Book 1: Chapter 38

[Wherein Sir Culann hunts.]

Like the River Tairne engorged with spring rains, the voices and the movement in the courtyard caught Culann in their currents; the lusty excitement swirled like a dangerous eddy.  His heart started to beat faster and there was a strange feeling in his stomach – new, but pleasant.  Keep calm and steady, that’s what Gareth would say.  Culann stood up in his stirrups to look for Gareth.  A little nervous, the gray gelding shook his head and sent his fine black mane flying.  Culann stroked the horse’s neck and pressed his cheek against his head.  “Don’t be frightened.  Gareth is going to be with us.”

His words called Gareth into being on the top landing of the stairway leading to the main courtyard.  For a moment, Gareth stayed on the landing and searched the crowd with a thoughtful gaze.  He frowned.  Too late in the season for so many men to go hunting.  Then his eyes found the reason for the crowd – Lord Shoban had decided to hunt today.  No party formed, though, the men were milling around the Lord and hoping for the opportunity to get close to him.

Gareth’s gaze left the Lord and looked for Culann.  Not difficult to find, Culann’s red hair was flaming in the morning sunlight.  He’s decided to try the gelding.  Culann was holding his body stiffly with fear or excitement, probably both.  Culann waved his arm and Gareth raised his before he started down the steps.

Lord Shoban followed Gareth’s progress until he disappeared into the crowd.  Then the Lord turned his horse toward Culann and a path opened respectfully for him.  The Lord and Gareth arrived at the same time.

“Your first time out, boy?”  The Lord boomed loud enough to be heard above the din so Gareth would realize he wasn’t the only man paying attention to the exchange.

“Yes, my lord!”

Gareth heard the excitement in Culann’s voice; it was louder than the fear.

“That’s a fine gelding, boy.  Is he one of Gareth’s?”

“Yes, my lord!”

Gareth heard the sharp inhalation that always preceded a torrent of Culann’s words.  Don’t, Culann, his mind ordered.

“His name is Fahrer.  I don’t usually ride him.  I ride Lake, but she’s not fast enough to keep up with the stallions.  She’s growing old and a little too calm.  She needs a burr under her saddle to go fast.  I’d never do that, my lord, put a burr under her saddle. She’s a good friend.  But I’m very pleased that Gareth is letting me ride Fahrer.  I don’t want to be left behind.”

“It’s his first time out as well as yours.”  The Lord smiled.

“Yes, my lord.”  Culann enthusiastically nodded his head.

“No doubt Gareth means to take it slow.  But a fine horse and a fine boy.  On their first hunt.  Both of you must be champing at your bits.  I need one more in my party, Culann, you’ll come with me.”

The smile froze on Culann’s face.  “Yes, my lord,” he said in a small voice.

“You’ll need your water skin, Culann,” Gareth said.

“Carrying his water skin?  I know you meant to coddle him, Gareth.  Get your water skin, boy, then come with me.”

“I have my water skin,” Culann whispered.

Ignoring him, Gareth made a show of taking the water skin off his horse and carrying it over to Culann.  He put his hand on Culann’s thigh.  “Fahrer’s a good horse, Culann.  Remember the animal is like any other target and your aim is very good.  Keep your eye on the place where you want your arrow to go.  Answer, ‘yes,’ and ‘no, my lord,’ then keep your mouth shut.  That’s an order, little brother.”

“Yes, sir,” Culann answered in a voice that was so puzzled, Gareth despaired.

“Mind what I said, Culann.  Go on.”

Gareth stood for a while to watch Culann make his way to the Lord, smiling in triumph.  Gareth placed his boot in the stirrup.  It won’t be a pleasant day for Culann, but the Lord will make sure no real harm comes to him.  Gareth swung his leg over the saddle.  He frowned slightly.  He’s going to keep using Culann against me and I’m going to have to decide soon how far I’ll let him go.  Damn!

The Lord and his party with Culann in their midst thundered out of the courtyard. Gareth waited until several parties followed the Lord before he moved his men forward.

********

Young and strong, Fahrer galloped easily along with the other horses, but the pace was too fast for Culann.  The road, trees, and hills snapping past him made him feel a little dizzy and then sick.  Trapped in a knot of horses, he couldn’t rein in Fahrer.  His bones were jarred and his teeth slammed together.  Even though Gareth had warned him not to say anything to the Lord, he was about to plead with his father to slow down when the Lord did slow the pace.

Culann saw they’d reached a stand of trees, mostly oak.  Not a stand, Culann recognized it now – the forest, thick and dark.  The Lord reined in and let two of his bows lead the way.  Single file they rode into the dark, dense growth.  Underneath the cover of the leaves, the darkness was complete.  Culann fingered his crossbow nervously.  Where there were oaks, Culann knew, there were boar.  “Will we hunt boar, Gareth?”  “Boar?  No, Culann, too dangerous.”  Culann inhaled deeply.

The forest growth thinned and disappeared into a wide clearing.  Shoban scanned the surrounding trees and then pointed to a dense patch of oak trees across the clearing.  The other men nodded their assent and fanned out in a semi-circle facing the most obvious entrance for the boar.

Swallowing hard, Culann focused his eyes on the forest across the clearing.  The air was cold, but the sun formed beads of perspiration on his forehead.  The men removed their bows from their saddles and arrows from their quivers.  Culann wiped his hands on his hose and followed their example.  The men and their horses were so still, the forest came back to life again.  An arrow of geese pointed south flew overhead, too far above them to make good prey.

Suddenly, the forest grew silent again except for a loud crashing and snorting, but not ahead of him where everyone was watching.  The noise was right behind Culann.  Terror shrieked through Culann and Fahrer shied to one side.  His tusks lowered, the boar charged at the horse’s movement, pierced the horse’s leg, and tore his head up.  Bellowing in pain, Fahrer reared.  Completely unprepared, Culann lost his seat in the saddle and fell with a thud.  Instinct had Culann back on his feet, dodging the rearing horse.

