A Little Hatred (The Age of Madness #1) - Joe Abercrombie Page 0,47

now.’ An edge of impatience in her voice, and she gave his hand one last squeeze and let it go. ‘You can’t change what’s past, can you? Only what’s next.’

He wanted to argue but couldn’t find a crack in her obvious good sense. He lay there sullen, listening to the shuffle of boots and the yammer of angry voices and a girl at the crossroads yelling out bad news for coppers. A bread riot in Holsthorm, and a plot to burn a mill in Keln, and unrest in every corner of Midderland, and war. War in the North.

‘It’s my fault,’ he muttered. Couldn’t find a way to attack Liddy, so he ambushed himself. ‘I should never have gone to war.’

‘I let you go. I let the farm go.’

‘The farm was done anyway. That life was done. Would’ve been better for you and May if I’d never come back.’

She put her hand on his cheek, firm. Turned his head so she was looking him straight in the face. ‘Don’t ever say that, Gunnar. Don’t ever say that.’

‘I killed ’em, Liddy,’ he whispered. ‘I killed ’em.’

She said nothing. What could she say?

‘I fucked it all,’ he said. ‘In one moment. Is there a thing I can’t ruin?’

‘There’s nothing can’t be ruined in a moment,’ said Liddy. ‘It all hangs by a thread, all the time. We’ve got to look forward now. That’s what you do. You move on.’

‘I’ll put it right,’ he said. ‘I’ll find work here.’

‘I know you will.’ She forced out a smile. Looked like it took a lot of effort, but she forced it out. ‘You’re a good man, Gunnar.’

He winced at that, felt the pain of tears at the back of his nose. ‘No more violence,’ he said, voice thick and throaty. ‘I promise, Liddy.’ He realised he’d clenched his fists, forced them to open. ‘From now on I’ll stay out of trouble.’

‘Gunnar,’ she murmured, soft and serious, ‘you should only make promises you know you can keep.’

A little sprinkle of dust came floating down onto their bed. Along the street at the foundry, the engines were starting up, making the whole room tremble.

Wasn’t until he got around the corner Broad even realised what he was queueing for.

Cadman’s Ales was printed in gilded paint above the sliding warehouse doors, the bang and clatter of work booming from inside. A brewery. He’d spent half his time in Styria drunk and the rest aiming to get drunk. He’d promised no trouble, and he knew that for him, every bottle had trouble at the bottom.

Still, temptation was never far away in Valbeck. Every other building had a tap-house or a jerry-shop or a still in it, licensed or otherwise, whores and thieves and beggars buzzing around them like flies at a midden, and if you couldn’t make it as far as next door to drown your misery, there were boys running the streets with barrels on their backs who’d bring the beer to you.

A brewery was a poor omen, far as Broad’s promise to stay clear of trouble was concerned. But he’d seen no good omens in Valbeck, and he needed work. So he pulled his coat closed and hunched his shoulders against the thin rain that fell black out of the murky sky like ink, and shuffled forward another half-step.

‘However early I get here, there’s always a queue,’ said a grey-faced, grey-haired old man in a coat worn through at the elbows.

‘More and more folk coming into Valbeck for the work,’ muttered one of the others.

‘Always more folk wanting work. Never enough to go around. Used to be I had a house o’ my own, up the valley near Hambernalt. You know it?’

‘Can’t say I do,’ muttered Broad, thinking of his own valley. The green trees in the breeze, the green grass soft around his ankles. He knew things were always better in your memory and the farm had been hard work for lean rewards, but it had been green. There was nothing green in Valbeck. Except the river, maybe, stained with great coloured smears from the dyeing works upstream.

‘Beautiful valley, it used to be,’ the old man was droning. ‘Good house, I had, in the woods there, by the river. Raised five boys in it. Used to be good money in coppicing, burning charcoal, you know. Then they started making charcoal cheap in a furnace upstream and the river got full of tar.’ He gave a long, helpless sniff. ‘Prices just kept falling. Then Lord bloody Barezin cleared the