Chapter Ten

The line of mule-drawn wagons rolled along the road, almost obscured behind the lines of men surrounding it. Their scabbards hung by their sides, and their shining metal armour clinked as they walked in a heavy marching rhythm, kicking up dust. King had sent armed men this time to protect the delivery, clearly trying to make evident that disrupting the wagons would be a greater crime than anything they had done already. The number of men they had compared to the relatively small number of wagons would be absurd in normal circumstances, but after the recent swelling of their numbers it made sense to protect it.

“This isn’t good,” murmured Dain, standing a few hundred yards away with a group of miners. “It’s bad for morale.”

“Agreed,” said Parry. “But they’re armed, what can we do?”

“I still think we could win the other miners round,” said Dain. “We’re all in the same boat really, we just need to let them see it.”

“So what, just go and talk to them?” asked Parry.

He shrugged.

“We have a lot of people with us, and there are only two mines yet to join us, we could have hundreds of men camped outside of each and still protect the brimstone.”

“The King will send men though,” said his friend. “It could turn violent.”

“It could, but I’ll be damned if it’s because of our lot,” said Dain, before raising his voice. “Alright, back to camp, we’ve seen enough.”

When they got back to their camp outside the brimstone mien, the mood was fairly jovial. Although the reasons behind it were unclear, the mystery man turned up each week with a bag of gold for Dain, and so with the help of the miners’ families, they were coping with the demand for food and drink. If they had to keep it up with many more men though, things could become difficult.

He saw Redskin, instantly recognisable even in such a large crowd, rise from a game of dice with some of the men and approach him. He and his men had managed to fit in without too much trouble, although there wasn’t much mingling. Mostly men just stuck to their usual groups and ignored the peasants, which was fine by Dain. As for Redskin himself, the men had mostly got over their fears of catching his disease, although they still didn’t get too close.

“What’s the situation?” croaked the man, his voice as cracked and coarse as ever.

“Why do you want to know? This is a miners thing,” muttered Parry.

Redskin turned to face him looking him in the eye calmly.

“How the King treats his people is a problem for everyone,” he replied, turning back to Dain. “How vulnerable to attack are they?”

“There are a couple of hundred swordsmen,” said Dain. “It would be far too costly.”

“But do you think we could win?” asked Redskin.

The miner rounded on him, a little annoyed that the man was an inch or two taller.

“There is no chance that we are going to risk that many lives and probably have to kill those men just to stop a brimstone delivery. It’s wrong, and all the excuse the King needs to wipe us out.”

“Alright, alright, I agree with you,” Redskin raised his hands up defensively. “I was just wondering what you planned to do. I mean, something needs to be done, right? Your miners will start talking soon.”

“I realise that,” said Dain. “That’s why we’re going to send groups to gather around the mines and see if we can’t convince them to join us.”

“Convince them?” questioned Redskin. “Alright, what do you want our men to do?”

It was a tough decision. He wasn’t letting himself trust the man or his serfs just yet, but he had to choose whether to leave them with the brimstone and the weapons they had taken from them, or bring them to gather at the other mines.

“Your men can join my half,” sighed Dain. “But don’t do anything stupid, violence could get us all killed.”

“Of course not,” smiled Redskin. “When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow morning, before work starts at the mines.”

The man nodded and made his excuses to leave.

“He’s too nice,” said Dain to his friend. “I don’t like it, or believe it.”

“I heard from one of his lot that the man in charge was whipping someone, and he just walked right up to them and slashed their throat with his scythe, never even said a word.”

“I also heard he was the son of a Lord, I’d be careful about what rumours you believe,” replied Dain, frowning.

Parry shrugged.

“Who’s to say he isn’t?”

The next morning they were up from their makeshift tents before the sun had risen, all preparing to march out apart from those left to guard the brimstone. Dain felt a guilty about the time he was spending away from home, partly because he secretly was glad to be away, and choosing to camp outside this mine rather than return home as often as he should. He brushed off the yellow dust which always accumulated at the mines from his clothes, and went to find Merek, who was getting a drink from the river.

“Merek, I want you to lead the second group at the mines,” said Dain. “I trust that you will do your best to avoid violence, and see if you can convince them to side with us.”

“Of course,” said Merek, looking surprised.

