Biggo said, ‘Well, maybe. Or we could do his bit with setting up and tearing down the tent, like we did tonight.’
‘I can manage my own weight,’ said Erik. ‘No one needs to do for me.’ He heard an irritation in his voice that was unexpected. Suddenly he discovered he was feeling very angry.
Biggo reached from his bedroll across the narrow aisle separating the three bunks on each side and said, ‘We know, lad. You do more than your share, that’s all. No one’s said anything, but you’ve become the Horsemaster for our little company of cutthroats.’
At the mention of the word ‘cutthroat’ Erik was struck by the image of the three men being butchered by de Loungville. Suddenly he felt sick and his body felt flushed, as if fever was coming over him. Closing his eyes a second, he said, ‘Thank you. I know you mean well …’ He paused for a moment, then stood as upright as he could in the low tent and walked away. ‘I’ll be back. I need some air.’
‘Guard duty in two hours,’ Roo called after him.
Walking through the camp, Erik tried to calm himself. He found his stomach clenched and he felt as if he might be sick. Running for the privy trench, he barely got there in time to keep from fouling his pants.
After agonizing minutes of squatting and feeling as if he was passing fire, he felt his stomach twist, and suddenly he was vomiting into the trench. When he at last finished, he felt as if he had no strength left. He went to the edge of the nearby stream and cleaned himself up, then he returned to the cookfire, where he found Owen Greylock helping himself to a bowl of stew and a hunk of bread.
Despite having lost everything in his gut only moments before, Erik was suddenly ravenous as he smelled the stew. He grabbed a wooden bowl as Owen greeted him and watched while Erik scooped out a large bowl of stew, ignoring the hot liquid as it covered his hand to the wrist.
‘Look out!’ said Owen. ‘Gods, you’re going to boil yourself.’
Erik lifted the bowl to his lips and took a long sip, then said, ‘Heat doesn’t bother me. I think it’s the years at the forge. Now, cold, that makes me hurt.’
Owen laughed. ‘Hungry?’
Erik tore a large piece of bread off one of the loaves on the serving table and said, ‘Can we talk for a minute?’
Owen motioned for Erik to sit on a log that had been felled to provide a rude bench for men eating. No one else was nearby save the two men who would clean up the cook area and ready it for the morning meal before turning in.
Owen said, ‘Where do you want to begin?’
Erik said, ‘I want to know how you got here, but first, can I ask you something?’
‘Certainly.’
‘When you kill a man, how does that make you feel?’
Owen was silent and then blew out his cheeks and let a long breath slowly escape. ‘That’s a difficult one, isn’t it?’ He fell silent a minute, then said, ‘I’ve killed men two ways, Erik. As my lord’s Swordmaster I was dispenser of the high justice and I’ve hung more than one man. It’s different each time, and never easy. And it depends on why I’m hanging them. Murderers, rapists, thugs, they … I don’t feel much of anything, except relief when it’s over. When it’s something dicey, like your execution was set to be, then it’s a nasty business. I feel like taking a long, long hot bath afterward, though I rarely get the chance.
‘When it comes to battle, things just happen too quickly and you’re usually too busy staying alive to think about it. Does that answer you?’
Erik nodded as he munched on soggy vegetables. ‘In a way. Did you ever want to see someone suffer?’
Owen scratched his head at this. ‘Can’t say as I have. I’ve wanted to see a few men dead, but suffer? Not really.’
‘I wanted to see a man feel pain today.’ Erik explained about Embrisa and how he had wanted to make her killer experience a long, slow, terrible death. When he finished, he added, ‘Then I found I could barely keep my arse closed. Flux and then throwing up. Then suddenly I’m here eating like nothing happened.’
‘Rage does strange things to you,’ Owen said. ‘You’re not going to like hearing this, I think, but the only two other men I’ve known who felt as you say you did were your father and … Stefan.’
Erik shook his head and laughed ruefully. ‘You’re right. I didn’t like hearing that.’
‘Your father only got that way with rage. If he was angry, he’d rather have seen his enemy injured and in pain than dead. But that was the only time.’ His voice lowered. ‘Stefan was worse. He really enjoyed watching people suffer. He got … excited by it. Your father had to bribe more than one father off because his daughter was … damaged.’
‘What about Manfred?’
Owen shrugged. ‘Given who his parents are, he’s a decent enough person. You’d like him, given a chance to know each other, but that’s neither here nor there.’ Owen studied Erik, then said, ‘I’ve known you a long time, since you were a baby, Erik, and while you have some of your father in you, you don’t have only your father’s blood in you. Your mother can be a hard woman, but she was never a mean one. She’s never hurt anyone for pleasure. And you can bet that Stefan was the worst mix of his father and mother.
‘I think I can understand why you’d be so ferocious with the man who killed the girl. You were fond of her, I take it?’
‘In a way.’ Erik smiled. ‘She tried to cozen me into her bed so she could be the village smith’s wife.’ He shook his head in regret. ‘She was so obvious and there was no art to it, but in a way …’
‘It made you feel good?’
‘Yes.’
Owen nodded. ‘We all have our vanity, and a pretty girl’s attentions are rarely unwelcomed by any man.’
‘But it doesn’t explain why I wanted to see that man hurt so much. I can still feel it, Owen. If I could raise him from the dead and cause him to scream in agony, I think I’d do it.’
‘Justice, maybe. The girl died in agony, and he got a simple death in return.’
A voice from the dark said, ‘Sometimes revenge goes disguised as justice.’
Both Owen and Erik turned to see Nakor entering from the darkness. ‘I was out walking and heard you talk. Sounds like an interesting discussion.’ Without asking their leave, he sat down.
Erik said, ‘I was telling Owen here what happened today. Have you heard?’
Nakor nodded. ‘Sho Pi told me. You were in a rage. You wanted to cause this man pain. Bobby kept you from indulging in his suffering.’
Erik nodded.
Nakor said, ‘Some men take to the pain in others the way other men take to strong drink or potent drugs. If you recognize that appetite in yourself early and learn to master it within yourself, you’ll be the better man for knowing, Erik.’
‘I don’t know what I wanted,’ Erik admitted. ‘I don’t know if it was that he didn’t suffer enough or if I really wanted to see something in his eyes as he died.’
Owen said, ‘Most soldiers are struck by others’ death after the fact. That you got sick –’
Nakor said, ‘You got sick?’
‘Like I had eaten green apples,’ admitted Erik.
Nakor grinned. ‘Then you’re not a man to eat poison and like it. If you hadn’t gotten sick, it would be because that poison of hate found a home in your gut.’ He reached over and poked a finger into Erik’s side. ‘You ate the hatred, but your body threw it up as if it were those green apples.’ He smiled, apparently satisfied with the explanation. ‘Do your reiki each night and let your mind seek calmness and you will survive the terrors you’ve just met.’
Owen and Erik exchanged looks that said neither man knew what Nakor was talking about. Erik said, ‘Now tell me how you came here?’
Owen said, ‘That was due to you.’
‘Me?’
Owen said, ‘When you were caught, my lady Mathilda and your half brother raced to Krondor, to ensure the Prince knew you were to be hung without question.
‘When we got there, I asked a friend in the Prince’s court to grant me an audience with Nicholas, and I tried to give him some idea of how you’d been dealt with as a child.’ He shrugged. ‘It obviously didn’t do any good, as you were to be hung, and the Dowager Baroness discovered I had tried to intercede upon your behalf.’ He looked at Erik and smiled. ‘I was asked to retire from my office. Manfred said he regretted to ask, but she is his mother, after all.’
