Chapter 114: Indulge me, call it a last request if you prefer

Ideally, I wanted to hold off from outright murder just yet. Moral concerns aside, murder tends to leave bodies and blood around the place which gets spotted a lot easier than anything else. It's hard to pretend that bodies just turn up randomly whereas lamp oil and fires can be started by mistake.

So that left me round the sides, or up over the roof.

I could probably climb up without too much trouble. Kerrass' old observation of the fact that people very rarely look up was...reassuring but I was concerned that that might leave me with nowhere to go. I wouldn't be able to set fire to things or cause mischief from up there.

So that was going to be the last resort.

Ok, so, left or right?

Well, Right would take me back towards the gate. They think that that's where the risk and danger comes from so that's where they're going to be protecting themselves from.

SO I went left.

In the end though, there was no way I was going to be able to squeeze through that gap as the building itself was too tight up against the palisade.

I took a deep breath and decided on a short risk. I pushed my bags and spear through the gap. Took another moment to listen to see if anyone had heard me before, as quietly as I could, scrambling up the corner of the building and rolling over the roof and coming back to the ground.

Luckily, that meant that I was behind some stables.

I crouched down as I was putting my packs back around myself before edging round. I was still hidden in shadow but I needed to have a good look round to see what was happening. Lot's of people milling around. A couple of people were whipping the prisoners. But even then, I could see the door into the church.

Interestingly, it wasn't guarded.

I had a little chuckle as I thought about Captain Froggart back at home. He would have been so angry at that. That a choke point wasn't guarded. You do that to protect against villains like me that have managed to sneak past your outer perimeter.

But you know what the hardest bit was. The hardest part of the whole escapade, for me at least and I want you to bear this in mind when you read about what happened afterwards. That moment, when I straightened up and just walked around the corner.

That was the hardest part of the entire thing. Again, Kerrass had instructed me carefully and I could hear his voice as I moved.

“Just act as though you belong there. Just move confidently and as though you have something to do and people will let you get on with it. It's only when you're doing dangerous things, or things that you shouldn't be doing that people start to notice you.”

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“So, when I'm splashing lamp oil around the place?”

“And setting fires.” He had answered.

But even then, it still took me more than a small amount of courage to straighten up and just walk round the corner.

And more than a little bit more self-control to keep myself moving smoothly and evenly, to keep myself walking at a normal pace.

Also, how do you hold a spear casually? No really, I wanna know. In the middle? Over your shoulder? The same way that a Pikeman carries it in the army?

I decided not to go with that last one.

Also, it suddenly seemed as though the compound was so much larger than it had seemed from the outside.

But I walked as easily as I could and with much purpose as I could, towards the front door of the storehouse.

Much to my astonishment, no-one called out to me. No-one shouted my name, not even a “hey, you.”

I propped the spear next to the entrance to the door and tried it. Thanks for reading on ManaNovel!

It was locked. Of course it was locked. I took a moment to look around the edges and did my best to examine the door.

We didn't have a plan for what to do if I couldn't get to the lamp oil.

It didn't look very strong. I could probably force it open. But that would make noise and draw attention to myself. Which I didn't want.

I checked and found a latch, which was a mixed blessing. On the one hand it meant that I could open the door with a knife. On the other hand that meant that there was someone indoors who had put the latch on.

Oh well. It needs to be done though.

I drew my knife and, as quietly as I could, I lifted the latch off and pushed the bolt aside.

It must have worked as I opened the door and walked in.

Inside, I found a room full of boxes and sacks. I thought I could see grain, a few racks of weapons, there was a shelf of armour grease and weapon oil. Several stacks of blankets. I moved through and found the person who was inside.

He was a young man, knelt on the floor praying. He must have sensed some kind of movement behind him as he turned round, rising to his feet and drawing his sword.

You know, to be honest?

Recently, in these little essays, I've talked about murder and what the difference is between murder and killing someone. I am pleased to say that I still know, if not the names, then at least the identities of all the people that I have killed. My number has climbed into the double digits now. It stayed at nine for a long time but it's now started to grow again.