Swiftly, the men repositioned themselves and raised their bows, but the Lord held up his right hand.  Fear and anger raised Culann’s bow and aimed it at the boar’s lowered head.  The boar pawed and snorted and the world disappeared.  The moment the boar charged, Culann loosed his arrow, the Lord lowered his hand and four other arrows bit into the boar.  Clawing for another arrow, Culann ran to the side.  The boar squealed, staggered, and crashed near Culann’s feet.

The men’s eyes went from the boy, standing on the ground, to the Lord.

“Well done, Culann!” Shoban boomed his praise.

Dazed, Culann stared up at his father.

“You felled the boar, Culann.  Your first.”  The Lord dismounted.

“I.  I.  I couldn’t,” Culann stammered.  “My bow.  The arrow.  They’re too small.”

Shoban clapped his hand on Culann’s shoulder.  “But I let you have the first hit, son.”

Culann glanced at the carcass of the boar and then at his father.  Some dark, strange feeling pressed on his heart.  “Thank you, my lord,” Culann said because he guessed he was supposed to.

“The more the danger, the sweeter the life, Culann.”

“Fahrer’s been hurt.  Gareth’s horse.”  Culann’s stomach twisted.

“A shame, too.  A fine horse.  Hope it doesn’t go lame.  Owen!” Shoban called to the man who was gripping the gelding’s reins and calming the horse.  “Ride Sir Culann and his horse back to the stables.  They’ll slow us down.”

“Yes, my lord.”

While the other men gutted the boar, Owen lifted Culann gently into his saddle and handed Fahrer’s reins to the boy.

“We’ll take it slowly, Sir Culann,” Owen assured the boy as he mounted behind him.

Afraid to ask but desperate to know, Culann looked up at the man’s face.  “Is the wound bad?”

“Yes, Sir Culann, but Gavin is skilled.  These things sometimes happen on a boar hunt.  Hard to predict the beasts.”

Hurt and very worried, Culann slumped closer to Owen and Owen moved his arms tighter around the boy.

“Gareth is going to be very angry.  He loves his horses.”

Yes, indeed, Sir Culann, Owen thought.  When Sir Gareth hears word of this, he will be very angry.  It’s not only his horses that he loves.

********

While Gavin worked on the horse’s hind leg, Culann, anxious and queasy, hovered around Fahrer’s stall until Gavin lost all patience with the boy.  He raised his eyes and glared at Culann so severely that Culann, trembling, backed away.

Gnawed by guilt, terrified of going back to his rooms, Culann opened the gate to Lake’s stall and hid in the corner.  The mare ambled over and nuzzled him gently.

“Go away, Lake,” he whispered.  “I don’t want anyone to find me.  Pretend I’m not here.  Please.”

When he heard the familiar sound of Gareth’s stride, Culann scrunched down and held his breath.

“How bad, Gavin?”

“Very bad, Sir Gareth.  And unnecessary.”  The expression on Sir Gareth’s face stopped Gavin from venting his anger about eight-year-old boys, hunting boar on fine horses they couldn’t handle.  “I hope he won’t go lame, but it’s very likely he will.  And what good to you, Sir Gareth, is a lame gelding?”

“No good at all,” Gareth said coldly.

“I mean no disrespect, Sir Gareth,” Gavin said as he gathered up his herbs and salves.

I think you do, Gavin.  Gareth cut off that ungenerous train of thought.  “The fault isn’t the gelding’s,” Gareth said and Culann, knowing whose fault it was, cringed into the corner.  “I’ll give the horse a year to mend.  It’s time Sir Culann has a horse that knows him better than this one.  In the spring when my mares foal, I’d like you to help him choose a good warhorse he can raise from a foal.  The fault wasn’t Sir Culann’s, either.”

“I agree. Sir Gareth, it’s best a horse knows from birth, the man who’ll ride him.”  Mollified – the Lord would have ordered an arrow through the horse’s temple immediately – Gavin nodded curtly to Sir Gareth and walked purposefully from the stables.

Gareth stroked Fahrer’s fine head and neck.  “I hope you do mend, boy.”  Then Gareth faced Lake’s stall.  “You can come out now, Culann.”

The gate to Lake’s stall creaked open and, very hesitantly, Culann emerged.  He glanced cautiously at Gareth’s face.  Satisfied that Gareth wasn’t angry, Culann walked up to his brother and threw his arms around him.

Gareth held him for a little while before he asked, “Are you all right, Culann?”

His head pressed into Gareth’s tunic, Culann nodded and then shook his head.  Now, that the fear, if not the worry, was gone, Culann felt his whole body aching from the ride and the fall.

“Fahrer’s injury wasn’t you fault, Culann,” Gareth said in a low, firm voice.  “You are much too young to hunt boar.”  The muscles in Gareth’s jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth.

“I know,” Culann whispered into the tunic.  He raised his head and gazed at his brother.  Judging that Gareth shouldn’t know the whole truth, Culann said simply, “The Lord said I did well, but I didn’t.”

“That’s not your fault either,” Gareth insisted.  “I was worried about you, not the horse.”

As his eyes studied Gareth’s face, Culann saw all the worry and concern.  Gareth wants to protect me, but he can’t, not all the time.  Gareth’s big and grown, but he isn’t the Lord.

********

The late October sun slanting toward evening brushed the dying grass in the clearing a golden yellow.  A solitary bee buzzed lazily along the ground.  His search for nectar unrewarded, he spiraled up and into the surrounding forest.  The air cooled.

Gareth sat down in front of the fire, stretched out his legs, and leaned back on his elbows.  He closed his eyes and inhaled the aroma of a small boar roasting on a spit over the fire.  His eyes on Sir Gareth, Caedmon turned the spit.

“A fine hunt, Sir Gareth.”

