Running

53rd Day of Harvest

767 Karloman’s Peace

Ekkehard was running faster than he had ever run before. He weaved through crowds of wealthy nobles and their guards, then through the gates of the administrative sector into the throngs of the humbler harvest celebraters.

Thousands of people barred his path.

He collided with a pair of revellers, sending them and their ales, along with himself, tumbling. He was up in an instant. Had he stayed, a fight would have ensued. By the time the furious revellers were on their feet, Ekkehard was already dozens of meters further down the promenade, cutting in and out of the crowds.

His heart pounded, and his ribs felt as if they might break from his urgent breaths. What am I doing? Where am I going? The questions whirled through his mind. He needed to find his family and warn them. With Hanib in the city, they needed to keep their heads down, lest one of Hanib’s men learned of them. What if Audomar already knows? His elder brother had planned on hunting Hanib; if he learned the man was in the city, he would surely go after him, exposing them all. He had to make sure that didn’t happen.

But who do I go to first? he questioned.

Audomar wasn’t at the house, probably out training some of the men in one of Vedast’s yards. Gerwald would be with the masons, and he hadn’t seen Gisla in days. He should start with Auriana; he hadn’t been present the last time danger came for her, and he needed to protect his wife and unborn child. But she had said she would be visiting the markets today, hadn’t she? Ekkehard had been so tired lately, it was hard to keep the days straight in his head. That could have been yesterday. The nap in the garden had only added to his confusion.

Words echoed through Ekkehard’s mind: “Everyone in this city knows about you, Ekkehard, you must know that.” I need to find my family, and quickly.

Florentin, Ekkehard concluded. He would start with the one person he knew he could find. Florentin would be in Vedast’s home, counting coins and tending to business. For all his younger brother’s flaws, he was consistent in his conduct.

A cart, heavily loaded with barrels, suddenly blocked Ekkehard's path. He ran into it with such force that he was repelled backward several feet, landing with a thud. “Oi,” the cartman exclaimed, turning to Ekkehard. He fell silent when he saw who it was climbing back to his feet.

The commotion drew the attention of a pair of guards, purple cloaks at their backs. They began to walk toward him. Do they know who I am? Ekkehard panicked. Did Hanib send them? He shook his head. A foolish thought. If Hanib knew the Reubkes were in the city, his entire retinue would be out on the streets. They weren’t. He still had time. His fearfulness was only making him rash. He needed to calm himself and think straight.

“Apologies,” he said to the cartman before resuming his journey, nodding to the guards as they passed. He didn’t run this time, walking with purpose and clarity through the crowds. His lungs stung from the exertion, and his shoulder throbbed from the collision. He cursed his own idiocy and thanked the gods for the lesson of their pain.

Half a mile later, Ekkehard reached the end of the road that ran past Vedast’s house. The mad palimpsest structure of the house was a welcome sight. Three men stood guard outside the door; Ekkehard knew each of them, and they reacted with alertness when they saw him approaching.

“Get everyone!” Ekkehard struggled to shout at them. The men stared at him in confusion. “Everyone you can find!” Ekkehard barked as he passed by them and through the open shop door. Seeing they were still lingering in confusion, Ekkehard screamed, “Now!” The three men scattered, each going in search of Vedast’s other gang members.

“What’s going on, Ekkehard?” Porfinn, assigned to man the shop counter for the day, asked as Ekkehard entered. There was a hint of concern in the young man’s voice. He had never seen any of the Reubkes flustered before, and the simple sight of it was enough to alert him to the severity of the threat.

“Which of my brothers are here?” Ekkehard demanded, throwing open the counter door that barred his entry deeper into the house. He made his way through the side passage without waiting for an answer.

“Just Florentin,” Porfinn answered, following him.

“Where?” Ekkehard snapped as he marched through the cutting room. He spotted the little armoury table at the back. Audomar’s spear was absent. There were other weapons, however, and almost involuntarily, Ekkehard rushed to the table, grabbing and drawing a short sword from it. He may have rationalized his situation to some degree, but his instincts were too alert. He refused to be unarmed or unprepared. He had to be ready.

