EPISODE TEN - Recapturing Klondike
The stable owner’s eyes got wide when Bill and Bear stepped into the light of the stalls. He knew they were wanted by the “King” and could get a reward for telling someone they were back in town. The only thing stopping him was the fact they told him he was the only man to know they were there and if a bunch of men showed up they would know it was him that told.
Bill helped Bear load the buggy and said he’d come for him when he found Klondike if he thought it was going to be a fight, otherwise he’d meet him at the Nimes convent. Bill knew Bear would be careful getting there and traveling at night made the secret of his presence in Marseille easier to hide. Bill would hang around the arena until Klondike showed up and steal him if he could by stealth, if not he’d get Bear and they’d do it the hard way. Bill would like to avoid the authorities, he certainly didn’t have enough money to buy what he wanted like before.
Bill had been thinking there was going to be problems with the “King” as long as the “King” was alive. Bill figured he would never forget losing 50,000 ducats and then there was the matter of killing “Death” which undoubtedly cost him even more since then. Bill knew the man had contacts throughout Europe and England, but he thought that these contacts wouldn’t necessarily go after anyone that killed the “King”. Even the local authorities wouldn’t chase down the attacker, but rather make arrangements with whoever took his place. Over and over in his mind he tried to think of consequences he wasn’t thinking of. Bill knew he would have to do it without Bear, since Bear was the single most identifiable man in Europe right now. In fact, before he did it, Bear would have to go back to Paris for an alibi when it happens, or at the very least be somewhere too far away to have been involved.
That night Bill walked with a limp and bent over so it was impossible to see his face. He waited all night but no Klondike and no “King” for that matter. The next day he went and watched the “King’s” house all day-nothing. That night he again went to the arena. The next day “King’s” house, and again nothing. Finally he saw the “King”, he was ordering some men around in front of his house, he couldn’t hear what was being said, but something was apparently going to happen. Since he was only concerned with Klondike for now, he slept in the day and went to the arena at night. The arena was a disgusting place to be if you loved dogs. The sounds of fear from the dogs, the screams of pain, the ripping of flesh, the sounds of dying, The men yelling when their dog lost, their cries of anguish, the curses of lost bets, all these and more made the arena one of gates of hell on earth. And the whole drama played out with the stench of fresh blood in every cubic inch of air, to the point of a man smelling it day and night no matter where he was in the city.
On the eighth day, when he entered the arena, there in front of the cages under the stands was a huge 6×6x6 cage with a dog that looked too big to be a dog. It was Klondike and Bill’s heart skipped a beat and he felt flush and weak. There were men all around the cage, shoulder to shoulder, must have been a dozen men standing there and all of them were armed. Bill pulled back into the shadows and watched as Klondike paced back and forth in the cage. Klondike did not go into the ring that night, the “King” showed up late and looked Klondike over from head to toe. Some man with a black bag came and injected something into Klondike that made him agitated and he growled at the man until he got out of the cage. There was another man, big bald man that seemed to have gotten control of Klondike and was there for all visits of any kind. When no one was around besides the guards, the bald man rested inside the cage with Klondike with the confidence of an owner. This was disturbing to Bill, that another man could gain Klondike’s confidence, and live to tell about it. Bill felt betrayed and gave some thought to leaving the dog to die a horrible death in the arena. Then shame for thinking such a thing. Bear would have said it was time to get our dog back and start hacking and slicing everyone in his way while getting the dog. Bill knew this was not a situation for Bear to do his routine of killing everyone in sight, but what to do wasn’t clear yet.
