Jack Whyte - The Lance Thrower

He was waiting for me on top of the main tower supporting the curtain wall across the front of the main gates, and as I strode toward him he stood watching me, one hand cupping his chin while the other supported his elbow. I tried to read his expression as I approached him, but his face betrayed nothing.

“What is it?” I asked.

He jerked his thumb toward the edge of the tower. “Look over there.”

I looked down toward the drawbridge, to where a party of three men sat gazing back up at me from horseback. One of the three carried a white banner.

“They want to talk? Who are they?”

Brach sauntered over to stand beside me. “Don’t you recognize the one in the middle?”

I stared, trying to place the man’s face, but as far as I could tell I had never seen him before. I shook my head, and Brach’s mouth quirked wryly.

“That’s Tulach, Cousin, Gunthar’s senior commander.”

“Tulach the Butcher? Are you sure? What would he be doing here, looking to talk to us?” If Brach was correct, the man below was an inhuman creature, whose depravity and debauched behavior had become the stuff of legend within mere months of his arrival here in Benwick.

My cousin sniffed. “I am absolutely sure of who he is, because I have seen him before and spoken to him on several occasions. As to why he is here, I would be prepared to wager that he has come, as Gunthar’s official representative, to offer us safe conduct out of here if we will simply consent to leave without further hostilities and surrender the castle and its kingdom to Gunthar.”

“And will you accept his offer?”

Brach merely glanced at me sidewise. “Would you?”

“Hmm. Where’s Chulderic?”

“I sent for him, but he’s not as young as you are. Moves more slowly. He should be here soon.”

“So what do you intend to do?”

“Talk to him, I suppose. Listen to what he has to say, then tell him what I wish him to say to my fratricidal brother. Here comes Chulderic now.”

The upshot of the ensuing conversation was that I was delegated to ride out and talk to Tulach, thereby delivering a tacit message that Chulderic and Brach both considered it beneath their dignity and station to tattle with the enemy. I took two of my own troopers with me, and. as the men at the controls lowered the great drawbridge, we rode out toward the enemy party. Above us as we went I could hear the tramp of running feet as bowmen hurried to line the walkway along the top of the wall, and as their sergeants shouted orders I could visualize them setting themselves up, nocking their arrows, and standing prepared to draw and shoot upon command.

Tulach watched me coming, his face stern and unreadable. I paid no attention at all to the two men he had with him, just as he betrayed no interest in the two men escorting me. He was a bigger man than I had expected, and his face was hard and cruel, with high, flat cheekbones and deep lines graven on each side of his mouth. I was expecting him to state his business without waste of time, and he did, but what he said was the very last thing I would have hoped or expected to hear.

“I want safe conduct,” he said, “for me and my men. No more fighting. You allow us to ride out along the main road to Lugdunum without bothering us or pursuing us and we will leave your lands immediately and never come back.”

“How many men do you have?” I asked the question for no other purpose than to gain time and cover my own stupefaction.

“Nigh on five hundred, altogether.”

“All horsemen?”

“Aye. We have no truck with Gunthar’s infantry.”

“And how far do you intend to go from here?”

“That’s no concern of yours. We can fight our way out, if need be, but I thought we might both prefer—your friends and mine—to sacrifice no more men than we have already lost.”

I nodded my head judiciously, as if I knew exactly what I was doing and talking about, but I was still as completely in the dark as I had been when he first told me what he wanted, and the predominant thought in my mind was that the man obviously thought we were far stronger and had more resources at our disposal than was the case. And if that were true, I thought, I would have to be careful not to disillusion him.

“You have come up with the only viable reason I could imagine for gaining our agreement in this … the need to squander no more lives. But how can I be sure that, given my promise, on behalf of my people, that you will not be pursued or harassed, you won’t take that as a license to murder and plunder your way from here to Lugdunum? I can hardly take you at your given word, can I? Your reputation for trustworthy honesty and open dealings leaves much to be desired, from where we watch. Your name reeks of atrocity throughout Benwick. Tulach the Butcher, they call you, and you have earned all the hatred that goes with such a name.”

His face betrayed no emotion. “Aye, that may be. But now everything has changed and I’ll butcher no more. Our days here are done.”

“Really, say you so? And what does Gunthar the brother-killer say to that?”

“No single word. Gunthar is dead. He died yesterday, late in the evening, in a fit of rage. His eyes filled up with blood and his face turned black and he staggered and fell dead, clutching his head. I was there at the time.”

I was struck speechless, but fortunately Tulach felt the need to say more and kept on talking. “With him gone, our cause is gone and so is our livelihood, so we need to move on and find further employment. Knowing that, I decided to come here and speak with you people. Particularly with Chulderic and Brach, the sole remaining brother.”

“Your information is surprisingly up-to-date. We buried Samson only last night.”

Tulach shrugged. “I didn’t know that, but I knew he had been killed. Will Chulderic speak with me?”

“No, he will not. Had he wished to speak with you he would have come out here instead of sending me. You have not endeared yourself to anyone here over the past few months.”

The big man shrugged. “So be it. Are you authorized to grant acceptance of my suggestion, or do you have to discuss it with the others?”

“They are here. I’ll consult with them on this and return soon.” I made to turn my mount around, but he forestalled me, reaching into the scrip that hung at his waist and tossing me a cloth bag that, from the way it felt when I caught it, evidently contained a small box of wood.

“Best take them this, then, because they’ll no more take my word on this than you would.”

My curiosity was instantly aroused and it was all I could do to resist the temptation to sit there and open the bag and its contents right in front of him. Instead, keeping my face rigidly blank, I nodded and tucked the bag into my own scrip. “Wait here,” I said, and swung my horse around, leaving him sitting there.

Brach and Chulderic were waiting for me in the courtyard and they were as amazed as I had been to hear the tidings of Gunthar’s death, but their wonder and gratitude immediately gave way to suspicion and fear of entrapment. This was precisely the kind of duplicity we could expect Gunthar to use to disarm us, Chulderic swore, but while they were debating I withdrew Tulach’s bag and opened the box it contained. My stomach heaved immediately, but I quickly conquered my revulsion and held the open box out toward the others.

“I believed him when he told me Gunthar is dead,” I told them. “But there’s the proof. Gunthar would never part willingly with his personal seal, especially when it was yet attached to his finger. Tulach must have cut the finger off, knowing we would never believe his unsupported word.”

Brach reached out and took the box, shaking his brother’s severed finger with its heavy, ornate seal out into his palm, where he pulled the ring free and dropped the finger into the dirt at his feet.