“Calm down!” Porfinn shouted, seeing the naked blade. The butchers in the cutting room ceased their work and stepped back from him. “Whatever they did, I’m sure we can talk about it.”

“What?” Ekkehard asked, shooting Porfinn a bewildered look.

“Your brothers,” Porfinn explained, “whatever they did, I don’t think it needs to lead to bloodshed.”

“This isn’t for them,” Ekkehard stated, heading for the back offices.

“What is going on in here?” Svanhildr asked as she entered the cutting room. Ekkehard didn’t answer, instead pushing past her and heading deeper into the house.

“Ekkehard!” she exclaimed, horrified.

“Where is my brother?” Ekkehard asked before bellowing his brother’s name through the corridors of the house, “Florentin!” The veins on the side of his neck bulged as he did so, and his voice went hoarse. He suddenly spun around and something sharp struck his cheek. Svanhildr had slapped him.

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“Calm down,” Svanhildr ordered, her expression daring him to disobey, her tone promising retribution if he did. The sting across the side of his face made him think better of it. He had offended her. He had never been rude to the lady of this house before, and his anxiety was no excuse for having done so now. He hung his head, unwilling to face her gaze.

“Whatever your brother has done,” Svanhildr added in a calmer tone, “I’m sure it doesn’t warrant this lunacy.”

“My apologies, my lady,” Ekkehard muttered to his feet.

“All is forgiven,” she replied. “Now, what is going on?”

“It is not a matter for you and yours,” Ekkehard answered, “but my family and I need to get out of the city, if only for a few days, but at once.” The old matron looked ready to interrogate him further, however, something made her hold her tongue.

“Very well,” she said before turning to face Porfinn. “Porfinn,” she commanded, “have some of the men start packing the Reubkes’ things and supplies for half a cycle. Then you run to the masons, find Gerwald, and bring him back here. Take swords, one for each of you, and don’t let anyone stop you from getting back here.”

“Who would try to stop us?” Porfinn asked. Svanhildr looked back at Ekkehard.

“I do not know,” she said, “but whoever they are, they must be formidable.” Ekkehard wondered whether he should explain himself. Vedast and his family all knew the tale of the Reubkes and Hanib, but it was nothing to do with them. He couldn’t quite explain why, but he feared that speaking the man’s name out loud might somehow summon him, and he had no desire to subject this kind family that had sheltered his own to the danger of being associated with him. Maybe if he kept it all to himself, it would simply blow over.

“Would you like me to send for your lady wife?” The voice startled Ekkehard, and he spun around to see Emich, ever the spectre, waiting in the middle of the receiving room.

“Emich,” Ekkehard greeted the man, “I don’t know where she is. She might be at the flat, but she might be out in the markets. Gisla is also missing. Can you find both?”

“They are both at the markets,” Emich replied. “And they are watched; your wife by Billung and Gisla by Hjorvardr. I will send word to both that they should bring your women back immediately.”

“You have people watching my family?” Ekkehard asked.

“Naturally.” At any other time, Ekkehard would have interrogated this intrusion, but today he was grateful for it. Still, Emich sent shivers up Ekkehard’s spine, as he ever did. “Your women wander this city like it is a harmless place,” Emich added, as if reading his mind. “It is not. I will be back.” He left via the garden door.

Ekkehard turned back to Svanhildr. “Where is Audomar?” he asked.

“Training some of the new boys in the yard at the end of Flea Street,” she answered. “I’ll send someone at once.”

“Go yourself,” the gruff and dour tone of Vedast resounded through the little receiving room. Svanhildr turned to her husband and shot him a dissatisfied look, one that reminded him she was not one to be ordered about. Relenting to her warning, Vedast expanded, “If you go, he will know it’s serious and come at once. He may ignore another.” Svanhildr clearly agreed with this assessment, as she turned and headed out of the house. “Have him bring everyone back with him too!” Vedast called after her. “Every man we have!”

Ekkehard looked to his paymaster and friend and bowed his head. “I should explain…” he began to say.

“No need,” Vedast stated as he stepped further into the room. Following behind him was Florentin and another man, one Ekkehard had not expected to see.

“Cnut,” Ekkehard exclaimed at the intruder as he raised the point of his blade at the man. “What are you doing here?” The guard captain raised his hands in return.

