Chapter Four
Gage and the others had been waiting for Varro quite a while by the time the man finally entered The Rabbit Burrow.
The meal, a pork pie and boiled vegetables, had been devoured by the knights when it was clear that Varro had been held up back at the encampment, so they ate two rounds of the pie, making sure to have enough reserved for their leader when he arrived.
It was well into the nightly hours by the time the mercenary known as El Vibora came in through the entry door, admitted by the guard at the door.
Tall, sinewy, with a great bald head and eyes of the palest green, Varro de Soto y Ruiz ventured into the common room.
The man had a presence that filled up the room – power, danger, and intimidation.
But that was good considering his business was fighting other men’s wars.
However, it was the way he looked at people that had earned him his reputation – The Viper.
His gaze was both uncomfortable and hypnotizing.
Some thought he looked like a snake.
Spying his knights, he headed in their direction.
“Good men,” he said in heavily accented English. “I apologize for the delay but it seems that my horse has come up lame. I was hoping to find a smithy in town to adjust his shoes, but it seems everyone is shut down until morning.”
“I will find a smithy for you, my lord,” Gage said. “You needn’t trouble yourself. I will take care of it.”
Varro looked at his nephew, a man who reminded him much of his beloved departed sister.
He was a perfect knight, a perfect warrior, someone who should be in the retinue of a king and not a mercenary, no matter how rich the mercenary was.
Varro knew this. But he also knew why Gage had come to him, which was both a tragedy and a blessing.
After all of these years, he considered it God’s will that Gage had come to him because their partnership had been a lucrative one.
He reached out, touching Gage’s face affectionately.
“Thank you, mi hijo,” he said. Then, he pulled off his gloves and sighed heavily, rubbing one eye. “Now, what is there to eat? It has been a long day.”
More pork pie was brought forth along with wine soaked in fruit and, very quickly, Varro had himself a feast. He dug into it with gusto, pleased with the quality of English food, at least in this town.
He’d been to England before, many times, and he’d had a variety of terrible-to-excellent meals.
In the corner, a man began playing his lute, giving a pleasant ambiance to the low-ceilinged, rather dark and intimate inn.
Night had settled and the mood was one of relaxation, highly unusual for men used to the rigors of battle.
In fact, Gage was so relaxed that he was thinking about seeking his bed when Varro began to speak.
“It is time for me to tell you of the task we have been hired for,” he said, mouth full.
“Normally, I do not tell you in advance, as you know, but the time has come because we shall arrive at our destination tomorrow. We have been hired by a Northumberland lord in a dispute between neighbors, something that has become quite nasty. You know I have many agents who work for me, men who wander the cities looking for men in need of a hired army and the means by which to pay them. This task came through Ramíro Garcia Diez. He is my man in London.”
“Ah,” said a knight, English, who only went by the name of Wyeth. “Diez brings us jobs from the English warlords willing to pay a great deal. Northumberland is full of such warlords who are always fighting each other or the Scots. Is that not truth, El Norte?”
He was addressing Gage by his truncated sobriquet, one used by most of the men. Gage nodded in response.
“The north can be a wild place,” he agreed. “Rich men, but also very political men.”
Varro wagged a finger. “I do not believe the man who has hired us is political,” he said.
“Diez tells me that the man’s lands border a greedy neighbor who is trying to steal a mining business from him.
The man digs coal from the ground and makes a good deal of money from it and his neighbor is trying to claim it. ”
“And what are we do to?” Gage asked, frowning. “Guard the mine while he digs up the coal? That is not a battle, my lord. We are not hired guards.”
Varro smiled at his battle-driven nephew.
“Fear not,” he said, food on his lips as he chewed.
“We are not being hired to guard anything, but we are being hired to end the conflict once and for all. The greedy neighbor has permanently injured one of our lord’s cousins, so there is vengeance involved.
Our orders are to end the conflict any way we can, but we will know more when we arrive tomorrow. ”
“Where is it located?”
“Near a village called Hexham.”
