[Eleventh part of the Tale of Redbird! The rest of it can be accessed by the simple expedient of following the link on the right and I hope you enjoy this episode]
When Redbird came to she was in a dim, dark place, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. There was a
general outcry as she opened her eyes, and a rough, jeering voice exclaimed.
“Look comrades, our pretty boy’s awakin’!”
“Where am I?” she asked, sitting up
and putting a hand to her throbbing head.
Muttering broke out all around her, and
then the voice spoke again. “Well, well, well,” it said, and there was something
dark and menacing in its tone, “Looks like it’s not a pretty boy at all but a
little lady! What call does a little lady have, lads, to go galloping around
the countryside on a great brown horse wearing a man’s leggings?”
“Who are you, and where have you
brought me?” demanded Redbird, trying to decide which was more vexing- the
pounding of her heart or the pounding of her head. “I warn you- you’ll be in
trouble when my companions come to find me!”
A great roar of laughter sounded at
this, and a man broke free from the general group, a dirty, hairy man. He might
have been Hedwin’s double, except that he was a little shorter than Hedwin had
been. He had the same hungry eyes and rough, unshaven countenance.
“They’ll have to find you first, won’t
they, my little lady?” asked the man, and Redbird recognized him as the owner
of the jeering voice. “And it’s verrry hard to find the Defenders of
Justice when they don’t want to be found.”
The group in the room roared their
assent to this, and a small, sniveling man near the front said, snorting
unpleasantly as he spoke, “Besides, they’ll have to realize that they’ve lost
you before they start to look for you, little lady! They just went galloping on
after you fell, with nary a thought to spare for their fair companion.”
Another gale of laughter broke out.
Redbird decided that she did not want
to lie on a table and be gawked at a by a group of boors any more, whether they
defended justice or not, and she jumped off. Muttering rose again, and a voice
cried out, “She’s armed lads! That’s a dirty great sword she’s got hanging from
her belt!” Another voice cried out, “Now, don’t try anything or we’ll kill you
as soon as look at you!”
The men surged around her a little
more closely and Redbird unsheathed her blade.
“You’ll stay away unless you want a taste of my steel!” she cried,
making up for what she lacked in height and strength by ferocity of tone. “I don’t plan to
hurt any of you, or try to escape, so there’s no need for any of this.”
The small, sallow man spoke again. “If
that’s so, my lady, you’ll oblige us by unbuckling your sword, yes and
that knife you’ve got on the other side, and laying them down on the table
behind you.”
“Oh yes, and let one of you steal them
from me,” said Redbird, deciding that the wisest way to deal with these
ruffians would be to pretend an absolute indifference to them. “Likely!”
Hedwin, as Redbird decided to name
him, raised a fist threateningly at Redbird. “Watch your mouth, lass,” he
growled, “Or I’ll bust all the teeth out of it.”
If he had expected to cow Redbird by
this threat, he was mistaken. She had grown up with an elder brother who was
just as much of a bully as this man seemed to be, and she knew how to handle
bullies.
“You should be ashamed of yourself!”
she said, roundly, “What would your mother say if she saw you behaving like
this?”
Thoroughly flabbergasted, Hedwin
lapsed into a sullen silence and Redbird took the opportunity to look around
her. She was in some sort of underground hideaway, she guessed, basing this
opinion on the tree roots that were emerging thickly from the ceiling. It was
done up in the nature of a house, but a heavy layer of filth lay over
everything around, so that Redbird could not see two inches of dirt-free space
together.
“And what would your mother say if she
saw you living in muck like this!” she said, in open disgust.
“Look here, lass,” snapped another of
the men around her, “We’re not your brothers or children to be spoken to in
this way! You just remember the situation you’re in and keep your mouth shut.
Your companions’ll pay us a pretty piece if they want to see you alive again,
and they might not get you back in the condition they left you if you don’t
stow your gabbing.”
“Do as you please,” said Redbird, “But
there’s no call for us to be unpleasant to each other in the meantime, is
there? Why don’t I make you all some food- stew maybe, or some meat and chips, while we’re waiting for my friends?”
From the expressions on the faces of
the men around her as she made this offer, Redbird guessed that good food was
hard to come by in this den of thieves.
“Look,” she said, “I promise not to
try anything funny, and as a sign of good faith, I’ll leave my knife and sword
over here, and trust you not to take it.”
“Well,” said the sallow man, subdued
but defensive. “You’d better not try anything or we’ll teach you better sense
with the backs of our hands.”
“Alright,” agreed Redbird affably. “Flying
Zipporah, what a state this place is in! Haven’t any of you ever heard of
brooms or dusters?”
One of the slower of the Defenders of
Justice, not realizing that Redbird was indulging in sarcasm, said ponderously,
“Of course we have! You needn’t think so highly of yourself, miss, because of
your fine clothes. We’re just as civilized as you are. There’s a broom and
duster right under there.”
