NOVEL NEXT Chapter 59: Fears Captor
Caj turned away from Rob, unable to stomach the sight of the man wiping Sven's blood from his face with the tail of his coat. He wanted to kill Rob then, in that moment. He wanted to take up the axe that Sven Asplundh would never wield again and strike the Knight Captain's head from his shoulders, and send tumbling down the injustices this night had birthed. But then, that wasn't how the world worked was it? Injustice once conceived and given birth, is immortal, bearing with humanity for all time and forever, incapable of being disposed of.
The prisoners were coming awake, and starting to push up against the open entryway of the cage's door, curious murmurs beginning to rise in volume. Framed in the entryway, against a backdrop of injustice and malnourishment, stood Natalia Noblis. The look of utter disgust on her face sent the bottom dropping out of his stomach. She looked at him, and any trace of affection was burned out of her gaze.
Over these last few weeks, Caj had noticed an increasing gulf between them, but he wasn't really sure what to do about it. She wanted him to talk to her, to tell her everything was going to be okay, that they were going to get through this, that he was alright. But damn it all, he wasn't alright, and he sure as hell wasn't sure that they were going to get through this. How was he supposed to tell her that, to look into those eyes that were simultaneously so wise, and so very very innocent, and tell her that he didn't know if they were going to survive this, that he didn't know how long he could survive this. And so, he had said nothing, and hoped she would understand, while knowing that she wouldn't. Bit by bit, her gaze had chilled, and then grown cold over this last month, cold, and empty. Now, there was nothing left in her eyes but the utter contempt and disgust one reserves for a wild animal wallowing in its own filth. He almost said something to her then, like he almost had so many times over these last weeks, but he locked his jaw, and turned his heart to stone.
"So." She said, with the tone any man who has been intimately acquainted with a strong-willed woman knows to fear, "Sven is dead." Caj swallowed.
"Yes." He replied.
Natalia sneered at him, as silence suddenly seized the mob of prisoners behind her. Maxim loomed over his sister's shoulder, watching the drama unfold with a numb gaze, while Emma lurked at Natalia's elbow, the furrow of her little brow signaling her attempts to decode the scene before her. Caj saw it then, what would happen. Robert, still in shock and recovering from his recent encounter with Caj would remain silent. Tension would build, and the group would reach the obvious conclusion: Caj had killed Sven without Rob's permission or command. With a few more moments to inspect the scene, someone would notice that Rob was also roughed up, and assume the 'mad dog', as some had taken to calling Caj, was finally off his leash.
After all, it was Caj covered in Sven's blood, Caj with the killer's reputation, Caj holding the thrice-threshed knife. An it was Rob standing there silent, Rob looking lost, Rob not clarifying anything. In their confusion, the murmurs would start, and they would be impossible to calm. Their terror, rightfully inspired by weeks or months of imprisonment would feed on that confusion, and in so doing lose direction. That would be the beginning of the end.
Caj remembered a line from the book The Tyranny of Caution: by Gabriel MacCabe that he had read years before:
"Men don't break from fear. They break from not knowing what to do with it."
When Caj had first read this book as a young teenager, he had taken the lesson as one of personal preparation; a warrior should always have a conditioned response to their fear, lest they fall prey to it. When he had relayed this interpretation to Narm, the old undertaker had grunted and rubbed his scarred jaw thoughtfully, saying
"Not a bad interpretation I suppose, but ultimately, an inaccurate one. You speak of warriors as individuals, while MacCabe writes of soldiers as a part of the collective. The book is about military tactics boy, not individual militancy. MacCabe has another quote, One I've heard oft repeated, though you'll find it in no book he's ever written: 'You can't kill fear. But you must chain it. Leave it loose and it will lead your men off a cliff.' Remember this Caj, as it is the most important lesson. In a crisis, you must first master your own fear; but second, and near on as important a matter, is mastering that of those around you before they do something stupid."
