Chapter 3: The Ride

"Not exactly pomp and ceremony, is it?" snapped Seth Garrick. The Chaos Lord wore a plain, shapeless, hooded robe, so large on him the sleeves ran several inches past his stretched fingertips. He was also manacled by his wrists to the planks in the bed of an open wagon.

"Lord Garrick," replied Earl Cadfael, riding nearby, "Your choices are the same now as they were when we began; in the wagon, or dragged behind it. You may not have a horse, nor may you walk without restraints, nor may you sit within reach of the driver of your cart."

"Your trust is inspiring."

The earl tsked. "Trust is earned, not given Lord Garrick."

"I saved your life!" the warrior protested.

"In an effort to prolong your own, which you have more than directly stated." The Bretonnian noble spoke placidly, but his voice began to betray the slightest hint of impatience. "Now, are the current arrangements sufficient, or shall we adjust them?"

The Army of Brionne had set out for home early that morning. Seth had hardly ceased complaining long enough to draw breath since then.

"And what's this, then?" he flapped the arms of his robe to the limit of the chain. "I look like a circus tent." A deep breath. "And smell like one as well. Where did you find these rags, the floor of a kennel? Why am I not allowed to wear my armor, or at least some proper clothing? Where are my belongings?"

The Earl sighed. "Your belongings are in another wagon. They will be returned to you in time. You wear the robe because no other clothing was available. It will keep you warm, and prevent casual passerby from seeing exactly who you are."

Seth flicked his head back, baring his horned features in obvious defiance. "I've already said I've not harmed anyone in Bretonnia. Why should I be singled out for ill-treatment?"

Another sigh from the knight.

"Okay, fine." Seth resumed. "So I'm a bad, bad Chaos Lord. But I hardly think vigilantes or bandits would trifle with an army." He considered a moment. "Even this army."

The Earl inspected his troops from atop his mount. No, he admitted to himself, no band of thieves or evil-doers would make their presence known with so many soldiers nearby. But far better to be cautious with so many enemies in view. His gaze flicked from Seth to the small contingent from Porte d'Ouest, riding parallel to the main group on the right flank. Caution is very wise.

Earl Cadfael's Battle Standard Bearer had been listening to the exchange as he rode alongside his commander. The prisoner's constant complaints had grated and chafed not only his knightly stoicism, but also his fundamental sense of right and proper decorum. And while Jean-Baptiste LeBois, known to those he served with as Le Brun, enjoyed sharp and scathing humor, he had no tolerance at all for slurs or insults. At this last comment, on top of so many others, his resolve crumbled, and he broke into the conversation.

"Lord Garrick, this army is more than capable of fighting anyone or anything, from snotling pump wagons to two headed dragons." Both Seth and the Earl turned to face the new speaker. "Your continued safety is more endangered by your continued slander than any foreign threat."

The Chaos Lord gave Earl Cadfael a considered, long-suffering look, and then returned to the Lieutenant. "Welcome to the conversation, stranger. And who might you be?"

"I am Jean Baptiste LeBois, known to both friend and foe as Le Brun. I am the Battle Standard Bearer of Earl Cadfael, the Boar of Brionne, and second in command of her armies."

"Oooh." moaned Seth. "That must make you someone important. Important enough to jump into discussions that do not concern you."

Cadfael opened his mouth to defuse the situation, but Le Brun had already begun retorting. "I speak when it pleases me to do so, and it does so now. You claim to doubt the capabilities of this army? I tell you this, Lord Garrick," The title was a snarl. "Anything interfering with our advance shall be smashed and cast aside." He sneered. "Perhaps even useless weight holding back our wagons."

The Earl received another look from the chained man, but this one full of... what? Disappointment? Regret? Sorrow? The glance was gone in a second, leaving the knight to ponder if he had seen it at all. A deep sense of misgiving sprouted deep in his heart.

Seth spoke pleasantly to the Standard Bearer. "There's something about you, Paladin, something rare for these parts. You are honest. You speak your mind, and damn the consequences. It is refreshing."

He sat on the wooden planks in the cart. "So tell me, honest man, how did you become the second in command here?"

"I was chosen to be Battle Standard Bearer at the same time the Earl was made General. His first announcement upon being appointed, in fact."

(Politicalappointmentnoblefamiliestheoldmanaskabouttheoldman)

Seth flinched. As always, the knowing hurt. He recovered quickly and continued the conversation without a pause.

"My, how nice." lauded Seth. "What I meant was, why were you chosen, above all others?"