Dain nodded curtly, and later the two groups went their separate ways. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake splitting up the groups, but he didn’t expect to win the mines over instantly and it seemed more efficient to target both at the same time. While walking there, he ended up alongside Parry, who was unusually quiet.

“In case you were wondering, I chose Merek to lead the other group because I want someone like you with me to watch my back,” said Dain. “You know I don’t trust Redskin, and I’d rather have you here than at the other mine.”

“Whatever you say,” said Parry, not looking him in the eye.

Dain didn’t push the subject. The truth was, although Parry was his oldest friend, he didn’t have the right temperament for such a potentially volatile situation. When they arrived they saw that the King had been prepared for their arrival.

“Looks like the King threw some money around. They’ve had an upgrade,” noted Parry, as they came within sight of the King’s men guarding entrance to the mine area.

“Well it’s a change,” said Dain. “I’m just glad it’s not swords.”

Instead of staffs it was now shields and straight wooden clubs. Perhaps they thought that with shields it would be easier to brace against charging miners, or perhaps it was a response to the death that Dain had spoken of to the messenger. These short, almost cylindrical clubs looked much less likely to kill someone with blunt force, although he didn’t doubt that they would hurt.

At their approach the club-armed men spread out, forming a line of shields, stopping them twenty yards from the entrance.

“Relax, we’re unarmed,” said Dain, making a peaceable gesture. “We’re not here for violence; we’d just like to talk to the other miners here.”

One of the men in the line of shields spoke up.

“You’ve got a lot of men with you for just a talk.”

Dain chuckled.

“And considering you didn’t know we’d be visiting, you seem pretty tight on security. Now how about this: you let me talk to the men when they arrive, and after that we get out of your way. Sound fair?”

“We’re not to let anyone through who doesn’t work here,” said the man.

“Then I guess we’ll have to wait,” said Dain, stepping back to stand with the miners. “Unless your men are going to attack peaceful unarmed men?”

None of the men replied, and so Dain took a seat on the ground, and waited for the first worker to arrive.

“Leave some space on the path, we wouldn’t want to disrupt their work” he called, eliciting a laugh from his men. It wasn’t long until the first three workers arrived in a group, stopping instinctively at the sight of so many people gathered around. Dain stood up, along with the rest of the men, and turned to Redskin.

“Stay out of this,” he said, before stepping out into the path.

“Of course, Dain Hardwood,” acknowledged one of the approaching miners. “I remember the speech you gave. It was a good one.”

“And your name?” asked Dain.

“Merle. Now may I pass?”

“Do you need to pass? You could just join our strike instead,” he replied. “It’s what’s best in the long run.”

“Yes I know your view on it,” said Merle. “But I’m afraid Slynn doesn’t set our pay, and we’re getting along just fine, so unless you’ve all been offered jobs here, I suggest you leave.”

“Slynn may not own this mine but if our strike fails then your pay will have to drop too. They can’t have different mines with such vastly different wages, it wouldn’t work. People from all the other mines will be coming here to ask if they can work for anything more than Slynn pays them, and you think your mine owner is just going to say no so that he can pay you guys what you want?” asked Dain frustratedly, as more men began arriving, stopping behind Merle’s group.

“Mr Harlowe is a reasonable man,” said one of Merle’s friends. “He didn’t go along with Slynn’s cut, and he’s always been fair to us.”

“Even so, he owns the mine to make money, not to give out charity!” protested Dain. “He won’t have a choice!”

“And so what?” said Merle. “Even if it is inevitable, we might as well take the money while we can. All you’ve managed to do so far is get people killed.”

Dain felt a flash of anger, and had to restrain himself from lashing out at the man. He needed to convince them, not fight them.

“Well perhaps you should think about whose side you’re on,” said Parry, coming to stand by his side. “Because at the moment it looks like you’re happy to let down your own kind for the sake of a bit of money. We’re making a stand and you’re selling out to the rich fucks like Slynn rather than actually try to make them change things for our lot.”

The other miners made noises of approval around them, and Merle’s eyes flicked around warily. Dain’s miners and peasants outnumbered the ones wanting to pass by a long way, and the King’s men were on the wrong side to help.

“Just let us pass, we’re not trying to disturb your strike, we’re just doing our jobs,” said Merle, starting to walk forwards slowly. “You can’t stop us from trying to feed our families.”

Merle tried to step past him, but Dain stood his ground, squaring off against the other miner.

