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Badge of Honor
Chapter 1
England - 1212
The night was frigid. A small group of rough mercenaries loped easily after their leader down the cobblestone alley, occasionally blowing into their cupped hands to keep their fingers limber. Winter had not yet released its icy grip on the town, and the midnight chill caused their breath to puff out in frosty clouds.
The band knew from years of experience that there might be some sword work involved in the task before them tonight. True, it was a simple grab job; kidnap a quartet of civilians and deliver them to the proper location. They'd done these missions many times. The task was fairly routine. Still, you never knew what might happen should the victim choose to resist. You prepared for what could happen - not just what you planned was likely to happen.
Jake, the group's leader, came to a light-footed halt at the end of the alley. They were now near where the alleyway opened up into a large cobblestone intersection, ringed on all four sides by multi-story stone buildings. He absently brushed the long mane of graying hair out of his eyes with a gloved left hand while his sword hand held at the ready near the hilt. He stayed well in the shadows thrown by the edge of the building, his dark clothes helping him to blend in.
Tall, weathered and well built, Jake had earned and maintained his lead position in the group for many years despite several attempts by rival groups to unseat him. Now almost 38, he usually took on tasks far more complex than this. While the grab was perhaps child's play, he took it on as seriously as any other job. This assignment was a favor for a well paying client, and it would not do well to disappoint him.
Jake's eyes roamed smoothly over the landscape, focusing carefully on potential danger spots. The space before him seemed vacant of all life. To the left was a decrepit doorway surmounted by a wooden sign hanging from a pair of iron chains. The creaking of the sign, swaying unsteadily in the breeze, was the only noise in this desolate corner of town. He could see a black rooster depicted on the cracked wood. There were no signs of candles or movement in any of the windows of that building. The other walls presented only dark windows and alleyways.
"Marc - that seems to be the only hotel on the square," Jake commented gruffly to his second in command, a thin, wiry blonde. Jake smiled as he looked down at the shorter man, his eyes noting Marc's thinning hair and scrawny build. 'No threat there,' he thought to himself for the hundredth time. It was one reason why Marc made a good right hand man.
Jake went over the plan one last time with the men. "We will search the inn room by room. When we find them, we will gag them, then haul them to the meeting point." He glanced back at the building, considering. "If they are not there, then we start on other buildings in this area, clockwise, working our way outwards. Our orders were clear. We have to find them tonight."
A movement caught Jake's eye, and he looked up. A shape slid out of the alleyway across from them, gliding across the open courtyard in silence. As it stepped into the moonlight, the figure resolved itself into a lithe person dressed in black.
Jack scanned up the form with a practiced eye, judging the danger. The person wore low, soft black leather boots, dark leggings, a black tunic without adornment. A heavy black cloak was joined at the neck with a matte iron clasp. The hood was up and pulled low, shielding the wearer's face from view. The cloak swirled in a gust of wind as the figure smoothly crossed the center of the square, revealing a long scabbard at the person's left hip.
As the figure approached the mercenaries, the group instinctively lowered their hands on their swords. Marc moved up alongside Jake, his thin body tense. The rest of the mercs looked to Jake with curiosity, watching for a sign of how to react.
Jake's hand, like that of his fellows, rested casually on the hilt of his blade. He tossed his hair back as the newcomer approached within quiet talking distance. When the figure drew to a stop, Jake flashed a wide smile and nodded in appreciation.
"Shadow, what a surprise," he said easily, catching the glint of eyes in the deep hood. "What might you doing in this particular corner of the world?" he asked smoothly. To hear his voice, the two might have been old friends catching up on news at a country wedding.
Shadow nodded in greeting, keeping in the darkness even while looking up at Jake, who was a good five inches taller. "It has been a while," came the low reply, maintaining the same style of even tone. "You have admired my bluntness in the past; well, let us be so here. I am here on a job, as I imagine are you."
Shadow's eyes moved past Jake to scan the five mercenaries who stood behind him. "It is important that our assignments not ... collide in any manner."
Jake's grin widened with pleasure. "Well, now, let us see what we can do. Why not start by telling me what you are after."
Shadow's eyes returned back to meet Jake's, considering for a moment. After a long pause, the low voice rumbled from the depths of the hood. "Fair enough. I am here to protect a certain asset and to ensure that no ... local constabulatory interference results. It is therefore critical to me that whatever it is you are up to is done quickly and quietly. Unlike, for example, the incident in Kidderminster."
Marc pushed forward, his shrill voice piping up with anger. "Hey, that was NOT our fault!" he shot out, his voice rising. "How were we supposed to know ..."
Without looking, Jake silenced him with a sharp wave of a hand. His eyes remained fixed on Shadow. "We will do what we have to do to get our job done," he said smoothly, his smile icing slightly. "If you do not interfere, we will be at it and on our way." He nodded to his men and the group of six began moving past Shadow towards the darkened inn.
"The priest is not there," offered Shadow with a soft chuckle.
Marc spun at this, his eyes blazing with fury. "How did you know ..." he began angrily, reaching to pull his sword from its sheath. Before he could complete his thought or action, Shadow's blade was glinting in the moonlight, pressed tightly against the thin man's neck. The group froze, all eyes caught by the tableau. The weapon was clearly of fine quality, but held no engravings, no markings of any kind. Shadow's black leather glove held the hilt in a gentle but firm grip, keeping the point steadily in position.
"You had better acquire a leash for your pet, Jake," Shadow suggested with a flash of a smile, visible even from within the dark hood. "He might find himself injured."
