A Hard Day Ahead
A standalone story fragment from the Eastsong Cycle (fourth epoch)
“Best pace thyself, Pony,” rumbled a familiar voice directly behind Cwarsh. He dropped his half-eaten cornpone flatcake onto the mess table in startlement. Great-bearded Aurochs clamped Cwarsh’s shoulder with a grip like leviathan jaws. The giant’s left hand snaked about to pluck a sausage patty from atop the youth’s heaping bowl. It was a deft flanking maneuver.
The old dragoon ensconced himself on the mudbrick stool beside Cwarsh, like a mountain beside a sapling. Aurochs stuffed the whole patty in his mouth yet spoke unabated. “A full bowl for a full stomach, afore a proper fight. No more, else it won’t stay down. Or thou’ll be sluggish in battle.”
Cwarsh brushed meat-flecked spittle from his cheek and grinned. “Or if thy name is Aurochs, thy horse might collapse beneath thy weight.” He retrieved the fallen cornpone and gobbled it defiantly.
Aurochs guffawed and dealt Cwarsh a jarring backslap.
Across the table, wispy-bearded Fool chortled, but Aurochs subdued him with a glower. The two steppe-folk, ruddy Sunbeard and dour Wringer, suddenly found the water in their cups of utmost interest.
Aurochs licked his fingers. “Venison!” he proclaimed. “It’s a hard day ahead, when they feed us the good stuff.”
Cwarsh used another flatcake to scoop porridge and bits of sausage from his bowl. “I’d fight a battle every dawn-break if we could eat like this. Only things missing are ale and sunny eggs.”
“Not a skittish Pony, are thou, cousin?” Aurochs remarked amiably. He collected a fresh cup from mid-table and, with astonishing speed, filled a clean bowl to the brim from the serving tureens.
Cwarsh snorted and brandished a flatcake. “Why should an old has-been king frighten me? Just give me one go at that rabble outside!”
Aurochs laid into his breakfast noisily but refrained from further comment.