“Fine,” Gareth agreed.  He opened his eyes and watched Edgar take the wine skins from the horses and then stroll leisurely toward the fire.  “Fine enough to work up a thirst.”

Smiling, Edgar tossed Gareth his wine skin and sat cross-legged in front of the fire.  Edgar glanced at Caedmon and shifted positions so he could see the darkening forest.  Ash from the fire drifted up and fell in soft flakes.

The sound of several horses moving through the trees made Gareth watchful, but he forced himself to relax.  Other hunters returning to the castle.  Two horsemen rode into the clearing.  Rikulf and Jerret dismounted.

“Enough to share?” Rikulf boomed.  He rubbed his stomach.  “We had a good hunt, but exhausting.  Two of our stags took off into the forest.  Followed them for miles and had to drag them to the horses.  Thought we’d die of hunger on the way back.  But Jerret.”  Rikulf touched his nose.  “Smelled your boar roasting.”

Gareth was no longer relaxed; every nerve was taut.  “More than enough for you,” Gareth invited, “And for Dayne, Lother, and Darrold when they arrive.”

“You think a plot’s afoot, Sir Gareth?”  Rikulf pulled the strap of his wine skin over his head, sat down, and took a long thirsty draught of the wine.

“It’s not,” Jerret laughed easily.

Lother and Dayne rode into the clearing.  “Sir Gareth!”  After they dismounted, their right hands went up in a salute.  They waited by the horses until Darrold arrived.

After the three walked to the fire, Dayne helped Caedmon remove the spit and carry the boar to the clean skin stretched out on the ground.

“Damn hot,” Dayne complained and licked his fingers.

Gareth watched the steam rising from the roasted meat.  The pleasant day was over; the meal ruined.  Going through the motions, Gareth sliced a piece of boar with his dagger and bit carefully into the hot meat.  For a while, the men ate in silence until Gareth grew tired of the wait.

“Five of you are on your way to dine at the castle, why don’t you tell me what’s on your minds?”

“It’s your mind we want to know, Sir Gareth,” Dayne said in a low voice as if the forest listened.

“On what?” Gareth asked, although he’d already guessed.

“Penvale,” Jerret said while he sliced another piece of meat.

“He doesn’t come for the warprice negotiations,” Darrold mused.

As if he were thinking aloud, Rikulf said, “And yet we fight his war.”  He raised his wineskin to his lips.

“The world holds many lords, Sir Gareth,” Lother shifted positions to see Gareth’s face.  “Some of them might think that Tairne fits neatly into the pouch that hangs from Penvale’s belt.”

“Why bother asking for Tairne’s help when all the world knows he’s pledged to Penvale first?” Edgar queried.

Gareth’s gaze touched on each man’s face.  They weren’t interested in this spring’s war but in the future, not interested in what Lord Shoban was going to do in that future but how Lord Gareth would behave.  This was not a plot against the Lord, but a deep concern about where Gareth was going to take Tairne when it belonged to him.  Plot or no, Shoban would suspect one so we have this chance meeting in the forest.  You can protect the Lord or you can tell these men what they want to know, Gareth.

“I have one question,” Gareth began, “Are you concerned about this spring’s war?”

“No, Sir Gareth,” Dayne answered quickly and truthfully.

“Good.  No matter how secret the negotiations, Tairne’s given his word to Penvale.  If Tairne breaks his word, Penvale will shout it to the world.  In the future, though, Penvale comes to Tairne with the other lords and the price is what Tairne.

“If Penvale’s attacked, he’ll have his son-in-law and Tairne.  Otherwise, Tairne seems weak.  A puny Tairne threatens those who are yours as well as those who are mine.”

The fire’s light played across the faces of the men as they held up their wine skins and drank to Sir Gareth.

“A fortunate chance meeting,” Rikulf announced and rubbed his stomach.  “I was almost faint with hunger.”

********

Leaning half-way out one of the windows in Gareth’s sitting room, Culann watched the snow swirling down into the side courtyard and melting on the stones.  Frowning with disappointment, he willed the snow to fall faster or the air to turn colder.  When he felt a hand firmly grab the waistband on his hose, he swiveled his head around.

“Planning to end your life at age eight, little brother.”

Culann slipped down on his knees.  “I wasn’t that far out, Gareth.  Honest.  I won’t do it again,” he said quickly before Gareth started scolding.  He grinned.  “It’s snowing.”

“I know, Culann.  I was out on the practice field.”

“You’re back early.”  Gareth varied his schedule so rarely; Culann became alert.  He studied Gareth’s face and eyes for the reason, but quickly abandoned the effort.  It was almost impossible to learn anything from Gareth’s face.  Culann tried a direct approach.  “Why?”

“I have something else to do this morning.”

“What?”

“Come along and I’ll show you.”

Culann slid off the window seat and followed Gareth into his bedroom.

“What is it, Gareth?”

“Culann, you are going to have to learn to keep a tighter rein on yourself.  Keep your mouth closed and wait patiently until you’re told.”

Gareth’s tone of voice was so serious that Culann closed his mouth before his complaint escaped.  Culann grew uncomfortable and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Stand still,” Gareth ordered.  “Balance your weight evenly over both feet.”

“Yes, sir.”  Culann stopped fidgeting.

“The Lord told me he wants you to start working with a sword when you’re eight.  Yesterday, you turned eight-years-old.”

“Yes, sir.”  Culann’s eyes sparkled, but he tried to keep the excitement from his face.

“This is serious business, Sir Culann. I expect you to listen carefully to me and to train hard.”

“Yes, Sir Gareth.”

“I’ll work with you every day right before the midday meal and I want you to practice by yourself in the afternoon.  In the spring, you’ll start working with Aelfric and the other boys.  I expect you to be ready to do that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“In the chest at the foot of my bed is my first sword.  Take it out, put it on, and stand here.”

“Yes, sir.”  Even though he didn’t mean to, Culann grinned.

