The entire tavern was laughing at him.
Nevertheless, there was found a daring man who wasn’t afraid of sharing the cooper’s fate. There, Karolinka’s playing with toys, Mom’s happiness. People had babbled things about a child without a father, but never found out the truth. Skwozhina, when asked about her daughter, would keep mum. Usually she would wag her tongue, say something – run away and fight off! And here – silent as a grave. The same way Skwozhina kept silent when the frontier guard men were whipping her trying to find out the hideout of Jendrich Dry Storm: you’re in the tavern, knowing everything, seeing everything – tell us! The taverner may have his own interest, and what’s in it for you?
They whipped and whipped and gave up. Decided she was a mute.
“Mister Jendrich, let me look at your leg. I think there’s a dislocation.”
“A doctor?” Dry Storm squinted at the youth unkindly.
“Well... Sort of.”
“Go on.”
Lukerda turned away shyly when Jendrich began pulling off his leather lined trousers with the youth’s help; while Skwozhina, not abashed a bit, was staring impudently at the chieftain’s legs, hairy and slightly crooked.
“Indeed, that’s a dislocation!” announced the youth sonorously, glad he had been right. “And the bones are intact. You were lucky...”
“Don’t babble. If you can set it – do it. Soon the Maintz men will visit the tavern.”
“I would ask you, mister...”
“Giacomo Seingalt at your service, young man.”
“Could you hold him, please? Yes, thank you. And I’ll attend to his leg. Now it will hurt...”
“I’ll take it. If you set it, kid – I’ll pay in gold!”
The thin fingers of the youth, proving to be suddenly strong, seized Jendrich’s dislocated leg. “Well, with the God’s help!” Then the youth acted surprisingly quickly and confidently. There was a short strong jerk. Jendrich cursed through his clenched teeth, and this time old Giacomo didn’t reproach him. “That’s all. Now we must bandage it.”
The chieftain moved his leg, made a grimace. “Look at you! It seems you really have been a doctor’s apprentice. Search in the farther packs – there’re fabrics. Take any of them, cut for a bandage. Here’s a knife, take it.”
From the first pack cut open there appeared expensive brocade. The youth and Giacomo who joined him (the latter was sneezing desperately because of the aroused dust) had to open three more packs before they got to the store of strong linen.
“How many things daddy’s got here! I didn’t even know...” Lukerda was looking at the chieftain, bewildered. He didn’t answer, groaning from the painful bandaging. Suddenly he grew silent, pushed his finger to his lips abruptly. Everyone in the cellar held their breath. Giacomo, intending to sneeze once more, hastily closed his mouth and nose with his hand, made a strangled grunt and shuddered.
Muted steps above, over their heads. Voices mumble vaguely. Boards creak, sagging.
Thin dust pours on the turned up faces.
“There, at the ceiling,” Jendrich’s hissing whisper. “Do you see the bung? Pull it out. Just be silent!”
Giacomo pulled out the lump of rags bunging a rat-hole or a vent with a visible effort.
“...rode away?”
“To the forest, to the forest, where else?”
“Don’t you lie?!”
“Why would I lie, sir knight? Robbers are robbers. Pure squandering. To the forest, odd-even, they flew, their den’s there, damn them...”
“And where are the people? Why’s the tavern empty?”
“Afraid, they are. You’ll become angry, that is, order to whip. Hiding they are...”
“A sly devil you are, taverner. Well, bring here meat, wine, but see to it, you rascal, that it’s the very best! You bring us rotten stuff – I’ll order to burn your tavern down, and hang you up high on...”
“The very best, sir knight! Just a moment!.. Wife, quick: wine, wine for the good gentlemen, and I’ll, odd-even, put sausages on the pan...”
Jendrich gestured to Giacomo to put the bung back in its place.
“Here they are... Never mind: Jas will douse them with wine and they’ll melt. We’ll hole up. Well, kid, just the time for you to make noise, for the Maintz men to take us on the spot. Eh?”
The youth shuddered again, as if from a slap. Even in the unsteady light of the candle it was seen that he blushed. Anger? Shame?
“You shouldn’t say so, mister Jendrich...”
“Oh, I’m so very sorry! And who was it that threatened to sell us out when we didn’t want to take him into the hideout?”
“I was scared...”
“Scared he was! With rats we have a short talk. A knife in the belly and the bowels on a branch. Tell us, what’s there between you and the margrave Siegfried?”
“I...” The youth felt confused under the intent glances fixed on him. “I... I can’t be captured, by no means! I was going to your prince, to Razimir of Opolie. Look, take me to Wrozlav! You can do it! Surely you know all the paths!”
“What, you have a bag full of golden amulets? The prince will be awfully glad to see you! Gold for us, you for him. The last hope, that is.”
“I have no amulets. I’ve given the last one to the taverner. And as for hope... Maybe the truth is yours. I’m the only hope. Opolie won’t stand against Maintz...”
“Young man, are you experienced in military art?” Giacomo Seingalt curved his brow sarcastically. “Are you a strategist? Do you suppose the prince Razimir will appoint you commander?”
“You are mocking me. But I must! I want to give the prince this...”
The youth opened his bag, began to rustle with the rags. There came to light a casket – shabby, triangular, marked in black, red and yellow chequers like a buffoon’s tights. Its paint had peeled off in some places, its edges were severely beaten. In addition to the casket in the bag there was a big hourglass.
“A game, is it?” the chieftain made a contemptuous grimace.
Giacomo nodded with confidence: “The ‘Triple Nornscoll’, or ‘Cheat the Fate’. I would play it in my time... We may amuse ourselves now, one way or another we’ll be sitting here doing nothing for a long time. Will you play, Jendrich? And you, young man? By the way, don’t you want to introduce yourself to your fellows in misfortune?”
“Forgive me... My name is Martzin, Martzin Oblaz from the free city of Holne. From the former free city. But this is not an ordinary game. It has belonged to Byarn the Pensive.”
“The mage from Holne?!”
“Yes.”
“What a rogue you are, lad! Stole the game from Byarn himself?! First he snitched the amulet, then the game! Or all at once? You’re desperate, and a doctor too... Want to join my gang?” It was hard to understand whether the chieftain was joking, mocking or talking seriously.