We have done the Dun-men abundance of mischief, and we went against Grimbold’s wishes, and crossed the Isen when he forbid it. But he is not our lord to command us, and we go whither we will – that is, until now.
Tonight, we were set upon by a herd of Horse-men, and they surrounded us, and aiming their bows and spears at our throats, commanded us to lay down our weapons, because their king does not abide strangers wandering the land without his leave.
There was a maiden with long plaits drooping down, very plain of face, who ordered me to pick up my sword from the ground, and give it her. But I do not stoop to any Man, or Woman, so I refused, and so she must alight and take up Steel-Thorn herself, which she did. It enraged me, but what could I do? We were overpowered – their numbers were greater, and they were mounted, on swift horses, and we were tired, and wounded, and famished, and Lord Estarfin's boots were near falling-apart. It went very ill when Nirhen, in her usual defiant manner, refused to give up her father’s sword. She would not listen to reason nor threats, so Lord Tindir balled up his fist and bashed her in the skull. Then she dropped to the ground without further protest, and was slung over one of the horses like a sack of grain. With as much grace as we could, and with some prodding of the Horse-men's spears, the rest of us marched over the grassy plain to a man-town.
Everything inside was mean and muddy, and a crowd came out to gawp at us, and then we were hustled inside a wooden building, which is well methinks, else they began to throw rocks. So we were as cheerful as we could be with these savages who locked us in a storehouse, stuffed to the rafters with food: good salt pork, and yellow cheese, and root vegetables, too, which looked plump and sound. I was fain to have tasted some of it, but they threatened to cut off our hands, if we dared. And then Lord Veryacano pulled out a fiery ruby from his pouch, and with it, bargained to buy all the provisions we needed, when he could have purchased the entire lot, five hundred times over, with such a gem! But it was a thing done to no purpose, because these Men care not for gems, or gold. We would have gone hungry, had not the maiden who took my sword come in with a basket of bread and cheese, and laid it on the floor at our feet, but not before Rag-boy took a share, his toll of a bread-roll, as it were. This maiden seemed, I believe, a virtuous woman, and of better quality then all the men put together.
In these poor lodgings we spent the night, weary and unhappy, and forced to listen to the rude noise of the tow-headed Horse-men, and endure their intolerable country manners. I sitting in a dark place beside the insensible Nirhen, for once able to tolerate my closeness to her, carefully observed these most backward of men.
The one named Denholm is their leader. He is not a raggedy, besotted fellow like most of his comrades, and seems a quick and ready man, but not so wise as he should be, to treat strangers with such discourtesy.
I became quite weary of the talk of one youth named Redwick, who titled himself as a bowman and ‘professional drunkard.’ So it is that these Men take up drinking as a career, but for the life of me, I cannot see any money in it. I can think of a better name for Redwick, such as Briar-Locks, and Rag-boy, and many others, which I do not care to write. Rag-boy is a bedraggled oaf that goes without proper gloves, and it may be his particular fashion to wind filthy strips of cloth around his hands, because he is so impoverished.
Fine company, all of these men, and rudeness everywhere; and among other things it astonished me to see our guards drink from the cask of mead, stolen by Rag-boy from under the very noses of his fellows, and become very merry with each other, and very gleeful to see us brought so low. For they deemed us spirits, or bewitching folk in their great ignorance, who had come from over the hills to fright them on purpose, and once they saw we were not as their tales had spoken, they were quite willing to taunt us, now that we had no ‘magic’ or weapons to fight them. “Come, tell us a tale of what you know of us!” they urged, becoming besotted in their brains, but in truth, I have heard none, because they are a people unworthy of such. I thought to tell them of the Great Wurm of the North, but what use would it be to entertain drunkards?
No doubt they are jealous of us, and mighty mad that they live such difficult, hardscrabble lives, and from their talk, showed their complete ignorance of the world, and treated us to triple helpings of mockery. The insults flew thick from both sides, and I fear I was drawn out by the tauntings, and gave as good as I got. But eventually, their coarse speech grew tiresome, and so vexed me to the heart, that I wished to give Rag-boy a kick in the face. Instead, I flung my cloak over myself and pretended to sleep, and watched them in secret.
