Free The Errant Flock by Jana Petken

no killings and no wounding. Do you hear me?”
    “Yes, Your Grace.”
    “Are your men close by?”
    “Our contact in town is always at hand. I will dispatch him with a message to the mercenary leader immediately.”
    Luis nodded. “Call them up. Set them to task. I want this business concluded before dawn. Do you understand?”
    Sergio nodded and grinned with pleasure.
    Luis picked up his dead child and kissed his forehead one last time. “Take it. Bury it and never mention it to me again. I’m going to spend time with my son … Jaime. He shall be named Jaime.

 
    Chapter Nine
     
    It had taken David quite a while to reach his family’s home. He’d carried the child in his arms, running part of the way, and she hadn’t cried or whimpered for her parents. In the Jewry, he’d found her curled in a ball fast asleep and in the exact same spot he’d left her. The streets were empty. The procession had dispersed, and most of the townspeople were feasting inside their homes. When he’d skirted the labyrinth of streets on the way out of town, he’d smelled food cooking, heard laughter and song, saw smoke rising from chimneys – and a terrible feeling of envy had engulfed him.
    Walking across the plain against a strong wind had slowed him down, but thankfully the girl had slept on, apart from a few minutes in an area where he’d stumbled over rocks and she’d almost fallen from his arms. His arms and back were aching. At first her weight had been as light as a feather, but now she felt as heavy as a sack of potatoes. He hadn’t slept in almost two days, he realised, and the climb up to the north-east gate was tiring, at the best of times.
    David had asked Garcia to honour the two days’ leave, previously promised to him, but he’d received a resounding no. “You serve at the duke’s pleasure. Your life is his, and leave from the castle is a gift, not a right.” Garcia was a whoreson, David thought for the umpteenth time. He was probably incapable of feeling a sliver of remorse for his part in tonight’s murders. “Keep your mouth shut and forget everything that has happened this night,” Garcia had also said. Forget? David thought. Only a wild animal would forget what it had slaughtered.
    He kicked a stone and then stumbled with a misstep. As much as he despised the duke and Garcia, even more, he loathed all that he, David Sanz, had become. Had he always been wicked deep down? he wondered. Or had he simply shed some pesky skin tonight to reveal his true character? The duke would ask more of him. It was inevitable, for in Luis Peráto’s mind, David Sanz had become an immoral criminal, willing to kill on his duke’s whims. He’d sold his soul to the man. Maybe he should have taken the money and been done with it.
    David shook his head irately. He was not a henchman, an executioner, or a wicked man. No, he wasn’t. He’d spend the rest of his life asking for redemption and proving to God and his family that he was a good man. He’d rather be hanged as a traitor than take another innocent life to satisfy the duke’s whims. And then he wondered whether he would live to see the New Year. Or would Garcia have him killed against the duke’s orders?
     
    The house and small plot of land coming into view in the distance looked like every other smallholding from Sagrat to the sea, but to David’s father, it was a palace. Situated approximately midway between the town and the Mediterranean coast, it was a decent walk to get anywhere, but its location was perfect, for it was one of the only plots to have a direct supply of fresh water from a nearby river.
    Luckily, this plain had a predominately straight road running through it all the way to the sea. He could find his way home blindfolded, for there was not a crack in the road, a plant, or a bush that he didn’t recognise en route. He’d walked this road a thousand times. His skin had cracked in the baking sun and had been drenched and battered in winter