His hands trembling with excitement, Culann lifted the lid of the chest and found a worn but newly polished hilt emerging from a fine leather scabbard.  The buckle on the new leather belt was shiny copper.  Culann picked up the sword and belt, looped it around his waist, and positioned the sword on his hip.  The weight was strange, but comfortable.

“Sword work is a matter of control, Culann.”

Culann’s eyes went from the sword to his brother’s face.

“The control doesn’t start after you’ve drawn the sword.  It’s too late, then.  The control starts the moment your hand moves toward the hilt.”

Gareth stood behind Culann, took his hand, and positioned the small fingers on the hilt of the sword.  “That’s the way I hold my sword.  You’ll practice with that grip until you’re experienced enough to find one on your own.  Not so tight.  You’ll strain the muscles in your hand.  Firm.”  Culann relaxed his hand, moved his fingers around a little, and realized the grip Gareth had shown him felt best.

Judging the tension, Gareth felt Culann’s hand.  “Good.  Just like that.  Now take your hand away.  Drop your hand to your side and relax your arm.  Good.”

When Gareth moved around to stand in front of Culann again, Culann’s eyes went back to his brother’s face.

“The control isn’t in your hand or fingers, Culann.  It starts here.”  Gareth placed his hand on his solar plexus.  “Deep in your body.  And it’s not here.”  Gareth tapped his head with his index finger.  “If you think too much about your own sword, your mind won’t be free to judge your opponent.

“I want you to close your eyes and breathe slowly and deeply.  See if you can find the place inside where the control starts.  Don’t worry if you can’t feel it today.  It will come in time.”

Breathing slowly and concentrating deeply, Culann found the place Gareth had described.  He felt the control and let it raise his arm so his hand could grip the hilt just the way Gareth had shown him.

“Very good, Culann.”

The unexpected praise opened Culann’s eyes, but he closed them again so he wouldn’t lose the feeling.

“Draw the sword.  The movement should be straight and clean.  If the sword scrapes the scabbard on its way out, you’ll dull the blade and worse, slow down the draw.  If your opponent isn’t very good, you can kill him with your first move.  Save yourself time and effort.  In a battle, Culann, everything moves very fast.”

Concentrating on the control, Culann didn’t realize Gareth had moved behind him until he felt Gareth’s hand over his own.

“We’ll start with an arc that’s level with your waist, Culann.  Like this.”  The sword slipped out of its sheath without a sound, the metal flashed.  “When you’ve mastered this, I’ll show you how to draw higher and lower.  You’ll make the choice depending on your opponent’s armor and your own.”  The metal flashed again and disappeared into the leather.  “Drop your hand again.”

Gareth moved to face his brother, but stayed outside of the path of the sword.

“Now, draw the sword, Culann.  Take your time.”

Amazed, Gareth watched Culann draw the sword cleanly, the leather sheath barely moved on his hip.  “Do that again, Culann,” Gareth ordered softly.  “One more time.  Very good.  Sheath the sword, Culann.”

When Culann looked at his brother, Gareth was shaking his head.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, Culann.  The Lord was right about you.  You have the talent to be one of his best swords when you’re grown.”

“I do!”  Grinning, Culann started bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“That’s what I said, Culann.  But, we are going to have to work very hard on the discipline.  Stand still.”

The bouncing stopped, but the grin stayed.

Book 1: Chapter 37

[Wherein preparations are made.]

Bright blue, red, orange, and yellow, the toads covered the hillside like flies on a dead carcass.  Hundreds of them, thousands.  Flicking out blood-red tongues, they hopped madly over one another.  A whistle pierced the air and all the toads turned and hopped forward.  Cautiously, Culann followed at a distance, but suddenly, he was in their midst and had grown as small as the toads.  Terrified at his transformation, he looked up and saw thick golden hair tumbling from a head that wore no face.  He tried to scream, but no sound came from his mouth.  Terror paralyzed his limbs; there was no escape.  His eyes opened wide with horror, he watched the lady swell to an enormous size and take the form of a toad.  Her huge tongue flicked toward him.

With a strangled cry, Culann bolted upright.  His body trembling, he slid out of bed and made his way quickly through his bedroom to Gareth’s room.  When Culann crawled into his brother’s bed, Gareth, fast asleep, moved over to make room for him.  In the soft glow of the embers, Culann checked to see if Gareth still had a face.  Yes, yes, Gareth’s face was there.  Culann curled himself into the safety of Gareth’s body and fell asleep.

Something hard and sharp hit Gareth’s stomach, startled him, and he opened his eyes.  “You are dangerous to sleep with, little brother,” he muttered while he gently pushed Culann’s knee away.  Culann flopped onto his back and sprawled across the bed.  Your wife is going to insist on separate beds.  Troubled, Gareth removed all thoughts of wives from his head.

As if he felt Gareth’s gaze on his face, Culann opened his eyes.

“A bad dream?”

Shivering a little at the memory, Culann nodded.  “People can’t turn into toads, can they, Gareth?”

“No, Culann, they can’t.  Dreams are dreams, nothing like waking life.  Even when they’re scary, they can’t really hurt you.”

Very relieved to hear Gareth say it, Culann huffed, “I know that.”

Studying his brother’s face, Culann asked, “What does Lady Rose look like, Gareth?  I know her hair is golden.”  Culann fingered the locket resting against the coarse black hair on Gareth’s chest.

Remembering, Gareth smiled.  “She has large dark eyes and thick blonde lashes.  She’s pretty, Culann,” Gareth said because he didn’t want to dwell on Rose’s face, especially not her lips.

“Uh, Gareth.”  Culann continued to fumble with the locket.  “She doesn’t look like a toad, does she?”

Gareth’s right eyebrow arched slightly.  You’re worrying about Rose, little brother?  Maybe it’s time we did something practical about her.  “She said she likes toads, Culann, she doesn’t look like a toad.”  Gareth got out of bed and stretched.  “I thought you liked toads.”