“None of us are starving,” he said. “We’re making do. If you join us then the King will have to give in.”

“You don’t all look too well fed,” replied Merle gesturing to some of the thin peasants.

“New arrivals, farm labourers. They wanted to help,” Dain explained. “They’re not the only ones. A lot of the people are supporting our strike. Even non-miners appreciate what we’re doing.”

It seemed as if all the workers had arrived now, all massing behind Merle, so Dain raised his voice.

“It’s time for all of you to join the strike now! Don’t abandon your brethren. Miners have died, and we need to show the King that when we stand united we will not be trodden on!”

A man came storming out from the mine area behind the lines of shields, looking angry at the disturbance.

“I thought you men were here to make sure my miners got to work?” said the man, who Dain presumed was Mr Harlowe. “Get these troublemakers out of the way so my men can pass.”

“As you say, Sir,” saluted one of the men, and the line of shields began advancing towards Dain’s group, banging their clubs with rhythmic wooden thuds against their shields.

“Don’t fight them, we don’t want this turning ugly,” called Dain, getting a little desperate and trying again to persuade Harlowe’s miners. “It’s your own livelihoods at stake here!”

“I’ve had enough of this,” muttered Merle, barging into Dain to try and force his way past.

“Hey!” said Parry, grabbing hold of his shirt and wrenching him back. “Watch it, where you’re walking.”

“Bite me,” said Merle, bringing his head back to headbutt Parry, whose nose instantly sprayed blood.

That was the catalyst to turn what was already a tense situation into chaos, as Parry swung a fist, and Merle’s friends began getting involved to tear him away. Suddenly it seemed everybody was pushing and shoving, and fights were springing up. On the other side the shields had reached the miners and kept advancing, pushing at the men, who wanted to stand their ground but were wary of the clubs, which swung at everyone who pushed back. Redskin pushed his way to the front of the miners and spread his arms out wide in a peaceable gesture, walking towards the shield lines unafraid.

“Now let’s stay calm here, there’s no reason to-”

He stopped as a club swung towards him, and caught it mid-swing with both hands. The man who had tried to strike him frantically tried to shake his club free, his eyes fearful.

“Get the freak!” he yelled, as Redskin ripped the weapon from his hands, throwing it away.

His victory didn’t count for much, as the men around him set upon him, swinging from all directions and beating him down to the ground. One of his friends tried to wade in and help, but just ended up taking a battering himself as Dain watched in dismay. Redskin should have realised that a man with his infected appearance wasn’t going to be welcomed. Dain had to suddenly dodge as a fist came towards him, letting the man overbalance and kicking him away. This was ridiculous. He needed to do something

“ENOUGH!” bellowed Dain at the top of his voice, his tone making everyone around him instinctively stop. Parry wiped some of the blood off his face, and Redskin used the opportunity to scramble away to stand by the miners, cursing at the club-wielding thugs.

“You see?” cried Redskin to the assembled miners, gesturing to his bruised and bleeding self. “This is what the nobles do! They beat down the lower classes and expect us to take it when we’ve done nothing!”

“You’re sabotaging work at my mine,” said Mr Harlowe. “The men don’t want to strike, so leave.”

“I’ll leave,” said Dain, deciding to try something. “If you’ll answer me this and swear to Anim that what you’re saying is the truth. If our strike fails, are you committed to keeping these men’s pay the same as it is now?”

Mr Harlowe looked uncomfortable as all his workers’ eyes turned to him.

“I don’t need to defend myself to you,” he protested, turning to the King’s men. “I thought I told you to force these men away.”

“Sir, why won’t you answer his question?” asked one of the other miners. “Are you planning to cut our pay as well?”

“I can’t make any promises, alright?” replied the mine owner. “I don’t know how things will play out in the future, I’m not looking to change things but there may have to be cuts.”

There were unhappy rumblings among the men, and Merle came forwards looking annoyed.

“Come on guys, let’s not take this the wrong way, let’s just get to work and not cause trouble.”

“You’ve caused enough trouble already,” called one of Harlowe’s miners. “There’s a decision to be made here.”

Mr Harlowe sensed things were beginning to turn against him, and sniffed, standing up straight.

“If you want to strike, then strike, just bear in mind that you’re not irreplaceable, I can get other men to work here, and probably for cheaper as well.”

