A Mercenary's Tale
Chapter 1: Leaving

Copyright© 2018 by 2 flags

Donald looked over the battlefield with a sense of revulsion. He was tired. It had been a hard fought fight. What it was over, he wasn’t sure. That wasn’t his concern. He did as he was told, and fought who he was told to fight. Right or wrong, good or bad, made no difference. He was a member of ‘Gilbert’s Honourable Mercenary Company.’ He had been since he’d been fifteen. Now, twenty years later, he’d had enough. Had enough of the killing, the maiming, the stench of fear and the screams of men as he struck the killing blow. Not to mention the travelling and never having anywhere to call home. He had travelled enough for ten men. He had marched from one end of this land to the other, he had sailed more seas than most sailors.

He was the youngest child of seven. He was never going to inherit the farm. His prospects were to be a field hand for his brother, or for some other landowner, but he would never have been his own boss. His prospects would have been zero. No decent girl would have looked twice at him. Okay, that may not have been entirely true, but at fifteen, that’s how he had felt.

There had been good times, many good times. There had been wine women and song. Okay, so most of the women had been whores, but at least those women had been honest. He had made some fantastic friends, and buried them, too. He was sick of making friends of someone, then just a few weeks later having to face them in battle, just because a contract had changed hands. It had happened more times than he cared to remember. It had now got to the stage where he didn’t make friends anymore. It was time to leave. He made his way over to where Gilbert was standing.

“Donald, thanks for what you did, today. Your men made all the difference. When that last charge hit our lines, I really thought we’d had it. The way your men just held and refused to give ... well, it was astounding. It really turned the tide of the battle. I’ll speak to the Baron. I’ll make sure there’s a little extra in the kitty, this time.”

“Thanks, Gilbert. Make sure it goes to the families of those that didn’t make it. God knows, there’s enough of them.”

“How many this time?”

Donald shook his head. “I don’t know yet. I know young Michael didn’t make it. Took an axe to the head, split him open like a ripe melon. Only nineteen years old. Just a boy, really. Never had a chance.”

“Damn! I was just getting to like that kid. I’ll make sure his mother gets his share.”

“To be honest with you, I’ve had enough. I’ve been doing this for twenty years, now, and to tell you the truth, I don’t enjoy it anymore. I’ve had enough of the blood, the killing, the pain. How many Michaels have I caused personally? I just don’t know if I can do this again. It’s time. It’s time for me to stop.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t want to lose you.”

“I know, but we all know when the time comes. Remember Thomas? He told us he’d had enough, but we persuaded him to stay for one more campaign. What happened? He was killed in the first battle. He hesitated. Tried to wound rather than kill. Got himself killed instead. I know that will happen to me if I stay.”

Gilbert looked at him in the eyes. He saw that Donald was right. He smiled wryly.

“I guess you’re right. It comes to us all. I only hope when my time comes I have the courage to recognise it, and stop. Okay, I’ll get the quartermaster to sort it all out. Should be be ready in a couple of days.”

“Great, I’ll let my men know. Right now, there’s a flagon of ale with my name on it, and there’s a young lady that’s about to get the ride of her life!”

They both laughed at this. His men were sad, but they understood. They had been though it before. When it was time, it was time. The party went on all night, and yes, the young woman had an experience she would always remember. In fact, she had two nights she would remember!

He set off with all his worldly goods, which even he would admit that for a man in his position, was quite a lot. He had six horses. Two of which were war horses that any man would be proud to ride into battle. He had several sets of mail, any one of which would be worth a good sized farm, a good farm with good fertile land. He had weapons, swords, axes, shields, knives and his favourite, his bow. It was a powerful bow that he had made, himself. He was proud of his bow. His purse was full of gold. Lot’s of it. All in all, he was one of those rare creatures, a rich and successful mercenary.

He made an imposing sight as he rode through the countryside. He stood six-foot-four, with piercing blue eyes, and his dark hair was done in the customary style of the warrior’s braid. He was a big, powerful man, but with speed that belied his size. Many had found, to their cost, that he could move more quickly than any man his size had a right to. He had decided to travel south to where it was said the climate was mild and the farm land good. In the last twenty years he had been wet, cold and miserable, far too many times. He never wished to experience that again.