“No need for that,” he said.

“Lower the blade,” Vedast commanded, but Ekkehard hesitated. He had never seen the captain of the guard in Vedast’s home before. This unusual occurrence could only mean one thing: Hanib had learned of the Reubkes, and the captain had come to arrest him. “I said lower the blade, Ekkehard,” Vedast repeated, his tone emotionless and dry. Ekkehard’s gaze, wild and desperate, turned to the butcher and loan shark. Oh no, he thought, Vedast betrays us after all. What a fool he had been to think this criminal, this usurer, this hoarder of coin would keep his family safe when the nobles came for him.

Ekkehard took his blade in both hands and readied himself in a guard position. “It’s okay, brother,” Florentin finally chimed in. “He’s not here for us.”

“Then why is he here?”

“Out of respect to your lady wife,” Cnut explained, “and because of the kindness she has shown my family, I have come to warn you. They are coming. The marquis, the count, the governor; this Hanib has enlisted them all overnight. Hundreds of men, encircling the district and closing in, to ensure you have no chance of escape. They are coming here. They are coming now.”

A wave of despair struck Ekkehard, and he swayed. Losing his balance, he fell to his knees, his blade tumbling from his grasp. All he and his family had been through had been for naught. Hanib would have them after all. Hundreds of men, closing in on them. They had no chance. He couldn’t breathe, his ribcage closing in around his lungs, locking them tight, and his heart seized in his chest.

“Get up,” Vedast ordered, towering over Ekkehard. Ekkehard looked up at him meekly, Vedast's dour complexion casting a shadow over him.

“Are you going to turn us in, my friend?” he asked.

“If there were an option,” Vedast answered, “maybe. There is not.” Ekkehard cocked an eyebrow and turned once more to Cnut.

“Hanib has ordered the execution of your whole family and anyone harbouring you,” Cnut explained with a shrug of his shoulders. “There is to be no mercy for heretics, and all associated with them are considered tainted.”

“Yet, you chose to help us,” Ekkehard stated.

“Yes,” Cnut replied. “Because you are no heretic. No heretic would do what you did for this city.”

“Thank you,” the words were barely whispered from Ekkehard's lips.

“Don’t. I have warned you, but I cannot save you,” Cnut said, dropping his head in shame. “I must take my leave. Find what comfort you can, if any, in your final moments.” With those words, the captain stalked out of the receiving room and headed for the street. I should have kept running, Ekkehard thought as the captain left.

“We are not giving up just yet,” Florentin said as he came to stand beside Vedast. Both men looked down at Ekkehard. “They have the numbers, they have initiative, but it is not over yet.”

“What can we do against so many though?” Ekkehard asked, shaking his head.

“It is not about the many,” Florentin replied, “it is about the one.” Ekkehard looked to his brother. “Hanib is a foreigner to this city. The nobles may be backing him now, but that is only due to his status and the upcoming wedding. If we kill him, they have no reason to carry out the justice he seeks. This place is defensible. We hold them here, with everything we have, we hold them until we have the chance to get to Hanib and we kill the man, and the guards go home.”

Ekkehard heard Florentin’s plan. It was desperate, with a total absence of logic. He turned to Vedast and asked, “Do you think that would work?”

“No,” he answered, extending a hand to help Ekkehard up. “But I’d rather die fighting than on my knees, wouldn’t you?” Taking a deep breath, Ekkehard took Vedast’s hand and was pulled back onto his feet. We are going to die, he thought, they both know it. Nothing could be done about that, but maybe they could take the bastard Hanib with them, punish him for every tragedy he had inflicted upon the Reubke family.

Standing tall again, having accepted his fate, Ekkehard found his mind clear, his heart steady. He was ready. “Yes,” Ekkehard agreed with Vedast, “most certainly.”

Vedast slapped Ekkehard on the shoulder and shot him a broad grin. “That’s the spirit,” he said. He looked almost ecstatic at the notion of what was to come. His smirk was infectious, and Ekkehard chuckled in response. When Vedast turned to Florentin, even he laughed a little. “Good, good,” Vedast stated, assessing them before his eyes went wide with a new idea. “Let’s have some wine.”