The Aebeling (18 page)

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. Conn’s roundhouse dropped him like a house brick from an open hand. Given a chance the rest may well have run, but they were very quickly on the floor gasping for air, clutching their nether regions and squirming in pain or just plain unconscious. It took less than a minute to down the dozen. Conn was in a bad mood – he hated smoky rooms.

Conn turned back to the Innkeeper. ‘Pass me the slops bucket…’

Visibly quivering in the now deadly silent room, he handed over the bucket, and Conn tipped it over the leader, who spluttered awake. Conn grabbed him by the collar and reefed him to his feet.

‘I’m offended – seriously offended that you would think to treat me in such a way. Is it just because I’m tall? Anyway, I will be back tomorrow morning. I will not be expecting to see any of you here again; new owner, new rules. Have I made myself clear?’

‘Perfectly clear... Sir.’

Conn dropped him to the floor, and turned to go. The Innkeeper called out.

‘Stranger – what is your name?’

‘Conn il Taransay, Thane of Hama in Tabae.’

Conn collected Wilgar at the door. He was apologetic. ‘I was coming to help but by the time I stood up; it was over.’

‘You didn’t have to worry; there were only ten of them.’

It took Conn a while to return to the Inn. Firstly he had to negotiate his way through the collection of narrow streets and narrower alleys. He then retraced his footsteps over a dozen routes to familiarize himself with the Cotlif, so that took extra time. The second problem was that in a particularly old part of the town, Conn felt something very unusual. Every now and then he would feel a buzzing in his head – but it came and went depending on where he was standing and in which direction he was walking. Conn stopped and looked curiously at Wilgar.

‘Do you have a strange ringing in your ears?’

‘No, I don’t. But I wasn’t in a bar brawl with ten men. I probably wouldn’t even be standing…’

‘They didn’t lay a hand on me.’ Conn paced five steps forward, shook his head and walked five paces back. ‘If I stand here, I have a ringing; if I stand there; I don’t. But if I look this way, I do. Can you explain that?’

‘Nope. No idea. You didn’t like my last suggestion...’

Conn returned to the spot where he could hear the ringing, and turned in a circle. He stopped.

‘If I stand and look in this direction, it is worse. Can you tell me what is in that direction that we haven’t seen?’

Wilgar shook his head. ‘How would I know – I’m not even from here! I’ll go ask.’ Wilgar walked over to a merchant stall and asked a few questions. All shook their head until he found a little old lady, and he called Conn over. ‘Grandmother seems to know something.’

She looked like the oldest woman that Conn had seen in Lykiak. She looked eighty. She looked at Conn with the clearest light brown eyes, and she looked him up and down.

‘You are not from these parts are you?’

Conn bowed. ‘No, Ma’am, I’m from distant shores.’

She nodded knowingly, ‘True enough I guess. This young man said you had a question for me.’

‘Yes I do. I was wondering if you can tell me what is in that direction that’, he pointed, ‘that might be making my head ring.’

She laughed in a crackly way. ‘Your head ring? And it is in that direction over there? How amusing. Well, the only thing over there somewhere aside from people and their houses is the Cirice. I don’t know that it would be making your head ring because it has been closed for over seventy years; since before the time of the last Aebeling.’

Conn looked in the direction she pointed. ‘And how will I find it?’

‘That I do not know. But it is there somewhere. You just need to keep looking. If it wants to be found, you will find it. If it is calling you, then perhaps it wants to be found.’

‘Why would it be calling me?’

‘That I do not know. I do know you have more questions than I have answers. I do know that sometimes questions find their own answers.’

With that the crone wandered off while Conn and Wilgar looked and discussed what to do next. When Conn went to ask her another question, she was gone and they couldn’t find her anywhere.

Finally back at the Inn, the news had already arrived about Conn’s exploits and as he entered the crowded bar, the conversation stopped and they all turned and looked at him. Conn and Wilgar sat on a table and ordered mead – the best they had – which wasn’t very good. The food was not of the highest quality either and Conn felt inclined to do his own cooking. Perhaps tomorrow after some of the pack horses had arrived. The Innkeeper personally delivered the stale bread and mouldy cheese that they had also ordered. Conn commented that the bar was full.

