Stone

6.

The wagon train heading south, if two wagons can be called a train, arrived in the next village just before noon. Carlson said the village was called Greenford, the last place where the Green River could be forded. And since they needed to get to the other side to reach Sarn, they would have to ford here.

There were only 10 people in the party: six slaves, two wagon drivers, Rayla and Stone. So Stone decided they would eat lunch in the village, and they all piled into the local saloon while the horses were looked after in the adjoining stables.

Rayla reveled in her new outfit, which cut the amount of staring that men did. It did not eliminate it, as she was still strikingly beautiful, but not having so much skin showing cut the staring, especially when Stone stared at the starers. And actually he was stared at as well, due to his immense size.

The 10 all had a hearty lunch of a stew, and Carlson wondered off to sit with some people he knew from prior trips to the village. It took about an hour, and Stone went to pay the bill as the others headed to the stable to see to the horses. When Stone went to the stables, he put a hand on Doug. «No tip for the stable boy,» the horse said. «He was light on the oats, and didn’t give us any rub down.»

“All is well sire?” the boy said to Stone as he mounted.

“No. You didn’t rub the horses, and they weren’t properly fed.” He reached out and grabbed a 100-pound sack of unopened oats, picking it up as if it weighed next to nothing. He flung it on the back of the wagon and tossed the man tuppence, even though the oats would be worth nearly sixpence on their own. If you aren’t happy with my solution to your cheating, then you and I can meet in the street to settle the argument.”

“No, sire,” the man stammered. “Very good sire.”

«Very good indeed,» Doug said. «Grass is tasty in this new body, but I will enjoy oats for dinner tonight.»

“You are not to hog the oats,” Stone said. “Make sure your companions get a fair share. And the four wagon horses as well.”

«Define fair,» the horse snapped back. «I’m bigger than any two of them. I should get twice the feed.»

“Okay, but make sure the others all get a good meal out of it tonight. And I expect the bag to last for two days. That is what Carlson says the trip to Sarn will take.”

They were at the river, and Doug had no problems fording it on his huge horse. But for Rayla and the wagons it was more of a challenge. The water went up to a few inches short of the wagon beds, so the slaves stayed dry. Rayla had to hold her legs up to keep her boots from getting wet, and the filly wouldn’t cross at all until Doug came back and walked next to her as Stone pulled her across on her rope.

Once they were back on the other side Stone tied the filly and the pack horse to the two wagons again, and the group continued.

They made good time through the day, and camped quite a few miles closer to Sarn than Carlson expected. He was used to walking slaves, and with them riding they made better time. They set up a lean camp, with Rayla and Stone in a tent and the wagoneers and slaves under the wagons. Carlson wanted to set up a watch, but Rayla said it was unnecessary. Arthur would soar overhead and alert her of any danger.

The bird spotted the patrol coming out from the city several miles ahead when they had started up again in the morning, after a hot breakfast. Stone watched the slaves eat, and noted that they seemed to be fitter: nearly younger, after having been fed three times a day. He wondered if the slaver’s stinginess had been false economy. These older slaves would have sold for a penny each the way they looked before. But now it would be tuppence each, or maybe three.

The patrol was four men, in a uniform of some sort, rather gaudy looking to Stone. Rayla spread off to the side, knowing her arrows worked best at a distance.

“Ho travellers,” the captain of the patrol said. “Where are you headed, and for what purpose?”

“To Sarn,” Stone replied. “With a small group of slaves for the market, and two wagons to fill with goods to return home with.” He already thought of the other group up north as home. He hoped they were doing well.

“I see,” the man said. “There is a toll of four silvers for this road.”

“A toll, or a bribe,” Stone said.

“As I said, four silvers. Per wagon,” the man said, and Stone then knew it was a bribe. Tolls do not get inflated like that.”

“I’m sorry, but I find this a free road, and will not pay your bribe. The four men slipped off their mounts, and pulled their swords.

“Really,” Stone said in exasperation and Doug moved into swords length of the four. Doug drew Pate, and warned her he didn’t want to draw blood, causing her to scream in anguish. It took two mighty slices through the air for the big man to knock the four men down with the side of his sword. One man flew at least 15 feet, the three others smaller distances, and their short swords went flying. The wagons passed by. Stone thought of taking the four horses, but decided he wanted no more trouble than he was in already.

It was nearly an hour later when Arthur warned that the guard was mounted behind them, riding furiously. They caught up a few moment later, and went two per side, keeping their distance from the wagons.

“You are all under arrest, and we will escort you to Sarn,” the leader of the group told Stone.

“Well, we are going to Sarn anyway, so you may ride along,” Stone said. “But since you are so unfriendly you must find your own rations when we stop for lunch.”

“There will be no stopping for lunch,” the guard said. “You are going straight to the castle.”

Stone fixed a stare at the man, who eventually looked down. “And exactly who is going to make us continue? We stop for lunch in two hours, and we will go to the slave dealer first. I will continue to the castle with you after. Just be warned that my sword will cut just as easily as it slapped you down. And you won’t be getting up. Ever.”

The land was changing as they travelled. After the ford the farms seemed smaller and closer together, with better houses and out buildings. And now they were getting quite close together. They did find a small clearing outside one of the nicer clearings. When the landowner came out to complain, a silver flipped from Stone made him decide to accommodate them, and even let the horses to use his water trough.

