Blood and Iron - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

As I moved into the forest with its dawn shadows, I was comforted that the sun was at least operating in a familiar predictable pattern, rising in the East, setting in the West while the compass needle wanted to orient North with the same cardinal points I was used to.   Though it seemed less about magnetic north and more about true north, so perhaps a bit of magic was helping the direction-finding process. 

I was following the toe dragging trail of a large buck deer.  It picked easy passages avoiding the swamps and thickets as it sauntered along.  It stayed away from the road, except on two occasions, when it moved to the road verge to observe some activity. 

Both times, the buck had stood watching an ambush site along the road.  I slowly and carefully cast back and forth across the road, as I surveyed each position.  The myriad tracks, cigarette butts, and tiny mounds of tobacco from emptying their pipes behind rocks and downed timbers showed where men had waited impatiently. In one place a log was at ready with ropes tied to it for men to drag into the road, halting the traffic in their crude killing zone.

Taking out my map and stretching and manipulating it had a large-scale representation of each ambush site where I drew notes and diagrams on the map.   After that I was less about sightseeing and more vigilant to avoid falling into a surprise attack of my own.  From then on the crossbow was in my hands as I ghosted along that game trail and across several small streams.  

I started with the ringed broad head in the crossbow hoping that any potential assailant would be wearing leather armor or light mail, both easily breached with a greater wounding potential from that broad head.

By noon I still had not reached the inn.  I eased into a shady spot with lush grass and just sat resting against a tree with my pack beside me while I drank water from my canteen chewing ruminatively on an energy bar. Briefly I closed my eyes, listening to the sounds and rhythms of the woods, hoping to hear a discordant note before stepping into a trap.

Checking my pocket watch, I roused myself, throwing on my pack while again grabbing my crossbow.  I stood for a moment listening, then moved out along the game trail, still headed south.  I was consulting the map more frequently as I approached the inn.  

Finally, after a rest stop to tie my sheepskin vest to the pack in the afternoon’s warmth, I was about a quarter mile from the inn.  Moving to the road’s margin, I placed the pack beside me, then sat down cross-legged to watch the inn, using my telescope to look it over carefully before I stepped out on the road.

The telescope was a beautiful multi-section brass instrument, with leather covering and leather caps at both ends.  An extended leather hood prevented reflection from the glass disclosing my position.

I saw a fortified two-story building, with a stockade wall on one side surrounding a yard, probably the stable area.  A low stone wall on this side seemed to be designed to keep back the woods.  Fortification surrounded the inn’s roof, and I saw heads peering through its loopholes.  Two armed men sat on the porch looking up and down the road. 

After long careful study, then easing back into the woods, putting the telescope away, I took the bolt off my crossbow, lashing the crossbow on my pack.  I moved back along the trail until I was around a small bend.  Out of sight of watchers of the inn I stepped on the roadway approaching the inn walking confidently down its center. 

There was no hue and cry.  I walked up to the porch greeting the two sentries.  The larger, with plate armor and a halberd staff, welcomed me saying in a loud friendly voice, “Greetings, welcome to The Inn in the woods.  I am Trevor, captain of the guards.  Come in; join us; be welcome.”

 I nodded, smiling, saying more softly, “Hello and thank you. I am Brock, a hungry, tired traveler.”

I shrugged off my pack while Trevor responded by ringing a small bell on the main door’s lintel.   The door opened immediately and two lovely young ladies spilled out onto the porch.    The blonde hastily grabbed my hand while the brunette reached for my pack.  The two of them pulled me through the door, into the common room.

The common room was cavernous, with high beam ceilings.  Three stone fireplaces for heat and light were along the outside wall. Oil lamps with glass chimneys at intervals along the walls, and hanging by long chains from the ceiling, gave a soft yellow glow to the room.  Long wooden tables with benches filled the floor space, with a bar spanning the full length of the room. 

On this end of the bar, it turned six feet to meet the wall, and this alcove held the chalkboard with the prices and service offered.  A fat, jovial, bald-headed man was waddling swiftly toward us, calling out a greeting.  I was calmly studying the chalkboard while I waited, when I suddenly realized the two young ladies were kneeling next to me.  Before I could react, the innkeeper reached over the bar to grasp my hand saying loudly:

“Welcome to my inn.  I am Luther, innkeeper. These are two of my slaves, Cori and Ria.  How may we serve you today?”

I saw that lodging was one or three “c” with food another two “c” and a bath one “c” and “companionship” was two “c” I made an assumption the lower case “c” meant coppers.  I decided on food and bath with my room.  I dug into my pouch and found my coppers placing six in a neat stack in front of Luther saying:

 “Thank you, Luther.  My name is Brock. I’d like a room, food and a bath, please.”

Luther smiled happily, then he frowned, saying, “Brock, gentle sir, this is too much money.  A private room is three coppers while sleeping all together on straw in the big space next to the stable is but one copper.  Both include food here in the hall, while the private room includes a bath, and use of one of my house slaves during your stay.”

I must have looked confused, because Luther continued filling the silence with his carrying voice.  “There is little traffic through our forest with recent events. The inn is almost empty.  I am somewhat surprised you chanced it. Still, we serve a meal, six until eight, for everyone in the Inn.”

Then Luther looked down at the two kneeling girls, asking, “Yes, Cori what is it?”

The blonde quickly answered, while pointing at the pack I was still holding by the strap.

“Master, Brock is a hunter.”

The brunette, Ria turned my pack slightly so Luther could see the pair of Darby handcuffs hanging on the outside.  Luther clapped his hands happily as he exclaimed, “Oh, excellent.  A hunter. No wonder you have no fear of the forest denizens two or four legged.  I’m so very glad you’re here Brock sir. We have a selection of the papers you need posted by the stable entrance, please have Cori or Ria show you at your convenience, good sir. Brock if you could sign our book first please.”