He had been travelling for around three weeks, revelling in the fact that he didn’t have to be up at dawn, training [he still did, but he didn’t have to, and that made all the difference!], and being able to travel at his own pace. He had arrived in a small town, a village, really. It had not much to recommend it, a tavern, stable, a couple of shops and a blacksmiths. It was however on the main trading route between Lord Blackmore’s land and Baron Shieldsmith’s. These men hated each other and encouraged bandits to prey on each other’s people. That made it a dangerous and somewhat sparsely populated area. Farms would be raided and burnt, the people would be robbed raped and killed. All in all, it was not a good place to be.

Donald had stopped for the night. He made a fine sight, arriving with six fine animals loaded with what could almost be considered a king’s ransom. He enquired if there was anywhere secure he could leave his animals and goods and was told the stables. He took one look and decided he would sleep in the hayloft that night. He saw a lad standing nearby and called him over. He asked him about the town, where was a good place to eat, what, if any, problems he might face. He was told that the only place to eat was the tavern. He was also informed of Felix. He was in charge of the local militia. He was also a braggart, bully and a thief. Donald thanked the boy and then asked him if he wanted to earn himself a silver shilling. The boy’s eyes lit up, then clouded over.

“What do I have to do to earn this money?” he enquired suspiciously

“Just watch my things, and come and get me if anyone tries to steal them,” Donald answered laughing.

“Okay!” the boy eagerly agreed.

Donald made his way to the tavern. It was a small, dark dingy sort of a place. He asked the landlord, a fat slovenly man, what they had available to eat.

“We got bread and meat stew,” the man replied

“Anything else?”

“No, that’s all we got. Take it or leave it.”

“I guess I’ll have to take it, then. Oh, and a flagon of your best ale,” Donald replied, more in hope than in expectation.

The man looked at Donald, sizing him up. He looked well dressed and wealthy.

“That’ll be three shillings” he said, putting Donald’s ale on the bar.

Donald just smiled and looked down at the man. “I beg your pardon? I thought you said three shillings? Surely I heard wrong?”

The man swallowed hard. Gathering his courage he answered “No, you heard right, three shillings.”

Donald picked up the ale, took a mouthful, then spat it back at the man. “If this is your finest ale, then I shudder to thing what your cooking is like. This ale tastes like horse piss. You can keep it.”

Laughter erupted at this. It seemed that the innkeeper did this sort of thing quite often. They were glad someone had finally stood up to him. He made his way over towards the general stores shop in the hope of obtaining something edible for his supper. He was half way there when four men strode purposely towards him. Donald stopped in the middle of the street. He loosened his sword in it’s scabbard.

“Those horses you came in with today, they yours?” the leader of them said.

“Yes, why? What concern is it of yours?”

“Well, you see, there’s the little matter of tax that needs paying. A kind of toll, safe passage and all that. Let’s say two of the horses and that purse you have on your belt.”

Donald smiled as he replied, “You really should go on the stage. You would make a fantastic comedy routine. Now why don’t you just go home like good little boys, and let honest men go about their business?”

“There’s four of us and only one of you. The tax has just risen to all your horses and your purse.”

“Four to one? A bit unfair, isn’t it? Tell you what, I’ll pop over to the shop and give you time to get some more of your friends, okay? Make it a bit more even.”

“Get hi...” was all the man managed to say. A knife suddenly materialised in his chest. The others stood stunned as their leader collapsed in a heap on the ground. Donald drew his sword.

“Okay, who’s next?” Donald asked, still smiling

One of them ... he was just a lad, really ... had a dark stain spreading down his leg. They all looked at each other, then ran.

Donald recovered his knife, wiping it on the man’s body. Then he went through the dead man’s things to see if there was anything of worth. Other than a few coins the rest of the stuff was trash. There was his sword, which if it had been in the possession of one of his men, the man would have been mocked and ridiculed. It was rubbish. There was a snuff box, his eating knife, and a large key. Donald was intrigued. What would a man like this be doing with a key? More importantly, what did he have locked up?

Faces peered out of doorways and alleyways as Donald finished his examination of the man’s belongings. He threw most of them down into the mud. The final insult, telling all present that even in death this man was worth nothing. He made his way over towards the shop.

“Good evening, my name is Donald” he said to the small middle aged man behind the counter with a smile. “I’m after some supplies. I was not happy with what they offered at the inn, so I was hoping I would be able to purchase something to eat, here. Also I seem to have made a bit of a mess out there. I was wondering if you could get someone to clean it up for me?”

The man looked at him in astonishment. Felix, for that indeed is who the dead man was, had held the town in thrall for so long. To see him killed in such an off hand manner and then the man who killed him act as if it was nothing! Well, he’d never seen anything like it!

