Conflict and Courage (23 page)

As a Lord he
was able to push his way through the crowd of milling bystanders
until he came face to face with Brentwood himself. “You’re asking
for two gold circles apiece for the six elder boys and one for each
of the younger?”

“Bidding could
go higher,” countered Brentwood, “I certainly won’t accept
less.”

“Shall we say
I’ll pay two and a half gold circles apiece for all ten,” Cocteau
offered, with a commitment to take all you can get me in the future
as well.”

“At the same
price?”

“Yes.”

“Done.”

Brentwood spat
on his hand and the two Lords shook on the deal in time-honoured
fashion.

Cocteau left
with the ten frightened boys within the hour.

At least, he
thought as he led them away, they would be spared watching the sale
of their mothers and sisters.

Despite the
pleas, Brentwood refused to make any pre-auction deals on the
females. He was sure that each and every one of them would go for
far more than the starting price. “Females go to the highest bidder
only,” he announced as he headed back towards the barge.

Brentwood had
decided to do his own auctioneering this first sale. He rose early
the next morning, dressed with care, exited his cabin and went to
the hold.

“Hose them
down,” he commanded the two men guarding the hatch.

He watched as
the two grinning men proceeded to carry out his orders, ignoring
the squeals from below.

Then he
beckoned to the other guards to come do their duties. The women and
girls he wanted stripped of all clothing. Brentwood had decided
that the buyers would want to see what they were getting for their
coin. It would also add to the excitement and encourage higher
bids.

He ignored the
cries as the men divested the women and girls of anything remotely
resembling a garment and went to take up his stance on the platform
in front of the bidders.

When the first
female was pushed forward, he could see many of the men licking
their lips. She was exceedingly pretty, with long blonde hair and
an exquisite figure. There was much jostling amongst the crowd to
get a better view.

Bidding was
brisk and surpassed all his expectations. When every female was
sold, even the very youngest, there were many disappointed men
clamouring for more.

“Same time next
month,” promised Brentwood as he vacated the podium, the coins
jingling in his belt pouch. It felt very heavy.

As he travelled
back north in the now empty barge, he discussed his success with
Albert Borsley.

“Very
profitable. Let’s get back to base as soon as we can, get the maps
out and decide on our next port of call.”

“They’ll be
waiting for us now, won’t be so easy next time,” Borsley
warned.

“Yes, but there
are not enough of them to guard everywhere at once and I still have
some tricks up my sleeve.”

* * * * *

Anne was now
Lady Baker. Awkward and ungainly in the last month of her
pregnancy, she walked round her apartments like a caged rudtka, the
only person she could relax with being the old doctor. Sam Baker
was coldly attentive at all times, he did not touch her, the only
thing he did insist on was that she be at his side during any
public engagements. At least during these excursions she had
contact with others. Carla, the wife of Henri Cocteau and her
mother Ulla were old acquaintances of Anne’s and it was pleasant to
talk about happier times together.

She had heard
of Lord Brentwood’s raids on the north and of the slave-market down
at the docks where the unfortunate captives had been sold. With
disgust, old Doctor Arthur told her of how the women and girls had
been sold naked and that many men had appeared at the market just
to watch the show and to ogle and leer at them. He predicted that,
as these slave markets were now scheduled monthly, they might prove
more popular than the other monthly entertainment, that of the
public punishments.

Anne pursed her
lips; her husband enjoyed the latter and told her about them in
graphic detail; public floggings and the occasional execution.

Anne managed to
absent herself from such entertainments until one day, towards the
very end of her pregnancy, a punishment with a difference was
decreed. A young slave girl was to be executed for the murder of
her master and Lord Baker ordered that all women must attend. He
intended that the lesson be brought home that such acts would be
punished with the utmost rigours of the law. The young girl was to
be sacrificed to drive the lesson home, however valuable she might
be to the breeding programme.