The guards moved cautiously about as they ate their lunch. They tried to look like they were in charge even though the train completely ignored them. Rayla and Carlson ate together, and made plans. Carlson would negotiate with the auctioneer, although he had little hope of getting anything for the slaves. The auctioneer had a minimum price of five pence per slave, and he doubted any would fetch more than that. Then Stone would go off with his ‘guard’ to the castle, while Rayla and Carlson would start buying supplies to fill the wagon. Rayla would hold the gold, and Carlson would bargain prices, since he knew the value of product through his years as a trader. Once the two wagons were full, they would take them to a merchant Carlson knew and wait for Stone there. Arthur would keep an eye on Stone through the castle windows.

It was about five when they reached the auction site, located in the center of Sarn. After depositing the slaves, and noting that they need not be chained or shackled, the group split up. The four guards surrounded Stone and Doug as if they were escorting him, but they looked less than convincing. All had dusty uniforms with some tears as a result of their encounter with Pate. Two had welts across their face from the sword, and another was certain he had a cracked rib, and winced every time it pained him. They rode up to the gate of the castle.

“Hi Mitch,” a gatesman called out to the leader of the patrol, as his partner opened the gate, “You fellows look pretty beat up.”

“A bit of trouble, nothing we couldn’t handle,” Mitch replied as Stone entered the castle. The four guards stopped chatting and hurried after him.

“Where are the stables?” Stone asked.

“Down this way,” Mitch replied and led Stone to the stables.

“Feed him and give him a good rub down,” Stone said, handing the reins to a stable boy. He then looked at the guards. “Now, take me to your Duke. I think he will be interested in how his guard treats travellers on the road.”

“You aren’t going to the Duke,” Mitch said. “You are off to the dungeons, down this way.”

“I think not,” Stone said plucking the man off his horse and putting more than a little pressure on the man’s shoulder, which still hurt from the earlier tussle.

Mitch winced, but spoke bravely. “You can handle four men out in the country, but this is a castle with over 100 armed men in it. Do you think you can handle all of us?”

“I will try,” Stone said. “But I can assure you that you four will die first. Now, take me to the Duke.”

Mitch said nothing until Stone squeezed harder, until the man doubled over in pain. “Okay,” he said. “But Sir Mowath will have something to say about all this.”

He grudgingly led Stone away from the stables and through a maze of hallways and passages, eventually reaching a part of the castle that had finer furnishings, such as paintings and tapestries on the wall.

“Captain Mitchell you fool,” an officious looking man said. “What have you got here? Who is the giant? Some sideshow freak?”

“No Sir Mowath,” the guard said. “We met them on the road. He resisted paying the ‘toll’ and then assaulted us when we tried to force him.”

“Really? How many of them were there. I assume the rest are in the dungeons.”

“No sire. He had only two wagoneers with him, and a girl. He was the only one who attacked us.”

“And he lives? Four against one? He is a big bugger but … Hey, you can’t go in there,” the knight said as he notice Stone approaching a door.

Stone had gotten bored and looking around had noticed an ornate door, with two guards standing in front of it. He walked up to it, and the guards had crossed their pikes to prevent entry. Stone just reached out and grabbed a pike in each hand and squeezed, snapping the weapons like sticks. He shoved the men to the side, each landing hard on the stone floor, and opened the door and went inside.

“You are the Duke?” he said to the man at a table, looking over maps spread out on it.

“Yes, who are you? How did you get past the guard?” the man said sharply.

“I am Stone Wahl, former defensive captain of the Saskatchewan Roughriders,” Stone said. “Your guard are not as effective as you think they are.”

Behind him Sir Mowath burst into the room, followed by Mitchell and his three men, and the two guards from the door, still holding the broken pikes.

“Your Grace,” Sir Mowath said rapidly. “This man is a criminal. He assaulted a patrol of four men on the road, and then these two at the door. I must ask you to allow me to take him to the dungeons. Get him men.”

The four guards from the road advanced with drawn swords, and Stone drew Pate again, telling her that there would be no blood this time either. He swung, and struck Mitchell’s sword, slicing it in two. He hit the man with the cracked rib, on the head this time, using the flat of the blade, and knocked him unconscious across the room. The blade disarmed the other two, with their swords flying across the room.

“I have already declined the offer to visit your dungeons,” Stone said. “I did agree to visit the castle, but I don’t think you can hold me.”

Mowath screamed at the men holding the broken pikes: “Call out the rest of the guard. Get every man down here immediately.” The men scurried away.

“Hold a bit, Sir Mowath,” the duke said. “This man is clearly a fighter, and with the Duke of Kona massing his troops, we need every fighter we can get. Let’s make the man a captain and send him north towards Kona.”

“He can’t fight,” Mowath said. “My men told me he was too stupid to get off his horse. How can he be a captain?”

“Apparently he beat down four good men from his horse. It is decided then, he will be captain of our 200 horsemen. Are you willing to fight for me, sir?” The Duke of Sarn asked.

Stone thought for a minute. This could be a good way to make all these troubles go away. “Aye Sire,” he said, bowing in front of the noble. “But I can only spend a little time before other needs become pressing. A month or so at the most.”

“That will do,” the Duke said, taking a small sword and touching each of Stone’s shoulders in turn. “I dub you Sir Stone of Wahl. You will have two weeks to train your men, and then you will head north as our advance party. Sir Mowath will follow with the rest of the army. You are to scout out the enemy positions. Only start combat if it is required.”