsh fucking people. You get me?’ His eyes darted, panicked, from Ekkehard to Audomar to Florentin and back around again.

‘I mean, you can't blame a guy for taking advantage of a group of idiots that travel unprotected, at night, through bandit-ridden hills. Your camp getting raided is kind of your own fault if you think about it?’

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The fat man never saw it coming.

Whether it was his tone or words, or simply that Gerwald couldn't contain himself any longer, Ekkehard couldn't be sure. Whatever it was, the youngest Reubke ended Dag violently as his companion watched helplessly in horror.

Gerwald stormed to the man, kicking him in the face and causing his nose to erupt with blood as he fell back. The fat man attempted to rise. Before he could, Gerwald was over him and began to stomp on the fat man's head. The blows came in quick, heavy succession as the broad and stout Gerwald put his entire body into each of the attacks.

There was a bone-chilling crack as the man's jaw broke. A second followed as his skull cracked. Finally, a wet gurgling sound as Dag’s head lost integrity and Gerwald's boot reached the soft meat below the bone.

When Gerwald was done, there was nothing but a red and pink mess in place of the man's face.

Gerwald stepped away, heavily panting, his eyes welling with tears. He attempted to rub away the blood that had splattered across his face but only managed to spread it further, and soon his entire face was painted red.

Exclamations of rage, panic, and despair emerged from Gerwald's throat as he retreated from the body. He rushed past Ekkehard, who simply watched him go, dumbfounded. Sheltering somewhere at the back of the cave, Gerwald began to pace as he tried in vain to regain control of his breathing. Every breath Gerwald took was laboured and hissed through clenched teeth.

Ekkehard released his grip on the other prisoner's hair and stepped away, keeping a concerned eye on Gerwald. He looked wild, like a cornered beast. Ekkehard couldn't reconcile this savage creature with the gentle boy he knew Gerwald to be. His little brother was not a poor hunter because he lacked talent with a bow, but because he disliked hurting animals. He laboured with the workers on the farm because he felt a need to support those around him.

How could this be that same boy? When had Gerwald become so capable of such unbidden violence?

Why hadn’t Audomar tried to stop him? Why hadn’t Florentin? Why hadn’t he?

‘What was this journey doing to them?’ Ekkehard wondered. What had Hanib wrought upon them with his greed? What had Ekkehard’s weakness caused?

Ekkehard looked to Florentin and Audomar. Neither seemed particularly moved by Gerwald’s outburst. Audomar was sat upon a crate and had begun to clean his weapon. It appeared to Ekkehard that Audomar hadn't even registered the extreme violence before them.

He looked back at Gerwald, and something in Ekkehard's chest sank.

Florentin turned his attention to his charge, giving the tall boy a half-smile.

‘Apologies, my brothers and I have had a tough time of it recently. Probably best you go ahead and answer their questions.’

‘You just killed him,’ the bandit retorted, his face one of confusion and disbelief.

‘Yes, yes we did,’ Florentin confirmed nonchalantly.

‘You expect me to answer you now?’ the skinny man asked, straightening his back and raising his head in defiance.

‘If you want to live, you will,’ Audomar answered.

The bandit's eyes flicked from Florentin to Audomar to the body of his compatriot and back. ‘The odds of me living seem pretty slim,’ he said.

Florentin replied in a soft, reassuring tone once more, as he pressed the tip of his blade against the man’s chest.

‘If you don't answer our questions, you will die for certain,’ he said. ‘If you do, you might just live. Which option do you prefer: some chance of surviving or none at all?’

Florentin pushed the tip of his blade a little firmer against the man’s chest, and his dirty shirt started to darken around the point.

‘Just tell us where our sister is,’ Ekkehard interjected and walked up to Florentin, gently pulling his blade back. ‘We have lost enough family and seen enough death. Getting her back is all that matters to us. Tell us, and you can go.’

Florentin shot Ekkehard a disgusted look.

The bandit looked sternly from one Reubke brother to the next until at last, his expression sank. ‘Fine,’ he said sullenly, ‘What do you want to know?’

‘Your group took three captives last night; one is our sister, the youngest, just a girl,’ Ekkehard explained.

‘Where is she?’ Florentin asked.

‘I don’t know, I haven’t seen any captives,’ the bandit responded.

‘Bullshit,’ Audomar spat.

‘Honestly,’ the bandit fired back in clear panic, ‘I haven’t seen any captives. We have a lot of camps in these hills. They didn’t bring your sister back here. She may have been taken to one of the others. As you can see, we were moving on anyway.’

‘Many camps?’ Florentin questioned. ‘How many of you are there?’

‘Lots,’ the man continued, ‘there are thousands of people living in these hills, tens of thousands; they go for miles, you know.’

Florentin did not look impressed.

‘My tribe, there are a little over a hundred of us, maybe a hundred and fifty,’ the captive explained desperately.

‘No way you fit a hundred people in here,’ Ekkehard argued.