A covered
platform and seating was arranged for those powerful enough to be
invited to what Sam Baker called ‘The Royal Box’. The market square
was cleared of stalls. Lord Baker expected a large number of
spectators, nor was he disappointed. Anne was escorted to her seat
through a seething mass of men all trying to get a good view. Carla
Cocteau was seated by Anne’s side, her face set and white. Anne sat
down. She felt hot and queasy and hoped she would be able to keep
down the contents of her stomach. Her husband would not be best
pleased if she made a spectacle of herself and shamed him in front
of his friends.

The spectacle
started with the floggings, the punishment for theft and vagrancy.
Excitement began to mount within the crowd with each swathe of the
whips, then the first execution, a long and bloody flogging
followed by the hanging. Excitement grew as the man was cut
down.

There was a
roar as the next execution party arrived behind the platform and
forced their way to the base of the steps. In the midst, her
clothes in tatters, was the next victim. The terrified young girl
was dragged on to the platform where the rope hung ready but unlike
the condemned man before her she would not only be flogged then
hung.

Her sentence
was read out. The audience grew more expectant.

To the steady
beat of a drum, the rags were ripped from her body.

Anne felt the
bile rise in her throat at the sight even as she sensed her
husband’s rapt enjoyment of the spectacle.

Then the
whipping began until her body was a sea of bleeding welts. Her body
sagged, kept upright only by her wrists tied to the whipping-post.
She shut her eyes, not wanting to see any more and felt a painful
pinch. Sam Baker was making sure his wife learnt the lesson too.
The girl was dragged over to the waiting noose. She wasn’t capable
of standing on the box unassisted. Two guards held her up as
another fitted the noose round her neck and kicked the box
away.

The body
twitched twice and then was still.

The shocked
women were ushered back home by their menfolk, sickened at the
brutality of what they had seen. Some men put their arms round
their own women to give some comfort.

Sam Baker had
watched the entire scene with satisfaction, as had some others,
notably the ex-lieutenant who had once served under Pierre
Duchesne.

Anne left the
square with Carla Cocteau and her mother and was escorted back up
the hill to Fort by four of Cocteau’s men. She felt sick and
uncomfortable; her gravid state made the trek purgatory, however
slowly the escort chivvied them along.

When Sam Baker
arrived back at Fort after the post-execution entertainments some
hours later, well pleased with the way the event had gone, he
entered his apartments and was met with confusion and panic. This
confusion was centred round Anne.

There were
women everywhere. Greatly daring, one of them hurrying past, intent
on some errand or other cried, “the baby. It’s coming!” before
heading outside as if she had the very devil at her heels.

News of the
imminent birth travelled fast. Henri Cocteau arrived at the run,
Smith and van Buren shortly afterwards. The three of them would be
sufficient to proclaim the baby King of Murdoch.

No one
mentioned the possibility that the baby might be female. It would
make no difference to the Larg, their only stipulation that the
area ceded to the humans be held by a child of Elliot Murdoch’s
blood. In fact, Baker would almost prefer it if the child was a
girl. In a land where female rights were minimal, a ‘Queen’ would
have no ‘coming of age’ and would not expect to rule in person.
Having tasted absolute power, Sam Baker was in no mind to ever give
it up.

He spent the
next few hours waiting and pacing up and down just as if he were
the expectant father.

“Wish it’d
hurry up,” he fretted.

“These things
take time but it shouldn’t be long now,” said Henri Cocteau, he
knew these things, his baby son not long out of the womb, “first
time takes the longest and this is her fourth.”

“Fourth?” asked
Raoul van Buren. “I only know of the two. What happened to her
first?”

“Don’t know and
don’t care,” growled Baker. “Wouldn’t surprise me if Brentwood
missed a few when he chased after that party. Numbers didn’t ever
really add up.” He turned to one of the guards. “Andrew Snodgrass
nearby? I’ll want him to tell our Larg friends the good news as
soon as it is over.”