“There you have it,” said Dain, treating that as a victory. “They don’t value you, and you probably won’t last unless you accept the pay cut. So all there is to consider is this. Years from now when you’re struggling through a hard winter with little food, will you be happy with your decision today? Will you be proud of how you behaved?”

“That’s enough,” said the mine owner. “Clear the way so we can be done with this, and shut that man up.”

“We’ll get out of your way,” said Dain, backing away as the men advanced towards him aggressively. One of Harlowe’s miners, an older, bearded man, pushed his way forwards to stand in front of Dain.

“Back off, Harlowe, he’s been far more peaceable than you,” he said gruffly, glancing back at Dain. “I’ll join your strike.”

“Thank you,” said Dain. “Men, let’s head off. Anyone who wants to follow can do so.”

He turned away from Harlowe and the mine guards and started walking, his men following him as he passed them. The eyes of the other lot of miners were on him, a lot of them seeming conflicted. Several of them silently joined his group, followed by more, until the remaining miners realised more than half their men had left. That was the tipping point, and soon it was just a small group consisting of Merle and a few others stubbornly standing by themselves.

“You can’t run the mine by yourselves,” said one of the miners.

Most of the remaining few gave in and went with the crowd. Merle swore softly, looking around him bitterly.

“I’m going home,” he said. “You can’t force me to join.”

He left, and Dain shrugged, feeling pleased. The victory was his anyway, the mine couldn’t continue, and the majority of men had come with them. It could hardly have gone better.

“I thank you all this, you’re doing the right thing,” said Dain. “You won’t regret it.”

“We better be, because if not we really pissed off our boss,” laughed one of the men.

Dain led the way back to their camp, with Parry at his side, and Redskin busy explaining his appearance to some of the doubtful new men.

“He can certainly take a beating,” muttered Parry, sounding impressed as he watched Redskin, who was walking unaided.

“Yeah, well he was asking for it,” said Dain. Let’s just hope Merek got on well.”

Unfortunately, he wasn’t there when they got back, and there was no sign of them that evening either. It seemed that they had had a more difficult convincing them. Perhaps they were camping out overnight.

“Alright, I’m going to go back home and see how Gelen and the kids are getting on,” said Dain, getting up from where he had been warming himself by the crackling fire. “Parry, you’re in charge till I’m back tomorrow.”

“Tell them I say hello,” replied his friend, and the others around the fire waved him off.

It felt a little chilly away from the fire, and Dain rubbed his hands to generate a bit of friction as he made his way through the assembled tents in the dark. The mine they had made their camp by wasn’t far from his own, so it shouldn’t take too long to reach home. Then tomorrow he could go and check on Merek to see what progress was being made.

As Dain passed the edge of the campsite the noise of the men began to fade away, and the glow from the fire faded. He stepped out onto the forest path, then stopped. He thought he had heard a noise nearby, but he couldn’t see anything in the shadows. It was probably just some small animal, there never normally bears in this part of the woods.

Suddenly a silent figure shot out from the shadow, punching him in his right side with a painful thud. Dain grunted at the impact and grabbed the arm that was swinging towards his chest, noticing a glint of metal that could only be one thing. A knife.

They grappled, while part of Dain’s mind was racing trying to make sense of the situation. The man was trying to force the blade into his heart, straining with the effort. But Dain was stronger. With a bellow, the miner twisted the man’s arm violently and shoved the knife deep into his soft flesh. The assailant staggered back, his eyes wide, and fell onto his back, twitching.

Dain doubled over, breathing hard and clutching his side. He grimaced at the pain. Had he got a stitch from the exertion? He felt wetness, and looked at his hand, which even in the dark he could see was covered in blood. It had been a little more than a punch that his attacker had hit him with.

“Oh sh-” he began to curse, feeling his legs go weak. He tried to stay standing but couldn’t, falling down next to his attacker, who was already dead. He tried to speak again, to call out, but all the air in his lungs had left him. He lay on his back, looking up at the stars and trying to concentrate on the light, not allowing himself to drift away. But as he watched, the stars slowly began to dim, and his strength began to fade. He felt detached from everything, like he was underwater. Not like this, he thought. He tried to move, but an overwhelming tiredness overcame him, and his vision went dark, the world around him ceasing to matter. e

Next Chapter: Chapter Eleven