Bill slept in the alley that night so he could watch if Klondike was removed from the arena. He walked in at noon the next day, which was the earliest anyone could get in the arena. Fighting didn’t start until six o’clock so Bill had six hours to watch what was going on. Only four guards and the bald man were near the cage all that afternoon. They gave him something besides meat around five o’clock and again he was anxious and pacing in his cage. By quarter to six the place was packed and the dogs were growling and snapping at anyone that walked by their cages. Since it would take too much time to send Bear north before he acted, Bill decided to try something he hadn’t done since he was a sailor. The first fights were between mostly unknown dogs, but by nine the big favorites began and in walked the “King”. There had been plenty of talk that “Death Swallower” was back in the arena and heavy money was already up on the board behind that name. The other big name was an Irish Wolfhound that went by “Too Tall” that had been bred for size over several generations. Too Tall was five tall at the shoulders and his ears tips were over 6 ½ feet in the air. Bill saw him in a special cage that had been built for him to be able to stand on his hind legs inside, making it 10’ feet high and when Too Tall stood up it was unnerving to anyone watching. Bill thought it was important that Klondike not have to face that thing under any circumstances. The “King” had at least twenty men around him at all times in public. It was obvious that Klondike and Too Tall were to fight that night and that tens of thousands of ducats were on the line. Only the “King” could give the word to bring Klondike forward, he seemed to be waiting for the odds to change or the amount being bet against Klondike to increase. The arena got louder and louder as men figured out the delay was over money not timing of the fight. Bill figured that whichever dog won it would be much harder to make a killing off the future bets since no other dog would seem worth betting on. Finally the owner of the wolfhound came over to the “King” to discuss the final bet. Bill could see the “King’s” face plainly across the way while he hid in the shadows.
The time had come to act. Bill blocked everything out of his mind and began to stare at the “King’s” Adam’s apple. He watched the way it moved up and down while talking to the other man. Then he mentally imagined the windpipe just under the skin, the way the passage was carrying air in and out of the lungs. Then he thought about the tonsils at the back of the throat and how they rode easily up and down with each breath. Bill closed his eyes now that he was seeing into the body of the “King” and went into a trance state. He couldn’t hear anything else around him or feel the heat of hundreds of sweating men in the arena. He had taken the time to place himself where no one was likely to either see him or try to get by. Bill slowed his breathing to a point of one breath every 5 seconds and his heart rate 40 beats a minute. Next, Bill concentrated on the tissue surrounding the tonsils and began to focus on the blood vessels. In these vessels, slowly at first, then increasingly so, the blood began to flow and the tissues started to swell. This swelling increased until the tonsils were pushed forward into the esophagus. The “King” swallowed in an attempt to clear his throat, but the swelling continued to increase and he coughed to clear the obstruction. Again he coughed and again the constriction increased in an ever increasing rate. Now the man was bent over, shoving his fingers to the back of his throat. He could feel the small opening, even got his index finger in it, but there was no object there, just his tonsils. The “King’s” face turned red and two men at his side began pounding on his back. Someone called out for a doctor and soon a man of medicine was bent over attending to the choking man on the floor. The doctor decided the only course left was a tracheotomy, so out of his bag came a scalpel and opened up the trachea. The doctor then inserted a four inch length of rubber tubing he usually used to tie off when taking blood pressure readings. The tubing barely fit in the opening and the doctor began to sweat. Still the swelling continued and the tubing began to collapse. The doctor looked around for something metal to use instead of the tubing but didn’t see anything that would work. Then he turned to one of the guards and asked for his pistol, then opened it up till he could look down the barrel, then quickly tried to insert the barrel into the disappearing hole. The hole was too small and no matter how hard he pushed he couldn’t get the barrel down the throat. The “King” was blue by this point and motionless with just swallow breathing going on. The doctor stood up and said there was nothing he could do to save him. The final moments of the “King’s” life was spent on the floor of the arena grasping for breath like hundreds of dogs before.
Bill opened his eyes and saw the ”King” on the arena floor with several men standing around as if no one knew what to do. Bill couldn’t hear yet but it was obvious that there was confusion as to whether Klondike would fight. Since the “King” called all the shots all the time, there was no second in command to move ahead. This was the moment he had wanted, a state of chaos where no one knew what to do. Bill knew he had to take possession of Klondike before another criminal boss took over the “King’s” assets by killing all comers to the fray. He figured the word would be out in a day or two then the challengers would start arriving with their men to take over, and Klondike would be part of the spoils to be won.