“I do.  But little ones.”

“Get ready for breakfast, little brother.  Then, ask Arnald if he’ll join us.  There’s something the three of us need to discuss.  Something important.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll find out at breakfast.”

Culann dashed into his bedroom.  As he scrambled into his clothes, his eye caught the washing bowl and pitcher on his side table and the clean drying cloth and soap laid neatly beside it.  I don’t have time to wash, he decided.  I have to find Arnald.

“I think you should wash, Sir Culann.”

Caught, a guilty expression on his face, Culann turned around.  “I was going to, Arnald, but Gareth says the three of us have something important to discuss.”

“He said the same to me.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“No, Sir Culann, but the faster you wash with soap, the sooner we’ll find out.”

Arnald had a point.  Culann rubbed the soap between his palms, scrunched his eyes closed to protect them from the stinging soap, and made two small soapy circles on his cheeks.  He rinsed his face in the cool water and left streaks of dirt on the drying cloth.

“Come along, sir.”

When they walked into Gareth’s sitting room, they found he’d already started on a stack of fried oatcakes and cured pork.  “Sit down,” he invited.  Gareth lifted his tankard of ale, drank thirstily, and set the tankard carefully on the table.

His eyes watching Arnald’s face, he asked, “How did things stand between you and Elayne when we left Penvale, Arnald?”

Even though Sir Gareth had every right to ask it, the matter was so personal, Arnald hadn’t expected the question.  Arnald tried to choose his words carefully to keep the vision of Elayne seated on his lap, her soft hair around his face, her softer lips on his, her tongue –.  “Things stood well between us, Sir Gareth.”

“You’re likely to marry then?”

Arnald married?  Gareth married?  Everyone will be married except me.  A little frightened, Culann cut a piece of the cured pork and chewed it slowly.

“Yes, Sir Gareth, very likely.”

“You won’t object then to moving to the suite of rooms next to yours?  The rooms are larger.  If you agree, I’ll move into your rooms and Lady Rose can have mine.”

Culann thought about Arnald’s rooms filled with cupboards, nooks, crannies, and secret drawers to keep precious things in.  The rooms were small but there were four of them.  Daren didn’t have a room of his own, but I’ll have two bedrooms and Daren can use one.  Well, if I had Arnald’s rooms, I could have two bedrooms.

“Your offer is very generous, Sir Gareth.  With all due respect, it doesn’t seem appropriate for the next Lord of Tairne to live in servants’ quarters.”

Gareth glanced at Culann and then at Arnald.

“I see, sir.”

His excitement brought Culann to his knees; he leaned forward toward Gareth.  “Please, Gareth, may I move into Arnald’s rooms.  You can fix my rooms up for Lady Rose.  Please.”

“You belong here with me, Culann.  I don’t want you to feel that Rose is taking your place.”

“I know she can’t take my place, Gareth.  She’s a lady, not a boy.  Ladies start out as girls, don’t they?”  Gareth nodded.  “She’ll never be a boy then.  Never be your brother.  We want to do something very nice for Rose so she won’t feel left out.  My rooms aren’t – well, they’re messy right now – but we can make them nice.”

Amazed at this unexpectedly pleasant outcome from a discussion he’d dreaded so much he’d put it off for two months, Gareth stared at Culann.

“Please, Gareth.”  Culann added as much force to the plea as he dared.

“All right, Culann, Arnald’s rooms can be yours.”  Culann beamed.  “Arnald, think about the cupboards you’ll need in your new apartment and then hire a carpenter.  Whatever else you need to make yourself more comfortable, it’s yours.”

“That’s very generous, Sir Gareth, but I can’t accept your generosity.”

“It’s not generous, Arnald.”  Gareth picked up a slice of bread and spooned honey over the top.  “It’s an investment.  When I invest in your future, I’m investing in my own.”  Gareth’s tone of voice clearly stated that this part of the conversation was over so Arnald stood up.

“You can begin whenever it’s convenient for you, Arnald.  Now, the winter, early spring.”

Arnald glanced at the expression on Culann’s face, keen with anticipation.  “I’ll begin soon, Sir Gareth, maybe you’d like to help, Sir Culann.”

“Yes!”  Culann leapt off the chair.

“Not right now, sir.”  Arnald chuckled.  “You have to finish your breakfast.”

********

When he heard the bootsteps and voices in his entrance room, Shoban the Younger perked up a little.  He ran his hand through his hair and then down his beard.  He straightened up against the pillows.  When he saw Gareth, carrying the midday meal on a tray into his bedroom, though, Shoban slumped.  “You again,” he groused.

“Seems to be.”  Gareth placed the bed tray over Shoban’s lap and pulled up a chair.

“You’ve been here every day since you returned from Penvale, Gareth.  I have other visitors.  I don’t need your visits.”

“Indulge me, Shoban.  The hunts will begin in a week and I’ll be gone during the day.  I don’t want to interrupt your carousing and gambling in the evening so I won’t be seeing you for a month or so.”

“You certainly do dampen high spirits with your presence, Gareth, that’s the truth.”

Keeping his worry over Shoban’s health carefully from his face and eyes, Gareth’s lips curved in a half-smile while he watched his brother attack the food.  “And how are you feeling today, brother?”

“I’ve been better.”  Shoban sprayed crumbs of food from his mouth.  He cracked the leg off the roasted chicken and pointed it at Gareth.  “Why are you here, brother?  Come to see if I’m nearer death?  Counting the days until I’m out of your way?”

“Nothing like that, Shoban.”  Gareth leaned back in the chair and crossed his right leg over his left.  “It’s quiet here, relaxing.  My apartments are being torn to shreds.  The noise, the hammering.  Words stream out of Culann when he’s excited.  I need peace.”

“Humph!”  Shoban ripped off another piece of the chicken.  “A warrior who loves peace.”

