154

The man grasps the woman by the wrist and uncovers the arm cradled around her baby. Clasped between her fingers is a hat pin with which she pricks the baby’s skin to make it cry.

‘You’ll be beggin’ in the streets yourself before dawn if you be taken in b’likes of her,’ he says.

The woman pulls free from his grasp, curses, and disappears among the scruffy crowd of mercenaries wandering the street.

‘Who d’you serve?’ asks the man, his brutal face framed by a closely cropped red beard, ‘or d’you come in search of a captain, eh?’

If you wish to talk to this man, turn to 181.

If you wish to ignore him and ride off, turn to 279.