CHAPTER XI - Seek and You Shall Find
I reported to the barracks as soon as I arrived at Over Hampton, eager to be sent to my station. They told me I was to be a footman, and my job would be to patrol the streets, keep the peace, and report any signs of insurrection. I was taught that rebellion is a form of a social disease that spreads rapidly, and corrupts the hearts of innocent men and women. A traitor betrays both God and his fellow man for he causes the fabric of society to grow weaker, and thus gives the barbarian horde an advantage when they try to conquer us. I can’t say I find the argument convincing now, but at the time of my training, after all I’ve seen, it made perfect sense. Not that I had any illusions that we were the good guys and they were the bad. We were the bad guys fighting against other bad guys, and the good guys were somewhere in the middle of the battlefield getting hurt; innocents who pay the price for their leaders’ decisions.
They sent another soldier with me to teach me the patrol routes. He introduced himself as Edrid. He was a man whom I recognized from the tavern, since we had brawled once over one offense or another, but he didn’t seem to recognize me so I acted as if it were the first time we’d met.
During my shift I acted the ideal soldier, which means I kept my mouth shut, my eyes open, and my ears peeled for any sign of insurrection. People were mostly terrified of us soldiers. Some, however, were too broken-spirited to care, and behaved like horses who accepted the yoke of their master. Edrid, meanwhile, took it upon himself to be my senior officer and mentor, and taught me his version of all I needed to know about being a soldier.
“Being a soldier, is the best damn position one can hold,” he said, and I nodded. “You get to carry a weapon, and the maidens just love a man brandishing a big weapon, if you know what I mean,” he said and elbowed me playfully. “Now, the thing is with the maidens, you have to be clever, or else you’re in a big mess, if you know what I mean,” he repeated, again elbowing me, and starting to get on my nerves. “See, the thing is, we’re the law around here — the utmost authority, the supreme leaders, if you know what I mean,” he said, and I dodged his elbow. “I do,” I replied, prolonging the ‘o’ sound.
“See, that’s better. I knew you’d see things my way,” he said, cheering up, though I don’t know why. “So, as I was saying …” he said after I neglected to comment, “… you can have any maiden you like, you just have to make sure nobody’s looking. Know what I mean?” He asked ― but I didn’t know.
“If you approach them in a crowd or when they’re close to home, they’ll scream,” he said, and I stopped walking. “Then you have to threaten the father, accuse him of mutiny to scare him off and have your way with some tender flesh, if you know what I mean,” he said, smiling broadly.
“So your idea of wooing maidens is threatening their family and raping them?” I said, trying as hard as I could to hide the fury in my voice.
“No! You’re not paying attention,” he said, and I relaxed, hoping it was a language misunderstanding.
“I never said anything about wooing … Who needs to woo women when you can just take them? I mean, we’re the law, right? So we take what we want, divine privilege and all,” he said, and I remained silent. I imagined myself grabbing his throat with my right hand and tearing his ‘big sword’ from its scabbard with my left, imagining his screaming face brought a smile to mine. He saw me smiling and smiled back. Most likely the villain thought I was seduced. If he could only catch a glimpse of my dark thoughts, he’d never smile again, for in him I saw the same wicked evil that has claimed Raymond’s life.
“See, I knew you were a sport,” he said, and continued on merrily. I stopped paying attention to his words, though he kept on babbling throughout the shift. I couldn’t afford to listen to him, for it would have cost him his life and me my job, and I needed my job if I was to take my revenge.
When our shift was blissfully over I went on a second patrol, still wearing the uniform and helmet of a guard. This patrol took me to other areas: taverns, alleyways, and other gathering places for those of a dangerous sort. I sought out the cutthroats who had murdered Raymond, and hoped they wouldn’t recognize me with the uniform and helmet on. Besides, even if they did, I doubted they’d try to attack a soldier when there were so many of us, all blood-thirsty and within calling distance. My preparations proved to be in vain, however, for they were nowhere to be found.