I don't know how that makes me feel. Kerrass has told me not to worry about it but I wonder. I still wonder.

In this case, he was praying and something in me doubts that I could have slit his throat from behind while he knelt at prayer.

Asleep?

Maybe.

On guard, not looking in my direction?

Probably but.... praying?

I think I would struggle with that.

As I say, he drew his sword. Which was where he discovered that the place was too crowded for the proper use of his sword.

He realised it and went for the dagger at his back but I was already on him. My left hand coming up to cover his mouth to stop him from crying for help as I pushed him to the floor. I still had my dagger in my hand. It's not a great weapon for stabbing and he was wearing a chainmail shirt anyway. I couldn't get at his throat or at his face for any of the other, quicker shots.

Instead, I remembered some anatomy and stabbed into, before slashing up his inner thigh.

I only narrowly avoided the arterial spray.

I was still stopping him from screaming and was leaning on his chest to prevent him from drawing the breath that he would have needed for a good scream so I saw the fear in his eyes.

Not a murder. At least I don't think so. He needed to die, but he would have killed me if he had had the chance.

Eight men down.

I quickly dragged him round the corner of some boxes and stacked some blankets on top of him. His funeral pyre would be big enough anyway. I found the bags of Lantern oil at the back of the shed.

“Careful,” I told myself again.

I carried two bags to the entrance before taking the third and doing my best to liberally spray the place with oil, especially around the boxes and those things that I thought would be more flammable, before taking one of the arm loads of torches and carried them, along with the rest of the oil outside. I spent some time ferrying my burdens over to the stables, doing my best to look like any of the other people that were doing their chores around the place.

The stables were much smaller. Also, I have a thing about preferring not to hurt animals if I can possibly help it which changed my strategy a little.

I checked inside to see if there were any grooms that were awake, and or working. I would need to have a good look around the place before I started spreading the oil. From the sounds of things, activities were beginning to calm down outside now which I considered a mixed blessing.

Seeing no immediate activity, I hid the oil, torches and the Witcher's equipment under some hay near the entrance. Propped my spear up along side a rack with some hay-forks on them. Again, Kerrass' words “Hide things in plain sight, or with other things of similar make-up. People notice the strange or the out of place but if it looks as though it belongs, then they won't notice.”

Then I took the time to search the place to see if there was anyone asleep in stable. It wasn't large but a large pile of hay can look like an attractive, warm and comfortable place to catch up on some sleep. There are also some Lords who like to have their grooms and stable-men to sleep next to their horses so that they can be ready to go at a moments notice. Another kind of Horsemaster might sleep near the horses if one is sick and he or she wants to make sure that they are ok during the night. Foaling as well. So I thought it best to make sure.

Some people might think that I was being overcautious. But I was intending to open all the stalls and splash oil around the place. The horses were going to be unhappy about that and would, undoubtedly, make some noise.

But no, there was no-one. Not in the hayloft, not in the stalls and not in the rest of the stable.

I couldn't decide whether I was pleased about this or not. It meant that I could work unopposed and quickly as any noise that came from the stables would be confused with the natural noise that the horses made. But on the other hand, that meant that the grooms were elsewhere and enemies for the future.

But the thing that really got my goat was the fact that I kind of saw this as a bit neglectful. My father's Horse-master would be horrified.

“Careful,” I told myself.

First I went through all of the stalls and brought out the horses. There weren't as many as I was expecting.

We had been told that there were a good forty five fighting men in the compound and I was expecting at least a horse each for all of the knights as well as horses for many of the squires. But no, there were about twenty five horses, all told.

As I think I've said before, I don't know much about horses but I sometimes realise that I know more than I thought I did. I suppose I can thank father for that. You can't live in a hunter's castle and not learn about horses..

The stable was far too small for even that number of horses.

“Careful.” I told myself again

I went through and took them to one end of the barn where the main doors were. When I came back. I intended to set the fire behind me, open the doors and herd the horses out with me.