‘We don’t all stay in the same camp at the same time,’ the bandit responded. ‘If we get found all together, that’d be the end of us, wouldn’t it? We have several camps all across these hills. Your sister will have been taken to one of them, I promise, but I honestly don’t know which one.’

The bandit's eye flicked between all the brothers, Audomar’s spear still at his throat. ‘Is that it? Can I go now?’

Florentin stroked his short beard in thought. ‘What do they want with them?’ he asked.

‘What?’ the man replied, his tone nervous and his eyes wide with fear.

Florentin stepped up to the man, looking carefully into his eyes. Ekkehard tried to usher him back, but Florentin pushed away his arm.

‘What do they want with them?’ he repeated.

‘I don’t know,’ the man replied in a croaky voice.

Florentin fixed his stare as he brought one hand up behind the man’s head as he slowly raised his blade to the man’s throat.

‘What do they want them for?’ he asked again.

The man gulped and whispered, ‘you know what they want them for.’

Florentin opened the man’s throat.

‘No!’ Ekkehard exclaimed, helplessly.

Florentin held the man’s gaze as life began to drain from his eyes and the strength faded from his legs. The young hillman dropped to his knees, and he choked and gurgled on his own blood.

Stepping away from the man, leaving him to his agony, Florentin turned his back and unfurled a cloth from a pocket and began to clean his blade.

Ekkehard looked to Audomar in desperation. He merely shook his head at the spectacle.

Ekkehard grabbed Florentin by the shoulder and spun him round. ‘Why did you do that?’ he demanded.

Florentin shot him a perplexed look.

‘He was one of them, why wouldn’t I?’ Florentin asked with a shrug.

‘We needed him to tell us where Gisla and the others are,’ Ekkehard replied, shaking his head in disbelief.

‘He just told us there were dozens of camps in these hills and we killed his friend,’ Florentin explained, sheathing his now clean blade. ‘He wasn’t going to tell us anything.’

‘You don’t know that,’ Ekkehard argued.

‘No,’ Audomar interjected in a gruff tone, ‘but he is probably right. That’s it then. We have lost them. Gisla, Leger, and the other woman, whatever her name was.’

‘Liaueld,’ Gerwald muttered from the back of the cave.

Silence hung for a moment.

Then Florentin sighed. ‘Maybe not,’ he said, ‘like the man said, dozens of camps in these hills. We could find another, maybe others will know where she was taken.’

‘We can discuss that outside,’ Audomar said as he started to march for the cave exit, ‘it stinks in here.’

‘No,’ Ekkehard said as he stepped and blocked Audomar’s way.

Audomar looked at him with deadly intent.

Ekkehard swallowed hard.

‘No, I think you and I need to have a talk right now,’ Ekkehard said. Then he turned to Florentin, ‘take Gerwald for some air,’ he instructed.

‘I think I’d like to hear what you have to say,’ Florentin tried to argue.

‘Do as he says,’ Audomar snapped, not taking his eyes off Ekkehard.

Doing as he was commanded, Florentin took Gerwald by the shoulder and led him gently out of the cave. As the youngest brother reached the exit, Ekkehard heard the beginning of soft sobbing.

‘What do you want?’ Audomar asked when they were at last alone.

Ekkehard took a deep breath. Confrontation with Audomar was never something he enjoyed and the two of them were further apart than they had ever been. Yet, he needed to get his brother on board. He needed his older brother to help him save their family. Not just ensure they survive but save them. Save the people they had been before all this happened.

‘I want to know what you are doing,’ Ekkehard stated.

‘What I am doing?’ Audomar asked with equal parts condescension and aggression.

‘Yeah, what are you doing?’ Ekkehard repeated. ‘Can’t you see this group needs you. I mean, needs the real you. This morning, you were entirely checked out. Now, you do nothing as our brothers lose themselves like that?’

‘Like what?’ Audomar chided.

‘Do you not see what they just did?’ Ekkehard asked, flabbergasted.

‘They killed some savages. What of it?’

‘Gerwald just stomped a man to death!’ Ekkehard shouted, ‘Stomped him to death. In front of you. Florentin opened a man’s throat. A prisoner. Someone who couldn’t defend themselves.’

‘He was a bit rash,’ Audomar admitted. ‘We weren’t done questioning him.’

‘Not rash, brother,’ Ekkehard said, shaking his head, ‘cruel. Florentin has become cruel. Gerwald is a mess.’

The words hung between them.

‘Do you even recognise us anymore?’ Ekkehard asked his elder.

Ekkehard thought he saw a flash of something cross his brother's face. Shame maybe, or perhaps regret. Whatever it was, it vanished. Audomar squared his shoulders and pushed past Ekkehard.

‘We’re all killers, Ekkehard,’ Audomar said as he went, ‘even you.’

Ekkehard went cold. His heart constricted, as if it struggled to beat.

He had failed his family.

Whether they made out of these hills or not, they were already lost.