Things could not have gone better, Reider considered. The caravan had made its way up the King’s Road at a slow pace, easy for the bandits to track. The ambush, when sprung, had been timed perfectly. The caravan guards, up on their tall warhorses, had been silhouetted against the setting sun while in the underbrush Reider’s men had all but invisible in the growing twilight. Half of the guards had fallen, arrows and javelins in their backs before they had even realized they’d ridden straight into ambush. The rest had barely drawn swords before they too fell.
In the aftermath of the one-sides slaughter, the caravan was being thoroughly plundered. Bandits swarmed over the wagons and carriages, smashing open chests and strongboxes in search of valuables, or just delighting in wanton vandalism. Fine pottery and bolts of cloth were tossed to the ground and tramped into the mud. It was portable wealth the outlaws were after, coins of gold and silver, precious gems. But Reider had his eye turned to a different sort of plunder…
A few yards away off the side of the road, all of the survivors of the caravan were gathered up, under the less-then-watchful eyes of a few of the bandits who eyed their comrades jealously. Though, under the outlaw’s code all plunder was to be divided up evenly after the raid, those who found it first often had the more pressing claim.
The captives, for their part, huddled in terror and shock, the strong cords binding hands and feet doing more to prevent their flight then their inattentive guards. Of the dozen or so prisoners, only four were men, the caravan master and three of the more prosperous looking merchants, men who could pay, or had others who could pay, a steep ransom for their return. The others had been cut down without mercy.
The eight women who’d been taken from the caravan had all been spared that, but only for a fate worse then death. After dividing up the loot, the bandits would gorge themselves on what food and drink they found and slake their lust on the female captives. With only eight here and a score of men to pleasure, the women would be in for a long and terrible night.
But that was only the start of their troubles. It was taken as a given that, after such an ordeal none of them would be worth ransoming back to their families and so, if they had any worth left to their captives it was for the price they could fetch as slaves on the auction block. Little wonder their sobs and moans of distress filled the night air, mingling with the raucous laughter and jeers of their captors.
Reider’s eyes fell on one maiden in particular. She was a comely lass, not more then 18 or 19 summers by his guess, with hair of a pale blonde falling across a light, freckled face in an untidy mess. Her hands and feet were bound with rope. A few turns of cord between her teeth held in the wadding of her gag. The dress she wore, of a light blue cloth a year or two behind the fashions of the King’s Court and thus the height of fashion out in the frontier provinces, was likewise torn and disheveled, particularly at the neck where a large tear down the front exposed a good deal of her shapely breasts, perhaps done in the process of relieving her of the gold ornamentation she’d worn, or perhaps her captor wanted a preview of the evening’s fun.
He’d noted her during the ambush, leaping from the back of her wagon and running, though too slowly to escape the nearest bandit. What relation she’d had with the older man seated at the front of the cart Reider didn’t know; not enough of a resemblance to be his daughter, too young to be his wife. She might have been his concubine, though if so, the fact she hadn’t so much as glanced back when he fell with an arrow in his throat spoke volumes. At any rate it hardly mattered now. He was dead now and soon she’d be some other man’s concubine whether she’d been one before or not…
Eventually, the plundering of the caravan was finished. All of the loot, save those small trinkets which inevitably disappeared in the presence of such thieves, was heaped in a pile in the light of a burning carriage. A few kegs of fine wine, taken from another cart, were broached and the cheerful celebration of the bandits began to take on a decidedly tipsy tone as the process of distributing the spoils was begun.
“I claim this!” One of the captains of the band declared, in a tone that dared any challenge as he reached into the pile of plunder and grabbed a fine mahogany box, inlaid with silver ornamentation. None of the other bandits gainsaid his claim and the man returned to his spot as another rose and went to the pile. The process was highly informal. Each man stood in a vague order of precedence among the bandits and had his pick from the pile. If someone went out of his turn, or the others thought he took more then his fair share, he was shouted down and forced to return his spoils and wait his turn again. If he stood defiant of this censure, knives flashed and bloody combat settled the matter. It was not uncommon for the band to lose more men in the aftermath of a victory then in a defeat.