I really would prefer not to harm the horses if I could possibly get away with it.

After I had got the Horses situated as best I could, I set about dousing the place with oil. I could work quickly here, without needing to be too stealthy so I didn't bother holding back before returning to where my equipment was stored.

All told, I thought that I had about one and a half skins of oil left. I wanted to save one skin of oil for the main church building. A good chunk of that was stone and there was no way that I could expect all of that to burn easily. So I would have to scrimp on the dormitory.

I reconciled myself with the fact that the majority of people that we knew that slept in the dormitory were the younger squires as well as those servants that the rest of the knights couldn't do without. Both of those types of people were the ones that had been beaten and abused by the knights as a whole and so, if there was anyone that I would prefer not to kill then it was the people in this building. But that didn't stop me from berating myself for being wasteful with the rest of the oil.

But still.

“Careful.” I heard myself say, “Not too fast, not to slow.” Again, I took out my equipment from the pile of hay that I had carefully not covered in oil.

“Careful.” I said again before wondering if I had been saying that for a while.

I stepped back out into the night sky and tried to judge what time it was.

Earlier than I thought, but later than was ideal.

I walked over to the dormitory and noticed that the rain had eased off while I was inside the stable. Too caught up in my own bullshit to notice

There was absolutely no way that I could go inside this building and start splashing the oil around without sounding the alarm. No way at all.

I had another look and found that I could squeeze round the back of the building and started splashing the walls with the oil. For a while, I considered trying to put some into the thatch on the roof as well but I didn't know what kind of state of repair the roof was in and there was a risk that some oil would get through and splash onto someone giving the game away. I did pull some of the eaves of the thatched roof out so that, in theory, the flames that would be licking up the side of the building would catch against them and the roof could catch fire.

The side of the building furthest away from the stables was also obscured to general sight and there was some more hay nearby so I splashed some oil there as well, pushing the hay up against the wall of the building.

Ok. So....what's next?

I took a minute to think about my handiwork now and just to reassess what order I wanted to do things.

The spear caused a problem. On the one hand I wanted to keep it with me but I recognised that for the fear that it was. I wanted it as a security blanket. I wanted it with me in case I needed to fight.

But.

If I did carry it with me then that meant that I would be seen as a threat. Knights are special creatures at heart and they assume that if you aren't carrying a weapon then you aren't a threat. They only register other knights on the battlefield but a man with a spear? Especially as odd a spear as I used?

The other thing was that the next part of the plan required speed. I had already decided that I would need to ditch the potion box and crossbow and I had chosen my spot next to the entrance of the spear. There was just too much weight there and it would slow me down. The spear fell into a similar category. It was large, heavy and unwieldy. I would need both hands and be able to move through confined spaces.

The spear would have to stay.

The church entrance, or rather, the entrance to the larger complex was stone. It made a short corridor, the entrance of which was a wooden door that looked as though it was kept permanently open. There were certainly plenty of people going in and coming out. I walked past the entrance in an effort to see if there were any guards inside but I couldn't see any.

That was just a risk I was going to have to take.

I dumped my stuff next to the entrance. There were some other crates there as well before taking out the handful of torches.

It says something about the security of the place that it wasn't until I was walking over to put the torches down that I got challenged by someone.

“Oi.” Someone shouted. “Who are you?”

I did my best to assume that they were talking to someone else.

“You. Stop.”

I felt a mailed hand drop onto my shoulder and spin round. I blinked into the face of the man that had grabbed me.

“What's your name?” He demanded. I couldn't tell whether he was a knight or one of the more experienced fighting men. I guessed at the latter due to a large cut across the top of one of his eyes that was seeping blood.

“Uh, Samuel sir.”

Sorry Sam.

“Samuel is it? Never heard of you.”

“I'm new sir, from the village?”

“And what are you doing Samuel?”

“I'm, uh, restocking the torches sir.” I gestured to the bundle on my shoulder. “In case we need more light sir.”

