Chapter 93

I remained in that terrible place for the next five days watching the weak daylight come and go in a small opening high in the wall above, and I knew from the whispered tales that this time that there would be little chance of escape from the fate that awaited me. However contrary to my initial expectations I was fed a little poor fare every day and given water to drink, so when the guards finally came for me I was still able to stand and walk out of the cell unaided, blinking in the sudden lamplight. I was brought up into the main part of the citadel and soon realised where we were headed, and a few minutes later I found myself before Belegon and his men, who were crowded into the room in a scene of some disorder. Those within the room fell silent as I entered flanked by guards, with bare feet and dressed only in my breeches and undershirt. Belegon smirked when he saw me but I held his gaze levelly as I approached and stood before him. "Ah, the Half Pig once again" he began, to some laughter from those around him. I replied "I, Esteldir, son of Galdirion of Northford ask by what cause am I made prisoner here?" His smirk turned to a scowl in an instant. "By many causes, and I will list them… the murder of Fodric, an honourable man, consorting with traitors and enemies of our realm, your still unexplained disappearance from High Burgh, theft, insubordination and worst of all being a jumped up half pig". There was more laughter from the onlookers. "More than enough to cost you your neck, and I would gladly have taken it, but you can wield a blade and we have need of all the trained men we can get, even rats from the dungeons. You are hereby stripped of all rank and status and all your goods and possessions are confiscated. You will go into battle as a common soldier and with any luck die for your king among the rabble to make amends for your many faults against him".

The full import of his words took a moment to sink in, but then my heart was filled with despair. In truth cared not overmuch for rank or status, but without my coin I knew would not be able to buy a horse or supplies for the escape, and it also meant that I would also lose my family's papers, the last strand that bound me to their past. I regret it now, but this was the latest and most hardest blow of too that I had already had to bear, and tears sprang to my eyes even in that place before my foes. I am ashamed to say that I abased myself and pleaded for the return of those papers, though they were of little or no value, and of course my pleas were met with nothing but amusement and derision. I left the room utterly humiliated and shortly afterwards found myself out in the courtyard in a queue with a poor and unlikely looking group of wretches who were being issued with army clothing and gear. I said nothing as I was handed a worn pair of boots, a leather breastplate and a dented helm along with a cloak and spare clothes. Dead men's stuff, I thought to myself. The sword I was given was short, blunt and notched, not at all like the finely balanced blades I had become used to, but I knew it would have to serve until I could lay my hands on better.

The great courtyard was bustling with activity and I could not help but notice the smoke of what must have been unusually large fires down in the town wafting into the clear blue sky beyond the walls. We were lined up and made to stand to attention and then an ugly looking sergeant with the build of an ox appeared. He looked us up and down and spat on the floor in front of our feet. "Pah, what a rabble. I am Sergeant Brandor, and you will do exactly as I tell you or I'll have your filthy necks. Do I make myself clear? Now get your lousy hides over to the halls for a feed and a sleep, because it'll be one of the last for most of you. What are you looking at pretty boy?" I realised with a start that he was addressing me. "What were you in the dungeon for then my lad? And what's your name? I can see I'm going to have to keep an eye on you". I thought to myself that I shared that sentiment, for I knew his type only too well, but instead replied as mildly as I could. "I am Nindir, and I lay with the wife of another man. I meant no offence to you Sergeant Brandor". I did my best to appear worried and downcast, which was not difficult in the circumstances, and he regarded me with renewed contempt. "A pity you're lily livered with a build like that, you might have made a decent soldier otherwise". I did not reply, and he soon turned his venom on another of our unfortunate company. Afterwards we made our way into the dormitory halls, which were alive with activity and joined another queue for some food. This turned out not to be greatly better or much more abundant than I the fare we had received in the dungeon, and once we had eaten we were directed to a nearby dormitory, which was already crowded, and did our best to find spaces to settle down. The men there were a Lastbridge company as far as I could tell, and not at all pleased when they saw the quality of the replacements they had been sent. I hoped I would not meet anyone who knew me and be recognised, but my new beard and much reduced status seemed to help a good deal in that respect.