‘Yes; curious bystanders.’ He nodded his head to a corner. ‘But there is someone to see you.’

‘He wants me to go to him?’

The Innkeeper nodded. ‘He is used to people going to him. I think he is in a very bad mood because he had to come here.’

Conn shrugged, stood and walked over to the corner table.

The man who sat there was short, fat, and slobbering on his food. He seemed to like the food, despite its poor quality. He looked up when Conn arrived; involuntarily startled by his size. A couple of guards – men from the gate that morning – stood on either side of the bench.

‘You know who I am?’ he demanded.

‘No idea – all I see is some fat guy slobbering his food. Who are you?’

‘How dare you address me that way … I am Beornwahl – Sheriff of Lykiak. You will treat me with respect!’

‘Or what? I’m a Thane – I was of the opinion that a Thane is senior in status to a common Sheriff?’ Conn put emphasis on the word common.

‘Not in Lykiak, you Feorrancund trash. Here you answer to me.’ He struggled to his feet. ‘I make the laws and if you are not careful, you will find yourself in a dungeon that you will never find your way out of.’

‘Well, I’d like to see you try – next time send more than ten – this lot didn’t lay a hand on me. Anyway, what do you want?’

‘Want! Want! You assaulted my men at the gate; I demand that you pay wergild for the assault of my men. The fine is six thousand Ryals.’

‘Says who? Anyway, they asked me to pay a fee to enter Lykiak. Is it legal to charge entry into Lykiak? The sign at the gate says it is a free entry.’

The Sheriff paused; ‘It is not an entry fee – it is an animal tax – you were riding horses – horses create a lot of waste.’

‘I didn’t know that the Sheriff was in charge of horse shit?’

Conn said it loud enough for everyone to hear. Despite themselves the room twittered with laughter. The Sherriff looked around; his face red with rage, and frustrated by his inability to make Conn afraid of him. He stood a little closer, his voice consumed with anger, this time speaking so that only Conn could hear. ‘Feorrancund, I think you need to be aware that if you are not careful, your days are numbered. This is a dangerous town – bad things unfortunately happen… I will have satisfaction; you will pay the wergild, or else…’

Conn’s voice was very cold – and loud. ‘Short, fat man, I will never pay the wergild. If you want to threaten me again, I might be tempted to impale you – and however many men you bring with you – on my very pointy and sharp sword. I look forward to your “or else”. As we say in Taransay, bring it on.’

Conn stepped aside while the infuriated Sheriff stormed his way out of Inn; his henchmen trailing along behind. Conn returned to his table, and the Innkeeper brought more ale.

‘That seemed to go well.’ Conn commented.

The Innkeeper laughed. ‘The Sheriff is not used to people treating him that way. I would be watching my back if I was you – I’ve just heard about the incident in the “Boar’s Head” and I think everyone thinks that your future is uncertain...’ He stopped; realizing what he was saying.

Conn laughed. ‘Oh, they think that this is my last day, do they?’ It was too good an opportunity so Conn stood and gave free drinks all around, handing the Innkeeper two gold Ryals. He promised more free drinks at the bar tomorrow if he was still alive. He also cast aspersions on the manhood – and sexual practises – of anyone who would think he could be of any threat to him. Conn may well have mentioned unnatural acts with sheep – or it could have been goats – he couldn’t remember which animal’s sexual activities he insulted.

He did find out more about the short fat man, as he drank with increasingly drunk crowd. Moetian, he was the younger brother of the bedda of the Metgiend. He had arrived some twenty years ago with his sister – a young, voluptuous and very beautiful addition to the aged Metgiend’s household. His rise had been sudden and meteoric, and he had been sheriff for ten years. It seemed that he controlled his sister and his sister controlled the Metgiend.

Armed with new knowledge, Conn spent the next four hours drinking mead with the locals until he stumbled drunk up the stairs to his room.