“When I war, I war.  I prefer peace in my own apartments.”

“Won’t be much peace after you marry, Gareth.  You know nothing about women.”  Shoban thumped his chest with the chicken wing.  “I do.  They’re always demanding things.  Gowns.  Jewels.  And shrill.  They get so shrill when you don’t give them what they want.  No peace with a woman around, always on your ass.  You might fight well, Gareth, but your shield and sword won’t help you when you’re up against a woman.”

“No?  And I planned to take both to bed with me on my wedding night.”  A smile played at the corner of Gareth’s lips.

“Your wedding night?”  Shoban drained his ale.  “You haven’t bedded her yet?”

“That’s none of your business, Shoban.”

Shoban threw back his head and roared.  “Let me give you a piece of advice, Gareth.  When a man tells you it’s none of your business, it means he hasn’t had the woman.”

“Or it might mean.”  Gareth stood up and took the empty tray from Shoban.  “That it’s none of your business.  I’ll see you tomorrow, brother.  Mend soon.”

********

Inhaling the sharp, fresh scent of the newly cut wood, Gareth stepped back so he could see if the shelves were level.  He nodded his approval before he walked forward and ran his hand along the shelf.  His fingers left trails in the sawdust.

“Do you like it, Gareth?  I helped.”

Gareth glanced down at Culann’s hair and face covered with as much sawdust as the shelves.  “It’s fine work, Culann, all the lines are straight.  The wood rubbed smooth as silk.”

“See here.”  Culann pointed to a mark of charcoal on the wood.  “That’s for the metal fittings.  There’s going to be a door here and here and here.  And I’m going to help with that, too.”

“Good.”  Gareth brushed his hands together.  “That should keep you out of mischief.”

Irritated, Culann glanced at Gareth.  When he saw Gareth’s attention was still on the cupboard – he hadn’t meant anything by his remark about mischief, it was just one of those things Gareth said – Culann shrugged good-naturedly.

“Guelph says I have a good eye and a sure hand for woodworking.  When I grow up, I’m going to be a carpenter.”

“You’re the Lord’s son, Culann.  When you grow up, you’ll be a swordsman.”

“Even if I don’t want to be one?”  That didn’t seem fair to Culann, but Gareth simply nodded.  “Why?”

“The choice isn’t yours, Culann, but your father’s.  It’s the way things are.”

As the mid-October sun set, the cooling air sent a blast of chilled wind through the open windows and Culann shivered.  “That’s not fair, Gareth.”

“Life isn’t fair, Culann.  Who gave you the impression that it was?” Gareth countered and crossed the room to close the windows.

Suddenly quiet, Culann thought about his brother’s words.  “No one,” he was forced to admit.  “But I think life should be fair, don’t you?”

“It’s the way things are, Culann.”  Gareth slammed the last window closed.  “It doesn’t matter what I think or you think.”

“What about the Lord, Gareth?  Does it matter what he thinks?”

A sharp image of Gordon cut through Gareth’s mind.  Gordon might still be alive if Shoban had not been Lord, but he never would have breathed at all without his father.  Would that have been better?

“The Lord makes the laws in Tairne, Culann, but he doesn’t make life’s laws.”  Even if Tairne were just, life wouldn’t be.  Gareth left those words unsaid.  “I’m hungry, Culann, I want my supper.  I have to go down to the hall later.  The men are forming hunting parties tonight.  And yes, I’m going to put together a special party for you to join.”

His expression disturbed, not excited, Culann studied his brother’s face.

“I can do that for you, Culann.  I can’t make life fair.  The sooner you learn that lesson, little brother, the better it will be for you.”  The expression on Culann’s face didn’t change.  “You don’t have to hunt this year if you don’t want to,” Gareth assured him.

********

The minute he walked into the dining hall, the crackling tension in the room flared into Gareth’s consciousness.  Without appearing to, Gareth searched for the source of the tension and found it in the presence of his twenty boys.  The hunts were a minor rite of initiation before the major one in this spring’s war.

Twelve of the boys were standing in a tight knot.  Five, the braver ones, were seated at the table with Tairne’s youngest warriors.  Their faces flushed, two were wagering on rune dice.  Dolen and Corbin.  Gareth glanced casually down the table to the boys’ fathers and caught the warning in their expressions, even if the boys didn’t.  Both boys were in for a rough night.  Good.  Men who wager lack discipline.

A mild expression on his face, Gareth continued to scan the table.  Each boy’s father was alert, but some were more relaxed than others.  As if all the boys were his own, Erim was very watchful.  Only one father was completely relaxed and totally oblivious to his son.  When he saw Brandon leaning against the wall, his arms clenched tightly across his chest and his head down, Gareth understood why the Lord was no longer paying attention to his son – he’d already humiliated him.

As soon as Gareth started down the table, the boys snapped to attention, but, with a brief nod, Gareth barely acknowledged them.

“Good evening, my lord.”  Gareth bowed.

“Good evening, Gareth,” the Lord said heartily.

Gareth pulled out the chair at his father’s right hand, accepted the tankard of ale, and settled into a relaxed posture.

“First day out I’d like you in my party, Gareth.”

“I’m pleased to join you, my lord.”

Shoban’s blue eyes sharpened a little as he smiled.  “I was remembering the magnificent stag I felled.  Years ago.  You weren’t in my party then.  You must have been what?  Ten?  Nine?”  Shoban’s smile broadened.

“Surely not as fine as the stag you brought down in Penvale, my lord.  I was with you then.  It took what?  Only two arrows.  And the animal was raging.  Yes, I remember.  Down before I had time to raise my bow.”

Shoban’s eyebrows moved together, but he smoothed his brow again.  What is gnawing at you, son?  “I don’t recall that one, Gareth.  You’ll understand as you mature, one hunt sometimes blends with the others.”

“I’m certain I will, my lord.  I hear maturity can bring understanding.”

