Джо Аберкромби - A Little Hatred - Book One (The Age of Madness)

Broad winced. The clouds shifted and cast the yard into shadow, and the dread was at his shoulder again. ‘Don’t tell ’em that.’

‘What should I tell ’em?’

He frowned down at his aching hands, rubbed at one with the other. ‘Not that.’

‘What do the marks mean?’

Broad tried to twitch his shirt cuff down over the Ladderman’s tattoo, but the blue stars on his knuckles still showed. ‘Just something the boys I was with did.’ And he slipped his hand behind him. Where May couldn’t see it. Where he didn’t have to.

‘But—’

‘Enough questions,’ said Liddy, stepping out onto the porch. ‘Your father just got back.’

‘And I’ve got plenty to do,’ he said, standing. They must’ve been working hard to keep the house presentable, but it was too much for three, let alone two, looked like it was crumbling back into the land. ‘Must be half a dozen leaks to mend.’

‘Be careful. Put your weight on the roof, I’ve a feeling the whole house might fall down.’

‘Wouldn’t be surprised. I’ll check on our flock first, though. I hear the price for wool’s never better, what with all these new mills. They up the valley?’

May blinked over at her mother, and Liddy gave an odd kind of grimace, and Broad felt that dread pressing on him all the heavier. ‘What is it?’

‘We don’t have a flock no more, Gunnar.’

‘What?’

‘I wanted to give you a proper night’s sleep without having to worry.’ Liddy heaved up a sigh seemed to come right from her worn shoes. ‘Lord Isher fenced the valley in. Said we couldn’t graze there any more.’

Broad hardly understood what she was saying. ‘The valley’s common land. Always has been.’

‘Not any more. King’s edict. It’s happening all over. Next valley, too. We had to sell the flock to him.’

‘We had to sell him our sheep so he could graze ’em on our land?’

‘He gave us a good price. Some lords didn’t give their tenants that much.’

‘So I get fucked when I go to war and I get fucked when I come back?’ he snarled. The voice hardly sounded like his. ‘You didn’t … do anything?’

Liddy’s eyes were hard. ‘I couldn’t think of anything to do. Maybe you could’ve, but you weren’t here.’

‘None o’ this works without a flock!’ His father had raised sheep, and his grandfather, and his grandfather’s grandfather. Felt like the whole world had come unravelled. ‘What’ll we do?’ He found he’d clenched his fists again. He was shouting but he couldn’t stop. ‘What’ll we do ?’

And he saw May’s lip trembling like she was about to cry, and Liddy put an arm around her, and all the anger drained out of him and left him cold and desperate.

‘I’m sorry.’ He’d sworn never to lose his temper again. Sworn he’d live for the two of them, give them a good life, and he’d fucked it up a few hours through the door. ‘I’m sorry.’ He took a step towards them, lifting a hand, then saw the tattoos on the knuckles and jerked it back.

Liddy spoke soft and steady, looking him in the eye. ‘We’ve no choice, Gunnar. Isher offered to buy us out and we’ve got to go. Valbeck, I was thinking. There’s work in Valbeck. In the new mills.’

Broad could only stare at her. And in the silence, he heard the sound of horses, and turned towards the track.

There were three men coming up it. Coming slow, like they had all day to get there. One on a big chestnut. Two on a wagon with a creaky wheel. Gunnar recognised the driver. Lennart Seldom, the miller’s younger brother. Broad had always reckoned him a coward and there was nothing in his shifty squint now to change his opinion.

‘It’s Lennart Seldom,’ he muttered.

‘It is,’ said Liddy. ‘May, get inside.’

‘But Ma—’

‘Inside.’

The other two, Broad didn’t know. A long, lean one sat by Seldom, swaying with the jolting of the cart, a big flatbow across his knees. Wasn’t loaded, which was a good thing, as they’d a habit of going off at the worst times, but Broad couldn’t see any reason for him to have it even so. A weapon for killing men. Or at least for threatening to.

He liked the look of the last rider even less. Big and bearded, with a fancy cavalry sword hanging low at his side, and a fancy three-cornered hat on his head, and a fancy way of sitting his saddle and looking around like this was his land.

He reined his horse in closer to the house than was polite, twisted his hat off, scrubbing at his flattened hair with his nails, considering Broad in thoughtful silence. Seldom brought the wagon to a halt behind him, between the two big lichen-spattered gateposts Gunnar’s grandfather had carved on the boundary.

‘Gunnar,’ he said, shifty eyes flicking to Liddy and back.

‘Seldom.’

Liddy tidied a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and the wind took it right away and set it flicking about her worried face again.

‘You’re back, then.’ If Seldom was trying to sound happy about it, he fell well short. ‘Where’d you get the lenses?’

‘In Styria.’

‘How was it?’

‘Bad,’ said Broad.

‘Looks like you lost weight.’

The one with the flatbow flashed a crooked grin. ‘How big did he use to be?’

‘Even bigger,’ said the bearded one, barely giving Broad a glance as he settled his hat back on. ‘Evidently.’

‘Too little food and too much shitting, I guess,’ said Broad.

‘The soldier’s curse,’ said the bearded one. ‘Name’s Marsh.’ He bit the words off short like he didn’t care for talking and wanted to spend as little time at it as he could.

‘I’m Able,’ said the thin one. ‘We work for Lord Isher.’

‘What kind of work?’ asked Broad, though it was plain from the weapons.

‘This and that. Buying up property, mostly. This is Isher’s valley—’

‘This bit of it ain’t,’ said Broad.

Marsh gave an unhappy grunt, stretched his chin forward to scratch at his beard.

‘You can’t make a living here, Gunnar.’ Seldom gave a wheedling little chuckle. ‘You know that. Not now there’s no grazing. To be fair to Isher, the king’s hiked up his taxes neck high to pay for his bloody wars. There’s land getting fenced in all over. Worked with machines.’

‘Efficiency,’ grunted Marsh, not even looking round.

His not caring a shit made Broad care all the more. ‘My father died on this land,’ he said, struggling to keep his voice down. ‘Fighting the Gurkish.’

‘I know. Mine, too.’ Seldom shrugged. ‘But what can I do?’

‘You just do what you’re told, eh?’

‘If I don’t, someone else will.’

‘Progress,’ grunted Marsh.

‘Is it?’ Broad frowned up the valley, towards the other houses, all sitting quiet. He’d thought it was strange, that there was no smoke from the chimneys. ‘Turned all these others out already, did you? Lant and his daughters, and the Barrows, and Old Neiman?’

‘Neiman died, but the rest sold up.’

‘We made ’em see the sense in it,’ said Able, shifting that flatbow in his lap.

‘So why’s my wife still here?’

Seldom sneaked another shifty glance at Liddy. ‘Just wanted to give her some more time, ’cause we all know each other and—’

‘You always liked her. I understand. I like her myself. That’s why I married her.’

Liddy had a worried, warning note in her voice. ‘Gunnar—’

‘Why she married me, I couldn’t say. But she did.’

Seldom gave a watery effort at a smile. ‘Look, friend—’

‘I wasn’t your friend before I left.’ Felt suddenly like it was someone else speaking, and Broad was just watching. ‘I’m even less your friend now.’