Oh my maid
Hair as soft as silk
Oh my maid
She protects me when I'm ill
Oh my maid
Her breasts so soft and round
Oh my maid
The fairest in the town
The song seemed to go on for quite some time, until Jarl placed the harp down beside him and instantly fell asleep. Mit had already been, same with Jack and Ryger. Something kept Thalrick awake, though. He could see the faces of Vann, and Tasha, and Jon, all biting at him every time he shut his eyes. It was like the inside of his eyelids had turned to savage memories of the life he had once lead, the life he would now try so hard to escape from. He wanted to start anew, as his own man; free from any master. He had served men all his life, and now it was time that he started serving himself. All he needed was himself, and
Swiftclaw, for it would protect him when nothing else could.
The embers of the fire rose high, red and yellow and orange flames dancing against the black of the sky, crackling and comforting any who were close enough. He watched them for awhile, until finally he managed to drift off to sleep. . .
The next morning, just before the sun had risen, Thalrick was awoken by a man he had not met the night before. He was tall and broad like Jack, with long brown hair and a white-brown goatee. He too wore a yellow cloak, with patches of brown and green sewn over rips in it. ''Who're you?'' He asked, right after digging his leather boot into Thalrick's ribs. He assumed this was Old Rick.
''Thalrick, erm, Levelle.'' He began, too tired to think, ''I'll be travelling with you for a time, at least Jack tells me so.'' Old Rick said nothing, and instead turned to Jack, who was sleeping in the back of the wagon. He delivered a swift punch to his shoulder to awaken him. Jack nearly rolled out of the wagon in scare.
''Jack, you invite this boy to join us without my consent? We are a band of brothers, not the band of Jack!'' He seemed angry, his voice gruff and hoarse. He moved menacingly across the camp site, back to Thalrick, who was now pulling himself to his feet.
''You'll leave, and you'll leave now. We have no room for new brothers, this is the only family we got. Get up and go, go on. Try and stay and I'll cut you down, I swear it.'' Old Rick was now furious, and Thalrick had said nothing but his name. What have I done? This old bastard is delusional. . .
''I-I did not intend to offend--''
Rick kicked him in the ribs again. ''Go.''
From behind him, Thalrick heard the chuckle of Mit. He seemed rather pleased with what was unfolding. As Thalrick stood to leave, Jack interjected, climbing down from the back of the wagon, still half-asleep.
''Don't leave, boy. Old Rick is a fool. Calm yourself, he has done nothing wrong. He is safer with us, it is safer than travelling alone. These lands are bloody dangerous at any time of the year.''
His words did not seem to calm his brethren, and Rick drew his long sword from its leather sheathe, then pointed the end at Thalrick.
''He's a bloody pirate, Jack, Mit told me so. How can you trust a pirate? He's a bandit, if not worse than one, and we killed damn bandits for a livin'. We should poke holes in him now and be done with it.'' Old Rick yelled.
Thalrick looked at Mit, who smiled a crooked, evil grin from beneath his shaggy black hair. By now he had his hand wrapped around the hilt of
Swiftclaw, for Old Rick seemed likely to explode at any moment.
''He was a pirate, not no more, Rick. He's a wanderer now, just like us. Only he's less armed and less dangerous, and doesn't roam around killing bloody brigands. We kill men and so has he, it's all the same.'' Jack seemed so calm, whereas Old Rick was the opposite. The finest form of juxtaposition was unveiling itself before him, and all Thalrick wanted to do was leave. If Old Rick attacked, then maybe Jack wouldn't, but he had no doubt Mit would join in the assault. And he had nothing around him but grass, there would be no escaping. He'd have to fight.