The community of Bristlehump had a slow start the morning after Choke and Mariola’s wedding. Normally Saturday was a work day, but the community collectively and organically decided that particular Saturday was not.
Having managed to avoid alcohol, Choke and Mariola were in good condition, if a bit dehydrated. Up at dawn as usual, Choke opened the shutters and peeked out at the army courtyard. A small group of soldiers were passed out against the barracks’ wall. The town was dead quiet. Choke decided that he, too, would take this Saturday morning off. Or, at least, this early part of it. He slipped out of the cottage to dump the chamber pot and returned with a jug of water. He and Mariola went back to bed.
By midmorning, Bristlehump was finally up, if not at it. It took some more time, but eventually all the soldiers were accounted for, including Sergeant Neil and his three men. Neil had been down to the freight yard and reported that Bob had declared that the next caravan would not leave until first thing Monday morning. With Neil’s orders being to escort the next caravan back to Spitzer, this meant he and his squad would be staying in Bristlehump until then.
When the men were settled in with their late breakfast, Choke went with Mariola to the church. Barrelmender had already thrown all of the flower decorations on the rubbish heap behind the church stable. He was sitting at the kitchen table glowering at his letter to Father Morrenthall that he had written the previous morning about the Desolate One’s messge to Peep.
“You took your time getting in today,” he sniffed at Mariola.
“Yes, I did, Brother. I’m sorry,” Mariola said with a satisfied smile aside to Choke.
“And Lieutenant. I suppose you are here to tell me that the caravan to Spitzer is delayed until Monday. Well, you needn’t have bothered. I was able to speak with that sergeant from Spitzer this morning on his way back from the freight yard.”
“That’s good, Brother,” Choke said.
Mariola bobbed her head towards Barrelmender and moved over to the counter to begin preparing his meals for the day.
“Is it? With the time this delay affords me, I find myself contemplating initiating a personal correspondence with Morrenthall. So it certainly cannot bode well for him. I don’t know how to do this.” Barrelmender sighed and tossed the letter away onto the table.
“Ahm. I’m sorry, Brother? You don’t know how to correspond?”
“No! Fool. I don’t know how to do this,” Barrelmender waved his hand around himself generally with a disgusted look. “How to be a parish priest. I have no capacity for it. And it is not because of what you might assume. At the peak of my abilities I would have been even less suited to it. At least now I can relate to their pathetic weakness. I was a combat cleric. And more than that: an investigator. Trained to come into a population and root out the evil hiding within it. Do you understand? The relationship with the flock in this is adversarial. If I was to have any role in the community, it was to be that of the stick; an instrument of fear to drive them away from peril. I have no capacity to provide carrots.”
Barrelmender lapsed into silence. Choke thought about what he had said, nodding to himself.
“Okay, I think I understand what you mean, Brother.”
“What a relief that is. But as much as I might have been inclined to look down upon the humble parish priest in my youth, I understand the role that he must play. It is critical. The soft coddling of the Altarians is like that of a mother to an infant. It is the good that fosters the good within the weak vessel of the faithful. Without it, we would have no flock to protect. For fear alone cannot sway a soul. But I have no capacity for that. And I know that Morrenthall is no weakling. He does not shirk from the application of the rod. But I wonder how he distributes those carrots that he might offer. Would you say he is a kind priest to the scum of his parish, Lieutenant?”
Choke sat down opposite Barrelmender and took some time to think before answering:
“Well, as you know, he is no Altarian, Brother. And I certainly have not spent much time in Spitzer with him. But I did hear one of his sermons, and we did help him in his duties, both magisterial and parochial. So I would hazard to say that he is not kind. But he is fair. He takes a firm hand in the affairs of those he shepherds. Just as you did with Mariola and myself, Brother.”
“Is that so? Is that what I did?”
“Yes, Brother. That is what you did. And I thank you for it. We thank you for it. That is one reason we came here together this morning. To thank you together,” Choke said.
“Bully for me. And look how you’ve mucked it up,” Barrelmender said, expressionless, his tone flat.
“I… Ah… Well, I mean…” Choke babbled.
“Brother!” Mariola exclaimed as she turned away from the counter to look at him. “That’s not fair, and you know it. If ye let us get in a word instead of just going on and on about what’s rattling around in yar head, we would’ve got to it.”