"Earl Cadfael and myself grew up on neighboring estates." answered Jean. "We trained together as children, served as squires under each other's father's, were knighted together. He knows me as well as anyone alive, as I know him. He was confident in my abilities to lead, and to lead under his command."

"Oh." agreed Seth. "That's very interesting." His eyes narrowed. "And you think this army could smash aside anyone who took the field against it?"

"Of course."

"Your forces are supreme?"

"With this army, we could destroy a force three times it's size." asserted the knight.

A skeptical look. "Your troops are that proficient? That dedicated?"

"Of course, we are Bretonnians."

"The most powerful warriors in the old world."

"Exactly" agreed the knight.

"From the most glorious and beautiful realm."

"Yes!" Le Brun actually smiled.

"And with the most enlightened and just ruler."

"Long live his majesty King Louen Leoncouer!"

"Really?" considered Seth. "How interesting. Because some of your troops look a little, well..."

Le Brun's brow furrowed. "'Well...', what?"

Seth motioned with his head at a gray haired knight riding alongside a distant regiment. "Well, look at the man commanding those troops. He moves like an old man."

Jean-Baptiste turned to see who the Chaos Warrior was referring to. And then began to laugh. "That is Francois, Commander of the Infantry."

"A little long in the tooth, isn't he?"

The Battle Standard Bearer's face lost it's amusement. "Lord Garrick, Francois has been an knight for nearly forty years. He has been a Paladin in the service of the army of Parravon since the Earl's father ascended to that command. He became Infantry Commander of the army of Brionne when the Earl was appointed to that post five years ago." He bristled. "And, Lord Garrick, I can assure you the wounds he has received in his service to Bretonnia are more than sufficient to explain any limitations he may currently suffer."

"Taken a few for the team, has he?" the warrior prompted.

The Earl could now see his Lieutenant was being baited, but could see no way to de-escalate the situation without loss of face. Le Brun continued, angrily oblivious. "Francois? Francois took a goblin spear through the chest meant for me during an ambush a year ago. He lost an eye to rat ogres fighting skaven, but still rallied his troops, counterattacked, and broke three entire regiments. He rode three days with dark elf quarrels in his leg and side to warn the Earl of a slaver landing to the north. My father, who rode with Francois in the army of Parravon actually told a story of Francois cutting his way out of a giant's belly after being swallowed by the monster."

"So he's quite the Bretonnian Knight, then?" Seth inquired calmly.

Jean-Baptiste's fiery rage vanished and was replaced by cold fury. "Francois learned the code in his cradle, took it with his mother's milk, speaks it in his sleep. Where most Bretonnian men strive to follow the code, Francois breathes it. He is the Knightly Order writ six feet tall, a prayer clad in steel, a mantra on horseback." He stopped, and then spoke quietly and tightly. "I pray every day to be a knight like Francois."

"Very poetic." congratulated the Chaos Warrior. "But there's one thing I don't understand."

The Standard Bearer's words were hard bullets. "And what is that, Lord Garrick?"

"Well, how an honest man like yourself, chock full of integrity and honor, could command a man who by your own words is your obvious superior." Seth shrugged. "It doesn't seem to make sense."

"WHAT?"

"You have said, attested to, in fact, that Francois is a man so steeped in the traditions of knighthood, so dedicated as to be a physical manifestation of them. This man, at the zenith of his military career, is an under-officer commanding inferior troops in a provincial army."

"Lord Garrick...." Cadfael cautioned.

Seth ignored him and plowed ahead. "Francois has been in, what, twice the number of battles as you have?" he questioned. "There is no question as to his experience or capability in combat. Spiritually, he is the epitome of the knighthood; loyal, dedicated, stoic, courageous, intelligent, chivalrous. And yet he commands only armsmen, not knights, not ever knights, in the service of an Earl he helped raise and train. How can this be? In such a just and noble society?"

Le Brun reeled. "I'm not sure... Perhaps he does not seek a higher position." His explanation sounded weak, even to himself.

Seth smashed forward. "I see. And perhaps humility is no longer an ideal you knights strive for either? Did the Earl politick for his current position? Call in a few favors? Petition the King?

"Lord Garrick..." warned the General.

"Of course not!" Jean broke in. "Only the weak and craven would seek such a path."

"Oh." said Seth, apparently surprised. "Then how did he find himself in the office of General, then?"

"He received that honor from the King himself, on the recommendation of the Duke of Brionne, in recognition of service at the battle of..."