Finally, Reider’s turn came. He stood and walked into the center of the firelight. Instead of diving into somewhat dwindling pile of loot, however, he raised a hand and sent a finger stabbing over the heads of the half-ring of men to the clearing where the captives still knelt. “I claim her!” He said, indicating the maiden he’d spotted earlier. Instantly, challenges came up, though only words for now.
“She’s not loot!” Men shouted. “Pick again!”
Reider stood his ground, jaw thrust out defiantly. “We took her in the ambush, didn’t we? She’s worth more then a few coins, won’t you say?” There was still some grumbling among the other bandits at this, but none of them could dispute this. “I promise you this, she will be my sole booty from this raid. If I may claim her, I forfeit all other rights to the plunder.” This had a somewhat mollifying effect on the rank and file. Loathe as they were to lose their fun at the expense of so fair and comely a maiden, Reider was giving up a considerable amount of plunder he might otherwise claim as his right as a chief among the bandits, gold and silver that would be split among them.
But the other captains were not so easily mollified. “She wasn’t displayed with the other plunder.” One of the men who’d already had his pick snarled angrily. “We did not have a chance to pick her ourselves! It’s a cheat, Reider!” The other captains nodded, growling amongst themselves. Reider smiled. The rules of plundering, he thought, would be changed, going forward, to keep him from getting away with something like this again...provided he could get away with it tonight.
“Bring her over here, then.” He said, gesturing to one of the men guarding the captives. The startled girl was pulled to her feet and dragged into the circle of firelight, half stumbling, half hopping with her tightly bound feet. She was stood in front of the half-ring of cruel-faced bandits, an expression of terror and confusion on her face. “There…” Reider said, moving over beside her. “She’s with the other loot now…” He reached up and grabbed the torn hem of her dress. “And available for any man to see and assess her worth.” He yanked hard, the already damaged cloth tearing easily with a loud ripping sound. A gasp and an indignant squeal escaped the girl’s cloth muzzle as her ruined dress fell away, leaving her naked and exposed to a score of leering eyes.
“Now, I claim her as my share of the plunder. Does anyone dispute this?” Reider said, glaring hard at the chieftains who had picked before him. Sure enough, one of the senior brigands, who doubtless had been looking forward to claiming her first when the evening’s celebrations began, threw down the sack of gold coins he had picked earlier and leapt to his feet, dragging a long, wickedly curved knife from his broad belt.
Reider had wasted to time in drawing his own dagger. The duel, like all among the outlaws, had no formality to it. With a bellow, the other man charged into the ring of firelight where Reider stood waiting to meet him. There was none of the form or grace of a courtly duel to it, no tutored art of the blade or customs of honorable combat. Just two men desperately trying to kill the other with every dirty trick and underhanded tactic they’d picked up in their years living outside of the King’s Laws among cutthroats and bandits.
Scarcely had the ring of onlookers started to cheer and take bets among themselves when Reider’s challenger fell, the hilt of Reider’s knife sprouting from his chest between the fifth and sixth ribs where it had found his heart and killed him instantly. The victor stepped back, checking where an earlier thrust from the dead man had nicked his side. It was shallow, fortunately, and not life threateningly.
Mindful all eyes were on him, Reider walked over and stooped where the dead man had foolishly thrown down his bag of gold. Taking it up, Reider went and, with exaggerated carelessness, dropped it back among the pile of plunder. “As I said, I take no other plunder besides her…” He said in a loud voice, turning back to his prize who had watched the fight with bewilderment. She now regarded him with a look of fear, doubtless wondering what sort of man she now belonged to.
Reider’s triumph over his challenger, formerly a knife fighter of some renown among the outlaws and his gesture with the coinsmeant there was no further grumbling from the men as he scooped up the young maid in his arms and carried her out of the circle. Behind him, the clamor resumed as the bandits went back to sorting the remainder of the loot.
In his arms, the captive girl squirmed, grunting through her gag, fear and apprehension. Her captor spoke, as much to himself as to her, “The fools! Giving up the rest of my loot!?! Ha! From the moment I saw you, I knew you were worth more then anything else in that pile of trinkets.” He gave his prize a playful pat, drawing a frightened squeal from her. “Let them fight over the rest of it, for what I get selling you, I’ll be set for life!” Chuckling to himself, he carried his prize off into the night...