A warning bell went off in Gage’s mind. Septentrion Castle wasn’t far from Hexham.
Usually, Varro gave them a general scope of the work but rarely did he mention names or locations – he was the only one who knew the names and his advance scouts were the ones who knew the location because they plotted the course for the army.
Men like Gage were simply the fighters, the tools of the trade, and they didn’t need to know anything more than what they were already told. So, Gage let the subject drop.
But he was very curious about this particular job.
Very.
He looked around the table at a group of the most dedicated, skilled, and toughest knights he’d ever known.
In addition to himself and Laurence, there was the knight known as Wyeth.
Just… Wyeth. He was from Cornwall and Gage had heard that the man had actually been a smuggler before making his way into Varro’s army.
He had a touch of madness about him because angry words or a stressful environment sometimes set him off and he’d been known to stab anyone who displeased him.
But he was hell on the field of battle.
Seated next to Wyeth was Azul, the man who looked like an ancient god with his flowing, dark hair.
He was nearly the exact opposite of Wyeth, congenial and personable, but there was no one better in a fight.
As Azul had noted earlier, he was out of his element in the cold north of England but Gage knew it wouldn’t affect his performance.
Neither weather nor conditions ever had.
Seated on the other side of Azul was Laurence, who had taken easily to the life of a mercenary.
With his wisdom and skill, no one could touch him.
He was also an excellent trainer of men and Varro had come to rely on him to train the army in tactics and methods.
In all, Gage couldn’t have been happier with the little family he’d found himself part of for the past several years.
Two hundred and thirty-two soldiers and five knights, including Varro, made for a high-skilled unit.
A unit that now found itself in Northumberland, hired to fight a neighbor dispute. Near Hexham.
He couldn’t get that out of his mind.
Varro had only met Boothe once, on a trip to Pamplona that Gage had taken with his brother and mother many years ago.
Gage had been around eleven years of age and Boothe was only a couple of years older, and that was the one and only time either boy had been to see their grandfather.
It had been a difficult trip because they had returned home without their mother, who preferred to remain at her ancestral home.
So truth be told, Gage never had good feelings about Pamplona until he began to live and work with Tío Varro.
Now, he couldn’t imagine his life without his mercenary brothers.
So, he sat and drank with them, speaking of things other than the impending job, as more people entered the inn and the man in the corner continued to play his lute.
Varro eventually had his fill of pork pie and wine and wandered off to bed, followed by Azul.
Wyeth departed shortly thereafter, leaving Gage and Laurence alone at the table.
They ordered more wine since Azul and Varro had imbibed most of what they’d had, paying little attention when two women entered alone and took a seat on the far side of the common room.
As the lute player continued to sing his lament, Gage poured himself more of that sweet, fruity wine.
“Hexham,” he grumbled. “Did you hear what he said? Our job is near Hexham.”
“I heard,” Laurence said.
“Against a greedy lord. Now, who do you think that sounds like?”
Laurence poured his own wine. “You know exactly who it sounds like.”
Gage could see they were thinking the same thing and he snorted ironically. “With the thousands of warlords in the entire world, what are the chances that we would end up back in England, fighting against my brother?”
Laurence’s gaze lingered on him in the dim light. “And how does that make you feel?”
Gage thought seriously on that question.
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I don’t know, really.
When I left here, I felt like my life was over.
But now I have it back again. I have more money and adventure than most men have in a lifetime so, in a sense, I’m almost grateful to Boothe, if that makes sense.
Who knows what would have become of me had I remained in Northumberland in his shadow?
But exiling me… he pushed me into finding my destiny. ”
Laurence smiled faintly. “Then you have no true sense of gleeful vengeance at the thought of fighting against your brother?”
Gage lifted his dark brows. “Not exactly gleeful,” he said.
“But I wouldn’t mind him knowing that it was I who threw him in the vault and tossed away the key.
Of course, I would like for him to know I have prospered in spite of what he did.
But do I want to seek vengeance? Nay. Boothe is not worth the effort it would take. ”