The Serpentwar Saga: The Complete 4-Book Collection. Raymond E. Feist
way of telling us to sleep as soon as we can,’ said Biggo.
Sho Pi nodded. ‘We will get an early start on whatever it is we do tomorrow, then.’ He curled up on the stone shelf and closed his eyes.
Erik said, ‘I’m not sleeping in my own filth.’ He removed his boots and trousers, then took them to the slops bucket and did his best to shake loose the dirt there, using a bit of the drinking water to clean them as best he could. It was a gesture, nothing more, and the pants were still dirty and again wet when he put them back on, but he felt better for trying.
Some others followed his example, as Erik nodded at Roo, who sank back into a corner with his arms wrapped around him, despite the fact it wasn’t at all cold that night. But Erik knew his friend felt a chill inside that no fire would ever drive out.
Erik lay back, and to his astonishment felt a warm fatigue sink into his bones, and before he could ponder the amazing events of the day he was asleep.
‘Get up, you scum!’ shouted de Loungville, and the prisoners stirred. Suddenly the cell erupted in a cacophony of sound as guards slammed shields against the iron bars and began to shout.
‘Get up!’
‘On your feet!’
Erik was standing before he was fully awake. He looked at Roo, who blinked like an owl caught in a lantern’s light.
The door to the cell was opened and the men ordered out. They came to stand in the same order they had marched to the gibbet in, and waited without comment.
‘When I give you the command to right turn, you will all turn as one and face that door. Understand?’ The last word wasn’t a question but a harsh command.
‘Right turn!’
The men turned, feet shuffling, the shackles making any quick movement difficult. The door at the end of the cell block opened, and de Loungville said, ‘When I give the order, you will start forward, with your left foot, and you will march behind that soldier there.’ He pointed to a guardsman with the chevron of a corporal on his helm. ‘You will follow him in order, and any man who fails to keep his place will be back on the gallows within one minute. Are we clear on that?’
The men shouted, ‘Yes, Sergeant de Loungville!’
‘March!’
The first man in line, Billy Goodwin, moved out, but it was obvious that Biggo and Luis didn’t know their left from their right, and it was a ragged group that set out after the corporal. They followed through a long corridor, away from the courtyard where they had endured the false hanging the day before. They climbed a long flight of stairs and were taken into what appeared to be the palace proper. Their chains clanked as they moved quickly, and suddenly Erik was self-conscious, as they were hurried past some court officials who glanced at them and returned to whatever discussion they were having.
Erik realized he was still filthy, as were all the other five men, though Sho Pi was only in need of a bath. The rest had soiled their clothing and had infused it with the reek of terror. The bit of cleaning the night before had done nothing to rid the clothing of the stink. Usually untroubled by the smell of honest sweat, a constant companion to a blacksmith, Erik was now repulsed by the stench that intruded on his nose.
‘In there,’ said de Loungville, and Erik realized it was the first time he had spoken in a calm voice in two days.
They entered a large chamber, with six steaming tubs of water, each as high as a man. The door was closed and Erik heard it bolted from outside. Guards came and unlocked the manacles and shackles. ‘Strip off those rags!’ said the corporal.
Biggo started to remove the rope from around his neck, but de Loungville shouted, ‘Leave that there, swine! You’re dead men and that’s to remind you. Strip off the rest!’
The men removed their clothing. Erik put his boots in a corner, and watched as a serving boy gathered up the ragged, stinking clothing.
‘You’re going to meet someone very important,’ said de Loungville. ‘We can’t have you stinking the place to high heaven. I don’t mind, but I’m lowborn like you swine and have no tender ways; others aren’t so tolerant.’ He motioned, and other boys, dressed in the livery of palace squires, carried buckets of soapy water. Without warning, they lifted the hot soapy water and poured it over Biggo and Billy Goodwin, and then returned to the tubs for more. ‘Wash down!’ shouted de Loungville. ‘I want you as clean as you’ve ever been in your life!’
The men began to clean away weeks of grime, body filth, and stench. Harsh salves were brought to rub into their hair to rid them of any lice, and Erik thought he’d have no hair left, yet by the time they were done, he stood shivering but revived. He hadn’t felt this clean since the night before he and Roo had killed Stefan.
He looked at Roo, who nodded and gave a pale imitation of his former smile. He hugged himself as water dripped off the only thing he wore, the noose around his neck. He had scant body hair, and Erik was astonished how much he looked like a little boy.
Clothing was produced, plain grey tunic and trousers, and Erik was allowed to reclaim his boots, as the others with footgear were. Biggo and Billy went barefoot.
They were lined up and inspected by Robert de Loungville, who said, ‘You will be allowed to go without chains for a while; the noise and sight of them might be offputting to some of the more tender-natured of those we are about to meet. But first you will follow me.’
The corporal ordered them to return to line and they did so, falling in raggedly in the same order they had entered the bathing room.
They were marched to a small courtyard and there brought to a halt. Along the top of the wall, guards with crossbows were stationed, while every fifth man held a longbow. ‘Those fellows up there with the big bows are Pathfinders,’ said de Loungville. ‘They can hit a sparrow at a hundred yards. They’re up there to keep any of you from becoming inspired during our next little demonstration.’
He motioned and a guard handed him a sword. ‘Any one of you scum think they know how to use this?’
The prisoners looked at one another, saying nothing.
‘Do you!’ bellowed de Loungville into the face of Luis de Savona.
‘I’m a fair hand with the sword. Sergeant,’ he said softly.
De Loungville reversed the sword and handed it to de Savona. ‘Then here’s the deal. Run me through with this and you can walk out of the palace a free man.’
De Savona looked around and, after a long moment, shook his head, throwing the sword to the ground.
‘Pick that up!’ raged de Loungville. ‘I’ll tell you when to put something down! You pick up that sword and run me through with it, or I’ll have that man up there’ – he pointed to one of the Pathfinders – ‘put a clothyard shaft through your thick skull. Is that clear?’
De Savona said, ‘Either way I’m a dead man.’
De Loungville came up to the taller Rodezian and shouted into his face, ‘Do you doubt my word? I said if you killed me you would be a free man! Are you saying I would lie to you?’
When de Savona said nothing, Robert de Loungville struck him across the face. ‘Are you calling me a liar?’
Luis bent, grabbed the sword, and as he came up, he moved forward. Lunging, he abruptly found de Loungville had easily sidestepped the sword, and suddenly he was on his knees, with de Loungville behind him, the noose now pulled tightly around his neck. As he struggled for air, de Loungville said, ‘I want you all to listen.
‘Every man you meet from now on is your better. Each of them can take any weapon you have away from you like you were a baby. Each of them has proved himself a hundred times over to me, and I will grant any and all of them permission to cut your throat, strangle you, bludgeon you with a club, kick you to death, or whatever else they feel like if you so much as fart without my permission. Is that clear?’