Bill ducked under the bleachers and hid in the shadows where he could see the giant cage holding Klondike. The four guards were gone, but the big bald man was still there. Bill crept closer and closer as he watched the cage with no one around. He pulled out his pistols and readied the third. He wanted to make sure Klondike didn’t get shot if there was gun play involved getting him away from the bald man. He changed position two times to keep Klondike to the side of his view. Then he walked up to the side of the cage and asked if the dog was fighting tonight. Jaque looked up to see a rather non-discript man in his fifties with ragged clothes and unkept beard. The sound of Bill’s voice caused Klondike to whip around and start to whine to be petted. Jaque took another look at what had to be Chien’s owner. Jaque told Bill he had been keeping the dog alive at great danger to himself and had formed a real attachment to the dog. Bill didn’t know what to say, up to this point he was going to kill him and was not prepared to deal with him as a man that shared a love for Klondike. The two men stood, looking at each other through the bars without as word. Jaque thought he should not share his plans to run off with Klondike to some remote island, never to be seen again. Bill couldn’t think of what to do there then so the two continued the staring.
Finally Bill unlatched the door and Klondike came bounding out and jumped up on Bill’s shoulders and bathed his face with his six inch wide tongue. Bill laughed the first he’d had since leaving Paris weeks ago. He tried to put his arms around the massive chest but as usual he couldn’t and settled for scratching Klondike’s sides with his fingernails. Then Bill moved back slightly and Klondike dropped to the ground. Bill turned to the big bald man and thanked him for looking after Klondike but when he started to walk off the massive dog hesitated. Bill stopped to see Klondike looking back at his new found friend and whimpering as if to ask why he wasn’t coming too. Bill hadn’t seen Klondike take to anyone except Bear. Bill went another 6-7 feet and looked back, Klondike had moved only inches and was still looking at Jaque. Bill looked Jaque in the eye and asked if he was an honest man. Jaque looked back without blinking or any other facial movement and said yes he was an honest man. Bill had always prided himself on being an instant judge of character and saw Jaque in his true state, the appearance of being a pirate merely one of having been around a great deal.
Bill asked if he had a problem with staying with a dog as a companion and making sure no one ever got into a position to hurt Klondike. Jaque said he couldn’t think of a better way to live than to be a dog guard, as opposed to being a guard dog. Bill laughed at the man’s sense of humor and introduced himself to Jaque and Jaque to Bill.
The three held back at the edge of the stands to see if anyone would challenge their leaving. No one was even looking at them and they slipped out into the night. The men at the door gave them a funny look, but neither wanted to stop Jaque “the Fist” from leaving. A couple more men out of the arena and shouted at the three as they distanced themselves from the place of death, but again no one was interested in chasing them down and dragging the dog back. The three turned the corner and were gone from sight.
Bill and Jaque stayed on side roads and alley ways until they were outside the city limits then they switched to hiding in brush and behind trees if any one came along as Bill headed for the convent where Bear was waiting for word of Klondike. It was night time so the roads were free of traffic except for the occasional drunk, staggering his way back home. Bill was concerned that no one saw the three of them so there wouldn’t be witnesses to tell Klondike’s new crime master where they had gone. With any luck there would be so much land, buildings, houses, businesses and bank accounts that the new master wouldn’t care about some dog that had been purchased in Paris. Bill hoped the legend of Deathswallower” stayed a legend.
They reached the Nimes convent midmorning. Bear was out front sharpening his hatchet when he heard barking in the distance as Klondike recognized his other master. Bear looked up and smiled as the huge dog broke into a run and came running while barking and snorting with delight.
Bear also got a bath of dog saliva as a reward for standing still for the finish of the run. Klondike had never been happier. He had two old friends and one new one with him. He ran from man to man to get his head scratched or pat his sides. Bear stopped to ask Bill about the bald man and Bill told him about his devotion to Klondike. Bear seemed pleased as Bill told him about cutting off the air to the “King”. Bear complemented Bill on managing to get Klondike back without either of them getting identified as having stolen a legally purchased item of property, complete with a bill of sale signed by Aphra Beine.
A light snow fall had started as the four went inside to get warm and discuss the best way back to Paris. No one was concerned about being pursued by bands of men desperate to bring back the prey to their master. It was decided that the Rhone would be the fastest and safest way back to Paris. They decide to catch one of the north bound boats up river to lessen the chances of being seen. Twelve miles out of Marseille there was a landing all boats stop at to get the items they missed stocking up in the city. There was a large store there with every conceivable item a person could want on the road, or river in this case.
