Though he was, at the time I was fortunate enough to make his acquaintance, approaching a full sixty years of age, he showed no sign of infirmity. A lifetime in the saddle, breathing the clean air and living a life free of low habits made him appear no older than a hale and athletic thirty-seven, with as full and lustrous a raven-black head of hair as any boy of sixteen could boast. According to the reports of womenfolk, who – gentle creatures! – must be taken as better judges of such matters than your humble servant, he was possessed of an extremely handsome face and a goodly frame entirely undiminished by the years in power and muscularity. He took drink but rarely and only in the strictest moderation, for the awful depravities he had seen visited by drunken soldiers upon an innocent populace during his long career were terrible, and, as he once told me, ‘No devil is more dangerous to a soldier than that which occupies the bottle.’
On the occasion the details of which I am about to relate, and which well illustrates the character of the man, Nicomo Cosca and his Company of the Gracious Hand had been employed by that noted servant of His August Majesty, Superior Pike, to root out the ringleaders of the vile rebellion in Starikland which culminated in the horrifying massacre at Rostod. To this righteous purpose, the Company, numbering some five hundred brave souls, was now sworn, and, having sworn, they would achieve or die in the attempt. Perhaps you have heard lurid tales of the faithlessness of the mercenary kind? Banish such thoughts from your minds, dear readers, at least in so far as they bear upon the happy brotherhood presided over by the famous Nicomo Cosca! For these men, though born under diverse skies, speaking diverse tongues, coming from high and low, near and far, representing every colour and creed to be found within the Circle of the World, were as faithful and loyal to one another, and to their employers, as any tight-knit band of countrymen. Once their notary had prepared a paper of engagement and the noble Cosca set his flourishing signature upon it, they put aside by one accord all other considerations and were bound to the mission as staunchly as the Knights of the Body are bound to the defence of His August Majesty’s royal person, and no entreaty, no offers of golden hoard, land or title, no rewards earthly or divine could persuade them to deviate from their promised purpose.
The town of Averstock was one of those pioneer settlements that, like a seed taken root in stony ground, was at that time flourishing in the lawless land of the Near Country, close to the civilising border of the Union. It was well built of firm timber and, though simple and lacking any ornament, was cunningly situated, clean and orderly, pleasing to the eye, and ringed by a stout palisade constructed by the good townsfolk as protection against the dread Ghosts, who had for some years previous visited terrible slaughter upon the defenceless settlers.
It was towards this fair and previously peaceable settlement that Cosca now piercingly gazed, his manly brow furrowed by deep concern and righteous outrage.
‘The rebels are in the town, at least a hundred strong,’ said Captain Dimbik, springing down from his lathered charger, his golden locks bouncing upon his broad shoulders. He had been an officer of the King’s Own, but so singularly attached to adventure that, when peace with the fell Northman was declared, he instantly resigned his commission to seek new dangers in the unmapped West. ‘They have, through base treachery, taken the townsfolk hostage, are perpetrating hourly outrages upon their innocent persons, and threaten to kill the women and defenceless babes should any man attempt to deliver the settlement from their tyranny.’
‘Are these men or monsters?’ spoke Captain Brachio, a cultured Styrian gentleman of the highest breeding, slender and well formed, and sporting an old wound beneath the eye which lent a rugged flare to his goodly countenance.
‘I must go down there myself, curse them!’ Cosca’s lustrous moustaches trembled with fair indignation as his bright eye directed its perilous fire toward the infested settlement. ‘And negotiate the release of the hostages. I can allow no possibility of failure. If one innocent man, woman or child were to be harmed …’ And here, friends, I must report that the general dashed a manly tear from his cheek at the very thought of injury to the minor. ‘My fragile conscience could not bear the weight of it. I will warn these rebels in no uncertain terms that-’
‘No!’ spoke Inquisitor Lorsen, representative of the general’s employer and custodian of the mission for which the brave Company were engaged. ‘Your keenness to spare bloodshed does you much credit, General Cosca, but the dread rebel cannot be trusted to behave according to the rules of war. They lack your unimpeachable good character and I will not hear of you placing yourself in their power. I, the Union and indeed the world cannot afford to lose so useful a servant as you have proved, and daily continue to prove, yourself to be. You have a company of bold and righteous men all eager to carry out your order, any one of whom, I cannot doubt, would be more than willing to risk their lives if it might spare those of the defenceless. Let one of them be sent to this admirable purpose. I, my master Superior Pike, his master the Arch Lector, and indeed his master His August Majesty the High King of the Union,’ and here the men, though not all natives of that great nation, bowed their heads in deep respect, ‘would, I am sure, though carrying many great cares, no less deeply regret a single life wasted.’
Following this exhaustive speech, volunteers stepped forward instantly to lend their strong arms to the noble project. Cosca wiped aside a second manly tear, holding out his arms towards them and speaking, ‘My boys! My brave boys!’ and pressing his strong hands to his noble breast in gratitude to them, and to the Fates, for furnishing him with such men.
It was one Sufeen on whom the great man’s eye now alighted, a scout of long experience and Kantic extraction but tall and of a noble bearing, no doubt one among those people who had rather fled their homeland than submit to the tyranny of the Gurkish Emperor, a man who laughed at fear almost as loudly as the captain general himself.
‘Offer the rebels fair treatment if they abandon their cowardly kidnap and surrender themselves to his Majesty’s justice,’ said Inquisitor Lorsen.
‘And warn them they shall taste the full measure of my wrath should they harm a hair upon the heads of their hostages,’ said Cosca. ‘Do this for me, Sufeen, and you will be rewarded.’
‘Sir, your respect is all the reward I could desire,’ answered the scout, and the two men embraced. Taking the notary of the Company with him to arrange the terms of the rebels’ surrender, brave Sufeen began the long and lonely walk down the grassy hillside towards the bastion of the enemy and, presently, was seen to be admitted and the tall gates of the settlement firmly shut behind him.
An eerie silence now ensued while the Company awaited the result of Sufeen’s negotiations, hoping for a happy outcome and yet prepared entirely for the bloody alternative. It was as tense a passage of time as your abject reporter has ever borne witness to. The wind still whispered through the trees and across the grass, the careless birds still warbled their morning song from the branches, but every man gathered there surely occupied the very extremities of nervous anxiety.
Every man, that is, save one!
‘Ah, that moment before battle is joined!’ spoke Cosca, prostrate in the long grass above the town like a lion waiting to spring, his eye glittering and his great fists clenched in anticipation of the work that was to come. ‘The delicious calm before the storm of steel! Perhaps a man should not be keen to engage in such bloody business as ours, but the excitement! It has always set my veins to thrill! Does it not yours, Sworbreck?’