08 A Little Hatred: Book One (The Age of Madness)

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.’

‘That’s enough.’ Marsh nudged his horse forward with his heels. Nudged her between Broad and the chopping block, where the axe was. A good horseman. He sat high on his saddle with the sky bright behind so Broad had to squint up at him. ‘Lord Isher’s going to have his valley one way or another. No point being stubborn. Better for you to leave with a little money in your pocket.’

‘Better than what?’

Marsh took a heavy breath through his nose. ‘Be a shame if this lovely house o’ yours were to catch fire one night.’

His hand crept down. Not towards the peeling gilt basketwork of that fancy sword. To a knife, most likely. Thought he’d goad Broad into rashness, then he could just lean over and stab him, cut through a problem with one bit of sharp metal that a lot of talk couldn’t seem to unravel. Maybe that’d worked for him before. Worked a lot of times.

‘Catch fire, you say?’ Funny thing was, Broad didn’t feel angry. Such a relief to be able to let go, even for a moment, that he almost smiled.

‘That’s right.’ Marsh leaned down towards him. ‘Be a shame … if your lovely wife and daughter was—’

Broad caught his boot and flung him out of his saddle. Marsh gave a shocked grunt, flailed at the air as he went tumbling down.

He was snarling curses as Broad walked around the horse, trying to scramble up, but he had one foot still snarled in the stirrup.