The Black Robe (The Sword and the Spell) (53 page)

Tarraquin closed her eyes. Jarrul was a good man and she owed him her life but sometimes he was just too emotional and didn’t think about the practicalities of survival. “Barrin, could you provide us with safe passage to the Enclave?”

Barrin would have given anything to have said yes but it would have been a lie. “No, My Lady." I have men at the edge of the forest with horses who, with luck, will get you to the Deeling Pass, after that you are on your own.”

“That’s ridiculous!” interrupted Jarrul angrily. “Crossing the Deeling Pass at this time of year is impossible. We would all freeze to death or be caught in an avalanche and swept away.”

“What would you suggest then, Jarrul.” snapped Tarraquin, coming to the end of her patience with him.

“If we have to go to the Enclave then it would be better to cross the Two Kingdoms Bridge and move north through Leersland and Northshield, crossing back by the Deeling Pass Bridge and approaching the Enclave from the east. It is slightly longer but at least we would arrive in one piece.”

Tarraquin smiled to herself. When he was pushed Jarrul had a way of coming up with practical solutions. “You’re right, that is a better route, slightly longer but in lands that will be less hostile. He is also right about our ability to ride.” She gave a brief, amused laugh. “I think you may have problems hoisting me onto a horse and neither Animus nor Plantagenet have been astride a horse since before I was born. I’m afraid, Barrin dear, that unless you can find us some sort of conveyance we’ll have no option but to take our chances and stay here.”

Barrin gave a deep sigh. He thought he was being blackmailed but in the nicest possible way. “Very well. If you can walk to where the forest path meets the road to Alewinder by this time tomorrow I will find you some sort of transport to take you over the Blue River but from there on you are on your own. I’m sorry but I just don’t have the men to take you all the way to the Enclave.”

Tarraquin looked at Jarrul who reluctantly nodded. “Thank you master Barrin, we will be there.”

*

Of all the things she might have expected to take them on the next leg of their journey a night soil cart was not one of them. She did wonder if it was truly the only conveyance Barrin could find or if he’d chosen such a disgusting means of transport because she had blackmailed him into helping them. Still, she supposed, it was better than nothing. The walk from the cottage to the edge of the woods, laden with their few possessions, had taken them all day and well into the night.

Of course there had been frequent stops for Animus to catch his breath and for Plantagenet to rest his aching feet and for her to relieve herself, a frequent necessity for a heavily pregnant woman. It had taken them an inordinate amount of time to reach their destination and they were exhausted and footsore when the forest path opened onto the roadway. They could smell the cart a long time before they reached it and had dreaded that it might be their conveyance but they couldn’t deny that it was a safe way to travel. No one ever stopped and searched a cart full of shit and piss.

The driver, an elderly man with a shattered nose and a guttural way of speaking, had covered the stinking mass with a waxed sheet which prevented any liquid oozing through but it did little to lessen the stench. Fortunately Plantagenet was able to help with that, otherwise they might have all passed out before they reached their destination. Once they had settled in the cart and Plantagenet had cast his spell the driver threw another cloth over the top of them and set off again whistling through his teeth.

He’d been paid to deliver them and the single horse tied to the rear of the cart alive on the Leersland side of the river and that is what he did. The fact that they were all lying on the river bank gasping for breath after he’d dumped his load into the waters of the Blue River was nothing to do with him. He’d done his bit for Vinmore’s freedom.

After spending a night and a day in the stinking cart the only thing they wanted to do was bathe and rest. The river was ice cold with swiftly running water coming off the mountains so it took them some time to find a shale bank which would let them walk safely into the water to wash without sweeping them away. Apart from the horse, the wagon driver had left them with two rolls of wood tied with rope to build a fire. They also had their bundles of possessions which he’d carried in the front of the cart so they didn’t smell too bad.

Barrin had provided them with a saddlebag of travel bread and dried meat, a small skin of grain spirit and a purse of silver gellstart. With Plantagenet’s assistance, Jarrul started a fire whilst Tarraquin and Birrit bathed, and then Jarrul bathed whilst Birrit made a stew of dried meat, herbs and some flour roots she’d found. As far as the two magicians were concerned getting clean was simple; they used their magic and their robes shrugged off the smell and the dirt.

