Gemmell, David – Morningstar

‘Do? Take the booty and get away from this place as soon as possible. Those knights did not ride back for an early supper.’Yes,’ Wulf agreed. ‘Yes, you’re right.’Two of the villagers moved up to the driving seat of the wagon and turned the horses back towards the north, while Wulf and the others began stripping the dead of valuables and weapons.

Jarek loped to the wagon, pulling himself over the tailboard. I ran to join him. He was sitting beside some thirty small sacks of coin; scattered around him were golden ornaments, statues, bracelets, bangles and brooches.

‘I’m a rich man, bard,’ he said, chuckling. ‘I think I’ll buy a castle – by the sea.’Why did you talk to the knights?’ I asked him. ‘Why not just attack?’‘They were moving. A walking horse, when frightened, breaks

into a run. A standing horse will usually rear. It is that simple. I wanted the convoy halted.’You are an amazing man,’ I told him. ‘What made you give the name Morningstar?’He laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. ‘I thought it would amuse you, Owen. And, anyway, the odds were that someone would escape. I didn’t want anyone rushing to Azrek with the name Jarek Mace, now, did I?’You think he won’t find out, eventually?’By then I will be long gone. What a fine day, to be sure!’ With his dagger he ripped open a coin-sack. Silver pennies tumbled out. He grabbed a handful and tossed them in the air, where they spun in the sunlight before tinkling down to the wagon boards. ‘I love money,’ said Jarek.

Jarek Mace was in high good humour as the iron-rimmed wagon wheels rolled slowly along the forest road. Wulf and the others -having stripped all valuables from the twenty-two dead Ikenas -set off back over the hills to the village. They would arrive hours before us, but I was tired and had no wish to walk too soon among the bodies of the slain. The aftermath of revenge leaves no sweetness in the mouth, and a wagon full of gold was no recompense for a village of the dead.

The sun was low in the sky as we rounded the last bend and I saw the glittering lake and a large crowd awaiting us. Jarek was sleeping and I did not at first wake him.

The valuables in the wagon had come, I knew, from more than one settlement, and I guessed – rightly – that the waiting throng were representatives of those other villages and towns. I could see Megan standing beside a tall woman dressed in the severe black habit and white headscarf of the Order of Naesar-nuns.

As the wagon hove into sight the crowd pushed forward, yelling and cheering.

Jarek awoke at once. ‘What the devil?’ he said, sitting up.

A great cheer went up as he stood.

‘Morningstar! Morningstar!’ I saw Wulf and the other warriors at the front of the crowd with their arms raised; the last of the sunlight glinting on their stolen weapons.

Nimbly Mace leapt from the wagon to stand with hands on hips, accepting their tribute. The crowd parted and the Abbess strode forward; she was around sixty years of age, stern of face, her eyes deep-set and glacial blue. Moving past Jarek, she opened the tailboard of the wagon and reached inside. Lifting clear a small golden statue of the blessed Saint Katryn and holding it aloft, she turned to the crowd.

‘She is returned to us,’ cried the Abbess and a section of the crowd cheered.

An elderly man approached. His face was lined, his right eye dead and useless. With difficulty he bowed, then took Jarek’s hand.

‘You have saved our lives,’ he said, his voice breaking with emotion. ‘We have had a bleak winter and the money they robbed from us was to have been used to buy food. Without it our community was finished. I have no way to thank you, but we will not forget you, Morningstar.’Jarek was speechless, but I saw his eyes darken as men and women crowded round the wagon, lifting out goods and coin.

Megan came through the crowd, taking Jarek’s arm and leading him away from the throng. ‘Keep calm!’ I heard her whisper. ‘It is only money.’My money!’ he hissed.

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