‘By the order of Azrek, Lord of the North,’ he shouted, ‘the town of Pasel is now under direct military rule. The militia is hereby disbanded. My name is Lykos, and town leaders will assemble this evening one hour after dusk at the keep, where I shall inform them of the new laws and taxes decreed by the Lord Azrek. There will be a curfew at dusk and anyone found abroad after this will be arrested. There will be no public meetings, and no gatherings until further notice.’I saw Brackban walk from the tavern and stand with arms folded before the newcomer. ‘Pasel is not in your lord’s domain,’ he said. ‘You have no authority here.’
‘Azrek is the Lord of the North, a post given him by Edmund the High King. Do you dispute the King’s right by conquest?’Pasel is a free town – also by decree of the King,’ argued Brackban. ‘Our taxes are paid in full, and held for you at the keep. But we report to the Lord of Rualis. I repeat, Azrek has no authority here.’Who are you, soldier?’ asked Lykos.
‘I am Brackban, captain of militia.’The same Brackban who allows sedition to be preached in the town centre by outlawed sects?’ Lykos sneered.
‘Since when have the Gastoigne nuns been outlawed?’ answered Brackban.
‘Since their Abbess was nailed to the gates of the Abbey,’ shouted Lykos. ‘Arrest him!’ Several soldiers leapt from their mounts and ran at the captain.
Brackban jumped back, his sword hissing from its scabbard. The first man to rush in died instantly, his neck half-severed, but before the sword could rise again Brackban was overcome and borne to the ground.
The crowd stood by, silent and uncertain. ‘There is a reward of twenty silver pieces to the man, or woman, who identifies or captures the traitress known as Astiana. She will be brought to the keep this evening, or this entire settlement will be judged as traitors, their property forfeit.’I am Astiana,’ came a high clear voice, and I saw the young nun step forward from the back of the crowd. Two soldiers moved alongside her, pinning her arms.
The crowd surged forward and the soldiers swung their mounts, many of which were frightened by the sudden movement. One horse went down. I don’t believe the crowd intended violence at that moment, but in the confusion the soldiers drew their swords and lashed out at the town-dwellers nearest to them. What followed was panic, rearing horses and people running in every direction trying to escape the swords of the soldiers.
It was a miracle that no one was killed, though many were later treated for wounds, deep cuts caused by the slashing sabres.
I saw Piercollo shepherding Ilka from the scene. Then a horseman moved in, his blade slicing down. Piercollo swayed back from the cut, then grabbed the man by his cloak and hauled him
from the saddle. Instantly soldiers bore down on him. Ilka tried to draw her sword but Piercollo pushed her from him, sending her sprawling to the ground.
I made to rise and run to his assistance, but Jarek Mace grabbed my shoulder. ‘Wait!’ he ordered.
‘Take him alive!’ yelled Lykos, and more soldiers leapt from their mounts, to rush in towards the Tuscanian. Two he felled with sweeping punches, but he was tripped from behind and fell heavily, striking his head upon a wooden post. Then he was still.
Rolling him to his belly, they bound his hands.
Mace pulled me back from the table where we sat into the shadows of the eating-house. Wulf was nowhere in sight.
Lykos strolled down to the now near-deserted square and stood before the bound giant. Piercollo was conscious now and three soldiers hauled him to his feet. ‘I saw you in Rualis,’ he said. ‘You were with the man known as the Morningstar. Where is he?’Piercollo said nothing and Lykos struck him savagely across the face.
‘You will tell me all you know,’ he said. ‘Take him away.’Mace dragged me back inside the deserted eating-house as the soldiers prepared to depart. Wulf emerged from a shadowed alcove.
‘What now, Mace?’ he asked.
The warrior released his hold on me and rubbed his chin, his eyes thoughtful. ‘No matter what that officer said, the town leaders will have a meeting. Find out where it is to be held and when – and try to gauge the feeling of the militia. Is this Brackban popular? And the nun, how do the townspeople feel about her?’What are you planning?’ I enquired.