The Two of Swords: Part 15 by K. J. Parker

Author:K. J. Parker [Parker, K. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780356506227
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2016-04-11T22:00:00+00:00

The Cherry Tree

They’d been issued with a jar of honey. “I think you’re supposed to wrap it in cheesecloth first,” Teucer said, but Myrtus didn’t think so. “Just stick it in,” he said, “bung the lid on and melt some beeswax round it. I really don’t want to look at it any more than I can help.”

It was a tight fit. Whoever issued the jar had probably been thinking of a smaller man. The ears wedged against the rim, and Teucer had to use considerable force to get it inside; honey welled up all round it and slopped out on to his hands. Even then, the hair wouldn’t go in at all. “Cut it off, then,” Myrtus ordered.

“You sure that’s all right?”

“It’ll have to be, won’t it,” Myrtus drew his knife and sawed through the thick braids; finally, the lid fitted, just about. “I’ll hold it shut,” Myrtus said. “Get the beeswax.”

Teucer came back with a block of wax and a small copper pan. He heated the pan over the fire till the wax went clear; it smelt of honey, a scent Myrtus was rapidly growing sick of. He held the jar up and turned it slowly while Teucer poured. The result was a mess, but airtight.

“What do you suppose they want it for?” Teucer asked.

Myrtus shivered a little. “Proof, mostly. And they’ll stick it up on a spike on a gate somewhere. Ironic,” he added. “The poor devil’s father ended up the same way. Runs in families, evidently.”

Teucer was frowning. “Well, he asked for it, didn’t he?”

“He was a brave soldier,” Myrtus said, “who died to save his men.” He put the jar down, then wiped his hands vigorously on the grass. “That’s the thing,” he said. “Your soldierly virtues, like courage and self-sacrifice. It’s bloody disconcerting when you see the enemy has them, too. Life would be much easier if they were all treacherous cowards, but they aren’t. You’re right, though,” he added. “He had it coming.”

“Happiest days of my life, Beal Defoir.” Teucer picked up the jar and loaded it carefully into a strong hessian sack. “What about the body?” he asked.

“Leave it. Must be a few crows around here somewhere.”

Myrtus picked up the axe and took it down to the stream; he washed it off, then pulled a clump of reeds and scrubbed his hands until they hurt. He’d got honey on his sleeves, too, but he didn’t have a spare shirt; the corpse had one, but it was sodden with blood. There wasn’t much to choose between them, but on balance he preferred the honey. I get all the rotten jobs, he told himself, and rinsed his hands one more time in the cold, swift water.

“Scouts are back,” Teucer reported on his return. “They say the column’s reached the road and they’re making good time.”

Myrtus nodded his approval. “I don’t think we’ll have any trouble from them,” he said, “I think he had them pretty well trained. But you’d better have the scouts keep an eye on them till we’re safely back in the mountains.

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