I was more than a little confused by the reaction to the cuffs, but pleased by the prices.  At this rate, my money would go far even if I didn’t make more right away. Apparently I already had a ‘trade’ in this world.  Hunter. Whatever that exactly entailed we’d have to find out.   From Luther’s remarks, the two ambush sites I found must be active.  I leaned forward, signing the Inn’s registration book, as I pulled myself back into the conversation, saying calmly, “Luther, take the coppers.  I pay for good service.  For now I ask a small favor please.  Is it possible that I could be fed?  I’m quite hungry after my trek.”

Now Luther went into his host innkeeper role as he ordered, “Cori, show Brock to his room.  The large one in front, please.  Ria, make up a plate for him with a pitcher of ale, please.”

Then, to me; “Would it be acceptable to serve you in your room?”

I nodded, as Cori made a grab for the pack strap.  She gently wrested the pack away from me, leading me to the far end of the great room, then up the broad timber stairs and along the hallway toward the front of the inn. 

She threw open the door to my room.  It was an airy, spacious room, well lighted by tall narrow windows with its own fireplace.  A large bed, couch, and a table with chairs furnished the room.  Cori carefully set my pack on one of the chairs as she explained, “This is our nicest room, but it is far from the toilet and bathing facilities. However, you should have no problems.  The Inn is empty of guests, save you.  Unless someone else dares to travel the road, you will be our only one.”

I started to remove my armor, with Cori rushing to lend a hand.  With her giggling assistance, I was soon sitting in the couch in just my buckskin pants.  Cori was hanging my clothing and mail; sword and armor were stacked, while other weapons went on shelves.  She poured me a tall glass of water from an icy pitcher, while I relaxed. 

Cori smiled happily as she knelt on the floor by my feet.  Her thighs were widespread as she settled her butt back on her heels.  I looked at her more carefully now.  She was a perky blonde, dressed in a shapeless white shift made of thick cotton, the hem past her knees with leather sandals.  Her only ornament was a stout leather collar around her neck. 

Finally I roused myself to ask gently, “Cori, please tell about the troubles on the road here in the great woods.”

She nodded more somber now as she answered slowly, “Yes, sir Brock.  We don’t know exactly when it started the woods have always been a dangerous place. Slowly it became obvious that something was very wrong.  The depredations began choking the commerce of this whole area.  Most of those robbed were killed out of hand to be found later, but enough escaped to tell us of this group of robbers who lay in ambush along the road robbing, raping and killing any travelers who fell in their clutches. Only large groups of armed men traveling in daylight are immune from attack.”

She looked at me with a smile, saying, “That is why your arrival was such a shock.  To just walk alone through the woods…”

Shaking her head she continued, “…You must be a great hunter, indeed.”

I smiled as I spoke still softly. “Just lucky, more likely.  How many men are in the robber band, Cori?”

She thought for a bit as she answered slowly, “There are many wild theories, but Ria and I are convinced, after listening to many accounts, that there are less then a dozen; perhaps a few as six.”

I closed my eyes, picturing the two ambush sites.  I mentally counted positions, boot prints, cigarette butts, and pipe ashes.  Finally, I nodded as I opened my eyes. Just then, a soft rap on the door interrupted.  Cori jumped to her feet as she quickly moved to open the door. 

Ria entered, carrying a large tray filled with food.  She was dressed similar to Cori, a long shapeless heavy cotton shift, sandals, and that leather collar.  While it was hard to judge their shape, both had very pretty faces. 

They set to work, putting my meal on the room’s table, while Ria served me a chilled mug filled with amber liquid saying gaily, “Luther told me to bring you our Birch Mead instead of Ale.  I hope that’s to your liking, Brock sir.”

Yes that was just fine. Nodding smiling to myself I rose to look over the repast.  Thick slices of bread enclosed tall stacks of beef with plates filled with deep fried wedges of potatoes and sliced fruit.  Sitting down at the table, I began to eat with gusto.  Cori and Ria sat beside me, helping to serve me.  Finally I was stuffed.  Staggering back to the couch, I collapsed. 

Ria sat on one side with more mead while Cori sat on the other with coffee.  When I was comfortable, Ria handed me a nine by twelve leather dispatch case filled with heavy weight papers.  I pulled them out to find what I would call ‘wanted posters’ or ‘circulars’ as they were known in the old west. 

Ria informed me that these were “papers” and posted across the several kingdoms.  An efficient mail system girdled these kingdoms with the kings’ post arriving at least each week at these many locations bringing new ‘papers’ as well as canceling old ones. 

I sipped my mead as I flipped through the stack of papers.  They seemed to be of three types: Animals to be killed, criminals to be killed or captured, or runaway slaves and indentured servants to be returned.

The criminals’ papers typically were without a portrait sometimes having a fairly detailed description.  A good quality drawing showed the animals to be dispatched. The runaways had what could only be described as a photo.  I pointed to one asking:

“Is this illustration really this fugitive?”

Cori answered, “Yes, Brock sir.  Every slaver hires a wizard before the sale, who makes a copy of every slaves or indentured servants face and body for just such a purpose.”

The rewards offered varied greatly.  A rogue wolf to be killed might yield five hundred coppers. A criminal wanted for several murders might bring a silver coin, dead or alive.  A slave or servant on the run might bring a silver coin if captured alive, but only one hundred coppers if dead.

Two papers from these very woods had my immediate interest.  One showed a saber-toothed cat with a bounty of a single gold coin for killing him.  The other was for the highwaymen, offering a gold coin reward for each one brought in dead or alive with a bonus of twelve gold coins for the gang’s destruction.

Continued in Chapter 4

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