MIDNIGHT FALCON by David Gemmell

Wik thought for a moment. ‘A dead man has no need of a palace. I fought the Sea Wolves once, when I was still a Pannone. Evil bastards, but they can fight. No give in them.’

‘Riches and fame do not always come easily,’ said Bane. ‘Ask yourself how many times in your life will you be offered the chance to save the king’s mother – and be a hero into the bargain. At the very least you will come out of this with ten gold pieces – plus two for every man who dies.’

‘I’ll have some more uisge,’ said Wik. Bane poured another measure, which disappeared even faster than the first. ‘What is your plan?’

‘I am hoping the people in Three Streams will evacuate the settlement. We will form a rearguard behind them. We will not tackle the Sea Wolves head on, but fight and move, wearing them down.’

‘No pitched battle then?’

‘Not if it can be avoided.’

Wik pushed his cup towards Bane, who filled it. ‘And what if you’re killed, Bane? How do we get our money then?’

‘I will see to it that you are all paid whether I live or not.’

‘Oh, and I just trust you on this, do I?’

‘Aye, you do, Wik. But, as a gesture of good faith, I will give you five gold pieces in advance.’ Bane unhooked the pouch from his belt and tipped the contents to the table. The five heavy golden coins rolled across the wood. Wik stared at them for a moment, then

scooped them up. Dropping four into his own pouch he drew his dagger and cut into the fifth, examining it closely. Then he added it to the others.

‘Are we agreed?’ said Bane.

‘Aye, we are agreed. We’ll defend the people of Three Streams for five days.’

By dusk more than ninety outlaws had assembled by the corral. Wik and the stocky Valian moved among them. Finally Bane walked out, wearing breastplate and helm, two short swords hanging at his side. Climbing onto the trestle table he called the outlaws forward. ‘You know me,’ he said. ‘I am Bane. You know also that I have promised two gold coins to every man who marches beside me for these next five days. I hope you are not insulted by this, for you are all Keltoi, and I know many of you would willingly march for nothing against a savage enemy threatening the lives of Keltoi women and children. The reason I make this offer is simple. The soldiers of the king are paid when they fight for the king. And for the next five days you are all soldiers of the Rigante. So do not spurn the gold, my friends. Just earn it! We will leave two hours before the dawn.’

Leaping down from the table Bane strode back to the farmhouse. Gryffe joined him there. ‘That was nicely said,’ he observed. ‘However, most of them wouldn’t pull their mothers from a pit unless she paid them first.’ Bane grinned and moved inside. Iswain was waiting there.

‘So now you are all soldiers of the king,’ she said, her voice sorrowful.

‘Gryffe will remain here,’ he told her, ‘and make arrangements to feed those who have fled from the settlement.’

‘What?’ roared Gryffe.

Iswain’s eyes blazed. ‘How dare you insult my man!’ she thundered. ‘I will stay here and make arrangements for the refugees. The other women from the camp will help me. You’ll not shame Gryffe by going without him.’

Bane raised his hands. ‘My apologies to you both,’ he said. ‘It was not my intention to offend anyone. Nothing would delight me more than knowing Gryffe was at my side. But I thought . . .’

‘What did you think?’ asked Gryffe angrily. ‘What possible reason could you have to leave me behind?’

Bane caught Iswain’s eye, and saw the fear there. If Gryffe knew she had approached Bane about putting her man in danger he would be even more angry. ‘I was thinking’, said Bane carefully, ‘that I needed someone I could trust to look after the farm and the cattle. And that, of course, was disrespectful to you, Iswain, for you are more than capable.’ He swung towards Gryffe. ‘No insult was intended, my friend. Of that you can be sure. It lifts my spirits to know I’ll have you with me.’

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