“Ah, yes, quite, food, ah, yes, ah, I’ll just go and get it.”

The man disappeared into the bowels of his shop. He returned a short time later with a loaf of rather dry bread, it was at least three days old, some ham that looked and smelt quite good, and some cheese that was outstanding. He also brought flour, eggs, and a large jar of honey.

Donald, remembering how the inn-keeper had tried to cheat him fixed the man with a steely stare. “How much?”

The man looked at him and swallowed. He looked at his produce, looked back up at Donald and said, “Sixpence.”

Looking at the things in front of him, that was a reasonable price. “Good enough, I’ll have it. Now, do you have anything drinkable? Please, not like that horse piss he tried to fob me off with at the inn?”

The man smiled as he replied, “Yes, sir, we do.” He produced a large glass bottle. “This, sir, is the finest Frankish brandy. Sir, it’s not cheap, it’s three shillings a bottle. I know it’s a lot, but I can assure you that it is the finest brandy anywhere in the world. It’s at least twenty five years old. It’s like liquid gold, it slides down so smooth.”

Donald smiled. He had been to Frankland and knew all about their brandy. If what the man was saying was true, then the bottle was worth all of the three shillings, and more!

“Let me see,” he demanded of the man.

The man, reluctant to relinquish the bottle without payment, grudgingly handed the bottle over. Donald examined it. The bottle certainly was of the correct style, the seal was sound and unbroken.

“Very well, it appears this is what you claim. Sir, you have a sale!”

He asked for a sack for his purchases, and handed over the cash.

The man beamed as he took the money, and packed Donald’s purchases away. He smiled even more when he realised that he would no longer have to pay Felix and his gang their ‘security’ tax.

“Now then, what about the rubbish problem you have littering up the street out there? Who is going to clear it up? Who was he, anyway?” Donald enquired.

“Ah, well, sir, his name was Felix. He arrived a few years ago and just sort of took over. Anyone who refused his demands he beat up or killed. He has, or should say had, a farm just outside of town. He and his men took it over when they arrived. No-one dares go near it, now.”

“It seems I have just ‘inherited’ a farm. I’ll go over there in the morning. I’ll need someone to show me where it is.”

“Oh, there’ll be no shortage of people wanting to do that, I can assure you. The chance to see that fat bitch get what’s coming to her is something that no-one will want to miss.”

“Fat bitch?”

“Felix’s woman, Grizellda. I use the term ‘woman’ in it’s loosest term mind you. She is the most obnoxious creature I have ever encountered. Mind you, her brats are no better. Have no fear, we’ll all be there, tomorrow. Wouldn’t miss this for the world!” the man chuckled.

Donald returned to the stables with his supplies. He thanked the boy for watching over his things.

“Here you are, your payment. Tell me, what’s your name?”

The boys eyes went wide at the sight of the money. “It’s Simon.”

“Tell me, Simon, have you eaten today?”

Simon shook his head. “I will now though. I can afford a bowl of stew at the inn. It’s not very good, but at least it will fill me up!”

“I tried to get some food there, but he tried to charge me three shillings! I told him what he could do with that! I got some things from the stores shop. You’re welcome to share some of it with me if you’ll tell me a little about this place.”

Simon looked at him, then nodded. “Okay, I’ll get us some water from the well.”

“So, Simon, tell me about this place,” asked Donald as the two of them sat to eat their meal.

“Well,” replied Simon, his mouth stuffed with food as he ravenously devoured his share, “it’s like this. We’re not very big, there’s only the general stores shop, the stable, the blacksmith’s and the inn. We used to get a lot of caravans coming through, but since Felix took over, we don’t seem to get those anymore. They just seem to keep going. Don’t blame them really. Have you met Felix? He’s a real nasty piece of work. If he sees you, he’ll rob you for sure.”

“I’ve met Felix. Trust me, he won’t be bothering anyone else, ever again. I need to go to his farm tomorrow, to take possession. I was wondering if you would show me the way.”

The boy’s mouth fell open, then he exclaimed, “Take possession? That means you killed him? What about his family? What will they do?”

“I’ll decide that when I meet them. When a man has a family, he should think of them before trying to rob people. If you get killed or captured, well, there could be dire consequences for them. Them’s the rules. I didn’t make them, but I live by them. I have no family. All I have, you see here before you. As a mercenary you have to think of things like this, although I’d like to have seen anyone just walking in to our camp to claim my things,” laughed Donald

The boy’s eyes went even wider. “You’re a mercenary?”

