Table of Contents – (spoilers)
At the cottage, Shasta had Rodolf turning over her big compost heap. The peasant was knee-deep in the muck and manure with a pitchfork and shovel. Shasta hovered nearby, just outside the range of his splatters, directing his labor.
“Yeah, get the fork into that clump there and loosen it up! Then ye’ll be able to get in good with the shovel. Ah!” she exclaimed as she noticed the squad had returned. She smirked. “Ye gave up already, huh? I told ye, rousing him when he’s in that state aint advisable. If it’s even possible.”
“We could see that. But we got him up. He’s heading straight to the church to pray,” Pinch said.
“Fuck off, he is! There’s no way!” Shasta exclaimed.
“It is the truth. We need Rodolf now,” Choke said.
“Yar serious! How did ye manage that?”
“Stron moves in mysterious ways,” Peep said with a grin.
“Yes, he surely does,” said Choke, giving Peep a dirty sideways look.
“Okay, it’s time to get moving,” Peep said. “Rodolf, go wash up in the crick and we’ll go get this done.”
“Woah!” Shasta yelled. “He aint done with the compost yet! There’s still a good hour of work left! Who’s gonna do that?”
“Do it yourself, woman!” Choke snapped back at her. “Or hire one of the tenants to do it. It is not our concern! This man is not your beast of burden to be tasked at your whim! Shame on you!”
“Oh, is that how it is now? After I’ve welcomed ye with open arms into the church here! And this is how yar gonna treat me! Some gratitude ye show!”
Choke looked for a second like he would allow himself to be baited into this argument, but shook his head clear of it. He looked over at Rodolf, who was standing frozen by the compost heap with the pitchfork still in hand.
“Rodolf. Go. Go to the creek and wash yourself. Pinch, could you go with him? The bush is a little tight around here, we must be careful,” Choke said.
“Oh, we’re back to being bushwhackers again, are we? Oh, ye are a piece of work, Brother Bartholomew, aren’t ye! Brother,” Shasta sneered. “Ha! I’ll have ye know that there’s plenty I could be saying about that, that I aint saying! Plenty!”
“Well, you needn’t edit yourself on my account, ma’am. But, I do look forward to continuing to work productively with you in future, so perhaps that is for the best. Good day to you,” Choke nodded, as he mounted up and gestured for the others to do so as well.
When Rodolf had finished washing the muck of Shasta’s country cottage’s refuse off himself, they proceeded on to Bristlehump. As they had been doing, they avoided the north gate up on the hump by the watchtower. Instead, they rode along the Bristle Creek to its intersection with the Cowslip at the Crotch, by the south gate.
At the freight yard just downstream, the yard laborers were standing around at their leisure. The loaded wagons for Spitzer had been sent off and the wagons and skids from the bush had not yet begun arriving with their logs. The men all watched in interest as the squad rode through the crotch to Bristlehump’s south gate.
This time, the gate was wide open, with a squad of three soldiers minding it. The two spearmen were unfamiliar, but their leader was Corporal Munge, the indolent and discourteous man that Choke had confronted at the watchtower on their first morning in Bristlehump.
“Who goes there?” Corporal Munge declared with a sarcastic grin as the squad approached the open gate. He and his two men were standing together off to one side, making no attempt to bar the way. Even so, Choke reined up to converse with him.
“Munge, isn’t it? Are you still a Corporal? You haven’t been promoted to sergeant in the last week, have you?” Choke said.
“Nah. But give it a little time. That’ll be coming soon, I reckon. With the good work I’ll be putting in, and all,” Munge shifted his nasty gaze from Choke over to Rodolf.
“Is that so? Yes, minding the gate is, after all, a useful duty. What a change around here to see any duty being done. May we pass, gatekeeper?” Choke asked.
“Well, yeah, I aint stopping ye. But ye never answered my question. Who goes here?” he asked, now glaring psychotically at Rodolf as he spit a good squirt of black stugroot chew between them. “Would that be Rodolf? Rodolf! A family man such as yarself oughta be careful about the company they keep. Real careful.”
“Oh, is that your game, is it? Intimidation of a witness. That is something I take very seriously, Corporal,” Choke said.
“Oh, is it? Well, then, I suppose I should watch what I say. Ye can go on yar way. Ye take care now, Rodolf,” Munge said as he grinned at the peasant with black stugroot-stained teeth.
“Listen up, you goon!” Choke said, wheeling Nike, his warhorse, a little as he adjusted his grip on his light lance. “If anything happens to this man or his family—”
“Ye’ll do what, lawman? What’ll ye do? I aint making threats here. Yar the one doing that!”
“Munge. Over here. Look at me,” Peep said reasonably as she nudged her horse his way.
When Munge looked at her, Peep splayed the fingers of her right hand wide to show him the Wheel in her palm. As she did, the air between them shimmered with heat from the brand.