“Why, so there is,” said Redbird
cordially, following the direction of his pointing finger and pulling out these
items. “Then you’ll just make yourself useful and start sweeping this floor a
bit, won’t you? And how do you expect me to make you any food, without water and
firewood, and vegetables? If you want it in a hurry, you’d better start looking
lively. Meanwhile, one of you can help me wash some of these dirty dishes.”
Slowly, as though unsure of why they
were allowing themselves to be bossed around by a slip of a girl, the men
started carrying out her instructions. Soon, most of the superfluous filth of
the hideaway had been cleaned away, a pot of stew was bubbling on the fire, and
Hedwin was setting the table with the newly washed dishes.
Redbird meanwhile had been thinking of
her plan to escape. She could do nothing at this point, but trust the elves to find
her, and it occurred to her that Nirulin’s sharp ears might pick up her voice
if she made it loud enough.
Accordingly, she sang as she stirred
the stew and bustled around the room, dusting here and there, adjusting,
tweaking and making a heap of all the dirty laundry she found. She had almost
forgotten where she was and what she was doing when she turned and found the
whole room of men gaping at her as though she was a giraffe.
“What are you staring at?” said
Redbird, self-consciously, “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard singing before!”
The slow one said, in his strained way
that made it seem as though each word cost him labour, “Oh, don’t stop, lass!
That’s lovely, that is.”
He got a clout on the head for taking
such a liberty, but Redbird laughed and said, “Why don’t you teach me one you know and then we
can all sing together.”
There was an uneasy silence for a
while, and then the slow one said again, “We could sing the anthem of the
Defenders of Justice.”
He was hit once more, this time with a
frying pan that Redbird had just washed.
Thinking regretfully that she would
have to rinse it again, Redbird said, “Well, just sing it once for me, and I’ll pick
it up.”
The young man began to sing in a tentative
tenor, and since he was subjected to no further violence, he felt emboldened to continue.
“Pull out your
pitchforks from the hay,
Lay down your
sheaves, my men,
And until we get
what’s due to us,
We won’t begin
again!
They can call 'taxes' till they’re blue,
But we’re right so sod the fools,
And when the fields
are red with blood,
We’ll bring the
harvest in!”
A low rumbling
sounded and Redbird realized that all the Defenders were singing the chorus
with the boy.
“Oh, run them
through, the scaly thieves,
Stab them with your
knives!
They’ve tortured
and encumbered us,
Now they’ll pay
with their lives!
Burn ‘em, beat ‘em,
bash ‘em, cheat ‘em,
Each man for his
own!
And when the fields
are drenched in blood,
We’ll pay taxes to
the throne!”
Soon Redbird was roaring the chorus
along with the best of them, and it was this scene that the bemused elven
princes found when they burst into the keep of the Defenders of Justice.
The Defenders stopped mid-song and
looked at the princes. The princes looked at the Defenders and then at Redbird.
Redbird untied the apron she had assumed for the purpose of making dinner, and
said, cheerfully, “Well, boys, I’ll be going now. Your dinner’s on the fire and
see that you don’t let the place get so dirty again.”
“Hold on just a minute,” growled
Hedwin, pushing his chair back so that it fell to the ground with a clatter.
“Where’s the ransom? If you think you can get away for free without some broken
bones, we’ll just show you why you’re mistaken.”
Nirulin shot an arrow that missed
Hedwin’s neck by a hair’s breadth and embedded itself, still quivering slightly,
into the wall behind him.
“If you have hurt a single hair on
our companion’s head, you will regret it,” he said.
The men stirred at this and a few
picked up the weapons that lay at hand.
“Ho!” said Hedwin, “And are you going
to be the one who makes us regret it? I could thrash you with one hand tied
behind my back, my pretty lordling.”
“Either of us would require no more
than a finger to punish you for your impertinence,” said Eohin haughtily, and
Redbird resisted the urge to roll her eyes at this manly discussion.
“You tricked us,” said the young boy,
in a voice so hurt that Redbird almost felt guilty. “You got us to sing so that
they could find us.”
“Alright, everyone calm down,” said
Redbird, “You Defenders of Justice have got an important job to do here, don’t
you? You’ve got to rid the land of the injustices of the king. You can’t afford
to waste time and energy fighting us who aren’t even your enemies. Besides,
these aren’t ordinary humans you see before you. It would be wisest just to let
us go on our way peacefully.”
“And how do we know you won’t inform
on us to the King’s men?” asked the sallow man, moustache quivering.
“Do they look like the spies of a
peasant king?” asked Redbird, gesturing to the elves, who seemed to fill up the
underground hideaway with their height and splendor.
“Well, get along with you then”
growled Hedwin angrily, stomping over to the table and sitting down. “Before we
change our minds about letting you go.”
“Goodbye,” said Redbird, “And good
luck!”
“Blasted women!” came the answer, and
that was the last Redbird ever saw or heard of the Defenders of Justice.
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