Vol.5, Ch.5, P.6
Aye, it ’appen’d swift one night, after th’commandant ‘ad shog’d off t’spy on Nafíl country. Couldn’t blame ‘im, really. The en’my ’ad gone reight quiet by then. Summat’s afoot, we all thought to usselves. Summat, indeed. But then, th’night watch spotted th’queerest thing: torches creepin’ in th’woods yonder. Hundreds o’ ’em. Maybe thousands.
An ill sight that were. But we knew it then: Nafílses. They were comin’. An’ all th’fort were roused reight swift. But without th’commandant nor even Ebbe an’ ’is lacqueys ’round, it were pure chaos, I tells ye. An’ certain’ ’nough, th’Nafílses appear’d in force, reight up to us gates. But jus’ when we thought this night would be us last, he came ’fore us: th’commandant ’isself, demandin’ terms o’ surrender. From us, ’is very own fort-men.
Aye, thass reight. Th’lad ’ad turn’d coat. Flew ’nother banner. The ’ole deal. But with thousands ’gainst maybe a score or three, we ’ad li’l choice. A surrender it were fer us. An’ next thing we knew, we were rounded up an’ lock’d ’way down b’low.
By gum, aghast we all were. But some’ow, it all sorted square. T’me, ’nyroad. Deep down inside. Aye, it were ’bout time th’commandant snap’d loose. ’Bout time ’e did summat t’save ’is “inn’cents”. ’Specially after all the “goods” th’Fiefguard’d brought back th’moon ’fore. Leastways, thass how it seem’d t’me.
I ’ad me a long time t’think, down there in that undercroft. A long, long time. Maybe a week. Th’days an’ nights all melted ’gether, see. Days an’ nights o’ jus’ workin’ th’wee li’l wheels in me pate. Inn’cents, I thought. Th’Nafílses—‘inn’cent’? Well, I don’t know ‘bout that. I don’t. But maybe… or maybe…
On an’ on this went, but ’fore I could make ’eads or tails o’ it all, th’bars open’d an’ we were each an’ all let go. No blood. No torture. Jus’ set free like birds from a cage.
Some o’ us lads went ’broad. Others stay’d ’ere in Ström t’look fer work. Me an’ Dan, we did jus’ that: went back to Arbel ’gether an’ ply’d us sword-arms. Fer guard duty. Fer city-watchin’. That sort o’ stuff. It were daily jobs fer daily pay, but it served goodly ’nough. Aye, ’nough t’sleep with fill’d bellies an’ roof’d ’eads ev’ry night. ’Course, it weren’t all easy livin’. But by gum, I tells ye, Arbel weren’t this well-off ’fore. Not ’sfar as I could remember, no. An’ I soon found out why: all th’burgh’s been put under new management, so t’speak. “Governance by Men an’ Nafílses, ’and-in-’and,” I ’eard. An’ when I did, I nearly lost me knees, if ye gets th’meanin’. Me knees an’ me b’liefs both.
One day, I took Dan back up t’Balasthea fer a job. Well, more fer ol’ times’ sake, frankly. Weren’t very long since that clarty night, reight ’nough, but I couldn’t ’elp meself. Balasthea to us both were a place o’ mem’ries, see. Where we b’came pals. Where we lived an’ nearly died, day-in, day-out. An’ if Arbel weren’t a sight ’nough, well, the ol’ fort sure ’ad summat special in store fer us. Aye, can ye picture it? Men—an’ Nafílses—workin’ side-by-side. There, in bloomin’ Balasthea, o’ all places.
I s’pose it sorted square ’nough. Aye. A trade stop they’d made o’ th’fort, see. T’serve th’stuffs an’ all th’bus’ness wheelin’ ’tween Ström an’ yon Hensen-town.
“…”
’Ey by gum. Me an’ Dan, we were speechless at th’sight. War were all we knew there at Balasthea. But now, there were chattin’, labourin’, a rubbin’ o’ shoulders ’tween Men an’ Nafílses. I’ll say it ’gain: things’d turn’d night an’ day, they’d done.
This were wot th’commandant dreamt o’, methinks. Peace, but play’d all th’world o’er. ’Course, it weren’t all sunshine an’ rainbows there at th’fort. Not yet, leastways. But it were a start. A bloomin’ ’eck o’ one, if I’m honest. Maybe a better place al’gether than th’world ’fore, even.
…Nah. Not “maybe”. It really were. An’ turnin’ t’Dan, I reckon’d ’e felt all th’same, wot with th’queer gawp on ’is face, like a fish out o’ water.
From there, we wander’d ’bout th’fort. Lookin’. Loit’rin’. ’Ere, there. Were all we knew t’do, really. Thass ’ow shock’d we were. An’ when us senses came back to us, we found usselves stood ’fore the arm’ry. Ah, reight, we thought. Thass the other thing we came ’ere fer: us jobs. T’clean up th’place. ’Ave it spick-an’-span. Elbow grease, aye, true. A far cry from guardwork. But me an’ Dan, we didn’t beef ’bout it. Nah. Not after all we’d seen.
