Bellamus looked at the man clutching the two ruined birds. “Is this true?”
The man said nothing. He blinked twice, and then laid the chickens down in the snow.
“I’m sorry, Master,” said the other, again.
“Those weren’t your chickens!” said the innkeeper, hefting his cudgel. He began to advance on the red-headed man, but Bellamus held up a hand to still him.
“You will not lay a hand on one of my men,” he said. “Every last one is under my protection.” Before the innkeeper could reply, Bellamus went on. “But nor do I expect any man of mine to steal.”
“I’m sorry, Master,” said the man who had been holding the chickens.
“Too late,” said Bellamus. “Arrest them.” He gestured to the watching throng, and half a dozen men stepped forward to take hold of the thieves, who offered no resistance. Bellamus stooped down and unlaced his tattered boots, throwing the laces to his men and instructing them to bind the prisoners’ hands. He turned to the innkeeper. “You have a barn behind the inn. Will it hang a couple of ropes?”
The watching crowd stirred suddenly, and from the corner of his eye, Bellamus detected a spastic jerk from the prisoners. The innkeeper looked hesitant. “It will,” he said warily.
“To the barn,” said Bellamus, waving the prisoners onward.
“Sir?” shouted one of them, his voice quaking. A murmur went up from the crowd and Bellamus repeated his gesture.
“Move.”
The stupefied prisoners were pushed forward by their captors, the crowd following behind in a daze.
The barn behind the inn was low, but still the brace between two crucks would serve as a gallows, being some twelve feet off the ground. There was a coil of manky rope beside the door which Bellamus took and cut in half. The prisoners, hands now tied behind their backs, had been pushed immediately inside the building and the crowd was gathering in the doorway, more men hurrying to join the back as word spread of what was happening. Stepan pushed his way to the front to stand with Bellamus.
An echoing, cavernous silence filled the barn as the upstart knotted the end of each piece of rope and flung it over one of the wooden braces, securing the free end on a lower brace. With his own hands, Bellamus then tied two nooses. The sight of them at last spurred the prisoners into speech.
“What?”
“Master!”
“They were just chickens, Master, we can pay!”
Bellamus paid no attention, fetching a pair of milking stools and positioning one beneath each noose. “On the stools,” he said. Haltingly, the prisoners were moved forward, each one of them jerking like a cogwheel as they were lifted into place. Bellamus had an idea that his men were only obeying so willingly because they thought that he would not go through with the threatened punishment.
As the red-headed man felt the noose tighten around his neck, tears spilt suddenly into his beard. “I’m sorry, Master,” he moaned. “We were hungry. I’m sorry!” he called at the innkeeper, who stirred, taking a pace forward.
“I will take compensation for the chickens,” said the innkeeper, as Stepan, by Bellamus’s side, tightened the second noose around the man with the hollowed cheeks. “There is no need to hang your men.”
“You will have compensation,” said Bellamus. “But my men have not just stolen from you. They have disobeyed me.”
Someone from the crowd objected that one of the prisoners was a knight, and Bellamus had no authority to hang him. Abruptly, Bellamus turned on the muttering crowd. “Listen to me now!” be bellowed. “Not a single one of you would have made it back south of the Abus if you weren’t with me. Do you deny it?”
Silence.
“You are now my men, until I’ve discharged you. If we steal from these communities, word will travel ahead of us that a band of marauding villains approaches, and we will be hounded until those scraps of us who made it back from the Black Kingdom are finished too. I do not give instructions lightly. I do not give them without reason. These fools,” and he pointed a resolute finger at the crying men, standing yet upon their stools and held in place by the ropes around their necks, “have disobeyed me. Trust in me: I will secure you food and warmth on our road back to Lundenceaster. But if any of you steals, there will be no exceptions.” He turned back to the prisoners, who began to beg once more.
“It was a mistake, Master!”
“Please! We marched with you like all the rest. We fought for you! I’ll serve you, my lord!”
Bellamus shrugged. “You have proven to me that you can’t maintain your discipline. If you can’t maintain your discipline, you cannot be trusted to fight in the north. You are no good to me.”
And he kicked away the first stool.
The red-headed prisoner toppled, and then was caught by the rope. He bounced a little, swinging as his feet kicked wildly.
Bellamus advanced to the second stool. The hollow-cheeked prisoner gave a scream and shook his head frantically, eyes bulging white and mad as Bellamus hacked at the stool with his foot. The second man dropped.
Bellamus turned away, back towards the aghast crowd.
“Out. All of you.” He stood before them, his eyes cold and feet rooted to the floor. There was a tense silence, broken only by the squeaking of the rope against the wooden brace above as the two men flailed and kicked behind him. After a long while, some at the back of the crowd turned away. Others followed in drips until, finally, it was just three men left, particular friends of the prisoners, staring confrontationally at Bellamus.
“Off you go, brother,” said Stepan, shoving one of them away. The man sprang back towards Stepan, assessed his towering form, and then retreated, his eyes swivelling between the knight and the upstart. The innkeeper followed in silence, leaving Bellamus, Stepan and the suspended prisoners behind them.
“This is my fault,” said Bellamus. “I knew we should have waited for ale after
