Wallace, Anno Domini MMVI 
There was the thump of a dropped sack and a groan as a soldier took a seat on the rock. “Good morrow, fool. How do ye?”
Still crouched, Magnifico raised his head. “Good morrow, Corporal. You come to Wallace on an auspicious day. Smoky and bloody, with a chance of screams tapering off until dawn, followed by a week of storms and ending in an eerie silence.”
No chuckle was forthcoming from the corporal, who merely nodded in acknowledgment of the grim jest. “Not so bad, this fight. They ran. Not us.”
“And you look remarkably well for a man who has looked the Devil in the face, and all the fiends of Hell. I will rest a while yet, and reflect once more on the wisdom of walking a battlefield.”
“Lord help us when a fool talks of wisdom,” said the man, not unkindly. “You find any, share it with our commanders. Maybe they use some on the bugs.”
“I’ll venture into the lords’ tents tonight as I did the night before: after they have numbered the dead, despaired, shouted their recriminations, pretended to forget these, sworn lifelong brotherhood again, then persuaded themselves anew that victory shall surely come tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow. Aye.” A sigh like a dying breath. “The Hammer saw you dance on the wall today, and he laughed. You had the town-folk singing, even as they died. He wished me to find you and ensure you lived, or if you were among the dead, he’d light you a pyre. Said I would know for certain if your lips still moved. He calls for you to come and drink his mead.”
Magnifico smiled. “An honor. It seems that I did not disgrace myself this day in disgracing myself. But the Northmen make mead from honey, and to acquire honey means wrestling the bear. A hero’s drink! Victory in every gulp! No, wine will suit me well enough, for which I’ll stalk, kill and skin the fiercest grape, laughing the while like the Hammer. Yet I’ll come, to sing and to paint the day’s deeds larger than perhaps is merited by strict accounting, and to pretend that tomorrow will never arrive.”
“The Hammer did good service. He didn’t kill more’n you can count, maybe, but far more’n he can.”
With a cackle, Magnifico said, “The finer reckoning! You wrong him, Corporal, and his enumeration of the dead. Master Rainald knows well enough that in this war, one is always followed by another one. Counting beyond two is for generals and widows.”
“Afore you try to talk sense to them generals, lift a mug of it at our fire, fool.” The corporal rose, and stretched.
“Go before me. I and my breast must debate a while.” The thought came unbidden: but Doctor, I am Paglicacci.
The corporal shrugged, shouldered his burden and trudged up the hill to rejoin the men from the north.
