Up From Hell (2 page)

“Top, are you all right?” Galo said.

“Yeah, I didn't get a scratch,” I said, but as I turned toward him the bloody side of my tunic pulled at the track that spear had plowed along my ribs. The wool had stuck to the flesh. When I tore it away, it hurt like a demon was chewing it.

“It's all right,” I muttered. Galo ripped cloth from the dead leader's tunic and tied it as a bandage under my own garment. That way seeping blood didn't make my clothes stick to me.

Galo paused to pull a small iron box off the leader's neck chain. It was iron too, but Galo just gave a twist of his big hand and broke the links.

I went into the main house, walking fast so that nobody would see how I was shaking. It's always like that afterward for me.

Albos had bled out anyway; the spear had split the artery in his thigh. You don't think about what's the smartest thing to do when you're in a fight, though; if you do, you're not a man. Also you lose, but losing a fight is nothing compared to losing your manhood.

The house had two rooms to each side of the passage in the middle and a big room in the back. Fabric hangings covered the side doorways, all but the farther one on the right.

I could hear women sobbing behind the hangings, but I wouldn't have worried about somebody coming out behind me with a knife even if several of the boys hadn't followed me. I still had my sword in my right hand, but that was because I wasn't sure I could find the mouth of the scabbard with the point until I stopped trembling so bad.

I'd meant to go to the end room where lamplight showed through the doorway, but I saw that the iron-bound door to the right was barred on the hall side. I decided to see what was there before I checked the end room. Using the butt of my javelin, I lifted the bar and pushed the panel open with my foot.

I didn't like the feel of the house. My shakes had settled, but I wasn't sorry for the sword in my hand.

A woman sat facing me in a straight-backed chair, lighted by the oil lamp hanging from a wall bracket. She didn't need an expensive red robe and gold clasps to show that she was no servant.

“Are you the owner's widow?” I said in Etruscan, just to make sure she knew where she stood.

“Mamurcus was my jailer, not my husband,” she said, speaking in Gaulish and cool as you please. “Who are you?”

There were bars on the room's small window, though the bed was made of bronze and figured wood, and the chair legs had ivory inlays. Prisoner she may have been, but she wasn't a common criminal.

“I'm Lord Taranis,” I said, switching to Gaulish—she had a Boian accent, but she was a lot more fluent than I was in Etruscan. “So far as you're concerned, I'm your lord and master!”

She smiled. “Taranis is good enough,” she said. “Mamurcus was a noble and a great wizard, but I wouldn't call
him
my master. I'm certainly not going to do that for a trouser-wearing Gaul who's waving a sword at me.”

I used the hem of my tunic to wipe the blade, then sheathed it at my right side. The garment was rags now. The spear cut could be sewn up and the blood washed out of the cloth, but I didn't want to be reminded of how close it had been every time I put it on in the future.

“Come on, then,” I said. “We'll spend the night here and take you back to the main camp in the morning. We've made a good enough haul tonight that we don't have to stay out longer.”

I grinned at her. “Unless you'd like to argue with me?” I said.

If she'd given the wrong answer, I'd have slapped her out of the chair. I didn't mind being called a trouser-wearing Gaul, since I was one right enough; but prisoners needed to know their place. I wouldn't put my sword through her as I would one of the servants if he got uppity, but I wasn't in the mood for an argument.

“I don't mind at all, Taranis,” she said, standing up gracefully. I'd expected her movements to be as stiff as she sounded. “I'm grateful to you for freeing me from Mamurcus, which I was unable to do myself. My name's Alpnu, by the way. Lady Alpnu to commoners, but I think Alpnu to you.”

I thought of tying her overnight—the servants we wanted for labor we shut in the barn—but she ate with us and went back to her room afterwards. In the morning I put her in the cart with Galo, though she said she could ride. She wasn't any trouble on the way back.

Now I looked at the Crow and tugged my moustache again. “I figure to talk to her today, maybe talk to the servants we brought back too. When I learn more, you can decide what to do with her.”

“Are you staying long in camp?” said Orgetereix. “I'm worried about what the Romans have in mind.”

