As they had.
Once in a while, some captain or duke or prince got the wonderful notion that you should tunnel further so that you emerged inside the walls. Nice theory, if you weren’t the idiots picked to be the first ones popping up out of the ground …
‘I said,’ Baron Morray reiterated, ‘that you may take my horse to the stables, when I alight.’
Pirojil nodded, coming out of his momentary reverie. ‘Of course, Baron.’
‘I’ll speak to the housecarl about your billets. Perhaps they can find room for you three in the barracks, rather than the stables.’
Well, they might as well have that out now as later.
‘No, my lord,’ Pirojil said, ‘we’re not staying in the stables. We’ll all be staying in the Residence while one of us stands watch before your door.’
Baron Morray wasn’t used to being contradicted. The reins twitched in his fingers. ‘I hardly see the need. The barracks or perhaps the stables will be perfectly adequate for the likes of – for the three of you. If I find I need you in the middle of the night, I’ll send a servant.’
Pirojil shrugged ‘Very well, my lord. If you’d be kind enough to put that in writing, I’ll have a messenger send it to the Earl. If there’s a fast enough horse available, it might reach Yabon before –’
‘What?’
Well, at least the Baron was smart enough not to raise his voice.
‘We’ve been assigned to protect you, night and day, by the Earl, my lord. If some accident or misdeed were to happen to you while we were neglecting our duty, it would be our heads into the noose. If I’m not to follow Earl Vandros’s orders, I think he’ll want to know why.’
The Baron started to say something, but Pirojil took the chance of speaking first. ‘Please. We’re assigned to protect you, my lord,’ he said, quietly. ‘Not just your body. We have been known to tell stories around the fire late at night, just like everybody else, but we don’t gossip about what our betters are doing.’
If you’re fool enough to have your dalliances with Lady Mondegreen under the very nose of her husband, then so be it, he didn’t quite say.
The Baron was silent for a moment. ‘I’m not quite the fool you take me for, freebooter,’ he said. ‘I take your full meaning, but I’d not dishonour even a churl under his own roof, much less a good man like Baron Mondegreen, no matter what you seem to think.’
‘It isn’t my job to think,’ Pirojil said. ‘Except about protecting you.’
‘Then so be it. Protect me if you must, but don’t bother me about it.’ The Baron clucked at his horse, which responded by picking up a posting trot.
Pirojil sighed. It was going to be a long tour. He urged his own horse forward and followed the Baron.
A tall, slender and almost preposterously buxom serving maid brought a tray holding an enormous joint of mutton and an only slightly smaller pile of flatbread, still steaming from the oven. She was prettier than most, with nice, even features, her impressive breasts straining the ties of her blouse, her brown hair up in a simple knot that left her long, elegant neck bare. Tendrils of hair teased at the back of her neck as she walked, and Kethol envied them.
She didn’t say anything, but looked from one to the next, barely avoiding sniffing in distaste, then set the tray down on the table without comment, leaving the three of them alone in the hall as she headed down the winding staircase, walking unselfconsciously, indifferent to the three pairs of eyes on her.
Kethol watched her go. You got used to being treated like garbage after a while, or so you told yourself. A soldier’s life was full of lies.
‘Hmm. I think I need a bath,’ Pirojil said. Or maybe, better, a new face.’
‘Bath sounds good.’ Durine nodded.
‘You take the first one, then me?’
‘I can wait,’ Durine said. ‘Rather take my time. Looks like a good bathhouse outside the barracks. You can sluice off some of the road dust before you turn in, but as for me, soaking in some hot water sounds good about now. Just be careful to wipe your boots coming back in, eh?’
Pirojil looked at his boots, which were mud-free; the three of them had already received a thorough talking-to from the housecarl.
The west wing of the keep’s second floor was dedicated to the use of guests. Of the dozen doors up and down the hall, all but two stood open, presumably waiting for their next occupants. The family residence was in the east wing, and on the floor below. Judging from the grumbling and dirty looks that the three of them had received from the soldiers on watch downstairs, the Baron’s captain of the guard was less than pleased to have his master’s care put in the hands of outsiders, and had placed soldiers on station on the floor below to drive home the point.
Pirojil’s gaze followed where the serving maid had disappeared down the staircase, as though looking beyond to where Mondegreen troops were posted at the entrance to the family quarters. ‘It’s a sad day when people don’t trust a trio of cutthroats like us.’
Durine laughed. Kethol shrugged.
While Kethol stayed outside, watching the entrance to the Barons rooms, Durine and Pirojil had gone through the chambers, emerging to report nothing out of the ordinary: no Tsurani assassin waiting in the bureaus; no covey of Dark Brotherhood killers hiding in an armoire, which wasn’t particularly surprising.
You spent most of your time on this sort of job taking precautions that would turn out to have been unnecessary, but as certain as flies in summer, the one time you didn’t check under a bed, that would be where the killers would be waiting.
Looking silly was the least of a soldier’s worries, after all.
Behind the heavy oaken door, Baron Morray was probably already sleeping in the big bed, warmed by the fire in the small hearth and the metal trays placed under the mattress. If the bed was warmed by anything else – if, say, Lady Mondegreen had sneaked in through one of the secret passages with which all castles were rife – there was nothing that Kethol could do about it, and probably nothing he should do about it, so he decided not to worry about it.
Kethol hacked off a piece of mutton with his belt knife and chewed it. Old, tough and overcooked, but it was hot food, and probably better than whatever they were having in the barracks. On the other hand, there would probably be a dice game going on in the barracks, and it would be a shame to miss that, after such a hard day of travel. Bouncing on the back of a horse could tire the mind almost as well as strong drink.
‘Hmm … you two mind if I take the first watch tonight?’ he asked.
Both of the others shrugged.
‘Sure,’ Durine said. He rubbed at his lower back with one massive hand as he rose.
‘Fine with me,’ Pirojil said, rising.
For a moment, Pirojil looked as if he was going to say something more, but they each hacked off a huge chunk of mutton and carried it away on a bed of flatbread. Pirojil and Durine walked down the hall to the room where the three of them were billeted, Pirojil reappearing momentarily with his rucksack before disappearing down the winding stairs, presumably heading for the bathhouse as he popped the last bit of mutton and bread into his mouth.
Kethol was by