Brothers in Arms; the re-awakening

Ethan, on the dawn shift, saw the mountains harden into shape through the mist. A soft, refreshing rain was falling, and the woods were moist as the kiss of an eager lover. He stretched out his bare arm and let the rain fall upon it, enjoying the dance of the raindrops, their caress light on his exposed skin. He knew already that there was great danger ahead of them, but he felt coiled, primed, alert and ready, prepared for anything this new world could throw at him. He had a sense of a new and vigorous purpose, of being alive and keen, of being hungry for whatever challenges lay ahead. Whatever was going on here, he thought, it was worth fighting for.

He fetched some more dead wood and re-kindled the fire before shaking the others awake, noticing how each of them became instantly alert at the first touch. Probably awake already, he thought, and just playing possum, I’ve a way to go before I’m as streetwise as these guys.

Despite the usual protests from Ethan, Donal again insisted on his training exercises preceding any morning meal. This time, however, Ethan found them much less onerous and exhausting than before, and he wondered if Donal was deliberately concealing some of his skills by limiting the severity of the practice, or if he himself was simply becoming more accustomed to their demands.

Targon, though, watched with unabashed interest as Ethan’s instruction continued, and his eyes narrowed as he perceived the trance-like state which Donal was able to achieve. When they had finished he chuckled throatily.

“At least you are clearly no actor, Donal O’Connell,” he said, “It was very obvious to me how much you were holding yourself back.”

Donal grinned, his face only lightly stained with perspiration despite the exertion.

“You are right, my friend, but it was not my intention to deceive you. Rather I was trying not to anger Ethan too much. When he becomes annoyed, he is a most fierce and perilous opponent indeed.”

“Yeah,” drawled Ethan, “That’s me alright, like a bear with a sore head; and right now I’m pretty perilous to that breakfast.”

By unspoken consent they travelled on together, Kitti again having been surprised at Ethan’s insistence on helping her to mount up.

“Such uncommon courtesy,” she said, looking a bit uncomfortable, although clearly pleased by the attention, “The rest of you could learn a thing or two.”

“I’m always at your service, Ma’am,” said Ethan with an exaggerated bow, “But would you have expected anything less from a southern gentleman? We mightn’t know much, but one thing we do know is how to treat a lady.”

Hymnal, the small town of which Jac had told them, still lay some miles ahead, but within a day’s journey. Kitti and Targon had performed there a few times before and thought that it might provide some generous custom, and Jac wished to buy further supplies for the rest of their journey. They were all eager for news.

For most of the day they maintained a steady pace. Heavy threatening clouds shadowed them through the late morning and afternoon, and a few showers fell, although nothing more than a spattering of drops that served to clear the air. The forests remained thick and in some places choked with scrub, but by now the path itself was becoming well-trodden and easily passable, winding gently through the rocks and valleys, and always leading them steadily downwards. Behind them, and to their left and right, peak upon peak heaped apparently unendingly into the distance, but ahead the hills were lower and more gently curved, with even their tips covered with green.

“This is a wild and trackless land. If we had missed this path we could easily have been hopelessly lost in this type of country,” said Donal to Ethan.

“Yeah,” said Ethan sarcastically, “We’ve been real lucky, haven’t we? Looks to me like we’ve hitched our wagon to a star; let’s just hope our luck keeps up.”

“No shrikes this far west, at least,” grunted Targon.

“Not yet anyway,” said Ethan, glancing behind uneasily; there were many dark shadows beneath the trees.

In the early afternoon they began to encounter a few outlying settlements. These were tucked among the trees, and some were well fortified behind sturdy wooden fences, the occupants obviously shy and wary of travellers through bitter experience. But most had been abandoned and were slowly falling into disrepair; their previous inhabitants now lived within the shelter of the town, Kitti told them.

“This place is much changed since the last time I passed this way,” said Jac with a concerned frown, “I don’t remember such watchfulness and suspicion before. There must have been serious trouble here.”

“And it looks like they are expecting more trouble soon,” added Kitti.

The few fields which had been wrestled from the forest were no longer being tended and thrushes were thick in the wild grasses which now flourished unchecked; they rose in huge chattering flocks that darkened the sky as the company rode past. Donal saw a small hawk ambush a flock and carry off a tiny, still weakly fluttering bundle to a roost on a huge elm tree, where the fluttering soon was stilled.