My time in Over Hampton was most frustrating. I spent countless days in idle search, finding nothing. I left no stone unturned and no alley unvisited. I tolerated Edrid day after day, trying to turn a deaf ear to endless accounts of his diabolical activities. Every word he said, every description of the deeds he’d done, left a bitter taste in my mouth, and day after day I planned the day of reckoning, when I would dispense justice to him as well. Truly readers, if ever there was a devil masquerading as a human being, this would be him.
There was no sign of my chief adversaries in Over Hampton, however, no matter where I looked. Malcontent filled my heart until I could no longer eat. Nightmares of Raymond butchered like an animal haunted me, reminding me that the scum of the earth still roams free. All too soon maidens pleading for mercy, along with their screams and Edrid’s laughter, joined the disharmony of my dreams. I could take no more. I awoke one morning, and it was a different day, a new day, a beginning and an end.
A single blow to the back of the head killed him, a move that is commonly known as a Blackjack. I buried him in an alley beneath a heap of trash and human waste, a suitable grave for the man, if such a monster may be called a man. I laughed inside at how easy it is to kill a man, to snuff out a life. I had hoped to feel regret, to feel anything. But there was only content. A dark beast long growing in the fertile soil of malcontent, watered day and night by rage, had finally been sated.
When they finally came around to question me, I told my superior officer and his comrades that he had not seemed himself, looking over his shoulder as we patrolled. After a lot of fuss, I got out of the incident with a reprimand. As I expected, they preferred one soldier working rather than one gone and one in prison, especially since they had no evidence of foul play. I must admit, though, that murdering him was a spur of the moment thing, an uncalculated risk which jeopardized my long term goals.
However, I did sleep soundly that night. No nightmares haunted me. The commoners sighed in relief when word of his absence became the talk of town. It’s so easy to get away with murder, it seems; so easy that I wanted to protest. How many more murderers like me got away without as much as a proper inquiry, I wondered. I requested a transfer from Over Hampton a few days later, telling them that Edrid’s disappearance had touched me deeply and I sought a change of scenery. I thus returned to Drentwych with mixed feelings but with hope for a fresh beginning.
Drentwych had remained just as I remembered it, fortified by a wall with familiar cobblestone roads. When last I had come here I was a boy, recently orphaned and mesmerized by the beauty and the ugliness of this town. Now I was a man and not so easily charmed. I reported to the barracks and was assigned a fellow soldier by the name of Barnabas, though his close friends sometimes called him Barny. He was much shorter than I, with short curly hair that thinned dramatically around the front of his head. He was also much fatter than I was, though not so fat as to resemble a barrel.
“So you’re the new guy from Over Hampton,” he said, moving his head back and raising his eyes in a very peculiar gesture.
“Aye, th-” I began, but he interrupted.
“Splendid! My name’s Barnabas,” he said. “But if we get on well, you can call me Barny.”
“Raymond,” I replied simply.
“And this is my partner, Crushy,” he continued, as if I hadn’t spoken, showing me his iron club―a heavy, dented weapon, dirtied by crusted blood.
“Crushy?” I inquired, with the most puzzled look. Perhaps it was a stunned look, I’m not certain.
“My partner …” he said, presenting it again. “Do you know why I called her Crushy?” He asked, in what I didn’t realize at first was a rhetoric question.
“Why?” I asked, meaning, “Why the bloody hell, under God have you named your club at all? And how in bloody hell is a spiky, dirty instrument of death at all female?”
“Because she and I crush things, that’s why!” He elaborated.
“Of course, that makes perfect sense,” I said, nodding my head. Are all soldiers violently crazy? I wondered.
The odd introductions done, we went on patrol together. Barny was crazier than my last partner — obviously missing a few marbles in his head, but on the bright side he wasn’t into rape and pillage. He much preferred to be lazy, at least from what I gathered patrolling with him. ‘So I guess he should live,’ I told myself and smiled.