“I aint about the law. So, anything happens to Rodolf and his people, and I’ll come and find ye. Then, I’ll burn ye. From the waist down, so’s ye linger with it. I don’t care that yar just a pissant messenger boy for another pissant. Those folk are under my protection now. So ye pass that message along, and make sure it gets heard. Because anything happens to them, and I go to work on it. And you, Munge, ye shady motherfucker, are where I start. That is my promise to you.”
Munge met Peep’s eye for as long as he could. Then he glared at the ground between them.
The squad rode on through the gate. Once they had, Peep clapped Rodolf warmly on the shoulder.
“There ye go, my man. Got ye a bodyguard. I have a feeling that our Corporal Munge is gonna take a real interest in making sure you and yars are safe and sound.”
Rodolf did not seem at all reassured as they rode up the short lane to the village square.
The squad arrived at the square from the south at the same time as Lieutenant Dixon and his men did from the north. Dixon came into the square on foot with his goon, Sergeant Wagner, and five more men. One of the soldiers had a crossbow; the other four had roundshields and spears, with various personal sidearms at their belt.
“Good to see you this morning, Lieutenant!” Choke hailed him. “Men manning the gates. The watchtower manned to alert you of our return. Whatever is Bristlehump coming to?”
As Choke spoke, Peep, Knuckle, and Pinch dismounted and handed their reins off to Gabe. Then Knuckle and Peep moved to either side of Choke, who remained mounted, while Pinch hung back with his bow in hand. With Rodolf and Gabe behind them, the Pekot Four stood and faced the seven soldiers across the village square.
Dixon blinked up at Choke on his warhorse for a few beats as he struggled with who was meant to be intimidated by whom.
“Yes. Well, the hills seem overrun by bandits of late, so, of course, all precautions must be taken,” Dixon said.
“Oh, indeed. Bandits, you say?” Choke asked pointedly.
“Pardon me?”
“Those men that ambushed us and chased us. The men we killed. They were bandits? Are you quite sure of that, Lieutenant?”
Dixon blinked some more as he realized what he had just talked himself into.
“Yes, well, erm… what else could they be?” he finally managed.
“Yes. What else, indeed? Well, lieutenant, it is good to hear your professional word on the matter. I shall remember you said so. So, what can I do for you? Have you news for me?” Choke asked.
“Pardon me?”
“You have come here to greet us with your men, it would seem. So I can only suppose that you have something to tell us. If not, then how can I help you?”
“Well, I had thought to find out what is going on. What’s all this, then?” Dixon gestured Rodolf’s way, finally adopting a posture of some authority (or attempting to, at least).
“We are going about our lawful business. Thank you for your concern, Lieutenant,” Choke said.
Dixon and Choke stared at each other for a while.
“Is that all, Lieutenant?” Choke asked with a malicious smile.
Whatever Dixon might have been working himself up to say or do was cut off when the church’s double doors were shoved open by Barrelmender. The tall battle-monk, his black robes and iron holy symbol in good order, strode out of his church and onto his steps. He carried with him his thick staff: clearly as a weapon as opposed to any sort of support.
“Hello, Lieutenant. Fine morning, isn’t it?” Barrelmender said in a strong voice.
Lieutenant Dixon and his men all startled in shock at the sight of him.
“Barrelmender! I mean, Brother! What are you… I mean… how are you today?” Dixon stammered.
“Well enough. I suppose I have been worse, of late,” Barrelmender said, with just a trace of humor. “So, what can we do for you today, Lieutenant?”
“We, Brother?”
“Yes, Lieutenant. We. You have met my apparitor, young Brother Bartholomew, recently of our school in Pekot. Run by my good friend and comrade in arms, Brother Willem Westwood. Have you heard of him, Lieutenant?”
“Pardon me, Brother? Who?”
“Brother Willem. The abbot of Pekot school. My brother in arms, in our former lives, of course. Why, Lieutenant, he once killed a fire giant warrior single handed. Did you know that? Quite the feat for a cleric, given that those brutes are largely immune to our Flame Strike spell. Very impressive. I saw it myself, you know. Brother Willem was up on a ridge with a small squad of men. The fire giant killed them all, unfortunately. But Brother Willem took care of it by himself before the rest of us could get to them. How very glorious. Would never speak of it himself, of course. Much too modest for that. So, be all that as it may, Brother Willem wrote to me and asked me to do him the favor of taking on Brother Bartholomew and his fellow graduates. So I have.”
“You have taken them on, Brother? As apparitors?” Lieutenant Dixon asked.
Barrelmender scowled. “Don’t be a fool, Lieutenant. We have no need of four apparitors here in Bristlehump. Brother Bartholomew is my apparitor. The other three are his deputies. Including Miss Otilla of the Holy Fire. And blessed indeed we are to have her with us. You really have no idea how blessed,” Barrelmender trailed off as he reached up to touch the still livid Wheel burned into his cheek.