"Has Francois not proven himself brave and capable in the last five years?" interrupted Seth. "Has he been slow and infirm, dim-witted and cowardly all this time?"

"Of course not. But..."

"Then it would seem that his lack of prestige and position might be the result of a lack of recognition on the part of his commander, rather than any lack of ambition on Francois' part." Seth cocked his head. "Wouldn't it?"

Le Brun floundered. He looked to his commander, and found a steady, uncompromising, rather pitying gaze waiting there. "Milord?"

"Ride ahead, Jean-Baptiste." he commanded quietly.

"Milord, Francois... why?" he stammered.

"Jean." the Earl commanded, more strongly this time. "Check our forward pickets. Now."

"Yes, honest man, ride ahead." echoed Seth, snickering.

The Standard Bearer whirled back to the chained man. "I was not made second in command because of my friendship to the Earl!" He spurred his horse close to the wagon. "I have earned my place here!"

Seth smiled, slowly standing in the cart. "Your first statement I have to agree with; you didn't get your job by being pals with your boss. And your second might even be technically true; you've earned your place here. But how you got the second in command spot in the first place? That was a political choice, and don't you deny it."

"What?" Jean was becoming more perplexed by the moment. "What do you mean?"

"It's rather simple, honest man." Seth began. "You're the son of a wealthy, affluent noble. Francois is a peasant. A talented peasant, given. But still only a peasant."

"That's not true!" shouted the Knight.

"But it is, honest man." the Chaos Lord assured. Nobles look out for noble interests first, and the commons second."

"That's not so!" countered Jean. "A knight's duty is to protect the innocent, and be a champion to those who cannot protect themselves. We dedicate our lives to protecting the common folk."

Seth shook his head sadly. He looked at the Earl. "Milord, will you send this man ahead to check the forward pickets, or will you let this be finished?"

Earl Cadfael's lips tightened. Sending him ahead would simply shame the Standard Bearer further. "Say your piece, Lord Garrick, and be done with it."

Seth returned to the knight. "Honest man, let me ask you something. When you were knight-errants with the Earl, what were the names of the men you served with?"

Le Brun twisted in his saddle, surprised by the apparent change of topic. He considered "Well, It was some time ago." He rode on a moment, and then began. "There was Giles du Cheval, Luc Rostand, Bernard Leblanc of Gisoreux, and Etienne Rappineau." He paused, remembering. "Ah, Stephane Les Gris, Gilbert of L'Anguille, Antoine Le Jeune, Jaqcues Rousellot, Charles De Laclos, Aloys De Fina, Gui Torangeau, Georges Lenoir, Jasperre Legrand, and Robert Levert."

"Very good, honest man." said the Chaos Lord. "That sounds like a very impressive and august company you served with during your training."

The Battle Standard Bearer forgot himself for a moment and beamed with pride. "We were quite a group."

"And you remember them all, after how many years?"

"Ten." spoke the General. "Perhaps eleven."

"Ten years." Seth marveled. "And you all went on to serve as knights in Bretonnian armies?"

"Yes, of course." said Jean. "Though Stephane, Aloys, and Jasperre spent more than a year as questing grail knights, and did not serve in the line at that time."

"What about the others?" asked Seth.

"What others?" Le Brun answered.

"The other knight-errants in your regiment."

"I have told you the names of them all." the Standard Bearer asserted.

Seth turned to the Earl. "General?"

Earl Cadfael was silent for a long moment. "Valentin. And Henri."

Jean Baptiste's look of puzzlement slowly shifted to a look of profound horror and shame.

"Well, honest man, it appears you forgot two after all." Seth smiled gently. "I wonder why it is, having remembered all the rest, including the whereabouts of a few after you were knighted and split up, that you could have completely forgotten about two of them?"

Le Brun's mouth worked like a fish. "I never spent any time with them."

"Really? Why was that?"

No sound at all came from the knight's throat.

"Could it be because they didn't talk like you did? Didn't have the same fancy clothes or gear that you did? Maybe they didn't eat very neatly. Or maybe you just didn't want to be scorned by the rest of the boys in your regiment for fraternizing with the type of people you've dedicated your life to protecting."

Jean's face flushed with embarrassment. He half turned to his commander, not wanting to meet his gaze. "Moving forward to check our pickets, sir." He spurred his horse forward, first trotting, and then sprinting forward.

Seth resumed his seat in the cart. "Nice work on the two common boys. I wasn't sure you'd speak up."

