Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Episode 19: Special Delivery

"Let me go," Doremus begged for the hundredth time. "I have shown you their lair. You can easily overpower them while they are sleeping."

"No," Gundar said firmly, his dagger glinting in the late afternoon sun. "You must make the delivery as usual."

"At least help me carry the basket. It is so heavy I can hardly walk."

Gundar hesitated. He had considered and re-considered that very point. If he acted the part of Doremus' helper, he would be in a better position to monitor the conversation, but he would surely arouse the suspicion of the Gallagher gang. Even if they took his presence at face value, they might well consider Gundar expendable once he had performed his function of transporting the supplies.

Careful interrogation had revealed that Doremus' association with the bandits far surpassed casual acquaintance. He had furnished their supplies for years, and had even enlisted their help in disposing of large and well-armed parties of visitors. While the brigands were in residence at their cave, he brought them bread, cheese, mead and other food items every afternoon in time for supper. In return, they shared the meat they had hunted, as well as other useful items they had taken from their victims.

Tonight, the mead was drugged. If none chose to abstain from drinking it, the rescue of the princess would be a simple matter, with no battling or bloodshed required.

"Go!" Gundar said, pushing Doremus roughly. The old man overbalanced with the weight of the wicker basket on his back, and fell.

"It is too heavy!" he whimpered. "I cannot bear it alone."

Gundar sheathed his dagger and motioned to Eric to assist him. After a some manoeuvring, they managed to get Doremus back on his feet, re-adjusted the straps of the basket, and replaced the items that had fallen out.

"You have carried the load this far," Eric said. "You can surely manage it the rest of the way."

"And remember," Gundar said. "My arrow will be trained on you the whole time. One false word from you, and I will sever your windpipe." He spoke with particular forcefulness because he was not at all sure he could make good on his threat. The bow was an old one, not particularly fine, that he had found in Doremus' shed. His practice shots had been less than satisfactory.

"Let me walk at his back," Scaramouche suggested gleefully. "I can hide under his cloak and slice off his gonads at the first sign of trouble."

"A fine idea," Eric seconded.

Once again, Gundar wavered, weighing his choices. Scaramouche had served him well, and both Gundar and Eric owed him their lives. But if he were discovered, his presence would be even harder to explain than Gundar's.

"We will keep things simple," Gundar said, "Doremus, you must go with no further ado, or die where you stand."

"Scaramouche could keep close to him in the underbrush and overhear the conversation," Eric suggested.

"Are you willing to do that?" Gundar asked the little man.

"Certainly," the little man said, fingering the handle of the short, curved knife he had found in Doremus' hoard. "I am eager to give this little beauty a try."

"So be it," Gundar agreed. "Doremus, you have prevaricated too long already. Be on your way."

"But what if Gallagher's men suspect something amiss?" Doremus whimpered.

"Die now or die later," Gundar said. "Your choice."

With a final glare at Gundar, Doremus struggled over the brow of the rise, leaning heavily on his stick. Scaramouche disappeared into the underbrush like a fox on the prowl, while Gundar and Eric took up their positions behind a pair of large rocks.

"Do you really believe this is going to work?" Eric said in a worried undertone.

"It all depends whether Doremus is the craven coward he appears to be, or whether he is putting on a show to deceive us," Gundar said. "If he gives us away, we will have an interesting fight on our hands."

"How many of them do you suppose are in there?" Eric said.

"Four if Doremus speaks truly. If not -- the whole gang might be ready to cut out our hearts." Gundar's warrior blood was pounding in his temples. He was spoiling for a good battle -- almost to the point of hoping that the cave held a small army.

"I am not a fighting man," Eric said.

"But you are a blacksmith," Gundar said. "That is why I gave you the war hammer to wield. Pretend that their skulls are anvils, and use your strength to its fullest advantage."

"I do not know if I have it in me to kill a man," Eric said.

"Never fear," Gundar reassured him. "You will find it comes naturally when someone else is trying to kill you."

Doremus was within easy earshot of the cave by now. The man on guard shouted an hearty greeting, and was quickly joined by two others from the interior.

"Help me," Doremus called. "My load is heavy and I am weary."

Gundar tensed and bent his bow. Two of the men ran forward eagerly, clamouring for their share of the mead.

"Those two will be dead to the world before we know it," Eric remarked as the men eased the heavy burden from Doremus' back.

The three walked towards the mouth of the cave, chatting animatedly.

"Starvelings, just as Doremus said," Gundar muttered, studying their ragged attire. "The brigand business cannot be very profitable."

"Perhaps this Gallagher shares his spoils with the poor to ease his conscience," Eric suggested. "If his heart is bent on vengeance, he may find it difficult to steal from those he has no quarrel with."

"An outlaw is an outlaw," Gundar said curtly. "There is no honour among thieves." His arm trembled with fatigue as he pulled back on the bow. Doremus was almost at the mouth of the cave. Now that the old man was free of his burden, he could easily duck inside before Gundar could get a shot off. Is this what Doremus had in mind all along?

Gundar tightened his grip. If he lost his bead on Doremus, one of others would pay the price.