“Uhhh… Yes, Brother,” Lieutenant Dixon managed.
“Very well. Don’t let us detain you, Lieutenant. I am sure you have many duties to attend to. As do we. Thank you,” Barrelmender waved his hand dismissively towards the soldiers. “You there!” he then pointed to Rodolf. “Come with me into the church, man. The rest of you, get your horses put away and join us as soon as you can.”
Choke, Peep, and Knuckle put their horses away in the church stable while Pinch and Gabe took the two bandit horses and Gabe’s little horse to Stadnick’s stable. As was now their habit, they stacked up their saddles and equipment in the kitchen before joining Barrelmender and Rodolf in the church pews. The two men were both kneeling in prayer before the simple Wheel altar.
“So,” Barrelmender said with a deep sigh as he dragged himself to his feet like an old, broken man, “a matter of some paperwork now, it seems. Bartholomew.”
“Yes, Brother?”
“In my chamber. Under the bed. There is a travel trunk. Within that is my writing case. Retrieve that, please.”
“Yes, Brother.”
When Choke had returned with the smart, tooled-leather case, Barrelmender raised his right hand and held it out flat in front of himself. It trembled terribly.
“As I feared. The fiends close in upon me even as we speak. I shall not be able to write. Bartholomew, you shall have to be secretary for me. I shall sign and seal what you pen. Let us hurry, please,” Bartholomew said as he anxiously glanced around the room’s shadows.
“Are you alright, Brother?” Choke asked.
“Yes, yes! Just hurry, please!” Barrelmender snapped.
Choke set himself up as Barrelmender’s secretary with the writing case as desk on his lap. Within the case was the parchment, quills, and ink that he needed. When he was set, Barrelmender stood to trace the Wheel over Rodolf’s head, who was still kneeling before the altar.
“Rodolf. On your immortal soul, do you so swear that the evidence you are about to give is truthful?”
“Yes, Father, I swear,” Rodolf said, looking like he might cry.
“Very well, let’s have it, then,” Barrelmender said as he sat heavily down in the first pew
Choke blinked, surprised that Barrelmender had not cast any spells to detect lies or compel truthful speech from Rodolf. No one else seemed to notice this.
“Father?” Rodolf asked Barrelmender, looking confused.
“I am not a priest, man!” Barrelmender roared at him. “Do not address me as, father! I am a monk. A brother. You will refer to me as such!”
“I’m sorry, Brother,” Rodolf cried.
“And get off your knees. No sense you kneeling there like some kind of supplicant. Have a seat on the pew with me. Take a rest,” Barrelmender patted the pew next to him.
Rodolf sat down as he had been told, sitting down from Barrelmender with a good space between them.
Looking in profound discomfort, Barrelmender closed his eyes and gripped both his knees tightly with his trembling hands. He was now sweating a good amount.
“Are you sure you are well, Brother?” Pinch now asked. “Is there anything we can get for you? Some food, perhaps. Or, some water?”
“Yes. Water. Thank you,” Barrelmender said. “And bread!” he added when Pinch had risen to go to the kitchen. “A bit of bread may settle this. For a spell,” Barrelmender finished, speaking to himself.
“How about an ale, Brother?” Peep asked.
“Otilla!” Choke snapped. “Brother Barrelmender is sick! An ale is not what he needs right now.”
“No, Brother Bartholomew, an ale is exactly what Brother Barrelmender needs right now,” Peep answered patiently. “He’s got the potato wine shakes. That’s what happens to heavy drunks when they sober up. Haven’t ye seen that before?”
“No I haven’t. We were not raised around such things.”
“Well, I was. Plenty. But this seems to be coming on pretty quick. The healing hands musta cleaned out all the booze from him completely,” Peep said, looking down at her brands quizzically.
“If that’s the case, then why are you ill, Brother?” Choke asked Barrelmender.
“It would seem Otilla gave me a Neutralize Poison spell. Which does indeed take the patient to complete sobriety. Which is why I am now suffering alcohol withdrawal. A Remove Disease spell is necessary to remove that. A different spell,” Barrelmender said, his voice low.
“So I don’t got that one in my hands, then,” Peep said.
“No. Apparently you do not,” Barrelmender said.
“So, how serious is this Brother? Can you cast the spell on yourself?” Choke asked.
“It is very serious. Many people die of it. But that is of no matter. Let us finish with our business here,” Barrelmender said, his tone now an order.
“Well, ahhh… okay,” Choke said, wondering how to go about that. With Barrelmender now sitting with his eyes closed, it seemed it was up to him.
“Okay, Rodolf, why don’t you tell Brother Barrelmender what you told us,” Choke finally said.