They reached Hymnal late in the day, and the sun was already disappearing when they turned past a grove of beech trees and had their first sight of it. The town was still high in the foothills and built on a slight rise, which gave it a commanding view of the country for many miles around. A tall stockade surrounded it, with only one gate by which to enter or leave. Two guards looked curiously at the company as they came up the road and approached the gate, but there was no overt tension or suspicion in their gaze.

“I see the security is air-tight,” said Ethan to Donal sarcastically.

The Irishman was even more unimpressed by their desultory inspection.

“They surely do not look as if they are expecting an invasion at any moment,” he said, his tone scathing, “Like many guards, they trust too much in their walls and their defences and they grow bored and become lax. The farms we passed earlier today clearly do not share their confidence.”

“None of the slave raids may have penetrated this far north as yet,” explained Jac, “but our news will wake them up, I assure you. Those guards will have a very different attitude by tomorrow.”

Passing through the gates of the town, Ethan began to experience a severe and disturbing sense of dislocation. Until now, this adventure could almost have been any pleasant hike in the Rockies, albeit with most unlikely companions and with bizarre creatures trying to kill him. But now, within the town, he could see that the surroundings had become truly medieval, and there could no longer be any denying that his old life, his old world had gone forever, changed, utterly changed.

There was no electricity, no tarmac, there were no cars, no streetlights, no skyscrapers; and all the people were dressed like Jac - long cloaks, hoods and breeches; not a suit, shirt or tie in sight. Any traffic was pulled by either oxen or sturdy horses; there was no stench of exhaust fumes and no scream of brakes nor howl of engines. He finally began to comprehend how complete was the break with his past life and the feeling of loss and being alone in an alien land was momentarily almost overwhelming; his family, his friends, his country; all now lost forever, all now impossibly, unbearably distant.

He closed his eyes against the pain of separation, but his self-absorption was disturbed when they were hailed from the side of the road.

“Ho, Scarface,” a small man wearing a bright yellow cloak called to Kitti, who was not wearing her mask. He came towards them with a beaming smile, “It’s good to........ .”

The welcoming speech was halted abruptly as Ethan jumped down from his mount and crashed an angry fist into his jaw. The little man crumpled to the ground, his expression a mixture of surprise and fright. Ethan stood over him, his expression grim, and his fists balled for more of the same.

“Listen here, pilgrim,” he said, his voice cold and unforgiving, “That sure ain’t no way to speak to a lady. Perhaps you’d like to apologize to her – right now, I’d reckon.”

As the dazed man looked up at his assailant, rubbing his jaw in consternation, Kitti plucked nervously at Ethan’s hand.

“Ethan,” she said timidly, “You must excuse me, and perhaps I should have told you this before, but “Scarface” is, how would you say it, my stage name in this town.”

“Oh,” said Ethan, his mouth open as comprehension dawned. Deeply

embarrassed, he could hear Donal’s hearty laugh mingled with Jac’s snicker coming from behind him. He stepped back to allow the man to rise, and then, considering again, leaned over and leant him a hand. The little man took his hand gingerly and stood up, still eyeing Ethan warily.

“I see you have found yourself another most formidable protector, Sca....I mean Kitti,” he said.

“Yes,” she laughed brightly, “I am a very lucky girl,” and Jac, watching closely, thought her smile was like the sun rising in the morning, her usual guarded expression eclipsed by the warmth and sparkle in her eyes, “A most courteous and chivalrous protector indeed.”

“I’m real sorry, my friend,” said Ethan, offering his hand again in apology, “I hope you understand; just a simple mistake. I thought you were insulting the young lady, and I’ve become kinda fond of her. Tell you what; you can take a pot-shot at me if you like, to make us even.”

He offered his chin.

“There’s really no need,” said the newcomer graciously and without rancour, “Your apology is accepted with pleasure, as your actions were in defence of the honour and good reputation of one of Hymnal’s most favoured minstrels, a most noble and worthy cause indeed. I am Eavesdropper, landlord of the Wayfarer’s Rest, the finest and most hospitable establishment in all Hymnal.”

“And the most profitable,” added Kitti.

“Which doesn’t say that much,” whispered Jac to Donal.

Eavesdropper continued; “Kitti and I are old friends. And Targon too,” he gave a shout and waved at the hunchback, who returned the wave with a great grin on his face, “I heard you had arrived in town, and I wished to intercept you before the other innkeepers. You would all be very welcome to stay at my inn - in return for the usual performance, of course.” He bowed to Kitti and raised an eyebrow in query. Kitti nodded in agreement.

