A Little Hatred (The Age of Madness #1) - Joe Abercrombie Page 0,35

all over. Worked with machines.’

‘Efficiency,’ grunted Marsh, not even looking round.

His not caring a shit made Broad care all the more. ‘My father died on this land,’ he said, struggling to keep his voice down. ‘Fighting the Gurkish.’

‘I know. Mine, too.’ Seldom shrugged. ‘But what can I do?’

‘You just do what you’re told, eh?’

‘If I don’t, someone else will.’

‘Progress,’ grunted Marsh.

‘Is it?’ Broad frowned up the valley, towards the other houses, all sitting quiet. He’d thought it was strange, that there was no smoke from the chimneys. ‘Turned all these others out already, did you? Lant and his daughters, and the Barrows, and Old Neiman?’

‘Neiman died, but the rest sold up.’

‘We made ’em see the sense in it,’ said Able, shifting that flatbow in his lap.

‘So why’s my wife still here?’

Seldom sneaked another shifty glance at Liddy. ‘Just wanted to give her some more time, ’cause we all know each other and—’

‘You always liked her. I understand. I like her myself. That’s why I married her.’

Liddy had a worried, warning note in her voice. ‘Gunnar—’

‘Why she married me, I couldn’t say. But she did.’

Seldom gave a watery effort at a smile. ‘Look, friend—’

‘I wasn’t your friend before I left.’ Felt suddenly like it was someone else speaking, and Broad was just watching. ‘I’m even less your friend now.’

‘That’s enough.’ Marsh nudged his horse forward with his heels. Nudged her between Broad and the chopping block, where the axe was. A good horseman. He sat high on his saddle with the sky bright behind so Broad had to squint up at him. ‘Lord Isher’s going to have his valley one way or another. No point being stubborn. Better for you to leave with a little money in your pocket.’

‘Better than what?’

Marsh took a heavy breath through his nose. ‘Be a shame if this lovely house o’ yours were to catch fire one night.’

His hand crept down. Not towards the peeling gilt basketwork of that fancy sword. To a knife, most likely. Thought he’d goad Broad into rashness, then he could just lean over and stab him, cut through a problem with one bit of sharp metal that a lot of talk couldn’t seem to unravel. Maybe that’d worked for him before. Worked a lot of times.

‘Catch fire, you say?’ Funny thing was, Broad didn’t feel angry. Such a relief to be able to let go, even for a moment, that he almost smiled.

‘That’s right.’ Marsh leaned down towards him. ‘Be a shame … if your lovely wife and daughter was—’

Broad caught his boot and flung him out of his saddle. Marsh gave a shocked grunt, flailed at the air as he went tumbling down.

He was snarling curses as Broad walked around the horse, trying to scramble up, but he had one foot still snarled in the stirrup.

Broad caught his wrist before he could right himself and twisted it up, forced his head down onto the chopping block. Marsh screamed as his elbow popped apart, knife dropping in the dirt, but only till Broad lifted one boot and smashed his face into the scarred wood with all his weight, bone crunching one, two, three times.

Able half-stood from the wagon’s seat, eyes starting, fumbling with the string of his bow. Most men need time to act. Broad had the opposite problem. He was always loaded. Always.

Able had no time to draw the string as Broad strode to the wagon. No time to reach for a bolt, even.

He managed to swing the bow but Broad brushed it away with his forearm, caught Able by the front of his jacket. He gave a little hoot as Broad jerked him into the air and rammed him head first into the old gatepost, blood speckling the side of the wagon. He flopped down with one arm wedged through that creaky wheel, smashed skull bent all the way backwards.

Broad hopped up onto the seat while Seldom stared, reins still in his limp hands.

‘Gunnar—’ He tried to get up but Broad shoved him back down with his knee.

Wasn’t sure how many times he hit him, fist up and fist down, fist up and fist down, but when he stopped, Seldom’s face was just a mess of glistening red.

Broad blinked down at him, a bit out of breath. Wind blew up cold on his sweaty forehead.

Broad blinked over at Liddy. She was staring, hand clapped over her mouth.

Broad blinked at his fists. Took a painful effort to uncurl the red fingers, and he started to realise what had happened.

He sat