Rodolf did just that, with Choke or Pinch asking specific questions when he forgot to include certain details. It seemed possible that Barrelmender was listening to him. When Rodolf was finished giving his evidence, Barrelmender opened his eyes.
“Very well. You have done your duty, peasant. You may return home.”
“Thank you, Brother,” Rodolf said as he stood up.
“Wait, Rodolf, we will escort you back home in a moment,” Choke said.
Rodolf waved that off.
“No, sir. Are ye gonna come and live with me, too? They’re gonna do what they’re gonna do. And if it’s up to me, I’d rather be done with ye now. May I go?” Rodolf asked, meeting Choke’s eye squarely.
“Very well, then. Thank you for your help,” Choke said.
“Yeah. Sure,” Rodolf muttered as he turned to leave the church with his head hanging low.
“Write that up as you see fit, Brother,” Barrelmender said to Choke. “But well condensed, if you will.”
“Okay…” Choke said, offput by what seemed an improper deviation from legal procedure. “So, I suppose I will write that the peasant Rodolf did testify truthfully that the gang of bandits known by him to be under the command of one, Burkhard, was aided by him and his people in their mission to ambush and kill us. That last Saturday, Lieutenant Dixon came to his farm with Burkhard and told him that Burkhard and his men were working as irregulars for the Baron to keep his peace. That it is the opinion of this court that Lieutenant Dixon has been in dereliction of his duty and an active participant in criminal activity.”
“Very well. Write it and I shall sign. Then, you may as well write your document making you my apparitor and deputies,” Barrelmender said.
After ten minutes of Choke’s quill scratching the parchment, Barrelmender raised his hand Pinch’s way.
“I think I shall take that ale now,” he said.
“Why not one all around?” Peep said. “Gabe, go see to that.”
It took another few minutes for Choke to finish writing the two documents, which became legal writs when Barrelmender wrote his name at their bottoms in a shaky hand and pressed his iron Wheel holy symbol into a large blob of red sealing wax that Choke dripped upon the parchments for him.
“So, that is all for me to do today, you say?” Barrelmender asked.
“Yes. Thank you, Brother. It is a great relief to have this settled. Thank you very much,” Choke said, nodding deeply towards him.
“Well, thank Stron, if you must. You there,” Barrelmender addressed Gabe.
“Yes, Brother?”
“What’s your name?”
“Gabe, Brother.”
“Is it?”
“Yes, Brother.”
“Are you sure?” Barrelmender scowled at him.
“Yes, Brother. I am sure.”
“Really. That is a surprise,” Barrelmender said, looking into his empty ale mug with a disturbed expression. “Well, it can’t be helped. What’s done is done there. You work with Bill, don’t you? Making his spirits. Yes?”
“Yes, Brother. That I do.”
“Good. Well, go and get me a jug. My usual. Tell him I shall settle with him soon. Then bring the jug here to me. Can you manage that?”
“Yes, Brother. I’ll go do that now, then?” Gabe asked, standing up smartly.
“Yes. Pearson, wasn’t it?”
“Pardon me, Brother?”
“Your name, man! Wasn’t it Pearson?” Barrelmender snapped, finally losing his patience.
“No, Brother. My name is Gabe. It has always been Gabe, Brother. Sorry,” Gabe finished lamely.
“Well, no matter. See to your task now. Go!” Barrelmender yelled in sudden rage as he threw his empty wooden mug at Gabe, who just managed to knock it aside.
With Gabe literally running the errand, Barrelmender dragged himself to his feet. Then he looked down at the squad.
“You have your infernal papers now, do you?” Barrelmender asked Choke.
“Yes, Brother.”
“Good. Then leave me be. I shall be getting drunk tonight here in the church and praying for guidance. I want to be left alone to do this. You may sleep in the kitchen or wherever else suits you. It is my habit to urinate in the spot between the shed and the stable out back. See to it that I have some privacy when I do. Is that clear to all of you?”
“Yes, Brother.”
“Good. Now, I have given you your legal standing and your evidence. You may proceed as you see fit. I trust you to do right. When you need more of such from me, I shall provide it. But no more awakenings such as you did to me today. I’ll not have it. Understood?”
“Yes, Brother.”
“Good. I would also have you know that whatever use I might be to you, I shall not be your leader. I will not lead men again! This, I cannot do! Not again,” Barrelmender broke into a sob as he finished.
“We understand, Brother. Thank you. Shall we leave you alone now?” Choke asked.
“Yes, send young Pearson in with my drink when he arrives. And then leave me be.”
“Very good, Brother. We will do as you ask,” Choke said.
With this, Choke packed up Barrelmender’s writing case and he and the squad retreated to the kitchen. There, they waited for Gabe to bring the jug of potent corn alcohol to Brother Cornelius Barrelmender, their magistrate, in his church.
Muse Vassal 