“But often doesn’t?”  Shoban laughed with a little too much good humor.  “Go ahead, Gareth, the men are waiting.  I’ve made my choices already.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The moment Gareth stood up so did the other men.  It was prudent to form private parties away from the Lord’s sharp eyes and sharper suspicions.  Knowing his father was watching him, Gareth formed two parties that even the Lord would find innocuous.  After he made certain his father’s eyes were still on him, Gareth walked to the end of the hall to Brandon.  When Gareth put his hand on Brandon’s shoulder, Brandon looked up.

“Fourth day out, Brandon.  You and I and any six boys you choose.  They don’t have to be from your fighting cohort.”  Gareth indicated the other boys with a slight inclination of his head.  “I want good bows, though.”

The look of astonishment on Brandon’s face quickly turned to gratitude.  “Yes, sir.”  Brandon smiled tentatively, but when Gareth smiled back, he grinned.

Let’s see what you do with your gift, Brandon, and how well you can judge your bows.  Gareth started to walk back to the head of the table, but he saw that Edgar had taken his seat.  He and the Lord were laughing so Gareth pulled out a chair in the middle of the table, sat down, and propped his left boot on the rung of the empty chair next to him.  Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Brandon speaking to Enwald.

“Sir Gareth.”

Gareth raised his eyes to Jonas’s face.  “Sixth day out, Sir Gareth, I’d be honored if you join me.”

“Not the twelfth when the game is sparser and my bow won’t be a hindrance?”  Gareth smiled.

Jonas’s even and mild expression did not change.  “On the sixth day, I start to hunt boar, the best challenge.  I’d be honored if you’d join me and a few others.”

“The pleasure will be mine, Jonas.”

Jonas curved his hand over his heart and bowed before he moved away.  Gareth signaled for a tankard, and when he took the cup, he glanced down the table at the Lord.  Laughing, Shoban seemed to pay no attention to anything but Edgar’s jests.

“Sir Gareth.”  Caedmon placed his hand on the back of the empty chair and Gareth dropped his foot and shifted positions so Caedmon could sit down.  “Twelfth day out, Sir Gareth?  Are you committed?”

“No, I’m not committed.  And yes, I’d like to hunt with you.”

“A small party.”

Pleased to be spending some time with this young man he liked, Gareth nodded his approval.

“Edgar joins us.”

“Excellent,” Gareth said, but he was no longer pleased.

Book 1: Chapter 36

[Wherein Sir Gareth sees to his brothers.]

“Arnald!”  Hearing the anger in his voice, Gareth caught the door before it slammed shut.  You’re wasting your energy on this anger, Gareth.  That’s what the old bastard wants.

“Sir Gareth?” Arnald gulped the words.

“Is Culann in his rooms?”

“No, Sir Gareth, I haven’t seen him.  The Lady of Tairne’s sent for you.  She says it’s urgent.”

Urgent?  What the hell has been going on?  “All right.  I’ll see the Lady.  Then my brother Shoban.  If Culann comes back before I do, tell him I want to speak with him.  He’s to wait for me.  I’m not angry with him, Arnald.  I don’t want him hiding.”

“Yes, Sir Gareth.”

Gareth looked at Arnald’s tired eyes.  “Get some rest, Arnald.”

“You should too, sir.”

“I will.”  Gareth waved his arm in the air.  “I promise.”

It can’t be important or urgent, Gareth.  Maybe she expects jewels from you now that her eldest son’s been seriously wounded.  No, that can’t be it.  Maybe it’s Shoban the Younger.  Near death.  Dead.  Worried now, Gareth walked faster.  He rapped sharply on his mother’s door.

Rilka opened the door a crack and then wider.  She curtsied stiffly.

Gareth’s eyebrows went up.  Who is this woman?  Where’s Durga?  “I’m Sir Gareth.”

“I know, sir,” Rilka said primly.  “The Lady of Tairne is waiting for you in her sitting room.  Go right in, Sir Gareth.”

After Gareth walked in, he swiveled his head back for another look at the woman.  Then, he heard the weeping.  It is Shoban.  Suddenly, Gareth felt very cold.  “My lady?”

“Gareth,” Clothilde sobbed.  She stood up and threw her arms around him.  “Oh, Gareth!”

For a moment, Gareth didn’t know what to do.  Finally, he put his arms around her and she cried with her face against his tunic.  “Is it Shoban the Younger, my lady?”

“Shoban the Younger!” she snapped and backed out of his arms.  She pressed her handkerchief against her eyes.

“Is he dead?”  Gareth could barely form the words.

“Do dead men drink?  Tell foul jokes?  Or gamble?  Carouse all hours of the day and night?”

“No.”  All right, my lady, it’s not Shoban.  “What is it?”

“It’s Duncan!” Clothilde wailed.

“Is he dead?”

“How can you think such a horrible thought?”  Clothilde’s voice rose to a scream.

“My lady,” Gareth said calmly.  “You probably aren’t aware of this, but I haven’t been in Tairne for over a month.  I arrived back only a little while ago.  Arnald said you wanted to see me.  It was urgent.  You’re obviously distressed, but I have no idea why.  Apparently, this matter isn’t urgent since you’re making me ask questions instead of telling me what’s distressing you.  I’m going to leave now.  You can send for me later or not at all.  I’m tired and in no mood to play games.”

“Sit down, Gareth,” Clothilde ordered imperiously, but then she cushioned it.  “Please, Gareth, sit down.  I need your help.  The Lord of Tairne has threatened your brother.”

Which one?  Probably all of them.  Gareth felt his knees buckle under the weight of his brothers and he sat down.

“Good.”  Clothilde took Gareth’s hand and patted it gently.  “You and I haven’t been close for a long time, Gareth.  When you were small, though, we were very close.  Do you remember?”

“No, my lady, I don’t.”