“Yes, have been for the last twenty years. Wasn’t much older than you are now, but I must say, I was somewhat bigger. Tell me, how old are you?”

“I’m thirteen, I think. Don’t really know.”

“Doesn’t your mother know?”

“She’s dead. Died ages ago. She was the whore here in the inn. She got sick and died. Toby, that’s the stable owner, he gave me a job, here. I clean the place out and keep an eye on it. He feeds me and lets me sleep here. I do okay, I get at least one meal a day.”

Donald looked at the boy. He was a good hearted lad.

‘Might have to have a word to this Toby about wages. I don’t really hold with slavery,’ he thought.

“What about the rest of the area? What’s that like?”

“Well, for the most part it’s just farmers. There are about ten men in the militia. Most are okay, well sort of. It was Felix really, and Elijah. They are, or were, the worst.”

“Who’s Elijah?”

“He’s Felix’s right hand man. He’s a real bastard. He likes to hurt people, just ‘cause he can. I keep well out of his way I can tell you. If I see him coming, well, I make myself scarce.”

“I guess I’ll meet him, tomorrow; but right now, I’m going to get some sleep.”

Donald retrieved his weapons and bedding. They both settled down in the hay loft. It was late in the night when movement was heard. Thin shafts of moonlight shone through gaps in the walls and roof. Simon heard it first. He woke Donald. They heard three voices.

“Are you sure he’s at the inn?” said the first

“Well, he must be. Why would he be here? It’s only the boy, here. I’ll deal with him if he says anything,” said the second

“Well, I don’t like it. It’s not right. I know we charge taxes, but we shouldn’t just take stuff. Anyway, this one’s different. He’s quick. Really quick. You didn’t see how he killed Felix. I didn’t even see him move. I just blinked, and Felix was dead! I’ve never seen anything like it. I thing we should leave. We should never have come here,” said the third

“It sounds like you’re the only one with any sense. Leave now, and I’ll let you live. If you’re still there when I get down, then you’ll die,” called Donald from the hayloft.

Donald heard movement as the third voice bolted for the door.

“Come back here you little bastard! I’ll kill you when I catch you!” yelled the first voice.

“Elijah, I think we should do as he says and leave,” said the second voice

Donald smiled as he made his way to the edge of the hay loft. He saw the two men looking round silhouetted in a shaft of moonlight. He strung his bow. He was at first reluctant to use his bow, as he didn’t want to hit his horses. Now that he could see them, he could shoot them. He nocked an arrow, took careful aim and loosed. He hit the first man squarely in the body. The arrow went right through him. The second man looked up towards where the arrow had come from.

“Run!” Donald shouted.

The man did as he was bade. He ran for his life.

Donald lowered himself down from the hayloft. He moved towards the man he had shot. The man was slumped against one of the stalls.

“Who are you?” the man gasped

“My name is Donald, of Gilbert’s Honourable Mercenary Company. What were you doing trying to rob a man at night like this? You should have known better. Who are you, anyway?”

The man coughed, blood came from his lips. “I’m Elijah. I’m, I was, in charge around here since you killed Felix. Help me, will you?”

“I will if you answer one question. I found a key on Felix. What will it open?”

“Please, help me. It hurts so much,” the man pleaded

“Answer, or I’ll leave you to drown in your own blood.”

“It’s the lock on the main barn. It’s where he keeps the loot and the slaves.”

Donald nodded. He nocked another arrow, then shot the man through the heart. The man looked stunned, then collapsed to the floor.

“I don’t think that was quite the sort of help he was talking about,” Simon’s voice came from above him.

“He was dying, anyway. The arrow had caught a lung. He would have drowned in his own blood, soon enough. Come down here, let me show you something ... oh, and while your about it, light a lamp. It’s as black as hades, down here.”

The boy laughed at this and did as he was bidden. Once he came down, Donald took the lamp and approached Elijah’s body.

“Never approach a wounded enemy while he’s still breathing. Look, here in his hand.”

Donald lifted Elijah’s hand. A knife fell from his lifeless fingers.

“Many a man has been killed trying to help a wounded enemy. I’ve seen it myself, too many times. If you want to fight me, you had better be good, and you had better be prepared to die. If you do not kill me, I will kill you. I am an Honourable Mercenary. That means we do not steal, we do not pillage, and we do not rape. However we also show no mercy, and give no quarter on the field of battle. All know this, and we are much feared because of it.