“Hmmm,” he grunted. He was a little wide eyed and I guessed that he was still dealing with all of the adrenaline from the fight with Kerrass. Probably just looking for an excuse.

He looked me up and down.

“That's a nice looking knife.” He said, drawing it from where I kept it across my belly. “Very nice.”

He leered at me, as though daring me to take offence. “Where'd you get it?”

I struggled to keep my fear and anger down. I had been depending on that knife now that I had left my spear behind. Truth hurts though, if I had needed to depend on the knife then I was already done for.

“My father gave it to me.” I told him. “It was his in the last war.”

“Hurm,” he grunted again. “It is a nice knife.” He examined the blade before checking around him. “Can I have it?”

It wasn't really a question. If I said no then I suspected that my throat would be slit in short order and the death blamed on Kerrass.

“Errr. Yes sir. Yes, of course.” I did my best to stammer a little as though terrified.

“Good.” He snatched the sheath out of my belt.

He seemed almost dissappointed to be deprived of an opportunity to commit murder.

Ah bless. I did my best to remember his face as he walked off. I wanted that knife back. It was indeed a good knife.

I still had my boot dagger as well as one in the small of my back which was little more than an eating knife but it would do at a pinch.

Truth was though, that if I needed to fall back on either of those then it was already all over.

I walked off to the fire-bowl closest to the stables as that was the middle building of the three that I intended to burn. I carefully stacked the torches, keeping one back and lit it before doing my best to walk calmly towards the store-house..

I didn't think about it at the time but this was probably the most dangerous bit of them all. There was no need for light in the enclosure. There was plenty of fire around already and therefore there was no need for someone, least of all the scrappy little peasant that I was pretending to be, to be carrying around a lit brand.

But no-one called out.

I walked to the store house, opened the door and walked in. The smell of lamp oil was almost overpowering. I tossed the brand over to where one of the blankest had been scrunched loosely and waited to make sure that the fire definitely caught.

I had visions of throwing the torch and walking off for it to just gutter and die before the fire caught properly.

I needn't have worried. As it was, I nearly lost my eyebrows along with some of my hair.

I did my best to close the door calmly and walk back to the bowl to take up another torch and lit this one too.

Into the stable which was a lot closer. The horses noticed the fire though and started to get upset, I threw the fire into one of the hay piles that I had made sure was well doused with oil for exactly this purpose before running over and opening the larger gate so that the horses could escape.

I was about half way through fighting my way through all of the horse flesh when someone noticed the smoke and the flames' licking from the storehouse wall and through the eaves of the roof.

“Hey, is that smoke?” someone called.

“I don't know,” another voice called. The stable fire was well caught now so I kind of shrugged to myself as I pushed the main gate open. “Fire.” I yelled. “Fire.” The more intelligent horses got the idea and helped me to push the door open. The stupider ones just stood about and needed to be pulled bodily from the building before they started to panic as well and follow their herd mates.

By this point, other people had seen the danger and had come to help me get the horses out of the stable. Someone clapped me on the shoulder and told me that I was a good man. Someone else said “Brave of you,” the sentiment was spoiled by the next man who told me to man up and go and help with the other fires.

As I led the horses out and went to the fire-bowl to collect the next torch, I saw my greatest piece of mischief in action. At the time I had no plans for it. I certainly had not intended it.

Someone had opened the door to the store-house to see what was going on to find the raging inferno, presumably before staggering back from the heat.

Someone else had, rather optimistically, got themselves a bucket of water and threw it through the door.

Have you ever seen a load of water thrown onto an oil fire.

I have.

The results were impressive and almost exactly the opposite of what the water-thrower had intended. I don't think he survived the explosion though. Poor man.

I tried not to giggle as I caught up a third torch. I took up the call of fire and ran round the side of the dormitory. I didn't want to trap myself in so I forced my way behind it to light those fires first, setting light to the oil as I went along before throwing my last torch into the remaining hay next to the dormitory and taking a moment to step back and admire my handiwork.

