Free Up From Hell by David Drake Page B

butt-spike of my javelin in the crack, then levered the door open fast. My sword point was aimed toward the face of anybody who decided to come out and try conclusions, but nobody did. I was about to shout for the servants to give up before we had to go in after them, that nobody would get hurt—
    And right then the landowner and what turned out to be six bodyguards rushed us from the main house.
    Albos must’ve been nosing toward the house, which he shouldn’t have done, so they were almost on him when they burst out the front door. He flung a javelin but it stuck in the shield of the fellow with the horsehair plume in the top of his helmet. Albos tried to run, but a guard speared him through the left thigh and he went down with blood soaking his trousers black in the sunset.
    Another of the bunched guards brought back his spear to finish the job, but I hit the middle of them shouting, “The sky smites you down!” though they probably couldn’t have understood the words even if they spoke Gaulish.
    It might’ve been smarter to back away and see just what we were up against, but they’d have put paid to Albos if I’d done that. And anyhow, that’s never been my way.
    The leader was easy to spot from his plume and the fact that he was waving a sword while his guards just had spears. One of them thrust at me from the left, but I slanted his point away with my javelin shaft and swung down at the leader.
    He hadn’t managed to get either his shield or his short, hook-bladed sword up in time. I caught his helmet on the sweet spot of my blade, a handsbreadth back from the point. He went down like a sacrificed ox, and that was about all there was to the fight.
    Javelins feathered the guards’ shields. One man dropped and then Galo, still on his horse, swiped the left-end man with his massive iron prybar as he rode past. He hit the fellow’s shield, dishing in the boss and cracking the wood so it folded over.
    Those who still could run tried to now, throwing away their shields, but Matisco and his squad were coming around from behind. I started to pick up a dropped shield—I don’t like them but believe me, a shield is a better choice than a javelin when you’re charging a line of spears.
    No matter. I’d been lucky, and I didn’t need a shield now after all. All the guards were down, and my boys were cutting their throats to make sure they stayed that way.
    â€œTop, are you all right?” Galo said.
    â€œYeah, I didn’t get a scratch,” I said, but as I turned toward him the bloody side of my tunic pulled at the track that spear had plowed along my ribs. The wool had stuck to the flesh. When I tore it away, it hurt like a demon was chewing it.
    â€œIt’s all right,” I muttered. Galo ripped cloth from the dead leader’s tunic and tied it as a bandage under my own garment. That way seeping blood didn’t make my clothes stick to me.
    Galo paused to pull a small iron box off the leader’s neck chain. It was iron too, but Galo just gave a twist of his big hand and broke the links.
    I went into the main house, walking fast so that nobody would see how I was shaking. It’s always like that afterward for me.
    Albos had bled out anyway; the spear had split the artery in his thigh. You don’t think about what’s the smartest thing to do when you’re in a fight, though; if you do, you’re not a man. Also you lose, but losing a fight is nothing compared to losing your manhood.
    The house had two rooms to each side of the passage in the middle and a big room in the back. Fabric hangings covered the side doorways, all but the farther one on the right.
    I could hear women sobbing behind the hangings, but I wouldn’t have worried about somebody coming out behind me with a knife even if several of the boys hadn’t followed me. I still had my sword in my right hand, but that was because I wasn’t sure I could