It was dark
when Doctor Arthur left Anne’s bedroom and made his weary way to
where the Lords waited. He had a smile on his face, which told the
interested bystanders that mother and child had come safely through
their ordeal. Andrew Snodgrass watched him pass; his was the duty
to report to Aoalvaldr the Larg that no child was smuggled into the
bedchamber in the event of a stillbirth.

Lord Baker got
to his feet in a hurry when the doctor entered, his wineglass
smashing into a hundred and one pieces on the stone floor.

“Well?”

“Lady Anne is
fine.”

“The child, the
child?”

“Twins! Healthy
and perfectly formed; a boy and girl. The boy was born first, a
sturdy little fellow though premature. The little girl is fine too.
Pretty little thing.”

“Insurance,”
breathed Henri Cocteau, “if anything should happen to the boy,
childhood ailment, accident or whatever.”

“Tell Snodgrass
to inform the Larg,” ordered Sam Baker, “and tell my wife that I
will visit her and the young king tomorrow.”

Doctor Arthur
bowed and made his way to the door. It appeared to him that Sam
Baker was holding himself that much taller, assuming the mantle of
Lord Regent and surrogate father.

“What will we
call him?” asked van Buren.

“Elliot after
his father. King Elliot the First,” was Sam Baker’s immediate
reply.

“And the
girl?”

“Let my wife
name her. She is of little account.”

When told of
this, Anne was pleased to be allowed this concession.

“I will call
her Ruth,” she said to Doctor Arthur, “after my Peter’s
mother.”

She then
slipped into a fitful sleep. During the night when she woke, she
caught sight of a dark shape sitting on a stool beside her bed.

“Doctor
Arthur?”

“Anne, go back
to sleep. I am here.”

“Lord
Baker?”

“He celebrates
with the other Lords.”

“I don’t want
to see him.”

“No visitors
until I say you are ready but the Lords will wish to come and see
their young king and little princess. I don’t think I’ll be able to
stop them. There may also be a deputation from the Larg. You must
be brave. Tomorrow your women will come and prepare you. Your
babies are fine. Now will you rest?”

“You will stay
with me?”

“I
promise.”

Comforted,
Anne’s eyes fluttered shut.

Doctor Arthur
continued his vigil.

* * * * *

Towards the end
of the second winter on Rybak the Vada had settled down to training
and patrolling, although the active Ryzcks were still somewhat
short of full strength.

Wilhelm
Dahlstrom did his best to train as many as he could and a steady
trickle of vadeln-pairs joined the active Ryzcks.

Un-partnered
Lind continued to search out likely humans but there were not as
many as before, the Lind realising that, if they continued to
remove more and more of the human population, especially in Argyll,
their popularity might well take a downward turn. To be chosen by a
Lind was still an unusual and tremendous occurrence and greeted
with glee and pleasure by most families. Single Lind were welcomed
and vadeln-pairs given much honour, few forgetting their valour
during the Battle of the Alliance and their ongoing protection
against the piratical slavers.

In the north
where the mountains met the rugged plains, the religious
communities contrived to resist this trend. Confident of the
inherent ‘rightness’ of their beliefs over all others, they refused
to accept their alien allies as equals. They kept all contact with
the Lind, the unpaired in particular, to a minimum, some even
refusing to communicate with them at all. These northern patrol
sectors were easily the least popular amongst the Vada. The
vadeln-pairs complained to Francis but there was little that could
be done about it, at least in the short term.

* * * * *

The day that
changed Tina’s life started with her daily trip for water from the
well. As the oldest daughter in the family, she was expected to
help her mother with the chores. There were seven younger than she
and her mother again pregnant, dutifully increasing the numbers of
the community according to Holy Writ, wherein it was clearly said
that this was a wife’s primary duty as well as homemaker for her
menfolk.

Tina paused by
the well, thinking back to that day when she had watched the three
travellers pass, two Lind and one woman, the woman riding the
larger of the two. For one wild moment, Tina had thought the lone
Lind had come for her but after stopping for a drink of water, they
had moved on.