“That sounds pretty good to me,” said Ethan, “We’ve been roughing it for far too long. I sure could do with a nice warm bed, a soft mattress, fluffy pillows, and a good bath; and maybe a few cool beers as well. What do you reckon you, Donal?”

“A word of advice,” said Eavesdropper, beckoning Kitti closer, “There have been other strangers here recently, asking many questions. You know far better than I how bad the times are becoming. The whole town probably knows you are here by now, so being overly secretive would only draw further suspicion upon you. But the less said the better; I will talk to you again, when you are rested and refreshed, and when we won’t be overheard.”

Donal looked up and down the street; many townspeople were gazing at him and Ethan with undisguised interest. Their unusual garb, and the size of both themselves and their horses were a source of considerable attention, some of it possibly unhealthy. Realizing nothing could be done about this, Donal dismissed it from his concerns. He had noticed something else, something much more surprising and startling to him, and more satisfying.

“Most towns in my world were stinking, with foul, narrow streets that could be smelt from many miles away,” he said, sniffing the air, “it was one of the reasons most of us preferred to live in the country. This town is almost fragrant by comparison. I can smell only flowers and herbs.”

“You see the hand of the healers at work,” Jac was delighted at Donal’s perspicacity, and happy to explain. “We do not work only through potions and scalpels. Most good, we find, is done by preventing illness and disease from happening in the first place, and our advice is freely given to town elders on such matters as hygiene and sanitation.

“A happy by-product, of course, is less malodorous settlements. Those towns who do not heed our advice or do not have a healer in residence can, as you might say, be perceived without difficulty from a far distance. As a consequence all but the most ragged and desperate travellers and traders avoid such places, not only due to the stench, but also because it is widely considered a reliable sign of a lack of wisdom and foresight on the part of the town’s burghers. Thus towns that ignore their healer’s advice, and do not pay them the due deference and respect their rank deserves, do not thrive nor prosper.”

The town-houses were squat, with steep, overhanging roofs, and were built of both stone and timber; the streets were wide, clean, and well-paved with colourful and well-tended flower beds. There were many brightly painted shops and stalls, inns and taverns, and in the town centre a more sober and imposing edifice which Kitti explained was the town forum.

“Usually the town is run by an elected council of elders, but for major decisions all the people come together here to discuss the issue and make their choice by vote; I think they will be having many more such meetings very soon, once our news about the shrikes has been heard.”

As they made their way through the streets they saw many peddlers and musicians, and the frequent greetings of “Scarface! Good to see you again,” caused Ethan even further discomfiture.

There were also many enquiries as to where Kitti and Targon were playing that night, and it became clear to Ethan that they were in the company of some very popular musicians indeed. Kitti obviously knew her way round the town very well as she led them in and out of little side-streets. At the rear Jac was also looking about him with great interest.

“The town itself doesn’t seem to have changed much in seven years. It surely doesn’t seem like a community under threat - not like those settlements we passed on the way in,” he remarked to Donal.

They turned into a small alley and Ethan saw the Wayfarer’s Rest before them. A group of urchins began to follow them down the alley, jeering and yelling insults at Targon.

“Hunchback, hunchback,” they chanted, and one flung a stone at his horse’s quarters. To Ethan’s surprise, Targon flinched away from the insults, his big frame crouching lower on his horse. A furious Kitti leapt down off her horse and chased the children away with a curse, wickedly lashing the last one on the backside with her whip, and eliciting a yowl of pain from him and screams of fear from the others.

“Attagirl, Kitti, that’ll put manners on ’em,” shouted Ethan in encouragement, “They won’t be back in a hurry. Boy, has that little gal got a hell of a temper or what?” making light of the incident, although he was inwardly disturbed.

Donal shared his surprise and concern; “I do not like to see such cruelty in children. As Kitti told us last night, despite the bright colours and pretty flowers, there is a cold, uncaring feel to this world,” he said.

“Ah, they’re just kids, I reckon” said Ethan, trying to be more sanguine and to look on the bright side, “They’re too young, they just don’t understand, and what they don’t understand they’re afraid of.”

Donal was not reassured.

“Such intolerance must be learned from somewhere; it is not good. I think the fault in this land does not lie only with the Inquisitors,” he observed.