And wouldn’t have had an ulterior motive for doing it, either.
* * *
Perhaps to assuage his own feelings of guilt, Demansk’s first words were blunt and honest.
“I’m afraid I came for a reason, First Spear. Though I should have come earlier, for which I apologize.”
The former First Spear of Demansk’s First Regiment lowered his head, his heavy-jawed face flushing a bit with embarrassment. The motion brought the man’s scalp into Demansk’s view. He was pleased to see that the wound seemed to have healed well enough, even if the scarring was heavy and the coarse black hair almost nonexistent in its vicinity.
“You needn’t, sir,” mumbled the First Spear. “I hadn’t expected you to.”
Demansk suppressed a sigh. No, the man wouldn’t have expected it. But his own grandfather would have. There was a time when Vanbert bonds had run deep.
He couldn’t repress a second sigh entirely. The First Spear, he knew, came from the eastern provinces of the Confederacy. At one time, he would have retired there, settling in for a comfortable old age among his own folk. Now—
Demansk’s eyes scanned the flat terrain which surrounded the house. Flat, and just a bit arid. Typical of the farmland available in the recently conquered western provinces. The farmland in the east was better, but most of it had long since been gobbled up by the expanding slave-operated great estates of Vanbert’s aristocracy. So, when the chirurgeons informed Demansk that his First Spear would survive the wound but would never be able to serve in battle again, Demansk had given him this land out of his own great estates.
“Any of your kinfolk nearby?” he asked abruptly.
The First Spear, obviously relieved to have the awkward apology behind them, raised his head and smiled. “Yes, sir. Quite a few.” He pointed a thick finger to the north. “A good chunk of my clan lives up that way. When I told them—”
He hesitated for a moment. Then: “Well, sir, it’s like this. I guess you told your land manager for the area to run easy on the prices, for me and mine. So a goodly number of my kinfolk moved here from back home. Got a little village up there now and everything. Even our own temple. Nothing fancy, of course.”
Demansk felt his feelings of guilt ease. He’d forgotten that he’d given those instructions. Eyeing the still-muscular figure of the First Spear, he found himself smiling faintly. Between Demansk’s instructions and, he had no doubt at all, the veiled threats of the First Spear and his clansmen, the land manager had clearly decided not to apply the usual gouging tactics.
He heard a little noise behind the First Spear’s shoulder and lifted his eyes. The figure of a young woman had appeared in the doorway of the house, with an infant cradled in her arms.
Demansk chuckled. “I see you didn’t waste any time.”
The First Spear turned his head. The smile which came to his lips seemed at odds with the blocky, brutal-looking face.
“Saw no reason to, sir. That’s Ilset, the daughter of my second cousin Polter. I’d had my eye on her since she was no more than eight years old. Always made it a point to visit whenever I went home between campaigns.” He tapped the scar on his head. “By the time this happened, she was already sixteen. So’s as soon as I could move about I got home quick before someone else could sneak in ahead of me. Polter was willing, since I wasn’t asking for much in the way of a dowry.”
He jerked his head to the north. “As it happens, Polter wound up moving out here too. Things in the east are . . . not good, anymore.” For a moment, his face darkened. “A free farmer doesn’t stand a chance there, these days.”
The young woman—not much more than a girl, really—gave Demansk a timid smile. He returned it quite cheerfully.
Better and better, he thought, giving her lush figure a quick and discreet inspection. Helga will need a wet nurse anyway, and if the First Spear’s willing . . .
He cleared his throat. “As I said, I didn’t really come here on a simple visit, First Spear. I need to ask you if you’d be willing to come back into my service again.” Hastily: “Not as a troop leader, mind. Not exactly, anyway. I wouldn’t expect you to do any actual fighting.”