George Martin - Rogues

A tense silence settled among the friends.

“I got some news too,” the smith’s prentice said almost shyly. He sat slightly hunched at the bar, as if embarrassed at being a head taller than everyone else and twice as broad across the shoulders. “If’n nobody else has heard it, that is.”

Shep spoke up. “Go on, boy. You don’t have to ask. Those two just been gnawing on each other for years. They don’t mean anything by it.”

“Well I was doing shoes,” the prentice said, “when Crazy Martin came in.” The boy shook his head in amazement and took a long drink of beer. “I ain’t only seen him a few times in town, and I forgot how big he is. I don’t have to look up to see him. But I still think he’s biggern me. And today he looked even bigger still ’cause he was furious. He was spittin’ nails. I swear. He looked like someone had tied two angry bulls together and made them wear a shirt!” The boy laughed the easy laugh of someone who’s had a little more beer than he’s used to.

There was a pause. “What’s the news then?” Shep said gently, giving him a nudge.

“Oh!” the smith’s prentice said. “He came asking Master Ferris if he had enough copper to mend a big kettle.” The prentice spread his long arms out wide, one hand almost smacking Shep in the face.

“Apparently someone found Martin’s still.” The smith’s prentice leaned forward, wobbling slightly, and said in hushed voice. “Stole a bunch of his drink and wrecked up the place a bit.”

The boy leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms proudly across his chest, confident of a story well told.

But there was none of the buzz that normally accompanied a piece of good gossip. He took another drink of beer, and slowly began to look confused.

“Tehlu anyway,” Graham said, his face gone pale. “Martin’ll kill him.”

“What?” the prentice said. “Who?”

“Jessom, you tit,” Jake snapped. He tried to cuff the boy on the back of his head and had to settle for his shoulder instead. “The fellow who got skunk drunk in the middle of the day and fell off a cliff carrying a bunch of bottles?”

“I thought it was a cougar,” Old Cob said spitefully.

“He’ll wish it was ten cougars when Martin gets him,” Jake said grimly.

“What?” The smith’s prentice laughed. “Crazy Martin? He’s addled, sure, but he ain’t mean. A couple span ago he cornered me and talked bollocks about barley for two hours.” He laughed again. “About how it was healthful. How wheat would ruin a man. How money was dirty. How it chained you to the earth or some nonsense.”

The prentice dropped his voice and hunched his shoulders a bit, widening his eyes and doing a passable Crazy Martin impression. “ You know? ” he said, making his voice rough and darting his eyes around. “ Yeah. You know. You hear what I’m sayin? ”

The prentice laughed again, rocking back on his stool. He had obviously had a little more beer than was good for him. “People think they have to be afraid of big folk, but they don’t. I’ve never hit a man in my life.”

Everyone just stared at him. Their eyes were deadly earnest.

“Martin killed one of Ensal’s dogs for growling at him,” Shep said. “Right in the middle of market. Threw a shovel like it was a spear. Then gave it a kicking.”

“Nearly killed that last priest,” Graham said. “The one before Abbe Leodin. Nobody knows why. Fellow went up to Martin’s house. That evening Martin brought him to town in a wheelbarrow and left him in front of the church.” He looked at the smith’s prentice. “That was before your time though. Makes sense you wouldn’t know.”

“Punched a tinker once,” Jake said.

“ Punched a tinker? ” the innkeeper burst out, incredulous.

“Reshi,” Bast said gently. “Martin is fucking crazy. ”

Jake nodded. “Even the levy man doesn’t go up to Martin’s place.”

Cob looked like he was going to call Jake out again, then decided to take a gentler tone. “Well yes,” he said. “True enough. But that’s ’cause Martin pulled his full rail in the king’s army. Eight years.”

“And came back mad as a frothing dog,” Shep said.

Old Cob was already off his stool and halfway to the door. “Enough talk. We got to let Jessom know. If he can get out of town until Martin cools down a bit …”

“So … when he’s dead?” Jake said sharply. “Remember when he threw a horse through the window of the old inn because the barman wouldn’t give him another beer?”

“A tinker ?” the innkeeper repeated, sounding no less shocked than before.

Silence descended at the sound of footsteps on the landing. Everyone eyed the door and went still as stone, except for Bast, who slowly edged toward the doorway to the kitchen.

Everyone breathed a huge sigh of relief when the door opened to reveal the tall, slim shape of Carter. He closed the door behind him, not noticing the tension in the room. “Guess who’s standing a round of bottle whiskey for everyone tonight?” he called out cheerfully, then stopped where he stood, confused by the roomful of grim expressions.

Old Cob started to walk to the door again, motioning for his friend to follow. “Come on Carter, we’ll explain on the way. We’ve got to find Jessom double quick.”

“You’ll have a long ride to find him,” Carter said. “I drove him all the way to Baden this afternoon.”

Everyone in the room seemed to relax, “That’s why you’re so late,” Graham said, his voice thick with relief. He slumped back onto his stool and tapped the bar hard with a knuckle. Bast drew him another beer.

Carter frowned. “Not so late as all that,” he groused. “I’d like to see you make it all the way to Baden and back in this time, that’s more’n forty miles …”

Old Cob put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Nah. It ain’t like that,” he said, steering his friend toward the bar. “We were just a little spooked. You probably saved that damn fool’s Jessom’s life by getting him out of town.” He squinted at him. “Though I’ve told you you shouldn’t be out on the road by yourself these days …”

The innkeeper fetched Carter a bowl while Bast went outside to tend to his horse. While he ate, his friends told him the day’s gossip in dribs and drabs.

“Well that explains it,” Carter said. “Jessom showed up reeking like a rummy and looking like he’d been beat by twelve different demons. Paid me to drive him to the Iron Hall, and he took the king’s coin right there.” Carter took a drink of beer. “Then paid me to take him to Baden straight off. Didn’t want to stop off at his house for his clothes or anything.”

“Not much need for that,” Shep said. “They’ll dress and feed him in the king’s army.”

Graham let out a huge sigh. “That was a near miss. Can you imagine what would happen if the azzie came for Martin?”

Everyone was silent for a moment, imagining the trouble that would come if an officer of the Crown’s Law was assaulted here in town.

The smith’s prentice looked around at him, “What about Jessom’s family?” he asked, plainly worried. “Will Martin come after them?”

The men at the bar shook their head in concert. “Martin is crazy,” Old Cob said. “But he’s not that sort. Not to go after a woman or her wee ones.”

“I heard he punched the tinker because he was making some advances on young Jenna,” Graham said.

“There’s truth to that,” Old Cob said softly. “I saw it.”

Everyone in the room turned to look at him, surprised. They’d known Cob all their lives and had heard all his stories. Even the most boring of them had been trotted out three or four times over the long years. The thought that he might have held something back was … well … it was almost unthinkable.