There were two main topics which seemed to occupy his monologues. I’ll summarize them for the sake of not delving into his madness any further. His favorite hobby was gaming and wagering. He spoke constantly of various games, stakes, and odds, along with his victories and losses. I had a very hard time keeping up with his prattle so I just nodded my understanding upon occasion to keep him from asking me anything. His second-best favorite subject was vengeance. He kept a list in his head of everybody who had ever wronged him and described to me in detail what he had done or intended to do to said party. On the bright side, he wasn’t as bad as Edrid, who I tried to forget. He spoke so much of wagering that he got me thrilled at the prospect of joining him and his friends for a game in the Tavern. This is where we went together after our shift.
We headed for The Black Sheep Tavern at the docks, the same place where I had once fought, drunk, and wagered, myself. The outskirts of the tavern smelled worse than I remembered. Puddles of piss and vomit ‘welcomed’ any patron who sought entry to the establishment, along with the crème-de-la-crème of Drentwych: drunks, cutthroats, thieves, eccentrics, and salesman of dubious reputation and merchandise. I shoved the drunks aside when they bumped into me, broke the fingers of a man who tried to pick my pocket, and told the salesmen to shove off or be damned. Barny seemed impressed with my show of violence, and commented:
“Wow, you don’t talk much, but you sure do handle crooks right!”
“I just don’t like ‘em shoving their fingers down my pockets or trying to sell me fenced goods, as if I’m some easy mark,” I said.
“You’re even savvy to the street lingo, and you’ve only just arrived. I’m impressed,” he said.
“Yeah, I learn fast, but only because you’re such a great teacher,” I said, and opened the door. The sarcasm was lost on him though. He just smiled at the compliment.
Inside the place seemed to have remained as I remembered it, though now I noticed every bloodstain, every spot of filth and, more importantly, I saw the hidden weapons of many dangerous-looking patrons. I wondered to myself for only a moment; how could I have brawled with these people, so carelessly wagering my life? Then I spotted the three murderers, as all the patrons paused in their doings to stare at me. The murderers appeared cleaner now than I remember them in Raymond’s cabin, and their table sported a fair number of drinks as well as that same tired-looking hooker whom I recognized as having belonged to one of my friends from my previous identity. Obviously they had acquired a certain amount of gold to afford this relatively lavish lifestyle.
“Splendid, Adam,” I told myself. Finding them had proved to be fairly easy, and I hadn’t counted on that. “Now what?” I asked myself. My first instinct was to charge them head-on, spear in hand, ready to extract justice and bloody vengeance. However, I wasn’t stupid — at least not to that degree. Having been in the army and learning a few moves with a spear hardly qualify a person to take on three experienced adversaries all at once. So I stood there, watching them silently, uncertain of myself and my next course of action.
“What can I do for you soldiers?” The tavern owner, failed to recognize me in uniform and helmet. If anyone else did recognize me, they wisely kept it to themselves. I turned around and left without a word being spoken. I had nothing better to do at this stage anyway. The patrons resumed their doings as if I had never come. Barny didn’t seem to care that I’d left; he walked inside and indulged in whatever game of chance he was accustomed to playing.
Now I had to carefully devise a plan. Killing three armed men is not a child’s game, and I could easily be killed. The image of Raymond the Forester with his head cleaved in two, lying in a pool of his own blood, came to mind, reminding me again how fragile life is. Calling more soldiers to take them in might have been a good idea, but then I’d have to spill the beans on how I came to know they murdered Raymond the Forester in the woods. The last thing I needed was for the army to know that I had defected and then enlisted again under a different name. For all I knew, this could mean a death sentence for me rather than them. No, I had to do this on my own; no witnesses.
Who was I kidding? I’m no assassin, nor a great strategic mastermind. I had no idea how to accomplish my goal. I did know for certain, though, that I needed a better weapon than an army-issue spear. I needed a sword, some better training, and probably someone older and wiser to give me council.
‘There is only one such person I know who can do all of this,’ I thought, ‘And he won’t be too thrilled to see me. In fact, he may slay me himself for dishonoring both himself and his daughter. It may be too risky turning to him.’