Not bad, even if I do say so myself.

This bit was going to be dangerous. Now I needed to get inside the church buildings. But everyone that was inside those self-same buildings, wanted to get out and if they saw me, armed, then they would want to know why I wasn't running towards the fire.

And I didn't have my dagger any more for close work.

I moved over and stayed next to the entrance as people were rushing out. There were far too many people in the compound now for me to try and take them on. I needed to do damage now. I needed to make them hurt and if I just took the one nearest to me followed by the one nearest to him and on and on, I would be lucky if I got through three soldiers or knights before I would be overwhelmed.

That wasn't the point about what was happening here. I needed to make them hurt.

Everything depended on it, which meant that I had to go inside the buildings. Funnel their numbers, taking them on on my own terms.

I crouched next to the entrance of the buildings where I had left the rest of Kerrass' goods and did my best to listen to what was going on, while strapping the goods around my body.

A group of people came running out. There was shouting and orders were given. Then there was a pause before another group of soldiers or knights came running out, swords drawn, shortly before they realised how stupid it was to have swords drawn in this situation.

Bucket chains were forming now. Say whatever you like but at the end of the day, they were still getting organised. But I had done my job well and the buildings were now well and truly up in flames.

Another pair of knights, followed by a small number of single men. Then another pause.

I counted. I had set myself the target of a hundred heartbeats before I would make a move.

I was going to have to remove the bottom part of my spear to go into the abbey itself. I hated to do it but it was necessary and I knew it. A spear was no good in the confined corridors, even the blade and pole was probably a bit too long for proper use.

Another pair of men ran out.

Fuck it.

I ducked round the entrance and moved inside.

There was no help for it here. My earlier pretence of moving like I belonged, calm and slow, was not going to work now. I was armed with something that wasn't standard issue, carrying boxes that people wouldn't recognise and there was no way that I wasn't going to be recognised for the intruder that I was.

The first room was a guard room. Nothing fancy. There was a table with a few cups on it, some leftover food and a rack of weapons.

Most importantly to someone like me, there was nothing there that was particularly flammable.

I moved on. The next few rooms were sleeping rooms. They looked....boring, standardised as though people used whichever room was closest and unoccupied. Each room had a bed and a bucket. The scent of unwashed human was....oppressive.

The main church area was still ahead of me.

If they followed any kind of standard human psychology then Kerrass would be beneath me somewhere. In a cell. So I was looking for a way down as well.

I did consider trying to grab someone for some information, to try and get the layout of the buildings. The Kid that we had taken had been unforthcoming on that regard. His memories of the place were unreliable, still so tied up in his indoctrination and the other people that we had interrogated could not give us anything useful.

I had to duck into one of the side rooms when a group of armed men came running past. They were calling to each other that the compound was still under attack, an unknown number of attackers. That they didn't know where they were coming from or who they were.

I allowed myself a little grin of triumph.

Still, realistically, nothing to burn. There was also the other concern which was that if I started setting fires at the entrance to the building then my escape route would be cut off.

Our escape route would be cut off, I should say.

I came to a crossroads. The corridors went left and right. I still didn't have time to stop and think, or to survey anything. I had already had a couple of lucky escapes while people went this way and that. I was listening, trying to pick out something useful. I knew that the main church building was to my left. If this building followed any kind of standard building practices then that meant that there would be more rooms to the right. That corridor would then come round to form a square. That was if the entire place hadn't been re purposed during the occupation by the knights though.

I wasn't interested in normal cells. I wanted the important areas. I wanted the guest rooms and the offices. I wanted the hospitals and the store-rooms.

I wanted the priest. Bishop Sansum.

I wanted to look him in the eye and I wanted him to know who it was that killed him and why.

I was carrying too much bulk though. I needed to explore.

I picked one of the cells at random. Not the ones closest to the crossroads but close enough for my purposes. I hid Kerrass' crossbow and potion box and the other bombs under the bed. Along with the last of the oil. I couldn't afford to just start spreading the oil around indiscriminately. I needed to find the place where it would do the most damage.

