Read Online The Long War 01 - The Black Guard by A.J. Smith - Free Book Online

was my intention,’ replied Torian.
    Utha took another swig of wine, letting the liquid fall over his face and run down his chin. Then he stood up and turned to the young squire. Randall was a tall lad and Utha thought that he’d grow to a fair size in his next year or so of life.
    As was his way, Utha decided to test the young squire’s strength of mind. He crossed the room and motioned for Randall to stand, which he did quickly, with wide eyes.
    ‘Torian has told me of your former master’s dishonour, boy. I hope you realize that this does not reflect well on you. I’ll be watching you, even if Torian is too blind to see the potential danger you pose.’
    Utha didn’t need to turn round to know that Torian would be shaking his head at this comment.
    ‘So, boy, do you think yourself a suitable squire for a Purple churchman?’ he asked.
    The boy was nervous, but Utha noticed a certain intelligence in his eyes as he answered. ‘I didn’t even know that clerics took squires, my lord. So, in terms of suitability, I’ve nothing to compare myself to. Have you ever had a squire, Brother Utha?’
    ‘You have a fast tongue, lad,’ Utha said with a slight smile.
    Randall looked a little embarrassed. ‘You’re not the first to remark on that, sir. I don’t mean to be rude.’
    ‘In answer to your question, no, I’ve never had a squire. Common men are ill suited to following around a man of my…’ he chose his words carefully, ‘… responsibilities. Tell me, boy, where are you from? Some pox-ridden back street of whores and serfs, no doubt.’
    Randall’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the cleric. ‘Er… I don’t remember there being any whores, sir, but then cattle and farmers would make poor customers. I’m from a small village in the Darkwald, a hundred leagues to the north of Arnon. I think there were some serfs, my lord, but the lord of Darkwald was a kindly man, from what I remember. My people lived off the land, with little need to be bound to the nobility as serfs.’
    Utha was often given to making quick decisions about people, especially those who took offence at his manner; however, he thought the squire had handled himself well. The Black cleric had made people cry on more than one occasion with a well-placed insult or a quick retort, but Randall had not withered under Utha’s gaze.
    ‘Well then, Randall, are you accompanying your master this day?’ Utha asked.
    Randall shot a glance at Torian, who nodded. The Purple cleric tolerated Utha’s bullying, knowing it was the way he conducted himself with those outside the church.
    ‘Yes, I think I am, milord.’ He looked down at the ornate longsword belted at his waist. ‘Though I think this might cause more problems than it solves.’ He patted the hilt.
    Torian stood and stepped past Utha. He rested his hand on Randall’s shoulder and spoke with kindness. ‘I told you that you were permitted to wear it. Any man who says otherwise is questioning my judgement and I would take great offence at that.’
    Utha laughed. ‘Ah, the offence of nobility… Is there a worse kind?’
    Torian ignored him. ‘Randall, when you learn how to use it properly, it’ll feel more comfortable, trust me.’ He then turned to face Utha. ‘If you’re quite finished, brother, we should get to work,’ he said, with no hint of amusement.
    ‘Indeed we should, before young Randall here shits himself and needs changing.’ Utha had to confess to himself that he was being mean, but he delighted in causing Torian discomfort.
    The Purple cleric pursed his lips, annoyed at the behaviour of his friend, but, as was his way, he let it slide with silent grace.
    Utha smiled broadly at Randall. ‘Don’t worry, lad, none of the Purple have a sense of humour,’ he said with a wink.
    He thoroughly enjoyed the look of confusion on the young squire’s face as the three men left the room.
    ‘I saw a squad of watchmen in the bar on my way in; I think we should enlist their