The Earl rode close to the cart. "Jean-Baptiste is a good man, and a capable second. He is proud, I'll admit, but that tirade was... excessive, Lord Garrick.

Seth adopted a pose of shock. "Excessive, milord? Surely you jest? It was barely adequate!"

"There was no need to punish him so."

"Milord," Seth defended himself. "I was shamelessly and blatantly provoked."

The Earl stared. "Provoked?"

A smirk, which bloomed into a sneer. "Yes. Provoked. I find ignorance extremely provocative. And hypocrisy as well. Any man who would threaten a chained prisoner would certainly be the type to torment others as a young boy, particularly those less able to fight back. He didn't even remember their names, the boys he sneered and laughed at every day. He even had to be reminded they once existed."

The General rode on a moment in silence. "He has grown since then."

"Not nearly enough, I'd say." laughed Seth. "The point needed to be made; that in Bretonnia they way things are and the way people, nobles in particular, believe them to be are not the same. Whether it's your promotional policies, or the treatment of the commons by their noble 'betters'. Honest Jean up there made the point brilliantly, on both counts."

Silence drew out suddenly, and was then abruptly broken by the Chaos Lord. "So let's end the suspense; why is the honest man your second in command, with so capable an infantry commander withering on the vine?"

The Earl remembered the day the old knight had spoken to him, the day after he'd told his father, threateningly, after a tantrum, that he'd make Francois his second in command. Cadfael had been six years old.

"Young master," the old man had said. His eye was already gone, yet the young boy had never found this frightening. "You may never make me more than what I am. I am the commander of the foot, the backbone of your father's army. Take me away from them, and I'll just waste away." The old man knelt down, feigning exhaustion. The little boy laughed and jumped on top of him. It was like jumping on a pile of stones.

"So no more talk of decking me out in finery and pretty colors, young master." The old man had begun tickling him, with gnarled fingers, still limber enough to make him giggle. "Promise me now, boy, no talking of generalships or commands for old Francois..."

And no more talking had been done. Until today.

"Francois is content where he is, Lord Garrick." said the Earl. "There is no mystery."

Strangely, Seth seemed content with that answer. "Of course he is, milord. Any knight worthy of the title finds the best way to serve his Lord's needs. And Francois, he serves best as Commander of Infantry, doesn't he?"

With that, Seth sat back down and pulled up his hood, apparently ready to save further direct provocation of his hosts until later.

The General rode on in silence, disquieted by Seth's last words. From his position near the wagon he watched Francois riding alongside a regiment of squires. And considered the grown-up nature of his childhood promise.

A sharp rap on the side of the cart quickly roused the sleeping Chaos Lord. Night had fallen. The wagon had stopped. And Roland Bourdon was pounding on the slats on the side of the wagon to get his attention.

Slowly Seth unwound and pulled himself to a sitting position. "Undoubtedly, Commandant, this must be urgent. But please remember that where I come from...

"Spare me, prisoner." Roland cut in. "You spent plenty of time speaking to Cadfael and his lackey today, you can spare some time for me."

Paranoid and vain, thought Seth. Assets to look for in any partner. He yawned. "Le Brun is a clot. Francois is amazingly perceptive for a knight, and the Earl is not the hypocrite so many of you lance-and-armor-types actually are. That's the short version. If you want the details..."

"No I do not." snapped the knight. "And keep your voice down. I don't care to be overheard."

Seth looked around the wagon. There were half a dozen campfires within a dozen paces. He shrugged, but kept his voice low. "So what now, conspiracy king?"

"I wanted to speak to you about the ransom...."

"I don't suppose I could get some food and drink brought to me?" Seth broke in." He raised his clanking chains. "I'd see to it myself, but I'm somewhat restrained."

Roland huffed angrily, and ordered a nearby soldier to fetch some food. A bowl and cup were brought from a nearby fire and handed to the prisoner.

"Now then," the knight continued. "Who do we..."

"What is this?" Seth's look of dismay could not be more plain.

"Do I look like a cook?" Roland fired back. "What's wrong with it?"

As if explaining to a child, Seth spoke calmly. "This is camp food." He held up the bowl, containing a sludgy grain mush. "Basic iron rations."

"So?" Bourdon was rapidly becoming exasperated.

Seth smiled. "Look, I think we can do better than this. You and I, we're partners here. I think that entitles me a seat at the big kids table." He noted the knight's blank stare. "The good stuff, commandant. Officer-type food, okay? Not this horse fodder."

