David Gemmell – Rigante 4 – Stormrider

‘Damn, it was a dream after all,’ he said aloud. ‘I am more tired than I thought.’ He drew the sabre idly from its scabbard.

The Keltoi runes shone, and the golden fist guard gleamed bright in the morning light.

Sheathing the blade once more Gaise stepped into the saddle. ‘My thanks to you, Riamfada,’ he called out. There was no answer, though it seemed the breeze picked up, rustling in the branches above him. With a wave he turned his horse and rode back to Three Streams.

Apothecary Ramus sat outside the Moidart’s offices as a seemingly endless stream of people exited and entered the rooms. He had never seen such relentless activity within the castle. On the ride to Eldacre he had seen thousands of soldiers, some marching in column, others engaged in manoeuvres. Wagons and carts clogged the roads, most bringing in supplies, but some carrying frightened families towards the north. Rumours abounded. The king had decided to move his capital north and Eldacre was to be the centre of the war. The king was dead and the Moidart had declared war upon his killers. Everyone, however, knew that the Finance was dead, and that his head had been held up before his own troops. This act of savagery had – much to the surprise of the apothecary – impressed a great number of people.

‘Ah, you don’t mess with our Moidart,’ the baker had said proudly, when Ramus bought his daily loaf of bread. Others in the bakery had agreed.

‘Canny man,’ someone added. ‘Finance bit off more than he could chew when he came north.’

‘Never much of a brain on him,’ said the baker.

‘No, but the Moidart used his head,’ said the other, to general laughter. It baffled Ramus that such an act could produce levity.

The apothecary had known nothing of the Moidart’s coup. He had waited in the dank, dark dungeon for a full night and a day, cold and terrified. When the door finally opened and light flooded in he had screamed with terror. ‘Whisht, man!’ snapped Huntsekker. ‘You’re free.’

‘Free?’

‘Aye. Come on out and stop your wailing. I have a pounding headache and the noise is making me irritable.’

Ramus had tottered out. He was offered no food or transport, and had trudged back to Old Hills, arriving at his home just over two hours later. Not a word from the Moidart. It was on the way home that he had passed a group of soldiers, two of whom he knew. They told him of the murder of the Finance, and how the Moidart had acquired a new army.

It was then he learned that the coup had taken place before the dawn. Yet he had been left in the dungeon almost to dusk. Ramus had slept then for almost fourteen hours. After that he tried to reestablish his routines. He drank camomile tisanes to calm his nerves, and went back to the preparation of tinctures and creams, salves and balms.

Alterith Shaddler, the schoolmaster, came into the shop complaining of a toothache. Ramus examined him and pointed out that the tooth needed to be pulled. He saw the fear in Alterith’s eyes. ‘I am not good with pain, apothecary. Is there not some other remedy?’

Aye, thought Ramus, you’d not have suffered this pain had the Finance lived. Rumour has it that you were due to hang alongside me. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I am sorry. I can give you something to dull the pain, but it will get worse. Better to have it pulled today. I can do it for you immediately.’

‘I’ll think on it,’ said Shaddler.

‘Do not take too long.’

After three days Ramus was beginning to feel like his old self. Then came the summons from the Moidart.

Ramus sat quietly, his bag of balms upon his lap. Colonel Galliott came by, but he did not speak. The man looked terribly tired. He seemed to have aged ten years since Ramus last saw him. He was followed by a slender young man with fair hair. Ramus heard him announced by the Moidart’s servant as Bendegit Law.

Time dragged on. Ramus was thirsty, and he stopped a passing servant and requested something to drink. ‘I’ll send someone,’ said the man. Then he rushed off. No-one came.

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