Besides, I was more than half afraid of confronting him, even without regard to the messy business at hand. But there was no one else. Decisions, decisions … I procrastinated again.
‘Just act, Adam! Just act!’ I told myself.
Reluctantly, I found my way to Ivar’s Smithy, the place where I had once lived and fallen in love. As I walked there, I gathered strength and hastened my pace. I tried to banish all thoughts of Ingrid, and forget her father’s face when he had sent me away. I tried to focus on the business at hand instead. I was able to put aside my disagreements with Ivar, but Ingrid … I missed her.
The smithy was closed at this time of the evening. Snow fell about me and obscured the cobblestone road which led to the door. The windows were closed, but a light from the inside penetrated through the cracks in the shutters, making the scene around me seem a bit surreal as all was dark, save for starlight and the glow coming from the house. Smoke coming from the chimney and the scent it brought of cooked, cheered me up and told me that the occupants weren’t sleeping. It also reminded me of how hungry I was … I day-dreamed of having supper with Ingrid and Ivar, as we used to do when life was simpler.
As I stood by the door, all my turbulent thoughts assailed me, and I was lost as if in a dark storm that drowned my senses and clouded my judgment. I must have stood there motionless at the door for minutes, unable to find the strength to knock. He may have spoken prior to opening the door, for I remember the sound of his voice, but not what he said.
Ivar’s beard was grayer than I had remembered, and signs of aging were on his face. We stared into each other’s eyes for a few long moments, neither of us speaking. His face actually brightened up when he recognized me, at least for a moment ― before the pleasure was replaced by a frown. I smiled faintly and lowered my eyes. They stung, as if wishing to shed tears, but they wouldn’t do what my heart wanted them to. I could only speak the words which came from my heart.
“Adam, what are you ...” he started to say, but I interrupted.
“Master, I’m sorry, for everything. I was a fool,” I said, not daring to look into his face. He paused for a moment in mid-speech, considered his words, and then spoke:
“I told you to go and never come back,” he replied somberly.
“Father, who is it?” Ingrid asked from behind him. I heard the sounds of a chair shuffling and her rising up.
“This doesn’t concern you,” he replied, his head turning left to face her as he spoke.
“I know you did, Master, but I dishonored you and bore the shame of it for a long time. I came to apologize for my wrongdoings and thank you for the hospitality and grace which you’ve shown me,” I said. He considered in silence before speaking.
“Well-spoken. Obviously you had time to prepare a speech,” he replied.
“I mean it, every word of it. I’ve changed. I know better now,” I replied.
“I can’t take you back,” he declared.
“I’m not asking you to,” I answered.
“So you really came here just to apologize?” He queried, and I was trapped. If I told him ‘yes’, then asked him for aid, I’d be a liar, and a poor one at that. If I told him ‘no’ and ask for something more, my apology would be seen as a means of obtaining his aid. So I decided not to answer at all.
“I came to apologize, and also to tell you I understand your decision and agree with it. I’m not of noble blood or spirit and I’m unworthy of the likes of Ingrid. You were right to turn me down; a good father must protect his daughter from those beneath her status,” I said.
“It’s not that I don’t love you,” he answered.
“I know you care for me, Master, but you have a duty to your daughter and that comes before all else. I’d have done the same if I were in your shoes.”
“You really have changed,” he remarked.
“Yes, I have, and I’ve learned something. I’ve learned that even if I’m not of noble bearing, it doesn’t mean I can’t act nobly and be a better man for it,” I said, and inhaled the cold air. “Offering a much deserved apology is my second step in being dignified.”
“What’s the first?” He inquired.
“Recognizing my errors and taking responsibility for my actions,” I said.
“May the Gods bless you!” He answered.
“May I ask a small favor?” I asked.
“What is it?” He replied, losing his mirth at my request.
“I’d like to be given the chance to tell you what happened to me after I was banished, and how I came to this epiphany,” I said.
“Well, of course! If that’s your only desire, I apologize for mistrusting you. Won’t you come in for supper?” He asked, and I entered, smiling…