Sword & Sorcery by J R Marshall

Author:J R Marshall [Marshall, J R]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2019-01-14T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

On the second day Gwynnru arrived with the vast majority of the former camp’s equipment, my silver contained in saddle bags, and other belongings useful for the future.

To his credit Gwynnru personally directed the delivery of my own possessions to my feet, literally dropping a few pack items, and several saddle bags, ten inches from my toes.

“It’s as you requested, Lord, the women and children are safe, and I sought to only leave behind those items cheap in value, or bulky or both, if…” And he faltered.

His pre-rehearsed speech had been exemplary, but he’d forgotten his lines.

“Gwynnru, did you behave faithfully to me?”

“I did Lord! And… exactly as you requested.”

“But you looked inside my bags!” I didn’t know if he had, but upon making the accusation Wisp confirmed, for Gwynnru mind had pictured his own disobedience.

“I… didn’t steal anything, Lord. It’s true, I… I, confess to checking I had the right bags, but I didn’t take anything from you.”

Wisp confirmed that Gwynnru had not stolen.

“Tomorrow you will watch where the silver goes, and after that you are confined to barracks and shovelling shit, you will then apologise once more to me, before I forgive you.”

“Lord, I didn’t steal anything.”

“Do you think I don’t know my own words? That I cannot see you lifting a corner of the saddle bag and reaching a hand inside, touching my silver, actions that I forbade?” Gwynnru was lost for words, for that was exactly how it had been, Wisp already revealing Gwynnru’s own image of the deed in my head.

Three days later the master stood trembling and shitting himself, despised by every man, woman and child that marched through the main gate. A pile of nine thousand silver pieces amassed as a heap lay on the ground, a wealth he had stolen and beyond the imagination of most. The comparison to their stark poverty, their sweat and hard work lining the pockets of their corrupt master, and I wanted to win their hearts.

Each person received three whole silver pieces and was marked with ink upon their hand so they couldn’t queue again; families given more, even those with babies given their due, such that a family of four received twelve.

Men were carried on stretchers, some propped up hardly able to walk, families raising their ailing relatives to one last effort of strength and as a dead man arrived, a soldier declared him disqualified.

He had died during the one-and-half-mile journey, the farthest reach of this town’s projected boundaries, an authority that was meant to be patrolled and it seldom was, the guard too stretched and demoralised, weak leadership allowing for dereliction of duty, the pay too small. Either that or quartermasters withheld funds – more corruption. A mental note to myself: Flukaggrrr would correct this, and he did with brutality, not amongst my own men for they were initially uncorrupted, being blessed with a reward, seeking to thank me with honest duty, even the orcs, but I spent days and nights with my councillors, servants as I treated them.

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