capable of many things, good and bad.”
I pointed into the wagon. “What are those boxes?”
“Empty wine bottles, sir. Now as I was saying, and you can mark my words. Cruel kings seal their own fates. In the end a king serves at the will of his people. The people rise up against tyrants and fools. Such will be the case now, I’m thinking.”
“Maybe, maybe…but if so, it will be too late to do any good.” I nodded toward the bags. “You guarantee the barley is fresh, now?”
“Fresh?” He was reaching down for another bag but stood up and stuck a thumb in his chest. “You think I would cheat you? Of course it’s fresh and you’ll find none better.”
“We will see.”
“You’ll find it to your taste well enough.” He grabbed a bag and tossed it on top of the others. “Now, what did you mean when you said it will be too late for the people to rise?”
I shrugged. “Even during times of desperation an uprising requires organization, and it is the nature of people to act slowly. Food is needed now, today. Many will starve before the people finally rise.”
“Aye,” he nodded, “on that I agree, sir. Indeed I do, though it’s a sad thing that.”
Though outwardly I showed little interest in the discussion, in truth my heart sank. While I fought Christians, a new, perhaps wider war was beginning; the war King Túathal Máelgarb greatly feared—war to acquire food.
“Only the dead have seen the end of the war,” I murmured.
“What’s that, sir?”
“Nothing.” I shook my head to drive away memories. “I merely quoted Plato.”
“Plato?”
“No matter. Listen carefully. We’ve heard rumors that Christians have formed a large force and plan to move against us. Do you know of it?”
The merchant’s wide eyes were innocent. “I’m sorry, Wise One, I am a simple trader and know little of such important things.”
No doubt my warriors could get the truth out of the man, but I opened my purse, removed a silver coin and tossed it to him. “Now perhaps you remember something of the Christians’ movements?”
He grinned. “Yes sir, now that I think on it I believe I do. I heard they’ve put together near a thousand warriors and are moving this way even as we speak. I should think that in no more than a fortnight,” he pointed toward the north, “they’ll be cresting yon ridge.”
My hand absently tapped the wagon wheel as I considered his news. It matched what I had heard from other sources. Although my forces had grown considerably, we would still be outmatched by the Christians and this time we would face more than farmers.
“Excuse me, sir.” The trader motioned toward the grain. “I delivered the fifty bags of barley and, if it’s all the same to you, sir, I would be taking my pay and heading off.” He pointed to the west. “As you can see, there be storm clouds gathering and I would make a start towards home before the rains arrive.”
“Certainly,” I threw my thumb over my shoulder, “go to the first tent and see the man there. He’ll see to it you’re paid.”
“Thank you sir, I’ll be doing that very thing. Before I go, would you be wanting to order more supplies?”
“Aye, that I would. Deliver us fifty bags of rye, twenty barons of beef, twenty smoked mutton shoulders and hams, and twenty barrels of ale. Also toss in all the vegetables and fruit you can fit aboard. Have all that here a week from today.”
The merchant scowled. “That I’ll do, sir, but be warned prices are going up and I can’t guarantee what it’ll cost ye. Now would there be anything more? Salt, seasonings, wine, oil, anything of the like?”
I had been watching the skies and he was correct: Rain was coming for sure. His mention of oil while I was thinking of rain brought a small smile to my face. “Oil you say? What manner of oil?”
“Ach, sir, it be the finest grade of flaxseed oil. It’s good for cooking of course, but if you’re thinking of lighting, it burns with a
I pointed into the wagon. “What are those boxes?”
“Empty wine bottles, sir. Now as I was saying, and you can mark my words. Cruel kings seal their own fates. In the end a king serves at the will of his people. The people rise up against tyrants and fools. Such will be the case now, I’m thinking.”
“Maybe, maybe…but if so, it will be too late to do any good.” I nodded toward the bags. “You guarantee the barley is fresh, now?”
“Fresh?” He was reaching down for another bag but stood up and stuck a thumb in his chest. “You think I would cheat you? Of course it’s fresh and you’ll find none better.”
“We will see.”
“You’ll find it to your taste well enough.” He grabbed a bag and tossed it on top of the others. “Now, what did you mean when you said it will be too late for the people to rise?”
I shrugged. “Even during times of desperation an uprising requires organization, and it is the nature of people to act slowly. Food is needed now, today. Many will starve before the people finally rise.”
“Aye,” he nodded, “on that I agree, sir. Indeed I do, though it’s a sad thing that.”
Though outwardly I showed little interest in the discussion, in truth my heart sank. While I fought Christians, a new, perhaps wider war was beginning; the war King Túathal Máelgarb greatly feared—war to acquire food.
“Only the dead have seen the end of the war,” I murmured.
“What’s that, sir?”
“Nothing.” I shook my head to drive away memories. “I merely quoted Plato.”
“Plato?”
“No matter. Listen carefully. We’ve heard rumors that Christians have formed a large force and plan to move against us. Do you know of it?”
The merchant’s wide eyes were innocent. “I’m sorry, Wise One, I am a simple trader and know little of such important things.”
No doubt my warriors could get the truth out of the man, but I opened my purse, removed a silver coin and tossed it to him. “Now perhaps you remember something of the Christians’ movements?”
He grinned. “Yes sir, now that I think on it I believe I do. I heard they’ve put together near a thousand warriors and are moving this way even as we speak. I should think that in no more than a fortnight,” he pointed toward the north, “they’ll be cresting yon ridge.”
My hand absently tapped the wagon wheel as I considered his news. It matched what I had heard from other sources. Although my forces had grown considerably, we would still be outmatched by the Christians and this time we would face more than farmers.
“Excuse me, sir.” The trader motioned toward the grain. “I delivered the fifty bags of barley and, if it’s all the same to you, sir, I would be taking my pay and heading off.” He pointed to the west. “As you can see, there be storm clouds gathering and I would make a start towards home before the rains arrive.”
“Certainly,” I threw my thumb over my shoulder, “go to the first tent and see the man there. He’ll see to it you’re paid.”
“Thank you sir, I’ll be doing that very thing. Before I go, would you be wanting to order more supplies?”
“Aye, that I would. Deliver us fifty bags of rye, twenty barons of beef, twenty smoked mutton shoulders and hams, and twenty barrels of ale. Also toss in all the vegetables and fruit you can fit aboard. Have all that here a week from today.”
The merchant scowled. “That I’ll do, sir, but be warned prices are going up and I can’t guarantee what it’ll cost ye. Now would there be anything more? Salt, seasonings, wine, oil, anything of the like?”
I had been watching the skies and he was correct: Rain was coming for sure. His mention of oil while I was thinking of rain brought a small smile to my face. “Oil you say? What manner of oil?”
“Ach, sir, it be the finest grade of flaxseed oil. It’s good for cooking of course, but if you’re thinking of lighting, it burns with a
Similar Books