Then you can bloody well go tramp through mud and watch them,
I thought, but what I said was “I figure five or six days. I need to replace one of the boys; and anyway, the troop deserves some downtime. We've been in the field eight days out of ten for the past two months.”

Which was fine with me, but some of the boys had regular arrangements with women in the train. Besides, we all wanted to get thoroughly drunk on the wine we'd been bringing in. You don't tie one on in the field unless you want to find your head decorating somebody else's trophy.

Right then Galo blew the alarm call. His dog-headed horn was tuned higher than most and had a whistle in the throat instead of a clapper.

“That's for me!” I said, turning and running toward the sound, just like I'd do in the field. I might have some explaining to do with the Crow when things settled down, but that was for later.

Now my troop needed me, and nothing—no one—would get in the way of that call.

*   *   *

I didn't draw my sword as I ran through the camp. When I got to Galo—he'd just climbed down from the cart, pretty much where I'd left him—I was glad of that: he was facing Dubnoreix.

Dubnoreix's brother Liscus was there too, leading his housemen. They all had their helmets and shields.

I wasn't afraid of them, but eleven to one was longer odds than I could win at even if I'd had my shield. Running up waving my sword would've given Dubnoreix an excuse to finish me the way he's been wanting to do ever since we were boys and I'd broken his arm with a branch I took away from him after he'd swung it at me.

Dubnoreix had backed the Etruscan woman, Alpnu, against the wagon. He turned to face me when I arrived, which let her sidle a little farther way. She wasn't cowering, but she didn't want to be any closer to Dubnoreix than she had to—for which I didn't blame her.

“Greetings, cousin!” I called. “I expected to see you when I reported to the chief!”

“Greetings, Taranis,” Dubnoreix said. He looked flushed and was clenching and unclenching his right hand. “I was looking at your prisoner here, and she bit me. I think I'll take her to my tent to teach her a little discipline.”

When we'd gotten to camp my troopers had headed off to get outside a few skins of wine, but they came rushing back at the horn call. They wouldn't get involved in a fight between nobles, though, and I didn't expect them to. I wasn't nearly so sure of what Dubnoreix's housemen would do, though, and Liscus was noble himself.

“Sorry, coz,” I said, walking toward him. I wanted to gasp after my run back at the horn call, but I kept control of my breathing to seem nonchalant. “The chief and I were just discussing her. When we decide what to do, we'll let you know.”

That was close enough to the truth that the Crow wouldn't take my head off when he learned what I'd said, and it put Dubnoreix on notice to mind how he went no matter how mad he was. It looked like he'd stroked Alpnu's cheek and she'd snapped at his finger. I'd have laughed if things weren't already so tense.

Dubnoreix's hand quivered toward his sword hilt, and his face got redder yet. “I think you're forgetting that I'm a thousand-chief, Taranis,” he said, his voice mushy with anger.

“I think you're forgetting that I'm not
in
your thousand, Dubnoreix,” I said. I kept my voice calm, for a wonder, but there was the least tremble in it that warned anybody listening that I was getting close to the edge myself.

There was a bustle behind me. That was what I'd been waiting for.

“My blood's just as good as yours, cousin!” I said. “And that's if Kervan really was your father and not his horse-holder.”

“Bastard!” Dubnoreix shouted, which would've been funny if I'd had time to think about it: there weren't any rumors about
my
mother. He swung his shield in front of his body and reached for the sword hanging at his right side. Instead of drawing my own sword, I stepped forward and stabbed at his sword hilt with the javelin in my left hand.

My point clacked against the ivory. Dubnoreix shouted and jerked his bloody hand up. I stepped back, my empty right hand raised at my side.

“Stop this!” the Crow bellowed. “Put away your arms or your heads are forfeit!”

I stuck my javelin into the soil and backed another pace without turning my head. “At your lordship's command!” I said.

Liscus clanged his sword back into its sheath; the other housemen hadn't drawn theirs. I'm not sure what Dubnoreix would have done if I hadn't struck his sword hand, but right now his little finger lay on the ground. He dropped his shield so that he could squeeze the stump with his left hand.

