Oathbreaker, Book 1: The Knight's Tale - Colin McComb

sword’s for decoration, if you get my meaning. Besides, he was dirty and his clothes were
rumpled and sweat-stained but obviously good quality. That made him a natural target. Likely on
the run, not wanting to call official attention to himself, and probably with a fat purse for an
enterprising lad.
Some of the local boys like to try these would-be nobles out. When their target’s a dirty,
tired-looking rich man carrying a baby, well, the pickings start to look a lot easier, if you catch
my meaning. They don’t kill the unlucky ones, but they do leave the travelers wishing they’d
taken a different route.
I watched them size up the stranger out of the corners of their eyes, and I added a few
more repairs to the carpenter’s bill come morning. I ain’t a hero, and I ain’t going to stop ’em
from a bit of fun.
He got himself a table by the fire, ordered some warmed milk for the little baby, who was
starting to get a little cross, and some bread and meat for himself, with water to drink. That
provoked a few sniggers from the boys at the nearby table, but they died quick enough to keep
him from getting suspicious. I brought all this out to him.
It started innocently enough, but I knew what was happening. I kept looking up to see
when it was going to start, see if I could guess what was coming next. I must have looked up four
or more times between the intended victim and the thugs. These things develop a sort of pattern,
you see, and it usually starts with a spilled drink, a couple of “accidental” shoves, and if the target
don’t take the bait, why, it just becomes a little more obvious. This man, I figured he’d be taking
offense with the first or second spill, especially if it involved the baby.
I misread that night for sure. It took longer than usual to start, and that was a bad sign,
because it meant the boys were working up for a serious beating. The drunker they got, the harder
they hit and the later they stopped. I wanted to pass word to him that he was in for a bad night,
and maybe to put the baby somewhere safe, but it wouldn’t’ve been safe for me, and I had to live
there… so I just let it go and kept my counsel to myself.
It took at least an hour. The man finished his food and tended to the child, and when they
were both satisfied, the kid dozed off. He closed his eyes by the fire, too, leaning back against the
wall, and it looked for all the world like he was sleeping.
That was pretty much the perfect moment for the boys to start in, and they took their best
shot. A hell of a shot it was, too—a shout and hurled mug of beer started the whole mess off. The
mug crashed into the wall by the man’s head, too close to the baby for my comfort, and that’s
when the boys would have pretended to be fighting amongst themselves.
Colin McComb Oathbreaker, Book 1: The Knight's Tale
54