“Whoa…! Papa works here, Jo! Can you believe it?”
“Pete, Pete! Look! Swords! And spears! They’re all Papa’s, I bet! Ehehe!”
An’ there we saw ’em. Two li’l bairns. Nafíl ones, both ’avin’ a gander through th’doorway. An’ from th’sound o’ things, their pa work’d ’ere at th’fort. Maybe a guardsman ’e were, I thought. Jus’ like us. Well, ’nyroad, th’bairns made mighty merry, gogglin’ an’ all at their pa’s workplace. But th’pa ’isself, ’e weren’t nowhere in sight. Busy guardin’, maybe?
“Ah! Jo! Jo! Look—Men!”
“Wah! Good afternoon!”
Thass when th’bairns turn’d an’ found us. All smiles they were. Aye, ye ’eard reight. Not afear’d, but smilin’. Smilin’ big, inn’cent smiles. But me an’ Dan, we stood there, stuck like ice. Wot’s there to answer with, aye? If defendin’ th’fort through all ’em winters’d taught us owt, it were that Nafílses’re evil, ye understand. Vermin scratchin’ at us gates. Devils out fer us blood. The ’ole nightmare. An’ now? Lo—two li’l bairns o’ their kind, smilin’ ’pon us.
Devils. Smilin’.
Aye. Bairns though they be, they were devils all th’same.
Leastways, thass wot I once thought. Thass wot they ought be…
An’ then—a great, big boom.
Me an’ Dan turn’d. Summat’s gone on at th’gates. Screamin’ an’ shoutin’ follow’d. Wot in bloomin’ ’ell…? I thought. Aye, ’cos it came from th’south, mind. Th’south. Arbel’s direction. But maybe thass why th’pa weren’t ‘ere. An’ neither all the other guards, fer that matter.
I ’eard whimp’rin’ next. Look’d back, an’ found th’smiles all wiped clean from th’bairns’ faces. Now they were wide-eyed, worry’d. As they ought, ’cos wot we ’eard next were blades a-clangin’. Loud an’ clear, stingin’ us ears. An’ ’fore long, we saw ’em.
Knights.
Knights drawin’ nigh.
Some o’ ’em pointed us way an’ yell’d, “Oy! O’er here! Some little devils I’ve found!”
“Crush the critters! ’Fore they flee!”
Th’bairns. I saw ’em then beefin’ an’ blenchin’, like they’d been lamp’d ’cross th’face. Thass ’ow ’igh an’ ’ard th’knights screams’d biff’d ’em. “Eh…? Ah…!?” th’bairns yelp’d. An’ then, I saw fear in ’em at last. Fear an’ sadness.
An’ next, I knew why. Aye, all o’ a sudden, I knew.
’Cos “sudden” is th’word.
On a bright an’ merry day: sudden assault.
On a quiet an’ sleepy ev’nin’: sudden violence.
Thass th’sort o’ world—th’sort o’ ’ell th’bairns’d long lived in. Them, an’ all their kind.
“…Dan,” I said.
“…Aye, Tomas?” answer’d me mate.
“Ye thinkin’ wot I’m thinkin’?”
“Aye. I reckon I am.”
Me an’ Dan. I don’t know wot a-went through us pates when we said that. Maybe ’cos we’re “riffraff”, as they calls ’em. No status. No fam’ly t’consider. Two soldiers fallen, ekein’ out a scant livin’ day after day.
Aye. Maybe thass why: we good-fer-nowts ’ad nowt t’lose.
“Oy. Both o’ ye. Get ye inside,” I said t’the bairns. “Quick, go on!”
But they only stood gaspin’. “What…?”
Thass when Dan gave ’em a stern face. “The arm’ry,” ’e said. “Go. ’Ide yerselves inside. An’ don’t make a peep or go a-peepin’! Not till we says it’s safe!”
We egg’d ’em inside swift. Took swords from some racks. Slam’d shut th’door ’hind us.
Then, there they all were. Knights, full-fledged. Ten, twelve. Can’t well-remember. Evil odds, Tomas. Evil odds, were all I could think t’meself. Ye’ll make a mighty fool o’ yerself if ye falls ’ere.
Well, I were a fool, frankly. A plain ol’ fool. Me an’ Dan both. But we weren’t fools, if ye gets me. ’Cos we felt it then, on that day, fer th’very first time: that queer feelin’ I’ve been chelpin’ ’bout.
Th’feelin’ o’ bein’ reight.
O’ knowin’ we were doin’ th’reight thing.
An’ so, th’reight thing we did. Come death or damnation, we did th’reightest thing we knew t’do—an’ drew ready us blades.
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