I finally found some space in a corner and was joined by one my fellows, a skinny wretch with a big nervous smile who put me very much in mind of my long lost friend Radulf. Because of this resemblance my heart softened and I returned his smile. "What is your name?" I asked him "and what's your story?" He looked downcast. "I am Tithen, and I stole some bread from a baker's shop because I was hungry and a soldier caught me." I noticed a northern lilt to his speech and it turned out upon further questioning that his father had been in the Northford garrison and his mother had brought him and his siblings south to make a new life for themselves after his death. But like so many others they had found nothing but want and hardship awaiting them, it was a sad but all too familiar tale. I doubted if he was actually old enough to bear arms and he looked barely strong enough to swing a sword or carry a shield. The once proud army of Rhudaur had fallen far indeed if it was forced to take men such as he to fight for it. I feared he might quickly become the butt of unkind words and acts from the others, for it is often the way with the weak, and I decided I would do what I could to aid him. He asked me if I had ever been a soldier myself, and I told him that I had, and the poor wretch told me he was very grateful to have found a friend. But in truth so was I.

Before we settled down for the night I tried to learn from the others what had been happening during the time I had spent in the dungeons. It seemed that Berthedir had wasted no time in taking the crown, but news of Brodir's murder, whilst supposedly resisting arrest for a well founded charge of treason, had reached the general population, and as a result the new King was not popular amongst many of his subjects. There had been some scenes of violent unrest on the streets of Lastbridge, and the soldiers of the company we had been attached to played a part in restoring order the previous night. The coronation ceremony had been somewhat furtive as a result of the unrest, with little in the way of pomp or ceremony, and the new king had remained within the walls of the Citadel rather than going abroad and meeting his new subjects as had been customary in the past. He now hoped to catch the Hillmen leaderless and put them in their place, so we were just about to march off northward under the command of Belegon, the new Lord of Bearcliffe. This last piece of news did not entirely surprise me, but I was not convinced at all that anything other than a bad end now awaited there as a result. I strongly suspected that we would find the Hillmen neither leaderless or cowering timidly behind the walls of High Burgh.

After a long and chaotic period of preparation the following morning in the great yard the last army to march forth in the name of a Dunedain king in Rhudaur set off from the citadel. It was nearly midsummer, but the fine weather of the previous days had been replaced overnight by unseasonal cold and a lowering sky overhead promising rain. By the time our company finally began to move off the downpour began and our passage through the streets of Lastbridge, watched in silence by many hostile bystanders, became a miserable affair. The boots I had been issued with leaked and I knew it would not be long before I would find myself in further discomfort. We did not cover many leagues before we halted that first day, but the halt brought little respite. We were still in populated lands, so there was little kindling or firewood to be found close at hand to make fires with and the rations that were doled out to us were once again meagre and unsatisfactory. Worse still I had affected to be naïve and nervous so as not to draw any attention to myself, and as a result some of the others, especially those who had been in the dungeons with us, provoked and mocked Tithen and I continually. Sergeant Brandor saw all, but did nothing but watch in sly amusement, even joining in at times. I would never have tolerated such behaviour from men under my command, and would have disciplined anyone of rank who did not act to stop it most severely. It was a sign to me of how low we had fallen, and it took great self control for me not to react and strike down our tormentors.

I had feared it would become another march like the one to Amon Sul, but the season was in our favour and in the morning we awoke to a clear sky and the full radiance of the sun which soon helped to dry and revive us. We resumed the march in somewhat better spirits and the second day passed uneventfully, though the marching was once again slow and tedious with many unscheduled halts. I knew this meant that we would not make Bearcliffe that night and would have another night in the open to look forward to, no doubt on even shorter rations. I was proved right, for when we were about half a day's normal march from our destination the column halted yet again and did not move off for some considerable time. Eventually we discovered the reason for the delay, for there were a number of people on the road who had flown south clutching bundles of possessions or carrying children. I knew at once what this must mean for I recognised only too easily the haunted look of those who had barely escaped with their lives. They were mostly dressed in good clothes, and as we passed them they told us what had befallen them, speaking of mobs in the streets looting and burning as they went and the soldiers of the garrison unable to resist them. Then early that morning after a night of terrifying disorder horns were heard in the valley and a great host came down out of the hills. The mob opened the gates of the town to admit them and any of the garrison who did not immediately surrender were put to the sword along with any Dunedain of wealth or rank who could be found. The cry had gone up that the true and rightful king of all of the people of Rhudaur was come to claim his throne at last. This caused some bemusement amongst those around me, for they wondered who this new claimant might possibly be when the latest Chieftain of the Hillmen had been done to death in Lastbridge not six days since. But I suspected I knew the answer to their question, that Ulfred son of Ulfraer, true heir to that title was returned from his exile in the wild, and if this was so then he would be hungry for vengeance.