K Parker - Memory

'Hello yourself,' Poldarn muttered. 'You said you were on your way to Falcata. To see your son,' he remembered, God only knew why.

'I was,' she replied solemnly. 'But unfortunately there was some dreadful mistake about money-they said I hadn't paid my fare, and I had, I remember it distinctly; and they made it sound like I was deliberately trying to deceive them, and I couldn't do something like that, really I couldn't, and they put me off the mail at Cardea, and there I was, stuck, because of course I'd spent all my money on the fare, because of course my son will be meeting me at Falcata, so I didn't need any for the journey. Anyway, it was quite dreadful, and I don't know what I'd have done if a kind gentleman hadn't given me nine quarters at Cardea lodge, which meant I could catch this coach, but it's only going as far as Chacquemar, and what I'll do then I have no idea-'

Poldarn could only think of two ways of shutting her up; and, since he'd resolved that he wasn't going to kill anybody, no matter how annoying they were, he had no option but to go with the other alternative. He stuck his hand in his pocket and brought out two of his four remaining gross-quarters. 'Here,' he said, 'this ought to get you from Chacquemar to the city.'

'Oh.' The old bat looked quite startled, even shocked. 'But no, that's far too generous, I couldn't possibly. And besides, I'd worry so much till I'd paid you back. Of course,' she added quickly, 'my son will be delighted to send you the money as soon as I reach Falcata, if you'll give me your address.'

Clearly she hadn't quite grasped the fact that Poldarn and his friends were highway robbers. True, there wasn't much about the way they'd gone about handling this holdup to suggest it. 'Forget about it, please,' Poldarn said. 'In fact, here's another,' he added, sticking a third coin in her hand. 'You'll need to get something to eat-it's a long road.'

She smiled at him. 'Oh, I hardly eat anything any more,' she replied. 'It's one of the best things about getting old, if you ask me. But thank you ever so much, and would you mind awfully if I bought some millet and corn and seed for Slowly and Surely-my little darlings,' she added, pointing to the wicker basket. 'They're fast asleep at the moment, bless them, or I'd open their basket and you could say hello to them. They haven't had anything but horrid old crusts and breadcrumbs since we left Aleomacta.'

Poldarn closed his eyes just for a moment. 'Fine,' he said. 'As far as I'm concerned you can treat them to haddock roe and smoked eels, just so long-'

'Oh, they wouldn't like that. They don't eat fish.'

'Really. Well, have a safe trip.'

'Are you sure you don't want my son to send you the money? I really do feel-'

'Goodbye,' Poldarn said, and he stepped back, slapping the lead horse hard on the rump. It started and broke into a trot. Poldarn turned, pulled his axe out of his belt and faced the rest of the desperadoes.

'Not one word,' he said.

After that it rained heavily for the rest of the morning and all afternoon. A lumber cart and a small chaise went by, but the desperadoes couldn't be bothered to leave the shelter of the trees. Besides, as Chiruwa pointed out to nobody in particular, where was the point, it'd only end up costing them money…

Just before sunset the rain stopped, and the robbers debated what they should do next. A significant faction were in favour of calling it quits and making for the colliers' camp, where at least they'd be sure of finding a nice warm fire, even if they struck out where food and beer were concerned. A slender majority, however, held out for staying put and waiting to see what the morning would bring; Poldarn's being the deciding vote. Mostly, he guessed, it was the shame of having been seen in the act of gratuitous charity; partly, though, he was concerned that the colliers might have heard rumours about the spate of robberies on the road. Grimes were still crimes, and ludicrous ineptitude was no defence. Besides, it was quite possible that one or other of their victims, in telling the tale of his adventures, might have altered the facts slightly, preferring to attribute his escape to cunning or valour rather than the fecklessness of his assailants. Accordingly, the gang held their position and huddled down in what little shelter they could find. It rained hard all night, needless to say.

Poldarn was sure he'd only just closed his eyes after many hours of wet, sleepless misery when someone grabbed him by the shoulder and hissed at him to wake up.

'Coach,' Chiruwa was whispering. 'Come on, get up.'

Poldarn yawned and stumbled to his feet. The coach, which he could see quite clearly through the dripping branches, had slowed down to ford a shallow stream that crossed the road. It was rather a splendid affair; painted blue and yellow, with a fine canopy of waxed brown leather, and drawn by four good-looking horses. The driver perched on the box was wearing a fine grey cloak and a new-looking black felt hat.

'Money,' someone murmured. 'I mean, just look at the buggers.'

Poldarn could see his point; after all, how could it be fair for rich bastards to bounce happily up and down the roads in well-fed, dry comfort, while poor starving thieves had to sleep out in sodden rags? They'd see about that.

It wasn't till the coach was right up close that it occurred to the gang that this was their first serious attempt at practising their craft. Nobody really knew what to do. Even if they all jumped out in front of the coach there was no guarantee it'd stop, and they could get hurt that way. What they should've done, Poldarn realised, was block the road ahead with a fallen tree, then take the coach from the rear as soon as it stopped. No time for that now. It was jumping out in front, or nothing.

'On three,' Chiruwa said, but nobody heard him; they were already on their feet and scampering out onto the road, waving their arms and shouting. It turned out to be a good manoeuvre; the driver must have assumed they were warning him about some hazard ahead on the road, because he pulled up as they approached, and asked them what the matter was. Then Chiruwa yelled out, 'Shut your face, this is a hold-up,' and things started to go rather badly.

The driver was pushed abruptly aside and men started crawling out from under the canopy onto the box, and jumping down. There proved to be eight of them, big men with swords and matching helmets. It was at this point that the desperadoes began to wonder whether they were adequately equipped for the job in hand.

True, they all had something that'd pass for a weapon: some had hammers, Chiruwa had a knife with a blade a foot long, and Poldarn had his short axe, the one he'd found in the ditch where he'd killed the crows. They also outnumbered the coach escort, eleven to eight. In theory, they had the advantage. It just didn't feel that way at the time.

The hell with it, Poldarn told himself; suddenly, the picture was starting to look depressingly familiar, the pattern emerging. He should, of course, never have tagged along in the first place. Now it was time to leave, as quickly as possible, before he got hurt or killed anybody. He turned and ran back into the wood, as fast as he could go without crashing into a tree or tripping on a fallen branch.

After a while, he stopped, leaning forward, hands on knees, catching his breath and listening. Nothing to suggest he'd been followed (and why should they go haring off into the trees when they were already outnumbered?) He'd got away, free and clear. No harm done.

Even so.

Even so, it hadn't been the right thing to do. Chiruwa and the rest were criminal idiots, but unfortunately he was on their side. The coach guards had looked as though they'd make short work of the foundrymen, assuming they hadn't done so already. But there could be survivors-or prisoners, which was worse still. With a sigh Poldarn turned round and headed back toward the road.