“Dubnoreix, get your rabble to their tents right now!” the Crow said, stepping past me. He'd paused to put on his winged helmet, making him look even taller than before. The other thousand-chiefs had come along with him, but they were hanging well back.

I lowered my hands slowly, but I didn't budge from where I was standing. I knew the Crow would have words for me after he'd settled with Dubnoreix.

“My lord, he struck me!” Dubnoreix said.

“You drew your sword on a man who wasn't armed to receive you!” said the Crow. “You're lucky a finger was all you lost. Get to your tents, I said!”

He pointed with his left arm and two extended fingers. I was looking at him from behind, and he sure as fate chilled
my
bones.

Dubnoreix walked away straight-backed, but he walked. Liscus picked up his brother's shield and followed. The rest of the housemen had already slunk off in the direction Dubnoreix's clan was camped.

The Crow turned to me. I met his eyes, but I said, “My lord,” in as respectful a tone as I could.

“Well, Taranis,” the Crow said. “Feeling clever, are you?”

“No, my lord,” I said. “This was nothing I wanted to happen. I'm sorry that it did.”

That was true, but I liked the result better than I would have liked some of the ways it might have turned out. Dubnoreix and his gang showing up fully armed the way they did must have been a deliberate plan to either make me back down or to start a fight I couldn't win.

“Are you sorry?” said the Crow. He snorted. “Well, I guess you will be; I'm not having brawls between my chiefs here in the camp. Get out and forage in the direction of Rome. I don't want you back in the camp for ten days unless there's a Roman army at your heels.”

I thought of about a dozen ways I could answer that. The best result I'd get from backtalk would be no result; and as angry as the Crow was, I could lose my head if something I said stepped hard enough on his corns.

“Yes, my lord,” I said, bobbing my head. “We'll ride out as soon as I can gather the boys.”

I looked around. Galo's horn had brought most of them, though we'd probably want fresh mounts from the remuda. Galo needed a string of horses just for himself.

“Get on with it, then,” the Crow said, turning on his heel and stalking off. When he was angry his face pulled itself thinner, and he looked even more like a hawk.

I pulled my javelin from the ground and wiped the mud off with my tunic. I was trembling again, furious with Dubnoreix and the Crow both—though I knew the Crow was right—the last thing we needed was a clan fight in the middle of the war band. I'd been looking forward to a few days off, and the boys had been even more of that mind.

“Aw, Top!” Matisco said. “I been looking forward to seeing my girlfriend like you wouldn't believe. Can't we stay over tonight at least?”

I turned and raised my hand to knock him down. Galo caught my arm and said, “Top, let him be! We're all on edge!”

If you want to know how strong Galo was, let me tell you that my fist didn't move a hairsbreadth after he grabbed me. I wouldn't say there was another man alive who could've stopped me from letting my anger out—on the wrong guy.

Matisco's just a little fellow and a bloody useful one,
I thought.
I'd have broken his neck if I'd hit him square.

“Sorry, Top,” Matisco muttered. “I'll get the packhorses ready.”

“Wait,” I said. My voice was a growl that even I couldn't have understood. Louder and more clearly, I said, “Hold up, all of you! This job doesn't need a whole troop, it just needs one man. You're all off duty until I get back, which I figure will be ten days. Galo, if there's a problem, go straight to the Crow—but I don't think there will be.”

“Top, I want to go with you,” Galo said. He was wearing a clear jewel on a gold chain. The loop was almost too tight to fit around his neck.

“Yeah, all right,” I said. I wasn't surprised, and I was just as glad to have Galo along. “Matisco, you're in charge of the troop while I'm gone. Don't start trouble, and if anybody else does let the Crow sort it out. Dubnoreix's problem is with me, not with you lot, so just make sure it stays that way.”

“Right, Top,” Matisco said, bobbing his head. “We'll keep outa trouble, don't worry.”

“Taranis,” the woman said. “Take me too. It's not safe for me to be here in the camp.”

“Why should I care how safe you are?” I said. It wasn't fair to blame her for the trouble, but that's how I felt.