A priest drove the wagon that took the four to the landing. The buggy was not strong enough for all of them so they decided they would make their way by hiring passage as they went. The landing was busy that morning and men there had seen everything there was to see in the world but this didn’t stop them from staring at the unlikely party of four. The biggest Indian in the world, the biggest dog in the world, a pirate and some other guy. Bill asked for passage north and was told he would have to talk to the boat captains directly. So off they went to speak with whatever captains were on the dock at the time. The first two said they were already overloaded and since the party was well over ½ ton they couldn’t think of giving passage. The third was over too but for a fee he would take them anyway. Bill handed the man
A bag of 200 ducats and they were on all the way to Lyon. The covered boat had the usual quarters of a stall and facilities with all meals served on main deck. The food was good and the bedding relatively free of bed bugs. This could be the easiest part of the trip so all four were prone to sleep between meals with Klondike left to stand guard during the night with one of the men to help with the duties.
Lyon was high in the Alps and quite cold in January. As the boat landed the group reluctantly got off and looked for some place to get warm. A tavern in the center of town seemed to be the only tavern in town so we went in. It was mid-afternoon and the place was almost empty, so there wasn’t a problem getting the corner table which Bear was kind of partial to. The barkeeper said something to them about no dogs were allowed, but all three men ignored him. Bear took his usual seat in the corner with his hatchet to his right and lightly rested his hand on the handle. Then came Bill then Jaque and finally Klondike. They ordered four pitchers and a big bowl. After the beer arrived, Bill leaned over and poured the fourth pitcher of beer into the bowl and set it on the floor. From the other side of the tavern came a booming voice that was complaining about a dog in the place and he wasn’t going to drink where a dog was being served. The barkeeper called out to the town bully Pierre to quiet down and he’d get a free pitcher. But Pierre didn’t seem to be interested in a free anything. Again he yelled out to get that damn dog out of the place or he would throw it out and the river trash that had blown in with it. The room got quiet as the fight was in its formal early stages. Next would come the answer from the strangers at the table with the dog. Nothing happened. Pierre got up and swaggered over to the table. He looked down at the watchful dog and was about to kick the dog in the mouth when Jaque said that he advised against kicking the dog. Pierre said that maybe someone would like and try to stop him. Bear and Bill laughed out loud and asked Jaque to stay out of it that Klondike could defend himself just fine. Jaque said he knew that he just thought he should warn the man. Pierre yelled for the three of them to shut up or he’d kick all of them bloody. Klondike started growling at that threat and looked up from his beer. Pierre screamed for Klondike to shut and pulled his right leg back three feet, shifted his weight to the left leg and braced for the big kick into Klondike’s teeth, which by this time were showing. The second before Pierre’s right leg started the swing, Klondike lunged up and into Pierre’s crotch area, sinking 3” fangs into every vital organ the man had. Pierre screamed as Klondike shook his head while driving the man backwards, onto his back. Klondike braced himself with his front legs and then strong jaw and neck muscles were engaged as he pulled back with most of the man’s manhood in his jaws. But before Pierre could grasp the seriousness of what just happened, Klondike leaped forward and sunk his teeth into the throat of man in shock. This time when he pulled back most of the neck including the Adam’s apple and spinal column came out. Pierre had quit screaming and now was staring up at the ceiling. Klondike circled once and returned to his bowl of beer, after spitting the various man parts onto the floor. There were men sitting with Pierre, but none stood up to help when it was obvious he was in real trouble. Bill figured they were just some more locals not his friends, by the fact they didn’t move a muscle during the entire episode. Bill ordered another round of beer and the tavern resumed its normal evening pace once Pierre was hauled out and taken to the undertaker’s place. Bill asked the barkeep if there was a caravan going to the headwaters of the Seine River. Bill asked also if there were boats for hire to take them the rest of the way to Paris and was told sure there was. He was told there were two men in the room that could get him to Paris for a price, but one was the brother-in-law of Pierre. So Bill walked up to the other and asked the fare to Paris for three and a dog. Captain Bouchette had been there through the entire scene with Pierre and knowing that his competitor wouldn’t take him period the price doubled to 800 ducats, including the dog. Bill agreed since there was little choice.
The following morning, after a good night’s sleep at the local inn, the group stood waiting for all the pack animals to finish getting loads shifted and strapped down. Another wagon was added for the new passengers, which included two priests headed for the Jesuit compound at Versailles.