The Inn was a collection of timber buildings somehow interwoven together. Most of the building was single storied whilst others had a second story where the bedrooms were four rooms were at the top of a steep stair case; while a door and another staircase led outside the building. In his room, Conn was suddenly cold sober; and he set up his bed to look like he was asleep. He then sat in a dark corner and snored loudly. It would have been well after midnight when he heard a noise. Conn was impressed; the noise was coming from above rather than down from the street. The assassin was climbing over the roof, and skilfully. As he continued to snore, he saw hands deftly open the timber shutter and lower themselves through the window. The intruder righted himself and headed for the bundle on the bed, dagger in hand. He struck at the bundle, and cursed as the knife struck; knowing it was the wrong tactile response. As he withdrew the blade, Conn struck from behind; putting the assassin was in a headlock and rendering him unconscious without him ever seeing his attacker. Conn knocked on the dividing wall and Wilgar quickly came into the room. They quickly swapped position; Conn went to Wilgar’s room and lowered himself out the window to the ground. He then waited. Wilgar, in his place, dragged the assassin to the back door and tossed him into the alley, slamming the door behind him.

Conn stood in the shadows watching. He was dressed in black and he was almost invisible. It took the assassin about fifteen minutes to struggle upright and as soon as he was able, he scurried out of the alley. Conn followed. The assassin was not stupid; he made sure – or at least he thought he did – that he was not followed, and eventually he arrived several miles away in a part of town that was near Octa’s residence; and where each cottage was surrounded by light timber palisades. Conn watched the assassin go to a small doorway and knock three times. The door opened and he slid inside. Conn waited five minutes and did the same, knocking three times. A person answered.

‘What – you back already?’

Conn mumbled and as the door opened he grabbed the hand holding the door and pulled; slamming the person against the timber fence. Before he could cry out, Conn had his other hand around his throat and had rendered him unconscious. Climbing through the small door, Conn bound him with a rope, hiding him in a dark corner.

Inside the walls, Conn could hear an angry voice and he headed towards the sound. As he got closer, he could hear words.

‘...and you sure that you have not been followed. This is a very unsatisfactory turn of events.’

‘I am sure – it took me twice as long to get here. No one could have followed me. But I thought you wanted to know.’

‘I want to know why he didn’t kill you – it could only be because he wanted to follow you. You were a fool to come here.’

‘I’m telling you – no one followed me.’

‘That is what you say. I wanted that feorrancund dead. You will have to try again tomorrow. Already I will be the laughing stock – he will not be dead and people will start to think that I am scared of him. Me – scared of some half-wit feorrancund that that imbecile Octa found somewhere...’

Conn saw his chance. He opened the door and walked in. The Sheriff of Lykiak sat at the table and the thin assassin stood in front of him. ‘You won’t have to worry about what people think because you will be dead tomorrow.’ Conn added dryly.

Beornwahl looked at the assassin. ‘You fool! – he did follow you!’ and he screamed for the guards. Three raced into the room; the first meeting Conn’s fist and fell to the ground. The other two fell victim to the knife that Conn carried – the assassin’s blade. The assassin and his master stayed trapped in the corner of the room, from which there was no escape, watching events unfold.

Conn turned and faced them. ‘Well, that was entertaining. So let me tell you what is going to happen now. I don’t like people who try to have me murdered in my sleep. But I can’t go around and just kill people, can I – that would make me just like you. No – I think that this chap’ he pointed to the assassin, ‘should murder you.’

The assassin laughed uneasily. ‘I’m not going to kill him...’

‘Really?’ With that Conn threw the blade so that it landed in the Sheriff’s chest, in his heart. He looked at the blade in pure astonishment, and then coughing blood, sagged to his knees and then to the floor. ‘See, you just did. In fact you just killed three men in this room. You are very skilful.’

Conn picked up one of the guard’s blades and tossed it to the assassin. He picked up another. ‘You are now fighting for your life.’

There being no alternative, the assassin tried his best but fighting like this was not his style. It didn’t take long before he too was dead; impaled on the guard’s sword.

Conn went to the only guard alive, and roused him by slapping him a couple of times. He showed him the room.

‘Let me tell you a story. You are your two mates came in to see your master being killed by an assassin – who managed to kill your two colleagues before you were able to kill him. If I hear anything else, you will find me in your room in the middle of the night. You will not enjoy the experience. You are a hero today – but I think that you should leave town.’ Conn took twenty gold Ryals – two years pay – from his purse and handed them to the man. ‘You might not want to run into me in a dark street around here anytime soon...’