Free Betrayal by Fiona McIntosh

he’ll patch him up as best he can and perhaps find him a pallet for the night. It’s the best we can do.’
    Cloot was slumped on the cart. Riss, with the help of his mate, was beginning to wheel him away. Tor knew it would happen: Cloot’s voice was back—urgent and laced with pain but also anxiety. Tor! We must remain together. Cloot was still drawing on Tor’s energy to remain conscious.
    Tor had to try. ‘Prime Cyrus!’
    The Prime had already swung himself up into his saddle. ‘Good luck, Gynt.’ He turned his horse.
    Tor leapt after him, as well as shouting to the men laboriously wheeling Cloot away. ‘Ho, you men, wait!’
    ‘What now, boy?’ growled Cyrus. ‘I’ve wasted enough of the King’s time on this affair already. Speak!’
    ‘I’ll take care of him,’ Tor blurted.
    ‘You’ll what? What the hell are you talking about, Gynt?’ Cyrus turned his horse back.
    Tor really did not have any idea what this was about. What did Cloot mean by saying the two of them had to remain together, and how did he know his name? It was too strange, and yet the last few days had been so full of strange happenings that nothing should really surprise him.
    He followed his instincts.
    ‘Prime Cyrus. Please, let me look after him. I can’t imagine what kind of care he’ll receive at the alms house with him being a cripple and the man the town has just beaten half to death…Well, why would anyone bother to help him? He’ll die. We both know this, so what can it hurt if I help?’ Tor didn’t know what else to say.
    Once again the Prime studied him. ‘Why do I get the distinct feeling that you are not telling me everything, boy? What possible good can you do him? Granted old Jonas is a bit of a butcher but I can’t think of anything better.’ He looked almostkindly down at Tor. ‘There’s nothing you can do for him, Gynt. Go on home with you. Back to your village and forget about this ugly event.’
    Tor stepped towards the cart. ‘It matters to me. This man will die if I don’t help him. I have a little money. Perhaps I could afford a better physician for him.’ Tor knew he was grasping. He would have to come up with something better than that.
    ‘You have money? Money to burn on a half-dead, retarded cripple you apparently don’t know?’ The Prime sounded understandably incredulous.
    Think, Tor, think!
    ‘It was honestly earned, sir, and I might as well spend it on doing something to guarantee myself a place in heaven than pissing it into the gutter tonight.’
    Tor waved his hand nonchalantly, hoping the show of bravado would sway Cyrus. It did.
    ‘Have him, Torkyn Gynt. He’s paid his dues. He’s a free man. Good luck to you both.’
    With that the Prime turned to his men, barked an order and rode off without looking back.
    Riss cleared his throat a little too loudly. ‘Where d’you want him, boy?’
    ‘Er…what?’ Tor raked his hand through his hair.
    ‘Prime’s orders. We’re to take him to wherever you are staying.’
    Tor could see from the dust on the man’s clothes that it had been a long day of marching and he had probably been looking forward to a few ales rather than wheeling a cripple around.
    ‘I have no place to stay,’ Tor said.
    Riss looked as though he was going to step forward and club him. Instead he growled, ‘Halfwits stick together it seems.’
    ‘Look, I’ve tried to find an inn but it’s so busy tonight and I’ve had no luck. How about helping me find somewhere? I’ll pay you,’ Tor blurted desperately as both men cursed him.
    ‘You’re very free with your money today, lad,’ Riss said in a tone which suggested he didn’t think Tor had any.
    ‘How much?’ Golag’s voice, silent up to now, grated as though it wasn’t used often enough.
    ‘Find me a room, a physic and a hot stew and I’ll pay you both a duke apiece.’
    Tor had already guessed that these infantrymen were paid less than that each week. It was an exorbitant sum but it was worth it if