Barrelmender gave Mariola a hard glare. She met it with an amused smirk, very much in the vein of Peep. She went on:
“So, Brother, with all respect, since it seems yar finally in a state to listen: Choke and I both thank ye very kindly for taking an interest in us and making us get married. It suits us very much. And I don’t think we woulda come to that end if left to our own devices. So thank you, Brother Barrelmender,” Mariola said.
Barrelmender blinked slowly before responding: “I suppose you are both welcome, then.”
“And if ye don’t mind, I might have a thought or two about what seems to be worrying ye,” Mariola said as she put the stugroot kettle on the stove and stoked the fire up. She continued to speak with her back to Barrelmender and Choke as she got to work on the daily pot of gruel. “If it’s Father Morrenthall’s style of handling the small folk that yar curious about, I was front and center on that. Mixed right in with Peep’s followers from the start. And I’ll say that he aint one for handing out treats. I didn’t grow up around a church, so that’s all new to me, but it seems to me that people come to the church for two reasons. One is to feel safe. The other is to be told what to do. Do this, don’t do that, and whatever else happens, at least ye’ll go to Heaven. Right? And even with all the flailing around and screaming that ye’ve been doing, folk around here are still coming into the church to pray. That’s to feel safe. And they must feel safe here, even despite yar crazy nonsense. So now, if ye wanna do the full thing for them, ye just gotta tell them what to do a bit. Right?”
Mariola paused and looked around to see how Barrelmender was taking this. He was staring off into space thoughtfully, so she continued:
“And with me and Father M, I weren’t just a face in the crowd neither. When I did that bit of work for him and Peep, he grilled me before he’d let Peep have me. He put me on the hot seat. Gave me all his focus. Then he made a decision and told me what to do. So that must be how he is with everyone and all their business. One of the older town women there, she told me that if I needed a situation, I should talk to him and he’d find me a good enough husband. So that’s his reputation there. He takes a hand in people’s lives. And that’s what Choke was saying about how ye handled him and me and our business. Ye just gotta do that same kinda thing for the other folk around here. That’s all. Right?”
Barrelmender sighed deeply.
“That’s all, is it? I know that to you it would seem the same thing: what I did for you two and what I ought to be doing for the people of this wretched place. However, in your case I acted out of my own selfish interests. You are both people I rely upon. So I could not abide the two of you complicating your lives to a degree that the situation might complicate mine. Do you understand?”
Mariola laughed. She turned around and leaned back on the counter, smiling at Barrelmender as she stirred the pot on the stove beside her.
“That’s just silly, Brother. What does it matter why ye do a thing if the thing ye do is good? It aint all about you. I’m sure Father M aint taking a hand in everyone’s life because his heart’s in it for them. He has his own interests. He wants things settled and orderly with everybody in their place doing what he thinks they should be doing. That’s it. So when disorder comes to his attention, he focuses on it and cleans it up.”
“Ah. And therein is the burr. In order to do that with this lot, I shall have to focus on them. In order to involve myself in their pathetic lives, I shall have to make myself aware of their particulars. It is this that I fear I have no capacity for,” Barrelmender said morosely.
Mariola laughed again, shaking her head in disbelief.
“I’m sorry, Brother. But, that’s too much. Is that all this is? Yar just whinging that ye don’t like yar job? Because that’s all I’m hearing here.”
“Insolent! Enough! I am not some child to be spoken to thusly by the likes of you!” Barrelmender shouted, slamming his hand on the table.
Mariola did not startle. Her smile faded from her features, but did not leave her eyes. She met Barrelmender’s gaze squarely and bobbed her head submissively.
“I am sorry, Brother. I understand. But if ye want my lowly advice, ye just have to play the part of priest as the folk expect it. Tomorrow’s Sunday. Give a sermon. A proper one. Tell them what to do. Give them something to do. And then save yar screaming outbursts for them that don’t fall in line. That’s it. Now I’ll shut up. Here, the stug’s ready. That’ll perk ye up. Then ye can think about what ye wanna say to everyone tomorrow.”
Mariola poured a full mug of stugroot and set it down in front of Barrelmender, who glared at her, but kept silent. Mariola then looked to her husband.
“Okay, Lieutenant, I think you have things to do now, don’t you? We should be fine here.”
Choke nodded and stood up. “Okay, then. I’ll be with the men. Once again, though, Brother: thank you for what you did for me. I appreciate it.”
Choke and Mariola exchanged an intense look as he left.
