Rise of the Storm

12 Janna

After the messenger went on, Janna heard Anton sniffling quietly in the back of the cart. Perhaps he'd been awake after all. When he and Anyezka climbed back onto the seat next to Janna, she pretended not to notice the traces of tears on his cheeks.

He was soon distracted when they caught up to a larger wagon lumbering along the road in front of them. Janna might have passed them, but now there was plenty of traffic coming the other way. Besides, the occupants looked interesting. Janna had never seen people wearing such bright and ragged clothes. At the least, looking at them would entertain the children.

"Are those soldiers?" Anton asked.

"I think so." Though the men wore the bright and colorful liveries of pikemen, they didn't appear to have any weapons, and one was wounded. He had a bandage around his head and his left arm in a sling.

"Were you in the war?" Anton couldn't contain his curiosity. Janna wished she were as brave.

"Yes." The man nodded. "But it didn't go so well for our lot, so we're off to find work."

"But you're hurt," Janna protested.

"Just a few scratches." The man shrugged. "By the time we find a recruiter I'll be mended."

"What's a recruiter?" Anton asked.

"An officer who goes around finding soldiers to fight under him. Sometimes he pays them too. This last lot didn't do us much good in that direction. But Bessi here," he pinched the rump of a slatternly looking woman sitting in the straw next to him, "she did well for us on the battlefield."

"You fought?" Janna had never seen a less military-looking person.

Bessi shrieked with laughter. "Not that I wouldn't be good at it dear," she said. "But I do other work. Once the fighting's done, we go out onto the battlefield to see what we can find." She scratched herself in a place no decent woman ever would.

"What do you find?" Anton asked, wide-eyed.

"This and that," she waved her hands in the air. "Bits and bobs. Once a man's dead, he don't need his things no more, so that means the rest of us can make use of them."

"You steal from the dead?" Janna interrupted, horrified.

"S'not stealing when they're dead, sweetie," Bessi cackled. "Or when they will be dead. It's a mercy sometimes, to help them on their way."

"You kill wounded soldiers?" Janna wished she could get away, or at least cover the children's fascinated ears. But now the traffic coming the other way was steady. There was no escape.

Bessi shrugged. "I wouldn't call it that. It's not like they'll live anyway. And once you see the wounds . . . well, when a fellow's head is half gone, or his guts are strung out around him . . ."

Janna noisily cleared her throat, then said. "I'm sorry, but I'd rather the children didn't hear such things."

"Why ever not?" Bessi's protruding green eyes reminded Janna of gooseberries. "They'll see those things soon enough if they haven't by now. War is upon us, and if you don't live with it, you'll die of it. Best to toughen them up so they can fend for themselves." She looked Janna over pityingly. "I don't mean to find fault dear, but you don't look as if you'd be much use in a scrap."

"I'm sure I wouldn't." Janna felt that as a respectable woman, it wasn't a point against her. She tried to change the subject. "So is this your husband?" she asked, nodding at the soldier

"In a way. We've been together what, close on three years now. He says he'll marry me all official once his other wife dies. Now that war's come here, maybe she'll have a stroke of bad luck." She cackled again, and oh Holy Mother, there she went scratching again.

"So where's your man?" Bessi asked.

"I don't know. He was fighting with the rebels. He went back to the walls after telling me to get out of the city."

"Dead most like." Bessi shrugged. "But it's hard to say. I had a fellow once-before this one, though he wasn't as good." This earned her another slap on the bottom. "Was sure he was dead, but his body was nowhere to be found. His comrades swore up and down they watched him fall. Good five days later he wanders into camp drunk as could be. Seems he deserted before the battle, found a tavern and wanted to collect his pay after. Captain gave him a whipping for that, and then I gave him another and sent him packing. You've got to watch out for the unreliable ones. Especially if you've got children." She looked pointedly at Janna.

To Janna's relief, the cart ahead of them gradually pulled away. She and the children waved; Janna politely and the children enthusiastically.

"I want to be a soldier," Anton said, his eyes glowing.

"And get a horrid wound on your head like that poor fellow?" Janna asked, and to herself, 'and a woman like Bessi?' though no doubt Anton thought her a glamorous creature.

"I wouldn't get wounded." Anton puffed out his chest. "I will be a great fighter. No one will hurt me."

"Not until you get bigger." Janna prayed that by then, all of this would be a distant memory and Anton would be happy to follow his father into trade. Though what trade it would be, she didn't know. She was sure after this there would be no business to inherit. But perhaps Anton would get his father's good sense and ability to turn one coin into five. He could do that wherever they landed.

For she didn't intend to stay in the country any longer than she had to. There was nothing wrong with it, but Janna was a proud citizen of a free city, not a peasant digging in the dirt all day and giving most of what he grew to some lazy lord. She might not go back to Kaleva, but she would find a place somewhere. She wasn't sure how yet, but her first task was to see the children safe until the trouble passed. Then she could make plans.