Through the Darkness

After the little procession was out of earshot, Bembo turned to Oraste and asked, “How long do you suppose they’ll last?”

“In a soldiers’ brothel? Couple-three weeks,” Oraste replied. “They wear ‘em out, they use ‘em up, and then they bring in some fresh meat. That’s how it goes.”

“About what I thought.” Bembo looked after the blondes. He sighed and shrugged. “They don’t know what they’re getting into, poor dears.” Like a lot of Algarvians, he was sentimental about women, even Kaunian women.

Oraste wasn’t. “Maybe they don’t know what they’re getting into, but I bet they’ve got a pretty good notion of what’ll be getting into them.” He threw back his head and guffawed.

“That’s not bad,” Bembo said, and, coming from Oraste, it wasn’t. The constables walked on for a few paces. Then Bembo stroked his chin. “I wonder why that old Kaunian from Oyngestun thought his granddaughter was somewhere outside the Kaunian quarter.”

“Who cares?” Oraste answered, which threatened to kill off conversation altogether. But he went on, “She ran off, remember? That’s what the old geezer told us, anyhow. Maybe some Forthwegian’s hiding her here in town and taking it out in trade.” His leer was lewd, filthy.

“Aye, that could be,” Bembo admitted; however crude Oraste was, he had a good notion of how people worked. “She was prettier than most of these Forthwegian women, anyhow. They’re built like bricks.”

That was unchivalrous, but, from what Bembo had seen, pretty much true (he didn’t think about how he was built). Still crude but very practical, Oraste said, “Well, if we catch her, we can get some of that for ourselves.” He rocked his hips forward and back. Bembo’s nod held nothing but eager agreement.

Even before Leofsig knocked on his own front door, he knew something had gone wrong. He heard shouts from inside the house, as he hadn’t since Sidroc went off to join Plegmund’s Brigade. No sooner had he knocked than he stiffened. One of those raised voices belonged to his cousin.

He must have got leave, Leofsig thought. And, sure enough, when the door swung open, there stood Sidroc, big as life. “Hullo,” he said. “Good to see you again.”

“Hello yourself,” Leofsig answered, and let it go at that. When he and Sidroc clasped hands, it quickly turned into a trial of strength. After a while, they both gave up, with honors about even. Sidroc grinned. Even a few months before, his grip wouldn’t have been a match for Leofsig’s. Not caring to acknowledge that, Leofsig asked, “How long will you be here?”

“Three days,” Sidroc said. Leofsig decided he could probably stand that. His cousin went on, “Then it’s back to the encampment outside of Eoforwic a little while longer. Then advanced training somewhere else--they haven’t told me where yet.”

Leofsig didn’t much care where Sidroc went, so long as he went. “Let me by, will you? I’ve been working all day in the hot sun, and I want to wash.”

“I know that feeling, by the powers above,” Sidroc said. He hadn’t known it before he left; then his main goal had been avoiding as much work as he possibly could. But he didn’t step aside. “They treat us pretty well, though. We even had Ethelhelm and his band come out and play for us the other day.”

“Did you?” Leofsig’s opinion of Ethelhelm dropped a notch or two. This time, instead of asking, he pushed past his cousin and into the entry hall. Sidroc gave him a dirty look, but closed the door after him. Only as Leofsig stepped into the kitchen did he belatedly realize Sidroc was liable to be a very nasty customer in a fight.

In the kitchen, Conberge was chopping leeks and throwing them into the pot over the fire. Mutton stew, Leofsig’s nose told him. Without the slightest effort to keep her voice down, his sister said, “Well, he won’t be staying here very long, powers above be praised. As far as I’m concerned, if the Algarvians want him so much, they can have him.”

Sidroc could hardly miss hearing what she said. The next-door neighbors could hardly miss hearing what she said. Leofsig turned back toward the entry hall. He wondered if he would find out just how nasty a customer his cousin could be.

But Sidroc, to his relief and even more to his surprise, stayed out of the kitchen. “Can I clean up a bit?” Leofsig asked.

Conberge pointed to a kettle next to the pot to which she’d just added the leeks. “Hot water’s right there waiting for you,” she said. She looked past him toward the entry hall. Pointedly, she added, “Some stinks don’t go away no matter how you wash.”

“Let him be,” Leofsig said. His sister’s eyebrows flew up. He went on, “You said it yourself: he’ll be gone soon. If we can stay civil for three days, that will be the end of it.”

“How can there be an end, with a traitor in the family?” Conberge demanded.