The town’s main market square below him buzzed like an overturned bee hive. There were the customary stalls set up underneath colourful awnings which, from where he stood, made the whole area look like a massive, patchwork quilt. Normally the men and women attending market would be bustling between these pitches – eager to secure a bargain – or else perusing the various pens and cages where livestock were being sold. Today, however, they simply stood and stared, chatting to those that stood next to them and pointing to where he stood on the roof of the Corn Exchange. He couldn’t tell how they were feeling – he was too high up to read their faces. Was it horrified fascination that caused them to stop what they were doing and stare at him? Was it pity? Fear? Were they ghoulishly awaiting the finale, wanting to be able to return to family and friends and say “I was there?” Or – and this thought chilled him to the very bone – did they know what he knew? Were they aware of just what it was that had driven him here and which caused him now to peer nervously over the edge, telling himself that it would be over quickly? He clutched frantically at the wall behind him. This wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought.
~~~
The two figures mounted on horseback wore the deep blue uniforms of the City Militia. Swords hung from their belts, and the feathered plumage that erupted in a colourful spray from a band round their hats told any observers that they were officers and therefore in charge of the half dozen men armed with spears and carrying shields that stood patiently behind the two horses.
One of the officers, a slightly overweight, intelligent looking man in his early twenties turned his eyes away from the figure standing on the roof of the Corn Exchange and looked worriedly at his colleague.
“Where is he? He should have arrived by now! I’m getting worried, Jeremiah, I tell you. If he doesn’t turn up, does it mean that we can’t proceed?”
His colleague held up a hand, shook his head and smiled. He was taller than the first man, but slimmer, with deep blue eyes and dark hair that was greying at the temples. When he spoke his voice was low and soothing.
“Will you relax, Mr Sandler? The Captain will be here in his own good time. If he was busy with that lovely young wife of his I can understand his reluctance to turn up here.”
Sandler’s look of shock was so marked it was almost comedic.
“You can’t say that! He’s the Captain and…”
Jeremiah laughed, cutting him off midflow.
“…and he’s a good friend of mine. John and I have known each other for years, Robert. I know he’s in charge, but please don’t deify him – he hates that sort of thing. As far as Captain Williamson is concerned, he’s one of the lads; just another soldier helping keep this city safe from the barbarians.”
Robert seemed to think about this and turned his eyes back to the figure on the rooftop.
“I wonder if that’s what drove him up there?”
“What do you mean?”
“Talk of the barbarians. People have said that they’re massing at the wall and ready to try and push through.”
“People have been saying that for the last decade – and the people doing the telling are usually mercenaries trying to justify the obscene sums that they are paid or frontiersmen trying to impress the ladies with their tales of derring do.”
Robert furrowed his brow and shook his head.
“I don’t think it’s that simple – there have been reports of raids on settlements near the wall, and when you hear about what the barbarians do to those that they take prisoner… Well, all I’m saying is that it could cause some people”, here he pointed at the man on the roof, “to act in a pretty strange manner.”
“Sadler, we’re almost a hundred miles from the frontier. I think we’d have plenty of advance warning of a barbarian horde looting its way towards us. As for our friend up there, we’re going to find out exactly why he’s up there just as soon as we drag him down. And we’ll decide on how exactly we’re going to do that once Captain Williamson gets here.”
~~~
John Williamson, captain in the City Militia, was presently hurtling towards the market square on horseback. It had been twenty minutes since the runner from Lady Breznak – city governor and John’s de facto superior – had arrived breathlessly at the door of his house bearing a letter sealed with the City’s crest. Stopping only to tip the lad some small change, he had hastily broken the wax seal and swiftly read the letter.
John had only been married a couple of days previously and was technically still on leave, and it was this that convinced him of the seriousness of the situation. Lady Breznak had been quick to point out to John the importance of him shutting himself away from his work in the days following his marriage – “A new bride needs to know that she is the centre of your universe, John” – so this sudden summons could only mean an emergency of the most serious nature. Therefore, when he arrived at the market square he was somewhat disappointed and annoyed not to find a riot of city-consuming proportions in progress.
With a deft movement he dismounted and, patting his horse’s steaming flanks, handed the reigns to one of the militiamen along with a couple of coins.
“Have her stabled and rested – I’ve ridden her like the devil himself to get here. Jeremiah! Robert! Over here.”
The other two officers turned their horses towards him and dismounted. John folded his arms and nodded his head in the direction of the man on the roof.
“What’s the story then?”
Jeremiah snorted.
“We were kind of hoping that you would tell us that.”
“I’m sorry?”
Robert held up a hand.
“If I might interject, sir. We received a missive to the barracks earlier this morning from the governor’s office demanding that we proceed to the market square with a detachment of men where a civil disturbance was taking place and thereupon wait for yourself where we would receive further orders regarding the situation and…”
Jeremiah coughed noisily.
"That’s plenty, Robert, thank you. Truth is John, we were told nothing more than there was a guy on the roof, that we were to get him down, but that we were to wait for you before doing anything. How’s Ruth?”
John smiled wryly.
“She WAS brilliant until this morning. Unless I go back to her with a story of barbarians running loose in the town centre raping and pillaging she’s probably going to go straight round to Lady Breznak and let her know just exactly what she thinks of her promise to only contact me in an absolute emergency.”
“Well, have a word with young Sadler over there – he knows plenty of colourful stories about barbarians.”
Robert, face flushed with indignation, went to speak but John held up his arms and pointed to the militiamen.
“Sergeant Sadler – take these men and clear the square. Seal the entrances until I tell you otherwise. Sergeant Piper and I will attempt to get that man down off the roof.”
He turned to Jeremiah.
“Right – let’s see if we can find out just why this guy’s so important to Lady Breznak.”