"Marc, back off," ordered Jake brusquely. Marc hesitated a moment, then pulled away from the sword, stepping back a pace, his face surly. Jake kept his eyes locked on Shadow's, contemplating. "Now, why would you believe we were after a priest?"
Shadow resheathed the sword in a smooth movement and furled the cloak back tightly against the winter chill. "It is my business to know what goes on around here," came the inflectionless reply. "As for the priest, I have been watching this area of town for the past week. I made it my business to know who has been going in and out of these buildings."
Jake eyed Shadow speculatively. Without turning, he spoke to one of the smaller mercenaries who had been skulking in the back of the group. "Mouse. Go in and check out the inn - but do it quietly. If our quarry has truly flown, there is no sense in risking town watch involvement." Jake's eyes flicked to Shadow for a moment, then he continued. "We will wait here with our ... friend."
Mouse nodded and ran with light-footed grace across the cobblestone square. Glancing around one last time, he eased open the inn's front door and slipped noiselessly inside.
Marc glared at Shadow with a venomous stare, fingering his sword hilt absently. "If this Shadow knows so much," he said with quiet but clear anger to Jake, "I say we give him a few cuts and convince him to tell us everything. Why trust his word?"
Shadow ran a steady eye down the line of five mercenaries. In addition to Jake and Marc, the other three men were clearly seasoned warriors, in good shape despite their rough appearance and shaggy hair. Shadow had no doubt they were well worth the coin paid to them. Each man wore leather armor and carried a well worn longsword at his side.
The mercs to a man appeared ready to draw on command and to take whatever action was required for the job. Shadow knew that any fight with this group would be a formidable task to win. Jake's skills alone bordered on legendary.
Jake glanced at his companions, then back at Shadow. "It is certainly a thought," he said, smiling with amusement.
Shadow flicked back a shoulder with a smooth motion and the swirling cloak exposed the sword blade's hilt. In the bright moonlight the men could see the moss-green-dyed leather wrap on the hilt, held in place with bronze wire. In the ensuing silence, one of the mercenaries murmured to the other, "He is a Bowyer."
Shadow nodded in agreement. "I see you have heard of my clan, and our swordfighting reputation. Let me assure you that if you try to prevent me in fulfilling my current assignment, I will take at least one of you down. I may even take two or three of you out before I am done. Which of you will volunteer?"
The silence stretched on for a few moments while the mercenaries eyed the potential threat speculatively, sizing up the challenge. Shadow did not move, but felt a tense calm settle down across the group. Each person there had been in many fights; there was no compunction about one more. It would only take a word from Jake to start a fierce, coordinated flurry of swords.
Shadow had little hope of taking on all five well trained mercenaries, but there was no backing down now. With practiced ease, Shadow first tensed then untensed each muscle group, watching for the first sign of an attack. It would come from Jake; the leader would be the first to strike, and would coordinate any action. Jake needed to be the first one taken down.
The mercenaries had changed their stance subtly, moving into combat readiness. The four subordinate men were focused on Shadow, but clearly watched Jake for a sign.
A movement came from the courtyard; all eyes instinctively turned towards it. Mouse came scurrying out of the inn, running quickly across the cobblestones to Jake's side. He seemed oblivious to the tension in the air and gave his news to his boss in a rapid, soft whisper.
"Shadow told the truth - there is no sign of the priest in there at all," he reported in his barely audible voice. "I checked every room. Now what?"
The mercenaries relaxed a little at hearing this information. Jake took his hand off his sword and glanced over at Shadow. "So, any other interesting information to share with us?" he asked, his smile glinting in the moonlight.
Shadow pondered Jake speculatively, eyes gleaming from within the robe's depths. There was a long silence which Jake made no move to break. Eventually Shadow nodded and spoke. "It is in my best interest to tell you, I suppose, as it will get you out of this area," came the low response. "The priest and his entourage left earlier today in a great hurry. They headed up the north road, towards the old stone bridge."
Jake eyed Shadow for a long while, considering. He crossed his arms, fingertips drumming on the heavy muscles of his forearm.
"Here is what I will do," he said at last. "We will head up that way, and see if we pick up the trail. Yes, I am sure it is in your best interests to have us leave, and I will take that at face value. However, if we find you have misled us for any reason, we will be back. When we find you - and we will - we will make sure you greatly regret having caused us to waste our time."
Shadow nodded amicably and stepped back. "Good hunting."
With an answering nod, Jake turned on his heel and headed northwards. The mercenaries moved in closely after him. Shadow stood motionless and watched the group until they were fully out of sight. Then without a sound, Shadow turned and retreated down the alleyway in the opposite direction.
From a window high over the square, opposite the Black Cock inn, Jack sat back in the ancient leather chair, contemplating what he'd just seen. He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair that fell to his shoulders, then scratched idly at the stubble on his chin as he thought.
The second floor guest room had been too high up to hear the conversation clearly, but an alliance between Jake's well trained mercenaries and Shadow's sword prowess was not a good thing.
Jack looked over at the elderly priest who lay slumbering peacefully in the corner of the room, surrounded by his three young acolytes. His brow furrowed as he considered his options.
He would be very happy when he had gotten the group safely to Worcester Cathedral.
 
| Badge of Honor Catherine's family has spoken. Despite her pleas, she is to be wed to a nobleman twice her age. Her life is to be based on a marriage of politics, not of love. However, her world changes when she encounters the lord's sword-wielding foster son. Jack's keen eyes and steadfast patience promise her a future she never could have dreamt was possible.
But to be by his side, she will have to risk everything - even her life ... |
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