Captain Bouchette had boats on both rivers and stable of 40 mules to pack goods over the mountains. There was also at twenty guards that were marksmen to make sure they got through to the river. There were at least two bands of thieves operating in the Juro, Vosges, and Alps. Bill figured safe passage was worth at least 600 ducats.
The wagon was set up for three rows of seats. The driver was in front with a man riding shotgun and a priest. Bill, Jaque, and the other priest were in the second seat. The last seat barely had room for Bear and Klondike. There was a canvas cover over all the rows and hung down enough to provide some shelter from the cold winds and blowing snow. There were plenty of blankets and the seats were padded. Their wagon was placed in the center of the caravan to provide maximum protection for the paying customers.
The road went up the mountainside starting just outside of town and was full of switchbacks and sharp curves, which allowed plenty of edge of canyons views to thrill anyone. Add in ice patches that allowed one and two foot slips taking the wagon to almost slide off the narrow road and you have a formula for a white knuckle ride of your life. Making camp in the evening was welcomed by all. The fires were big and the food spectacular since the chef was from one of the finest hotels in Paris. The passengers were invited to join the guards in tall tales around the campfire as each storyteller tried to outdo the one before.
The first story was about Alexander the Great, the teller, was a Macedonian mercenary Bouchette hired in Corsica. Over 2000 years ago in 334 BC Alexander, after consolidating his Greek and Macedonian positions after the death of his father Philip II, set out to liberate Greek cities in Asia Minor. As he advanced to Dascylium, the capital of the Satrapy of Phrygia, various satraps of the Persian Empire offered battle on the banks of the Granicus River near Troy. At 20 Alexander lead an army of 5000 cavalry and 26000 infantry, same army his father had lead in defeating Greece earlier before being assassinated. The first battle had Alexander timidly sending one unit of cavalry across the river, supported by one unit of archers. When the Persian cavalry slaughtered the advance force Alexander was seen sulking in the rear. Philips’ army pushed ahead with a classic hammer and anvil tactic using the phalanxes and cavalry to defeat the Persians in spite of indifferent leadership that left Alexander in the middle of the river refusing to cross twice as his officers stood shaking their heads. The second battle had Alexander in the front with his companion cavalry after a feint from the Macedonian left putting him in the middle of the Persian nobles that nearly cost him his life. In the end the grinding effect of the phalanxes on the Persian infantry won the day. Total casualties were 80 –200 Macedonians, while capturing 2000 and killing 4000 Persians, mostly in rout. Alexander went on to conquer vast areas ending in his death in India at 33. When the story was done all the men looked at each other as if their story wasn’t as interesting as that of Alexander and the fire blazed as men sat quietly looking into the flames.
Then a Norman spoke up and said he had a story that was only 700 years old. Everyone laughed as he continued. Upon the death of Edward II as he spoke his last words that he gave the kingdom of England to Duke William of Normandy the next in line in 1065. Harold II took the throne after publicly announcing William’s right to the throne the year before, this got him excommunicated from the Church of England to burn in hell forever. Harold’s troubles were not over. Harald Haadraada III, King of Norway, and leader of the dreaded Vikings attacked in 1066 CE from the North. Then having just defended his crown from Harald, William attacked from the South and a tired army from a forced march of several days was defeated at the Battle of Hastings. William reorganized England, mainly by creating the Doomsday Book, a record of all property in England. This was not so much to settle land disputes, but rather a means of knowing who to tax and how much he could force them to pay. In fact there is no race called the English, but rather a mixture of all the founding races including Angels, Saxons, Vikings, Romans, and Normans. An Englishman jumped to his feet when someone said something about all Englishmen were mutts. But he sat back down when no one else rose to defend the English. Someone else said that it made sense, since their women all have Roman noses. The Englishman countered with the fact their women take baths, which is more than the French can say about their women. The Macedonian threw in he would sleep with either, which had everyone laughing and someone said Macedonians would sleep with sheep. He countered with, just the ones that are prettier than English women. Things died down some with that last lame remark as men went back to staring at the fire.
