Stranger from Another Land by Hector Miller

Author:Hector Miller [Miller, Hector]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-06-05T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21 – Return (November 464 AD)

I learned a valuable lesson. The power of intimidation and fear.

And, I began to understand that what seems right and fair is not always the best course of action. If I had not overheard the treacherous words of the oldster and his son, I would have frowned upon the actions of Trokondas. I would have thought that what he did was cruel and heavy-handed. But I was shown a glimpse of the backstabbing nature of the sheep. If we had done the right thing, they would have slit our throats while we were asleep.

We woke the next morning to find that the ferryman and his sons had not stirred from where we had left them. It was a wise decision.

None made eye contact with us, but just stared at the ground while they received their instructions from Trokondas. They nodded and did as they were told.

When our purchases were securely loaded upon the newly acquired wagons on the far side of the water, Trokondas handed three gold coins to the oldster. Again, it did not seem fair to give payment to a man who had murder on his mind.

I did not understand, but he explained it to me. “These men respect and fear us, like sheep would a wolf. There is no risk in paying them, on the contrary, they will prosper and should we require their services again, they will serve us well. They now understand where they fit in.”

I stood beside Trokondas who was inspecting the horses and wagons before we would be on our way. The oldster waved and yelled from afar, too scared to approach: “Thank you lord, we are forever your servants. You are a wise lord, may the gods bless you.”

Trokondas grinned. “They will sacrifice to their gods and pray that we die. But they fear us and they will serve us, so it matters not.”

“Yes, lord”, I replied.

He scowled at me. “We will each drive a wagon. And”, he said, “never, ever call me ‘lord’ again.”

“But”, I countered, “I am not yet a man, not yet a warrior.”

“Leave that to me, boy. Soon you will be”, Trokondas said, and climbed onto the leading wagon.

* * *

Lumbered with the wagons and the livestock, the thirty mile journey back to the village turned into a trying affair which took no less than three days to complete.

We eventually reached the outskirts of the village on the afternoon of the third day.

“I will return to my home, boy. I do not wish to mingle with the villagers”, Trokondas said, and collected his belongings.

“Give them my instructions, Ragnaris”, he said. After a heartbeat he added: “Remember, they are but sheep, but in this case they are our sheep and they need caring for.” Without saying goodbye, he turned around and disappeared into the trees.

I secured the wagons and walked the last mile to the settlement. I was amazed at what I found. The villagers had not been idle during our absence. On

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