Free The Amber Legacy by Tony Shillitoe Page A

TWO
    ‘Of all the pains we must endure,
love hurts deepest when it is unrequited.
Don’t talk to me of what you have felt,
for I know this pain in its purest form.’
    TRANSLATED FROM ‘BEYOND THE ETERNAL LONGING’ ,
AN EPIC POEM BY ASHUAK POET LAK ASHARA ,
IN THE SECOND DYNASTY

CHAPTER SEVEN
    ‘ A s long as men go a-wandering, And maidens are so sweet, There’ll always be a fresh rose plucked, By men who can compete For a young girl’s charming smile, For a young girl’s charming smile.’
    Meg hesitated at the half-open door, held by the raucous singing within, and she tried to ignore the lecherous grins of the soldiers who were leaning on the hitching post outside Archer’s Inn, chewing tobacco. Sunfire’s ears flattened and his hackles rose. The Queen’s soldiers had commandeered the inn the previous night, and had been drinking copiously, entertained by minstrels who travelled with them. Her mother said that the village men were bickering over who should berate the soldiers for their uncivil behaviour, but no one wanted the responsibility. Meantime, the belligerent and demanding Queen’s men were holding Fletcher Archer, his wife and their three children hostage in their tavern, forcing them to endlessly serve food and ale and spirits. Feeling sorry for the Archers, Meg’s mother sent her protesting daughter with a basket of freshly baked bread and cake to feed the hapless family.
    ‘Want the door opened wider, gorgeous?’ offered a rakishly thin, sparsely bearded soldier at the entrance. He glanced down at the dingo that stared back at him.
    ‘Thank you,’ she replied. She clutched the basket close to her chest, as she eased past the young man whose breath reeked of alcohol and vomit, and Sunfire slid in behind her.
    ‘What have we here?’ a harsh voice asked as she entered the smoky common room.
    ‘Another beauty,’ a second answered. ‘Come and sit on my lap, girlie.’ Meg’s morning sunlight blindness dissipated. At least ten men sat or stood around the three square tables that normally furnished the room. A motley crew—a mixture of young and older men, all unshaven and, from the pungent pervasive odour of humanity underlying the smell of stale ale and smoke, they were all in desperate need of a good bath. The man who’d offered a lap was lean, like an underfed dog, and his eyes shone with his hunger. ‘Come on. I won’t bite you,’ he said.
    ‘Don’t believe him,’ another man warned, and the group laughed.
    ‘Her dog might bite you, though, Lambcutter,’ a pudgy-cheeked soldier observed. The soldiers laughed again.
    There were two young women with the men. Axle Wheelwright sat on a soldier’s knee, her tunic unlaced and open, exposing her breasts, her dark hair dishevelled, and she glared at Meg as though she resented her intrusion. The second, Leafy Wood, a plain mousy-haired girl Meg’s age, the third daughter of Henry Wood, the village woodcutter, stood behind a sitting soldier, her arms dangling around the young man’s neck, and she was laughing at Meg, like the men. ‘What’s in the basket? More food?’ a hook-nosed soldier asked.
    ‘It’s for the Archers,’ Meg told him.
    ‘They’re not as hungry as us,’ the soldier insisted, as he rose and reached for the basket.
    Meg pulled the basket away and Sunfire growled menacingly. ‘The food isn’t for you.’
    ‘Whoa-ho! Spirited!’ the soldier declared, grinning. ‘Come on, girl, let’s have some sport from you.’
    ‘Touch me and I’ll kill you,’ Meg snarled, her anger flashing. Sunfire stepped between them, his teeth bared.
    ‘Will you now? You’ll kill me, will you?’ The soldier laughed, and his companions laughed as well.
    ‘She won’t kill you, Gardner, but the dog will,’ someone else quipped. The soldiers laughed again.
    ‘And what’s your name?’ Gardner asked.
    ‘My name isn’t for your foul mouth.’
    The soldier snorted and, turning to Axle, asked, ‘What’s your friend’s