Caj looked at the small crowd pressed against the bars of the cage, and realized that fear was about to be unfettered and undirected. He did a few mental calculations as to how to best turn this in the right direction. There was a problem though: Caj wasn't the right man for the job. Covered in blood, with a well-earned reputation for violence and penchant for pissing nobility off, they were just as likely to direct their terror filled actions at him as elsewhere. That would be just as fatal as undirected terror. Somehow, he had to help them channel their terror into positive action. That, he decided, required someone stable, whom they trusted. He looked at Rob, and grimaced. As much as he hated the man right now, Robert was the best choice. He was a Knighted officer in the king's service, well-liked and respected by the other prisoners, and experienced enough not to let the whole plan go to hell once he held the reins back in his hands. Maxim spoke, providing Caj the perfect opening.
"Reaper above," he said, perhaps a little louder than was wise. "I thought you were friends with the man? And you just killed him? Like it was nothing?" Caj turned his eyes onto the young lordling, gaze intentionally steely and steady.
"It was necessary." He said, his voice pitched lower than Maxims incredulous tones, but intended to carry to the ears of all the prisoners. "I was tasked with finding and executing an exfiltration strategy. I found my strategy," he forced himself to disdainfully nudge the corpse of Sven at his feet, "And executed it." silence reigned for a long moment, and before it could be broken, Caj pivoted to Rob and saluted crisply, fist to chest.
"Knight Captain O'Donnel. I am pleased to report the success of my mission. Apologies for the lack of consultation, but given the nature of my strategy I thought discretion the better part of valor. I did not wish to burden your honor, or conscience, with the death of a kind man." This last was said with a twist of dark irony and hidden anger that Caj was certain only Rob heard. "Your orders, sir?"
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And just like that, the terror was leashed, in both Rob and the prisoners. Seeing now that the 'mad-dog' was in fact a man under Rob's control, but one who had acted with a brutality that shocked the knight captain was the sort of comfortingly plausible lie that most were looking for. Now, those noble among them could look at Caj with distaste, while respecting Rob for being able to channel even so distasteful a tool into something useful. Meanwhile, the more commonly born of the prisoners would look at Caj with fear, after all, what manner of man kills someone who brings them water when they are thirsty, and stops their torture at the hands of their captors. In turn, they would view Rob with something akin to awe, for possessing control over such a creature. It wasn't perfect, there were too many holes for it to be. But for a group of scared, hungry prisoners in the middle of the night? It was good enough.
***
Mother Jamia watched the young rusty-haired knight pull the group of prisoners back from the brink of riot and death with a measure of professional respect. It wasn't bad- for an amateur. His immediate pivot from fairly obvious shock and fury to cool indifference was a bit too obvious for her taste. It was clear, to Mother Jamia at least, that there was some unspoken feud between the rusty-haired knight, MacDouglas, and the flame-haired captain O'Donnel. Caj did his best to hide it, but she caught the undertones of scorn in his report to the captain, and the barely restrained fear on the part of O'Donnel. If she had to guess, Jamia would say that this wasn't MacDouglas' plan at all, but rather one of O'Donnell's making, that he had failed to inform his partner of.
Curious then, and commendable, that MacDouglas had the levelheadedness to paint himself as the villain in order to secure the prisoner's hope of survival. He would bear watching in the future, she decided, especially given that he was Mute's guardian, even if their interactions had been limited since entering camp. She was tempted to give him a silent round of applause and a wink, but there was no sense in letting the rabbit know the fox was watching.
Instead, she settled in to do her part in the upcoming battle. She had already decided that she would be taking charge of the non-combatant prisoners, mostly those to elderly or too young to participate in the fighting. Men, especially soldiering men, had a tendency to rush into battle, while forgetting all about the organization of the individuals they were supposed to protect. That was alright though, after all, Mother Jamia was used to working with those left behind and forgotten. Hell, sometimes she even helped them.