The kid had told us about Bishop Sansum's room of books and I thought that that might be a good start. But there was still something in me that suggested that the burning of holy books was a bad idea. I wanted to check them first and leave myself open to other ideas.

I also needed to start killing people. It was an unpleasant truth but there it was. Damaging the place wasn't just about damaging the buildings or the possessions of the knights. It was also about damaging the knights themselves. I was being too dainty.

I needed to get my hands dirty.

But I still had objectives.

I changed my mind and went right. Down the line of the cells.

An interesting piece of trivia for you. Most monk cells have hatches in the doors. This is so that the priors and under-priors can keep an eye on the lay brothers. To make sure that they're not getting drunk or partaking of some of the more recreational herbs and medicines that the average monastary grows in it's gardens. In other words, they needed to make sure that the other monks weren't having fun.

As I walked down the row though, it turned out that the majority of the hatches had been covered or nailed shut by the new occupants.

With good reason too, judging by the fact that one of the hatches that were still open allowed me to see one “knight” sexually abusing a young squire.

There was no way for me to get in there and kill just the knight though and after talking to the other young man, I wasn't sure how the squire would react. He could thank me, but he was just as likely, if not more likely to sound the alarm.

I couldn't risk it and did my best to ensure that I would remember the knight's face so that I could make sure that he died.

I moved on.

I was beginning to get nervous though. I was running out of time. Sooner or later the fires were going to go out.

I killed another man. I don't know what had called him from his bed but he was just in the process of coming out of the door, pulling his chainmail over his head and over the woollen gambeson that he was wearing. I was lucky, he didn't even get the chance to pull his sword out of his scabbard as I ran him through, pushing him back into his cell where I left him.

I moved on.

I came to an area where the doors were more evenly spread out. I tried the first one but it was locked. The second one turned me into a large guest room. Rugs on the floor, wide, four poster bed and tapestries on the wall.

There was a rack. And a series of hooks that contained various whips and chains. There were blood smears on some of the straps.

I started to find my anger again. I had needed that.

The next room was....well there's no other word for it. It was a treasure room. Boxes of treasure, coin, jewels and other such things. There were also other things that we might not think of as treasure but that were clearly precious to someone. Children's toys. Glass baubles. A stack of skins and several stuffed toys.

There was a rocking horse.

Even if I had had the rest of the oil on me, I'm not sure that I could have brought myself to burn it.

Then there was another guest room.

Then another.

The fourth had a girl in it. I don't know how old she was but she wasn't old. Filthy blonde hair and a grubby face where startling green eyes peered out at me, wide with fear. She was wrapped, or had wrapped herself in a filthy blanket in an effort to cover her modesty. It was a vain attempt as it didn't come close to covering her. She yelped as I opened the door, quickly throwing the blanket from her bod and moving towards the bed, before realising that she didn't know who I was.

She opened her mouth to do something. I don't know what, Scream? Yell?

I held my hand up and put my finger across my lips and just prayed that she would understand.

I could see her rib-cage under her skin.

Thank the holy fire. She nodded and pulled the blanket around her.

I backed out of the room, not wanting to push my luck.

The next room was a kitchen. There were several people working in it. Hollow eyed fatigue looked back at me from sunken, shadowed eyes. They barely noticed me.

I had gone too far and retraced my steps, coming to one of the side corridors and going down it. Coming round the other side of the square, the gardens, or what used to be the gardens on one side. More cells on the other.

I was getting really worried about time now.

They were going to find that there was no-one attacking them before too much longer leaving them to the inevitable conclusion that the person doing this had either fled, or moved inside the complex.

I came to a T-junction and chose right.

The first door I opened was a hospital of some kind. There were beds and things along with the more..torturous versions of the more modern versions of medical implements that I had seen in Oxenfurt. There was a reassuringly large number of men in the beds, nursing recent wounds. I considered going inside and moving a number of the injured men onto the next stage in their journey. But injured men weren't the problem. They weren't the people that I needed to be afraid of.