A Jesuit priest was the last to tell a tale that night. He started with “speaking of mutts, try the list of men behind the crusades that began in 1095 and went on for 250 years. Pope Urban II had just expanded “The Truce of God” by outlawing fighting Sunday through Wednesday. And banned fighting involving priests, monks, women, laborers, and merchants on any day of the week. Italy was a collection of city-states, constantly being overrun by invading hordes of barely civilized Normans. Gone were the days of the glory of Rome. There was the Byzantine empire, ruled from Constantiople, whose emperor Alexius Comnenus wrote his friend Robert, the Count of Flanders, telling of supposed atrocities committed by Turks against Christian pilgrams. He passed it on to Pope Urban II who personally promoted a Holy Crusade to reclaim the Holy Lands from the barbaric Turks. Supporters included Hugh the (not so) Great, Count of Vermandois, Robert, son of William, three sons of the Duke of the Lower Lorraine, and Raymond IV of Saint-Gilles who had already fought the Moors in Spain. And from Italy, Marcus Bohemond, Prince of Toranto, a Norman who had not fallen too far from his barbarian tree and his nephew Tancred. What followed was a story of war, holy visions, unholy alliances, and promises made with fingers crossed. After promising men absolution of their debts, families taken care of if they die, and eternal life it wasn’t surprising that tens of thousands volunteered to march off to war. After three years on the march the first of the armies reached Constantinople ready to kill the barbarians. The people of the city were fearful and closed the massive gates and bunkered down waiting for an extended siege. Since the crusaders had come all that way to kill people and they couldn’t get into the city they settled for slaughtering all the people that were outside the city. Unfortunately everyone inside and outside the city were Christians. So the first few thousand dead from the Crusades were not even barbarians. A French Moroccan and a Syrian both laughed at the last part. The Moroccan said he heard Comnenus had asked the King of France for some knights to chase off some Turkish bandits that had been harassing the city. No one was laughing and the camp started to disband for the night. Bear turned to Bill and mentioned that the Old World people fought as much if not more than the New World tribes in America. Bill agreed that mankind had a taste for killing, even if there wasn’t land at stake.
The next three days were a blur of riding, eating, and sleeping. On the fourth day they were on the boats and easily floating down the Seine River. The second day on the river was one of dozing off and listening to the coughing of the sick among them. Late in the day two boats came out of nowhere and started firing cannon at the party. The first volley put a big hole in the side of Bouchette’s first boat with half of the mercenaries in it. There was a continuous barrage of shot landing on all four boats and mercenaries returning fire at a rapid pace. Men were falling on both sides. Jaque pulled Klondike to below deck and held him tight. Bill took over the wheel as the pilot fell lifeless to the deck. Bill turned the boat sideways offering a tempting sight but also allowed Bear to have open view of both boats that were attacking them. Bear wasted no time loading and firing the first 3” ball in a matter of seconds. The distance was around 120’ and he hadn’t practiced that distance before so the ball landed about 20” short. The other boats had men scrambling for cover since they didn’t expect cannon fire from a merchant party. The second ball landed in the middle of the steering wheel and therefore in the middle of the pilot’s stomach. The boat took a sharp right and headed into shore at full speed. No shots were coming from the boat as men braced for a sudden stop as they neared the rocky shoreline. Before the first boat ran ashore Bear was on the second boat with a hit at the waterline, followed by two right afterward in the middle of the decking. Men went flying into the air and some jumped overboard to avoid the deadly cannon fire. The next 30 minutes was Bouchette’s crews steering to men in the water and trying to make shore so sharpshooters could finish every one of the attackers one by one. These mercenaries were great shots and it seldom took more than one shot per attacker. That night when they camped, the spirits were high and the beer and wine was flowing as the men celebrated their victory. The four men that died were buried, and the Captain said some appropriate words that seemed almost sacred in nature. The trees were the makeshift grave markers were arched in a cathedral fashion. Even the markers were stone from parts of the attacker’s boats, and their names applied in calligraphy.
The rest of the trip was without incident much to everyone’s delight. Captain Bouchette came up to Bear and Bill on the Paris dock and personally thanked both of them for their help on the river. He was sure
Many more would have died if they weren’t along and handed back the 800 ducats as a symbol of his gratitude. Bill bowed slightly, thanked the Captain for an interesting journey and led his odd group down the street towards the Jesuit compound.
TO BE CONTINUED