‘I’m ahead of you, ol’ man. What if the one was Karnak the One-Eyed. Yes? Well, then my money would be on him. But how many Karnaks are there at Dros Delnoch?’
‘Who knows? Even Karnak was unknown once. He made his name on a bloody battlefield. There will be many heroes come the last at Dros Delnoch.’
‘Then you admit it? The Dros is doomed,’ said Bowman, grinning in triumph. ‘At the last, you said.’
‘Damn you, boy! Don’t put words in my mouth,’ snarled Druss, cursing himself. Where are you now, Sieben, he thought? Now that I need you with your glib words and ready wit.
‘Then don’t try to treat me like a fool. Admit that the Dros is doomed.’
‘As you say,’ admitted Druss, ‘anyone with half an eye could see it. But I don’t give a damn, laddie. Until the actual moment when they cut me down, I shall still be looking to win. And the gods of war are fickle at best. Where do you stand on the matter?’
Bowman smiled and refilled both goblets. For a while he was silent, enjoying the wine and the old man’s discomfort.
‘Well?’ said Druss.
‘Now we come to it,’ answered Bowman.
‘Come to what?’ said Druss, ill at ease under the young archer’s cynical gaze.
‘The reason for this visit to my woods,’ said Bowman, spreading his hands, his smile now open and friendly. ‘Come now, Druss, I’ve too much respect for you to fence any longer. You want my men for your insane battle. And the answer is no. But enjoy the wine anyway.’
‘Am I so transparent?’ asked the old warrior.
‘When Druss the Legend takes a stroll through Skultik on the eve of the End, he’s looking for more than acorns.’
‘Is this all you want from life?’ asked Druss. ‘You sleep in a wattle hut and eat when you can find game. When you cannot, you starve. In winter you’re cold. In summer the ants crawl into your clothes and the lice prosper. You were not made for a life like this.’
‘We are not made for life at all, old horse. It is made for us. We live it. We leave it. I’ll not throw my life away in your bloody madness. I leave such heroics to men like you. All your years have been spent in one squalid war after another. And what has changed? Have you thought that if you had not defeated the Ventrians fifteen years ago at Skeln, we would now be part of a mighty empire and they would have had to worry about the Nadir?’
‘Freedom’s worth fighting for,’ said Druss.
‘Why? No one can take away the freedom of a man’s soul.’
‘Liberty, then?’ offered Druss.
‘Liberty is only valued when it is threatened, therefore it is the threat that highlights the value. We should be grateful to the Nadir, since they heighten the value of our liberty.’
‘You’ve lost me, damn you, with your pretty words. You’re like those politicians in Drenan, as full of wind as a sick cow. Don’t tell me my life has been wasted, I won’t have that! I loved a good woman and I’ve always been true to my principles. I never did a shameful thing, nor yet a cruel one.’
‘Ah, but Druss, not all men are you. I will not criticise your principles if you do not try to graft them on to me. I have no time for them. A pretty hypocrite I would be as a robber outlaw with principles.’
‘Then why did you not let Jorak shoot me down?’
‘As I said, it was unsporting. It lacked a sense of style. But on another day, when I was colder, or more bad-tempered . . .”
‘You are a nobleman, aren’t you?’ said Druss. ‘A rich boy playing at robbers. Why do I sit here and argue with you?’
‘Because you need my archers.’
‘No. I have given up on that thought,’ said Druss, offering his goblet to the green-garbed outlaw. Bowman filled it, a cynical smile once more upon his mouth.
‘Given up? Nonsense. I will tell you what you’re thinking. You will argue some more, offer me wages and a pardon for my crimes. If I refuse, you will kill me and take your chances with the same offer to my men.’