Roland trembled, ready to explode. Then, with infinite poise he dispatched the soldier to his tent to bring the remains of his evening meal from his manservant.

Seth seemed pacified. "So what did you want to talk about again?"

Bourdon eyed the chained man suspiciously, expecting a diversion. With none forthcoming and the night becoming late he began. "In Bretonnia the exchange of hostages is a simple and straightforward affair. A messenger is sent to the captured officer's estates, or commander. A price is offered, accepted, and the prisoner exchanged for the money at a pre-arranged spot at a later date. I think that covers the details of our arrangement. What we need now is to know where... What is wrong now?"

Seth sat with his jaw hanging open. "That's your plan? 'Send a messenger to my estates and exchange later'? That's the plan?" You know, thought Seth, I'm getting awfully tired of saying that. "You've given this some real thought, haven't you?"

Roland was mystified. "What? You anticipate some difficulties?"

The dispatched guard returned at that moment with a covered tray and a bottle of wine. Seth grabbed the bottle and with one fluid motion extracted the cork with his teeth, spat it into a nearby campfire, and chugged down half the bottle.

"Difficulties?" he gasped. "You are trying to kill me, aren't you? You didn't quite get away with it on the scaffold, and now your trying to finish the job."

The Commandant shrugged, not understanding the prisoners shock . "What seems to be the problem?"

"'Seems to be'?" mimicked Seth. "Let's just think this through, shall we? Sending a messenger to my estates might prove inconvenient. The Chaos Wastes tend to be uniformly lethal to those not inured to their peculiarities. However, the good news is that in this case the unsurvivability of the Wastes is not going to be a factor."

"Really?" asked Roland, his sagging hopes beginning to rise. "You know a safe way to reach your castle?"

"No, it's not going to be a problem because the bad news is I have no estates to send a messenger to, in the Chaos Wastes, or anywhere else."

"What?" the knight nearly shrieked. "No castles? No titled land? What sort of noble are you?"

The Chaos Lord gave the knight a flat stare. "Building a castle in the Wastes is usually just a pleasant way of telling your enemies where you're likely to be found when they bring their army to kill you. I stay alive by staying mobile, and taking what we need as we ride. And there's only one type of noble in the North; the devout. Those who lack faith are inevitably ground to pulp beneath the boots of those who keep it."

Roland hadn't heard this last. He saw the ransom, so necessary to his future, beginning to sprout wings and flutter away. "Surely there must be someone you know who could be bargained with! Someone who could brave the Wastes and deliver news of your ransom?"

Seth shook his head in disbelief and reached for the food tray. Leg of lamb, some chopped vegetables, not bad. For a condemned man, he thought morbidly. No mint. Typical. "I say again, let's think this through, shall we? You're suggesting that I tell you the name of a local who might be able to act as an intermediary in this affair. A local who would undoubtedly wish to remain behind to continue his own long-term dealings after my departure. A now-revealed chaos sympathizer, living and operating here in Bretonnia. Does this sound like a rational request to you?"

Roland bridled under the rebuke. "Then tell me then, how do Chaos Lords exchange hostages then?"

"Typically, in large bloody chunks." Seth ripped a large bite out of the leg, dipped it in a small bowl of gravy, and ate some more. "Commandant, look, we have to stay calm here. We both want the same thing."

A wry look from Roland.

"Okay, so we both want different things, but we have to go through the same problems to get them." Seth corrected himself. "You want your money, I want my freedom. We can work this out, but we have to plan carefully and make sure nothing goes wrong. I'm trying to help here, but we're talking about a truly staggering number of considerations and complications."

"I am aware of the situation, Lord Garrick." Bourdon spoke icily. "Probably better than you are. Just remember that shipping you south and selling you in the slave markets is far more easily done than any negotiations with your... compatriots."

"But your profit margin will suffer," reminded Seth. "And you'll never have so grand an opportunity in this lifetime."

"Hence you still live, Lord Garrick. We shall speak again, and soon, so consider carefully the means of your release." Roland paced away, toward his tent.

Perfect, thought Seth. All I have to do is educate my captors on how to properly conduct a hostage exchange, without direct contact with the buyers, and no way to know if the sellers will stick to the deal once it's struck.

"It could be worse." he said aloud to himself. "It could be...", and paused, trying to think of a further non-complication to cheer himself.

A moment passed.

A long moment.

"Okay, so maybe it can't be any worse." and gulped down the remaining wine.