The rest of the day was uneventful enough. Choke kept the men on light duty in town, doing basic patrol. There were no incidents. That night, he and Mariola again stayed in the little cottage just off the military courtyard. The owners, an elderly couple, had been more than happy to move in with their son and his family for the small weekly rent Choke had agreed to pay in copper. Coin money was indeed a premium in these parts.
Brother Barrelmender’s Sunday sermon was a good one. It seemed he had taken Mariola’s advice to heart. He chose to employ the utterly unoriginal rhetoric that it is human wickedness that brings the wrath of Stron, however that might be expressed. If there is to be an apocalypse of goblins, that is no more than what the people of this land had earned. The most important thing is that, whatever happens, those that die need to go before their judgement with a clean slate. Confession and repentance, Barrelmender informed the flock with a deep sigh, was the only way to clean their slate.
Following the sermon, most of the parishioners stayed on in the church to unburden themselves with a confession to Brother Barrelmender. It looked for a moment as though he might despair completely, but was able to rally himself and begin the arduous chore of engaging himself in their lives, one by one.
The sermon done, Choke marched the men back to the courtyard where he put them on inspection. Those men whose equipment or person were deemed unsuitably maintained were assigned patrol duties for the rest of that day. Everyone else was given the rest of Sunday off. Choke then set up the table just outside the dining room and paid the men their weekly wage, making note in his ledger as he did.
With a good number of men heading down to Annica and Mya’s brothel after lunch, Choke decided it would be a good idea to keep an eye on the place. He saddled Nike and he and Peep took their time riding around the south area of town outside the palisade around that area. It was a relaxed time, and despite some excess drunkenness with a few men, nothing went awry.
The biggest misadventure of the Sunday holiday occurred to Knuckle. He was excitedly finishing up his lunch in the barracks in anticipation of a visit to the brothel, when Shasta arrived to waylay him with an invitation to her place for lunch. The fact that he had already eaten was of no matter to her, and she dragged him off to the raucous amusement of the men.
Pinch himself was in a similar situation as Knuckle, although an infinitely more agreeable one. His final partner from the wedding celebrations was also open for further entanglements. While unlike Shasta in the regard that she required Pinch to pursue her, she was also unlike Shasta in almost every other regard. That Sunday afternoon and evening, Pinch was very much up to the challenge of running her to ground.
Sunday afternoon and night passed without any significant trouble. Come Monday morning, Choke deemed that whatever hangovers the men had were punishment enough for their overindulgence. Sergeant Neil and his men said their goodbyes and were off with the lumber caravan just after breakfast. They took with them Brother Barrelmender’s letters to Father Morrenthall and the Brothers of the Holy Stone in Flitwik. Choke also sent along his report to Captain Edison, informing him of their developments, as well as his marriage.
Having discussed the men’s progress with Sergeant Neil, Knuckle, Pinch, and Peep, Choke had decided that their training, while still incomplete, could be eased off a little. The number one priority now had to be finishing the repairs on the palisade. With that in mind, he assigned two men on each gate under Corporals Dom and Hardmod. The rest he put on the work crew.
The repair work went well and with everyone working it looked as though they would be able to finish the repairs that day. This would just leave the small section along the Bristle Creek’s bank where the creek had undercut the base of the wall. Larger stones or boulders would have to be piled up there as a support against further erosion.
It was mid-morning and the work was in full swing with three different crews working on different sections within sight of each other. The north gate bell rang an alert. Thirty seconds later, the alert rang again. Choke and Peep hurried through town together to the north gate.
There, Corporal Dom and his two men were standing awkwardly with Thad Swallowtail and four women: three of his vixens and an older woman in her mid-thirties who carried herself in a more normal way. Unlike the other times they had seen him, Thad was properly dressed. He had on a good-quality, long black coat and black trousers with a cut suggestive of a priest’s cassock. His wooden pendant holy symbol of the Sun was around his neck. That day, he had not brought his intricately-carved, pornographic staff. His hair was pulled back into an attractive, somewhat feminine plait, and his beard and mustache had been trimmed and oiled. He looked magnificent.
For their part, the women had on simple and conservative frocks. They were stationed behind Thad in a square. The older woman immediately back to Thad’s left had with her a box woven from fresh reeds. The others stood with their hands clasped piously in front of them and their heads demurely downturned.
As Peep and Choke reached the gate, Thad raised his arms in the air and smiled as though seeing them made him the happiest person in the world.
“Hey! Little Wolf and Bartholomew Army Dood! What a joyous blessing to see you both on this wonderful morning, my doods! Alright? Alright!”
Muse Vassal 