01 - Honour of the Grave by Robin D. Laws - (ebook by Undead) Page A

off.”
    “What if they stick a knife in Ekbert?”
    “They’ll leave him for us to deal with.” A hardness had appeared on Benno’s
face, provoking a doubtful look from his half-brother.
    “Vou don’t mean to—”
    Benno went to relieve himself against the big rock. His men took the same
opportunity. As they watered the boulder, Angelika cast a revolted look up into
the white-grey sky.
    The faint sound of hoofbeats echoed up from the valley. Benno pulled at the
drawstring of his leggings, adjusted his codpiece, and headed down the path,
angrily kicking away the branches they’d laid down the night before. “It’s
fortunate that Angelika was with us, to hear them coming, or our bellies would
now gape open.” He spoke in a raised voice, but his nose pointed heavenward, so
it wasn’t clear who he was talking to. “Sigmar knows, it would be foolish to
expect an actual member of the company to execute my orders.”
    “Do not take it out on poor old Ekbert,” Gelfrat said, in a pleading tone.
Angelika found it comically strange, coming from him. He bounded around the
soldier called Heinrich, who had been between the two brothers.
    “The Black Field Sabres do not tolerate dereliction. You know that.”
    “But Ekbert has been a Sabre since before we were born.”
    “Discipline must be maintained,” replied Benno.
    “For years, he rode at our father’s side!”
    “And you know what father would demand, if he were here.”
    Gelfrat hung his head. Angelika noticed a couple of the other soldiers
exchanging worried looks. This Ekbert had made little impression on her, and she
couldn’t see herself caring two hoots for his fate. Even so, she felt a certain
tautness above her breastbone.
    They found Ekbert lying on his side, among the weeds and wildflowers. His
wrists were tied together, as were his ankles. Isaak’s men had taken the mule
and horses, as well as all the breastplates and helmets. Ekbert wriggled as the
company drew near, wheezing and puffing, his face slick with dew. Blades of
grass stuck to it. Benno stood over him, and wrinkled up his nose. The old
campaigner had soiled himself.
    “Heinrich, untruss this goose,” Benno ordered. The younger soldier slunk
reluctantly up and sliced the thin, dirty cords that bound Ekbert’s wrists and ankles. He scuttled back as soon as he was
finished. Ekbert stayed down even after Heinrich had freed him. “I’m sorry,” he
burbled.
    “I’ve never seen sorrier,” said Benno. He kicked him in the teeth. Gelfrat
flinched.
    “Such are my just desserts,” Ekbert moaned. The kick had split his lip; he
bled onto his mutton-chops.
    “You deserve far worse. We could all be dead now. Get your fat carcass
up!”
    Trembling, Ekbert heaved himself to his hands and knees. Gelfrat came to him,
stretching out an arm to grasp. Benno pushed it away. Ekbert tottered up on his
own.
    Franziskus grabbed Angelika’s elbow. She looked down and saw that she’d had
her dagger an inch out of its scabbard. She shoved it back in. She nodded to
Franziskus. He let her go. His eyes were moist, she saw.
    “This calls for thirty lashes,” Benno said. “If it were anyone else, it would
be Ekbert who’d administer the whipping. But in this case, the honour must fall
to his defender. Gelfrat?”
    Gelfrat leaned back. “Benno, don’t—”
    “Lieutenant, the formality of the circumstance calls for you to refer to me
as lieutenant.” Benno turned to Heinrich and instructed him to retrieve the lash
from Ekbert’s pack.
    A decision registered on Gelfrat’s face. He held out his hand to receive the
lash’s handle. He put his other hand on Ekbert’s shoulder. “Come over to that
log there,” he said, indicating the dark trunk of a fallen tree, its bark
riddled with lichen and round beige shelves of fungus. Ekbert moved to it with a
sleepwalker’s slowness. He removed his coat and shirt, draping them over the
log.
    “Don’t stint,” Ekbert told Gelfrat. “Strike