"I am with you," said Cargus. "I have nowhere else to go."
"And I," said Yane.
"We joined ourselves during dark days," said one called Quails. "Why separate now? Especially since I crave land and knighthood."
In the end five others went with Aillas. They crossed the Gloden by a bridge and followed a road which struck off to the south. The others, mostly Daut, chose to go their own ways and continued east beside the Gloden.
The seven who had joined Aillas were first Yane and Cargus, then Garstang, Quails, Bode, Scharis and Faurfisk: a disparate group. Yane and Cargus were short; Quails and Bode were tall. Garstang, who spoke little of himself, displayed the manners of a gentleman, while Faurfisk, massive, fair and blue-eyed, declared himself the bastard of a Gothic pirate upon a Celtic fisherwoman. Scharis, who was not so old as Aillas, was distinguished by a handsome face and a pleasant disposition. Faurfisk, on the other hand, was as ugly as pox, burns and scars could make him. He had been racked by a petty baron of South Ulfland; his hair had whitened and rage was never far from his face. Quails, a runaway Irish monk, was irresponsibly jovial and declared himself as good a wencher as any bully-bishop of Ireland.
Though the band now stood well inside Dahaut, the proximity of Poelitetz cast an oppression across the night, and the entire company set off together down the road.
As they walked Garstang spoke to Aillas. "It is necessary that we have an understanding. I am a knight of Lyonesse, from Twanbow Hall, in the Duchy of Ellesmere. Since you are Troice, we are nominally at war. That of course is nonsense, and I earnestly cast my lot with yours, until we enter Lyonesse, when we must go our separate ways."
"So it shall be. But see us now: in slave clothes and iron collars, slinking through the night like scavenger dogs. Two gentlemen indeed! And lacking money, we must steal to eat, like any other band of vagabonds."
"Other hungry gentlemen have made similar compromises. We shall steal side by side, so that neither may scorn the other. And I suggest, that if at all possible we steal from the rich, though the poor are somewhat easier prey."
"Circumstances must guide us.. .Dogs are barking. There is a village ahead, and almost certainly a smithy."
"At this hour of the night he will be soundly asleep."
"A kindhearted smith might rouse himself to help a desperate group such as ours."
"Or we might rouse him ourselves."
Ahead the houses of a village showed gray in the moonlight. The streets were empty; no light showed save from the tavern, from which came the sounds of boisterous revelry.
"Tomorrow must be a holiday," said Garstang. "Notice in the square, where the cauldron is ready to boil an ox."
"A prodigious cauldron indeed, but where is the smithy?"
"It must be yonder, along the road, if it exists."
The group passed through town and near the outskirts discovered the smithy, at the front of a stone dwelling, in which showed a light.
Aillas went to the door and rapped politely. After a long pause, the door was slowly opened by a youth of seventeen or eighteen. He seemed depressed, even haggard, and when he spoke his voice cracked with strain. "Sir, who are you? What do you want here?"
"Friend, we need the help of a smith. This very day we escaped the Ska and we cannot abide these detestable collars another instant."
The young man stood irresolutely. "My father is smith to Vervold, this village. I am Elric, his son. But since he will never again work his trade, I am now smith. Come along to the shop." He brought a lamp and led the way to the smithy.
"I fear that your work must be an act of charity," said Aillas. "We can pay only the iron of the collars, since we have nothing else."
"No matter." The young smith's voice was listless. One by one the eight fugitives knelt beside the anvil. The smith plied hammer and chisel to cut the rivets; one by one the men arose to their feet free of the collars.
Aillas asked: "What happened to your father? Did he die?"
"Not yet. Tomorrow morning is his time. He will be boiled in a cauldron and fed to the dogs."
"That is bad news. What was his crime?"
"He committed an outrage." Elric's voice was somber. "When Lord Halies stepped from his carriage, my father struck him in the face, and kicked his body and caused Lord Halies pain."
"Insolence, at the very least. What provoked him so?"
"The work of nature. My sister is fifteen years old. She is very beautiful. It was natural that Lord Halies should want to bring her to Fair Aprillion to warm his bed, and who would deny him had she assented to his proposal? But she would not go, and Lord Halies sent his servants to bring her. My father, though a smith, is impractical and thought to set things right by beating and kicking Lord Halies. He now, for his mistake, must boil in a cauldron."
"Lord Halies—is he rich?"
"He lives at Fair Aprillion, in a mansion of sixty chambers. He keeps a stable of fine horses. He eats larks, oysters, and meats roasted with cloves and saffron, with white bread and honey. He drinks of both white and red wines. There are rugs on his floors and silks on his back. He dresses twenty cutthroats in gaudy uniforms and calls them ‘paladins.' They enforce all his edicts and many of their own."
"There is good reason to believe that Lord Halies is rich," said Aillas.
"I resent Lord Halie," said Sir Garstang. "Wealth and noble birth are excellent circumstances, coveted by all. Still, the rich nobleman should enjoy his distinction with propriety and never bring shame to his estate as Lord Halies has done. In my opinion he must be chastised, fined, humiliated, and deprived of eight or ten of his fine horses."
"Those are exactly my views," said Aillas. He turned back to Elric. "Lord Halies commands only twenty soldiers?"
"Yes. And also Chief Archer Hunolt, the executioner."
"And tomorrow morning all will come to Vervold to witness the ceremony and Fair Aprillion will be deserted."
Elric uttered a yelp of near-hysterical laughter. "So, while my father boils, you rob the mansion?"
Aillas asked: "How can he boil if the cauldron leaks water?" "The cauldron is sound. My father mended it himself."
"What is done can be undone. Bring hammer and chisels; and we will punch some holes."
Elric slowly took up the tools. "It will cause delay, but what then?"
"At the very least your father will not boil so soon." The group left the smithy and returned to the square. As before all houses were dark, save for the yellow flicker of candlelight from the tavern, from which issued a voice raised in song.
Through the moonlight the group approached the cauldron.
Aillas motioned to Elric. "Strike!"