I moved to the next one.

I was screaming at myself now, that I needed to calm down. That I needed to take my time but somehow, I just wasn't listening to myself any more.

I found what I was looking for. A room full of books.

I took the time to take a couple of calming breaths. I couldn't rush this. I needed to do it right.

I checked so that I knew the route to get back here and entered slowly. I had my shortened spear out and ready. It was a larger room though, big enough for some proper spear techniques so I attached the lower part of my spear into it's proper position. I instantly felt so much better.

Our information was that when he wasn't in the church building then Sansum could be found here asleep. I couldn't see him immediately though. I carried my spear in my left hand, holding it upright in case the “Bishop” jumped out and struck at me. I searched the room slowly and as methodically as my dropping patience would allow.

As I had privately suspected though, the books on the shelves were worthless. Most were hollow, leather and wooden, bindings that didn't even have any paper in them. If my luck held and I could get in here, do the deed and kill Bishop Sansum then there was absolutely no guilt at all in setting this room on fire.

Shelves and areas were curtained off, making alcoves that couldn't be seen beyond and I guessed that if there was a sleeping area then it would be found behind one of those areas.. More evidence that Sansum cared even less about the written word was easily found as an open, roaring fireplace was there, not guarded against stray sparks. A comfortable chair was set out against it.

I nearly giggled with it.

As I say though, it was all a sham. Shelves that looked as though they were full of books were covered in books were actually covered in a kind of painted cardboard, made to look as though they were books. The effect was convincing from a distance but as you got closer there was no weight or depth to it. It would easily fool people though if the room was kept dark and full of the flickering shadows of a fire.

I moved round a shelf and cautiously pulled a curtain aside.

I found more treasure there. Not the kind that you would be able to sell though, nor the kind that glitters. I found paintings, tapestries and finally, finally I found some books. I selected one at random and opened it up to find that it was a recipe book.

For cake.

I carefully placed it back on the pile, still making sure that it wouldn't make any noise.

The next alcove was made up of similar kinds of stuff. The next was full of ornate looking armour. Ancient and ornamental by today's standards rather than actually useful. They might hold interest for collectors and antique dealers but for the average soldier, metalwork and armour crafting was immeasurably superior to where it had been in the past.

The next alcove had what I was looking for. It was bigger than the others for a start. A small bed, a chest of drawers and a wardrobe, just about filled it.

There was a figure on the bed, wrapped in a blanket, although I couldn't see his face. I had heard about this kind of thing before though and waited for a moment, almost holding my own breath while I watched for the figure on the bed to start breathing.

I almost sobbed in relief when I saw that the figure was indeed breathing.

A part of me just wanted to do the deed now. To get it over with. To have the man killed but there was also another thought. What if this wasn't Sansum? What if it was some kind of double? I would have to be sure. I propped my spear against the wall, keeping the curtain back with it's weight so that I wouldn't tangle myself up in it if I had to flee.

I drew my boot dagger. It was longer and more made for stabbing than the shorter belt knife. I did have to remind myself to never hold a stabbing blade in an under-fist grip though.

I edged forward, as slowly and carefully as I could manage, until I was up around what should be the neck and face region. I reached out with my left hand and started to pull the blanket up until the figure started to move.

No more time for stealth. I pulled the blanket back.

To stare into the eyes of a young knight, armed with a crossbow that was pointing at me.

“Well done.” Came a voice from behind me and I heard the sound of armour clanking and moving along with weapons being drawn. “You got further than we would have expected.”

I didn't take my eyes from the knight that was slowly straightening from the bed. His face was beginning to bloom into a smile of triumph.

“You still fell for the oldest trick in the book though.” The voice said companionably. “The old, decoy in the bed, trick.”

“I did consider that.” I said, as calmly as I could, risking a glance sideways to see who I was talking to. Bishop Sansum, it seems, couldn't resist the opportunity of a good gloating session. There were also a number of other armed men in the room although I couldn't count them easily. Sansum licked his lips, his skin looked dry and cracked.

