In the months since he had arrived as a fairly honoured guest Kleist had been making a number of bows of considerably greater quality than the one he had used to slaughter Dunbar and his crew. And he was, truth be told, somewhat miffed himself by the Klephts’ attitude to his own talents. Now he thought he could impress them without putting their noses out of joint and make himself a reputation without taking much of a risk beyond those that were familiar to him and which he found easy to calculate. Thieving sounded dangerous to him – too many unknowns.
As he had already seen, their archery skills were as rudimentary as their bows – they could be effective enough firing en masse at large numbers but then so could anyone. Beyond that there was, in Kleist’s expert opinion, nothing to say that wasn’t insulting. He arranged, therefore, a demonstration at the site of a famous Klepht disaster in the low foothills of their territory where fifty men in a raiding party had been caught just on the edge of safety and slaughtered to a man. Fifty men to the Klephts was a hideous loss from a tribe of, Kleist guessed, less than fifteen hundred, two thirds women and children and older men. It was three years since the massacre and they were still recovering. This was as much as anything why they were so liberal with their women. There were simply not enough men for the Klephts to carry on the way the tribes round about did. More delicately this time and under Daisy’s tutoring, Kleist offered to show how he could help prevent a repetition. It was not easy to set up his demo because while they were ready to watch they were distinctly unenthusiastic about taking part. Kleist had shown them the blunt arrows he intended to use for his demonstration but the Klephts were right to regard them as still extremely dangerous. Indeed it took a considerable amount of time and a great deal of mockery from the women Daisy had won over to her side to agree the use of the horses Kleist needed. Eventually all was approved and the site prepared. Understandably those that gathered to watch were morose and some greatly grief-stricken at being reminded of such a calamity. Kleist had constructed twenty pretty roughly man-shaped dummies and Daisy and her friends had strapped them to the horses that had been so reluctantly provided. Kleist stood behind a chest-high wall he had built and disguised with branches just where the massacre had taken place. Five hundred yards away the bored horses looked on, unenthusiastically feeding on the spindly grass. Then, twenty or so girls herded the reluctant animals into a rough line facing the distant Kleist and each one drew back a leather whip and at Daisy’s shout, lashed down heavily on the flanks of the horses. That changed their attitude and they squealed and reared and with the girls screaming behind them set off at a terrified charge, the straw men on their backs bouncing and waving about on top of them. Just to make his point, Kleist had stripped to the waist to show off to the best his strange but impressive upper body, muscles like knots in thick rope and of someone twenty years older. He let off one shot. All watched as it arched upwards faster and in a far greater arc than anything they had seen before. It took the straw man he had been aiming at straight in the chest and came out the other side. It was impressive but still too far away to completely stun the natives with its excellence. He waited till they got closer, pushing his luck to make a show of it. Then in the ninety seconds it took the terrified horses to make it to his hide he loosed off an astonishing quick succession of arrows, missing only with two by the time they stampeded past.
The Klephts were impressed, but wary.
‘There were a hundred of them on the day.’
‘I could have taken out thirty long before they got here. No one will take those kinds of losses. Besides, I wouldn’t do it like this. I’d have been picking them off for hours or even days before they got here. From six hundred yards I can make five shots out of ten – eight if you count the horses.’
There were a few more objections but his case was made. Besides, what did they have to lose but a pleasant stranger who was, all said and done, nothing to them.
12
When Vague Henri arrived he had to be helped in by two Redeemers.
‘Lay him on the bed and leave.’
Cale walked over to him and knelt down by the bed. Vague Henri’s nose and lower lip, thickened by a hefty beating, were bleeding.
‘Look at the state of you. What in God’s name are you doing here, you bloody idiot?’
‘Pleased to see you as well.’
‘Let’s start with what you’re doing here.’
‘I was hanging around the Voynich Oasis waiting on a caravan bringing back black earth for the gardens. I followed them here and tried to hitch on the end but someone recognized me. Besides, they count everyone in and out these days.’
‘You should have thought of that.’
‘I should have but I didn’t.’
‘You should have thought of that and stayed away.’
‘Well, I’m here now.’
‘Pure luck. You came this close,’ Cale pinched his thumb and forefinger together, ‘to being slotted by Brzica and dumped in Ginky’s Field. And I’d never have known anything about it.’