“After a battle we have a method of approaching a fallen enemy. One man kneels down with his shield in front of himself, whilst another stands to the side with an arrow nocked in his bow. The man with the shield pushes the fallen enemy over with his shield. If the man reacts and tries to attack his helper, then the archer shoots him. I have seen it time and time again, where this approach has saved lives. Mine own, included. If I had knelt down like this before shooting him, he would have stabbed me.”

“What if a man on the field of battle wishes to surrender?” Simon asked, horrified.

“Then he better run, and hope we do not catch him.”

Donald quickly searched his body. He took his purse and weapons.

“I’ll search him properly in the morning. Right now, I’m going to back to sleep.”

Donald climbed back up into the hay loft, curled up in his bedroll and went straight back to sleep. Simon looked at him in astonishment. How could he sleep after killing a man like that? Simon lay there with his eyes open. Sleep just would not come.

They were both up at dawn. Donald did a thorough search of Elijah’s body. Although Donald found nothing of interest, he could see Simon looking at the piles of clothes.

“See anything you like?” Donald asked him.

“Well, these boots look good, and his trousers ... well, once they’re washed, well I could roll the legs up, and they should be alright. His jacket should be good, as well. I’m sure I’ll grow into it.”

Donald smiled. The lad probably only had the clothes he stood up in, and Donald had to admit, they were pretty threadbare.

“Take what ever you want. Here, you can have his knife as well. I don’t want it. We’ll find out where he lived, and see if there’s anything there worth having.”

“He lived at the farm. Most of the militia do.”

“Right, then! Training first, then breakfast, then we’ll be off to the farm.”

They dragged the body outside and left it on the rubbish dump.

Donald started with his sword work. He went through his forms, slowly at first, then getting quicker and quicker. He smiled as he saw Simon first watching him then trying to copy him, using a stick he had found on the ground. Donald stopped, went into the stable and retrieved a wooden practice sword.

“Here, try this. It’ll help you get the feel for the weapon.” He handed it to the lad.

Simon’s eyes went wide as he said, “Thanks!”

Donald started to instruct him in his stance, how to hold the sword and the first basic moves. The session lasted for about an hour. Donald did his stretching exercises to cool his muscles and wind down. Simon again copied him. They then had a breakfast of the remaining bread and cheese. It was after this, that the questions started.

“What’s it like being a mercenary? How many men have you killed? Can you teach me?” The questions continued non-stop ‘till Donald’s head began to spin. In the end, Donald told him to be quiet.

“Listen. Being a mercenary is tough. Each day could be your last. Your concern, your only concern, is to your company. Why you are fighting does not concern you. Who you are fighting for, does not concern you. You fight for money, and for your comrades. You do not concern yourself with right or wrong. The morality of the situation is not your concern. Every day you train, you fight, and you kill. You kill, for if you don’t, he will kill you.

“Most cannot stand it for more than a year. I have done it for twenty. I have killed more men than I can remember. I never knew their names. Nor would I want to. How many children have I orphaned? I don’t know. How many women have I widowed, again I don’t know. The only thing I have, the only thing any of us has, is our honour. I have never raped, I have never pillaged and I have never broken my word. That’s it. That’s the life of a mercenary. It’s a hard life, but for those who can stand the hardship, for those who survive, it can have it’s rewards. I have no family, and no children. My parents are dead. There is no one who would mourn for me. With my lifestyle, I could never take that chance. Never take the chance that I would be killed and my wife and children be left to starve, or worse.”

“Then we are the same. I have no family. I have no one who cares if I live or die. If I become a mercenary, I have nothing to lose, for at the moment, I have nothing anyway. You are wrong about one thing, though. There is someone who cares, there is someone who would mourn. You are the first person who has shown me any sort of kindness. You shared your food with me. You let me keep those things. You don’t care that my mother was a whore, or that I live in a stable. I would mourn for you.”

Donald smiled at him. “So you would follow me, would you? Train with me? Be my squire? I must warn you that the pay is lousy, the hours long, and the work is hard. So, you still up for it?”

The boy clasped his arms, his eyes shining. “Oh, yes! Yes, please!”

“Okay, let’s get our things together, and we’ll see what this farm is like.”

Edited By TeNderLoin

The source of this story is Storiesonline

To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account (Why register?)

Get No-Registration Temporary Access*

* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.

Close
 

WARNING! ADULT CONTENT...

Storiesonline is for adult entertainment only. By accessing this site you declare that you are of legal age and that you agree with our Terms of Service and Privacy Policy.