It had been a long time since any of them had slept on the ground. It was particularly difficult for Plantagenet and Animus whose bones and joints complained at the harsh treatment. However, exhaustion aided them to sleep until the morning dew and the low sun reflecting off the river woke them. The fire had consumed all the wood over night and the air which blew off the Deeling Mountains was icy cold, so once they managed to stand and get frozen joints moving they decided to start on their way and eat the trail bread as they went.

They had already decided that Jarrul should take the horse and most of the gellstart and ride towards Tarmin until he found a place where he could buy a cart of some sort. There would be farms along the road and they were sure that the silver Jarrul carried would be enough to purchase something suitable. Fortunately the horse which Barrin had given them was broad chested and was used to pulling a cart as well as being ridden.

Jarrul was reluctant to leave them unprotected but Plantagenet assured him that he and Animus had enough magic between them to ward off any brigands and both Birrit and Tarraquin carried knives hidden in the folds of their skirts. It wasn’t brigands Jarrul was concerned about but groups of soldiers patrolling the border who might be tempted by two unprotected women even if one of them was obviously pregnant. He didn’t share his fears with them but just told them to be careful.

They watched him ride away then started their trek north following the wide Blue River as it wound its way around the foothills of the Deeling Mountains. Under any other circumstances it would have been an enjoyable journey. The river shone and sparkled in the sunlight, reflecting the cloudless blue sky, and on the other side of the river tall, jagged peaks rose upwards. They were covered in fresh snow which contrasted with the deep green of the everleafs covering the foothills.

Their side of the river was different. It had lush grassland stretching away into the distance and waves of light and dark rippled across its surface as the fresh winds from the mountains blew it one way and then the other. The pathway they followed close to the river’s edge was well trodden, and apart from the occasional tree root, it was smooth and easy to walk. Unfortunately their progress was still painfully slow with frequent stops, so they spent a second and third night sleeping on the hard ground around a fire of driftwood and shrub.

On the fourth night, after spending a day walking in the rain, they found a small hut with a pile of straw-stuffed pallets which smelled of mould and a stack of moth-eaten blankets. The hut was full of cobwebs and old leaves but it had a good supply of wood that warmed the hut and them through. When they woke in the morning, Animus was hot with a fever and Plantagenet had a running nose and no voice, so they stayed where they were and hoped that the owner of the hut wouldn’t come by and evict them.

Tarraquin was glad for the rest. The walking made her back ache and the child within her was restless, kicking at her whenever she walked for more than a candle length, as if it too needed the rest. She was worried about Jarrul who should have caught up with them by now. Birrit was clearly worried as well. Tarraquin could see it in the way she pressed her lips together in a thin, terse line and the number of times she went to the door to peer out through the driving rain.

The following morning the sun shone from a cloudless sky again so they set off once more crossing the border into Northshield before the sun was full in the sky. As they left the Deeling Mountains behind the ground became stonier, and the waving grass gave way to low hills of shrub and prickly fire bush with the occasional copse of everleaf or white bark trees. Once they saw a group of horsemen in the distance and quickly slid down the bank to the river’s edge so they wouldn’t be seen. That night they ate the last of their provisions and lay down on the river bank, tired and hungry, knowing that if Jarrul didn’t arrive soon they were not going to be able to walk much further.

Jarrul was having his own problems. He’d lived in Leersland all his life and thought he knew the land and its people well, but he’d always lived in the south of the kingdom where the hunting was easy and the large farms were well stocked and usually willing to trade. In the north it was different. The farms were small, often supporting five or six families connected through blood, and the meagre resources they had were all needed to farm the land, feed hungry mouths and pay the king’s taxes. At the first two farms he was told there was nothing to spare, not even in exchange for silver coins, and at the third he was chased off by the farmer’s half-starved hounds.