I could hear Kerrass' voice again. “Immediate threats. Concentrate on the immediate threats. Live in the moment. One target at a time.” I turned back to the knight with the crossbow.

“Is the Witcher still alive?” I asked aloud

“Why worry about that deviant freak?” Sansum asked conversationally before giving out an odd, dog-like bark of laughter. “When it's yourself that you should be concerned about?”

“Indulge me. Call it a last request if you prefer.”

“A last request?” Sansum laughed again and I wondered if I could hear the madness in the back of the man's laughter. “Heh, very well. The Witcher lives. He is too valuable a heretic to be killed out of hand. He will be tried publicly for the crimes of being a mutant and a deviant before we draw, quarter and burn him as should happen with all deviant magical creatures.”

“So what happens with me?”

“Well, we can't be quite so public with you.”

I felt myself grin then and allowed myself a small burst of laughter. Kerrass had been right and I let that triumph be heard in my voice.

“But we can't kill you just yet you see? We need to know what else is out there? That whore -bitch of a vampire for instance. I know who you are Frederick von Coulthard.”

I did let myself laugh then. “Actually,” I said, still not taking my eyes off the knight in front of me. “It's Doctor Frederick von Coulthard now.”

He laughed as well. “I apologise.”

“Also,” I told him. “I want you to know that I'm going to kill you for that.”

“For what?”

“For calling her that. I'm going to kill you for referring to Ariadne as a “Whore-bitch,” She is neither a whore, nor a female dog, but for that insult I am going to close my hands round your neck and squeeze until the life leaves your eyes.”

“Big talk from a man about to be tortured.”

“Big talk for a man about to die.”

He laughed again.

“Take him alive.” He told the other soldiers. The movement in the corner of my eyes told me that he left. I was still staring at the knight in front of me. He gestured with the crossbow that I should move out into the main room.

“You would have been better off with a knife.” I told him.

He frowned at me in confusion.

Here's another little learning point for you. There is a brief delay between pulling the trigger on a crossbow and the bolt actually leaving the bow. This is because of the changes in mechanism and as a result, ideally, you want to have fired your bolt before someone comes within arms reach of you.

I knocked the crossbow aside with my left hand, listened to the thunking sound of the bolt leaving the bow and drove my dagger into the smug little fucker's neck. I remembered to twist and brought the knife back out before pushing myself away.

I made it to my spear and managed to bring it to bear before the first club was swung at my face.

There were quite a lot of them though and there wasn't quite enough room to use the spear properly so instead I used it like a quarterstaff.

I ducked under that first blow and drove the butt of the spear into the man's gut. He, rather gratifyingly, doubled over wheezing but I didn't have time to focus after that. Instead I pushed the spear head forwards and into the groin of another attacker. I thought I saw him fall back but I didn't have time to check.

When fighting I normally prefer to fall backwards from my enemies to give myself room to think and plan. But there was simply no room for that. Instead, I charged them.

The most stupid of things to do but I eanted to make these people hurt.

I did my best to move. I did my best to eave and I know that more than one man staggered backwards from my whirling spear with broken bones and horrible gashes.

Like Kerrass, this wasn't about calm and precise kills now. This was about doing as much damage as I could. It wasn't going to last though. It was an enclosed space and I am no Kerrass. A club blow landed on my left arm numbing it meaning that I lost the strength for the proper use of the spear. Another blow on the back of my knee caused my legs to buckle and a second blow to my back sent me sprawling. I lost my spear then but

I still had my knife which would, arguably have been a better tool for the close quarters work.

But the men were in chain-main and I don't think I did that much damage with it although a couple of men did call out in protest.

The blows started to blur together so that I could no longer distinguish the one from another.

“Turn him over,” someone ordered. I know that it wasn't Sansum. This was a rougher voice.

I had enough time to see a boot descending towards my face.

Then I knew nothing more.

All according to plan.