THREE

 

Romein stood guard on the bridge until noon, when the sun vanished behind the clouds. Not a soul had even attempted to cross the bridge. He sighed as he sat down. Father had sent him on a fool's errand again. Well, not precisely a fool's errand, but one where even a fool would be capable of carrying out Father's wishes, without finding himself in the least whiff of danger.

His brothers were likely rescuing people and their belongings from floodwaters, carrying them to safety and beginning to build a new, better village, on higher ground than the first. While he was sitting on an empty bridge, wondering whether the tree that was wedged against the bridge supports would work its way free and continue its journey downstream, or if someone would haul it out of the river to chop into firewood for the winter, when the floodwaters died down.

If he had a pole, like the riverboat men used, he might tip the tree into an angle in the current, so that it could right itself and flow through the bridge and away. Alas, he had no pole, and his sword was too short to reach. A jouster's lance or a spear would do the job. If only Father had given him a spear to carry instead of a sword...

The clatter of a horse's hooves on stone sent him leaping to his feet, drawing his scorned sword. A foot soldier was no match for an armed knight, he knew. He should have remained on his horse, instead of letting her graze in a nearby field while he did guard duty. He should have...

"Halt!" Romein hoped the man running toward him wouldn't hear the tremble in his voice. At least he was leading his horse, instead of riding it.

The man skidded to a stop as the bridge levelled out, and Romein found he wasn't facing a man at all, but a wide-eyed boy, at least half a head shorter than himself. His fine clothes and hacked-off, shoulder length hair marked him as someone's page, for he was surely too young to be a squire yet. Besides, the horse he was leading surely belonged to some great knight, for the mare pawed the ground, eyeing Romein with disdain like a trained warhorse that wanted to trample him into the dust.

Romein lifted his chin. He was more than a match for this page. "You cannot pass. If you wish to cross the bridge to Elst, know that you will pay a terrible toll."

The page frowned. "What sort of toll?"

Romein swallowed. His father had spared him the details, but he knew that the Baron of Maastricht's justice involved frequent use of the lash, and it was rumoured that he was fond of the wheel. The lucky ones were those who were executed after, but he'd heard stories...

"A terrible one," Romein repeated. "The cost will be so great, few survive."

The page looked thoughtful for a moment, then drew his dagger and held it out, hilt-first, to Romein. "I do not have much, but this is the most valuable thing I possess. If I give it to you, will you permit me to pass across the bridge and on to Elst?"

The dagger was beautiful, with waves carved into the hilt, shining silver like the sea in the sun. Whoever this page was, he came from a wealthy family, to own such an ornate eating knife. But a costly dagger would not defend this boy from the Bishop of Maastricht.

"Keep your knife. You have more need of it than I do." Romein waved his sword, before sheathing it. How to explain the Bishop's evil to this boy without frightening him? "There is a monster..."

"Like a troll? My mother told me stories of trolls who guard bridges," the page began eagerly.

Romein found himself nodding. Better that the boy believe in mythical monsters, than men who looked like anyone else, but behaved like monsters. "Yes, just like that. If you cross this bridge, he will take such a terrible toll, it will take more than a lifetime to repay." Romein couldn't suppress a shudder. The worst stories were of men broken on the wheel, crippled for life, forced to labour for the Bishop until he deemed they had repaid him for their crimes.

The page paled. "In that case...thank you, sir, for the warning. My knife will certainly not be enough, but my brothers are coming. They will surely have the means to pay the troll. If you will but let me past, I must reach the priest at the church of Saint Martin before nightfall."

Romein hesitated. If it was up to him, he'd happily let the boy go to church, but the Bishop was another matter. "You'll never reach the church. If the monster knows you have crossed the bridge..."

The page patted his horse's neck. "Epona is swifter than any monster. She will carry me as surely as the wind itself. And no monster would dare set foot in such a holy place as Saint Martin's church, not with the relics of Saint Martin himself beneath the altar. My brothers will see to the monster, you may be sure of it."

Romein shook his head. "You do not understand. No man is a match for the evil Bishop of Maastricht. He is a monster the likes of which would give the devil himself pause."

"Did you hear that, Billy? Not only did that wretched bird lose the fight and all my money, but now we're expected to listen to insults from some troll who looks like he crawled out from under a bridge." Two men on horseback crested the top of the bridge, then dismounted on either side of the page. Almost like they meant to defend the boy against Romein.

"No, he came to warn me about the troll, and the toll for crossing the bridge. A terrible one, by all accounts," the page began, looking from one man to the other. "You must deal with the monster, for is that not why you have come?"

"The only monster I see is some bully telling scary stories to frighten you, and offering mortal insults to his betters," the larger of the two men taunted, stepping up to stand directly before Romein. "What did you say about the Bishop, troll? I dare you to say it again." He seized Romein by the collar and lifted him off his feet.

Romein swallowed. Even if he could draw his sword, the man was too close for him to properly defend himself with it. He should have accepted the page's dagger. "The Bishop of Maastricht is an evil monster, and any man in Gelderland will tell you so!"

The man slammed Romein against the side of the bridge, knocking the wind out of him, then held him out over the roiling waters. "Beg the Bishop's pardon, and I shall let you live."

Romein's arms and legs flailed wildly, looking for purchase, but the man's reach was simply too long. Then he accidentally managed to kick the man in the head.

Fury blazed in the man's eyes for a moment, and then he let go.

Romein screamed as he fell, before he landed hard. Pain exploded and everything went black.