It wasn’t until he was almost in sight of Tarmin’s high walls that he found someone who was willing to trade. She was an old woman with broken teeth and straggly hair who had a daughter with more double chins than he could count, a vacant look which he thought might be false and the biggest breasts he’d ever seen. They sat by the roadside with an old cart in front of them and a dead horse in its shafts. It looked like the unfortunate beast had died of starvation as its ribs stuck pathetically out of its dusty hide. The cart was in good condition though, even if it was a bit small for his needs.

He pulled his horse to a halt and the old woman stood. “Good morning, madam. You seem to have a problem.”

The old woman looked at the cart and then at her daughter. “Yep!”

“Perhaps I can help. I’m in need of a cart.”

“How much?”

Jarrul thought for a moment. He had eighteen gellstart and he needed to purchase some food but he didn’t want to spend all day haggling. “Fourteen gellstart.”

“Not enough.” The woman sat back down on the bank.

“Sixteen then, and that’s all I have.”

“Still not enough but I’ll tell yer what I’ll do. Yer takes me and my Livry ‘ere into Tarmin an’ yer can ‘ave the cart an’ the veggies in the back for seventeen gellstart. Only yer got to fuck ‘er first.”

Jarrul nearly fell off his horse. “I couldn’t do that.”

“Course yer could. Yer got a prick aint yer?” She gave a sigh of impatience and dragged the girl to her feet. “Look, me an’ Livry are startin’ up a whore ‘ouse; me seein’ to it an ‘er opening ‘er legs. Only she aint ever done it with a man an’ I don’t want ‘er squealin’ like a grunter an scarrin’ the customers away the first time someone sticks ‘er. Now, does yer want  me wagon or not?”

Jarrul was horrified. The girl looked to be no more than thirteen summers old, had the girth of a blacksmith and was clearly a half wit, but he was desperate. “All right but we do it in those trees where it’s private.”

“Don’t care where yer do it as long as yer stick ‘er.”

She took hold of the girls arm and led her roughly towards the trees with Jarrul following, leading his horse behind him. When they had passed the second tree the woman pushed Livry to the ground and pulled up her skirts. Despite his revulsion his manhood stirred.

“Now get on with it an’ don’t take all day. An’ don’t think to cheat me, I’ll know if yer done ‘er or not.”

The old woman walked away and Jarrul stared at the girl’s open legs breathing hard. He’d been with whores before but they always knew what they were doing. He undid his breeches and stood over the girl. Her eyes widened in recognition of what was about to happen to her and she whimpered but Jarrul closed his ears to her cries and squeals and did what had to be done.

When he walked out of the trees dragging the crying girl and the horse with him the old woman had already unhitched the cart and stood propped up against its empty shafts with her arms folded. She took one look at Livry, nodded in satisfaction and didn’t say another word. t Jarrul fastened his own horse into the shafts and drove them to the gates of Tarmin. He dropped them off before he reached the city gate, handed over the seventeen gellstart and then drove back the way he had come as fast as he could, deciding not to tell Birrit what had happened. She just wouldn’t understand.

Tarraquin would have liked to have waited for Jarrul to catch up with them before they crossed the Blue River but their food had run out and the need to find somewhere safe to birth her child was becoming desperate. If they waited another day she wasn’t sure she would make it to the Enclave in time. There was also the possibility that something had happened to Jarrul and he wouldn’t be coming at all. The others agreed with her that they should cross the bridge and continue with their journey so they broke camp early and arrived at the bridge just as the sun was setting, a golden ball in a pale blue sky. Tarraquin was surprised that there were no guards checking those who crossed the bridge into Essenland but guessed that nobody really cared who left Northshield, only those who tried to enter.

On the other side of the bridge it was a different matter. A row of small tents had been set up to one side of a burnt out building and two guards stood watch whilst the other tended the fire. They looked cold and bored, but when Tarraquin and the others began to cross they stood to attention and watched them approach. Even the guard by the fire left what he was doing to stare at the travellers. It had been days since they had seen anyone and more than a moon cycle since they had seen a woman. They waited until the pregnant one was two steps away and then crossed their pikes, preventing them going any further.