***
Rob was shocked from his fugue state by Ser MacDouglas saluting him. Rob didn't allow himself to refer to the man as Caj, even in his thoughts. He suspected that any version of their relationship that allowed for such informalities had long departed. He had been sitting through the last moments, a sort of passenger in his own body. Distantly, he was aware of the ache settling into his jaw from MacDouglas' brief bombardment of palm strikes, and the bruises coming in on his neck from Asplundh's grip. More distantly still he followed the clear confusion and fear on the prisoners faces, and the misunderstanding that was playing out between Caj and Natalia, but he was still running behind. Less than 5 minutes before he had stepped out of his cage with the intention to kill Sven Asplundh. Within a minute, every one of his plans had failed, and he had been helpless, a wretch in the jaws of the great leviathan that is death. He felt horrible, and the rush of energy that accompanies sudden violence was leaving his body rapidly, putting him into a battle stupor. The only thing that pulled him out of it, was Caj's report.
It wasn't the most professional Robert had ever heard, but it was good enough for a man who had never actually been in the army. Rob watched as with a handful of words, not even directed at them, Caj began the process of prepping the prisoners for action.
Damn my eyes, Rob thought distantly, He'll be wasted in the Knightyard. If we make it to the city, I'll have to see about getting him a direct commission. Robert snorted internally at the thought, which finally brought him fully out of the confines of his own mind. As if Caj would even want his help after this debacle. That was for a different time though, for now, his training reasserted itself. There was a battle to fight, and soldiers, no matter how unlikely, who needed a commander. He mastered his face as best he could and dis his utmost to project confidence, while keeping a low volume.
"Excellent work MacDouglas. There is no dishonor in slaying an enemy, no matter how good a man he is. Collect his weapons and anything useful, while I order the men."
Caj came to a crisp salute, which Robert returned, and then marched away. Robert turned and marched back towards the group that was slowly making its way out of the cage, huddling about and without direction. Firmly, but quietly he said,
"Any of you with military experience step forward."
6 men stepped forward, including Maxim and Fergus, the pudgy veteran who had become a somewhat uneasy ally of Caj after the warrior stole his food from him. Why on earth that should inspire loyalty, Robert hadn't the slightest idea, but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
"You are all temporarily re-enlisted as sergeants in the kings own, understood? Operating procedures will follow the training you received for covert operations in hostile territory." All of the men saluted, but made no verbal response, as per protocol in almost any militant force for operating behind enemy lines. It was imperfect, as not every branch of the military operated with the exact same procedures, but all of them would understand the need to operate in silence. The only worrisome case might be Maxim, demonstrated by the fact that he gave a Edralian salute rather than a Strian one. That made sense given his time serving in that country for his apprenticeship as a swordsman, and Robert could only hope that his training was extensive enough to be useful. He was about to tell the men to disperse and create 3-5 men squads from the remaining men of fighting age, and then give orders for the care of those too elderly or young to fight effectively, when Caj tapped him on the shoulder, and leaned in to whisper something in his ear. He nodded once, and straightened.
"Were any of you Dragoons?" Robert asked crisply. There was no response. He frowned. "In a scouting regiment then, or perhaps part of a sweeper team for a counterintelligence offensive?" Nervously, one of the men, Fergus, stepped forward.
"Beggin' yer pardon…" He paused clearly uncertain as to how to refer to Robert.
"Sir will do nicely." Robert crisply informed him.
"Right then," the man knuckled his forehead, "Beggin' yer pardon sir, but I 'as part o' a scouting regiment fer 10 years on 'fore I took the kings coin."
"Excellent." Caj's voice broke through the air with the uncanny hiss of a predator. "You're with me on equipment acquisition and thinning the enemy numbers." He tossed a dagger to Fergus, recovered from Sven's body no doubt, and slung Sven's axe over his own back while gesturing with the knife he killed the Northman with. Nonplussed, Fergus followed him, and they disappeared into the night. Robert turned back to the rest of the assembled men.
"Alright," he said, "The rest of you, go make three-to-six-man squads, and form up inside the cage on the edges. Non-coms in the middle." The newly minted Sergeants Saluted, and then proceeded to do as he ordered. So began their escape from the Vencheng Camp.