“Ah, yes.  Sons so quickly forget a mother’s care.  Your father snatched you away from me.  There was nothing I could do to prevent it.  He is the Lord.”

That’s the truth at any rate.  “My lady, what do you want from me?”

Clothilde was about to mention Culann, but decided there was no sense in reminding Gareth of the unpleasantness.  “The Lord wants Duncan, Gareth.  He’s a frail boy, sickly.  He’s only five years old, but the Lord.”  Clothilde’s mouth twisted on the word.  “Wants him strong, riding a horse, shooting a bow by the time he’s eight.  If I don’t see to it, he will.  I don’t need to tell you how brutal your father is.”

“No, my lady, you don’t.  What do you want from me?  And this is the last time I’ll ask the question.”

Clothilde’s hand went up to her throat as she gagged on the words.  “Help me, Gareth.  Train Duncan to ride and shoot.”

Slowly, Gareth shook his head.

Afraid that Gareth might refuse her, but certain he could not refuse a sweet child like Duncan, Clothilde called out, “Nurse!  Bring Duncan here.”

Tugging a reluctant Duncan by the hand, the nurse walked into the room.  Clothilde’s eyes lit up with pleasure at the sight of her youngest son, but Gareth was disturbed by the boy’s color and his scrawny body.

Eyeing Gareth suspiciously, Duncan pronounced, “I hate that man, mother,” stuck his tongue out at Gareth, wriggled his hand out of the nurse’s grasp, and ran back to his bedroom.

“I think Duncan’s made up his mind, my lady.”  Gareth stood up.  “You’re asking me to do the impossible.  I can’t train a boy who won’t cooperate with me.  I really don’t have time for this.”

Clothilde rose to her feet, held Gareth’s face with her hand, and gazed into his eyes.  “Duncan reminds me of Gordon when he was small.  Thin, frail.  Your father hated him, too.”

At the mention of Gordon, Gareth’s face grew hot, but he said nothing.

Her wiles exhausted, Clothilde spoke the wrenching truth, “Gareth, the Lord will kill him if you don’t help.  You know that.”

Inhaling sharply, Gareth removed his mother’s hand from his face.  “I’ll think about it, my lady.  It’s the only promise I’ll give.  If I decide to do it, I’ll demand free rein and a boy who understands how limited your protection really is.  I’ll let you imagine what will happen to him if he sticks his tongue out at any other man.

“The fault is yours, my lady, and you’ll have to repair some of the damage if you want my help.  That’s firm.  I’ll let you know in two weeks what I’ve decided.”

After he left, Clothilde whispered, “Please.”

********

On his way to visit Shoban the Younger, who was alive and as well as could be expected if the Lady of Tairne could be believed, Gareth’s exhaustion hit him like a blow.  No, he decided, I cannot do this.  He turned back toward his own wing of the castle.  The only brother I could stomach right now is Culann.  His mouth formed a tired smile, but then he frowned when he thought about the crossbow.  Well, as Culann keeps saying, he is almost eight.

Gareth’s apartment was very quiet and felt empty.  A nap, he decided.  He pulled off his boots and tunic and fell into bed.

While Gareth slept, the rain turned to a drizzle and the sun appeared, slanting toward evening.  A rainbow formed over Tairne’s green hills.  Maudie and the kitchen staff walked into the courtyard to see the rainbow.  Maudie put one hand on Daren’s shoulder and one hand on Culann’s.

“It’s almost supper time and Sir Gareth expects you, Culann.”

“I know,” Culann said in a small voice and turned to face his death with courage.  He started bravely up the back staircase, but then slowed his steps.  He walked up two steps and down one.  Up two, down one.  Somehow, though, he reached the top and Arnald who was smiling warmly at him.

“I missed you, Sir Culann.”  Arnald sat on the top step and Culann sat beside him.  “The dirt doesn’t hide the bruises, sir.”

“Daren thought it might.”  Culann stared dejectedly at his hands.  “You think Gareth will notice?”

“He’s sure to, sir.  It will take another week for that to heal.  He’ll worry if he doesn’t see you all week.  He’s rested now.  In a better mood than when we returned.”  Arnald put his hand on Culann’s knee.

“It’s bad, Arnald,” Culann confided.  “The fight was with Brandon.  I started it.  He called me a liar, but I punched him first.

“You won’t tell him, will you, Arnald?  Maybe, he won’t ask.”

“You know how Sir Gareth is, sir.”  Arnald stood up.  “He expects you to tell the truth.”

Culann stood up.  “But sometimes, you can leave parts out,” he commented hopefully.

“Better not to hope, sir.”

“Yes.”  Culann sighed.

“Sir Gareth, Sir Culann is here.”

“Where have you been all day, little brother –”  When he saw Culann, the smile disappeared from Gareth’s face and his stomach clenched.

Culann’s eyes widened the moment he saw the fear in Gareth’s eyes.  He’d never seen Gareth afraid before.  Gareth stooped in front of him and put his hands very gently on Culann’s shoulders.  “Are you all right, Culann?  Did the Lord beat you?”

Realizing that that’s what Gareth was afraid of, Culann said quickly, “No, Gareth, the Lord was very nice to me while you were gone. He gave me a crossbow.  Asked Jonas to help me.”

The change in Gareth’s expression told Culann it had been a mistake to tell the truth.  “You were fighting.”  Gareth stood up.  Culann dropped his head.

“Look at me.”  The words forced Culann’s eyes up.

“Who was it, Culann?”

When Culann’s face started to set in a stubborn line, Gareth lost patience and seized on the most likely culprit.  “Arnald, I want Sir Brandon right now.”

“Yes, Sir Gareth.”

Staring coldly and silently at his brother, Gareth hoped that he was mistaken, hoped Culann had been fighting with one of the younger boys.  The minute the door opened and Gareth saw Brandon, he inhaled sharply, but quietly.

“Sir Brandon’s here,” Arnald announced unnecessarily.

“I want an explanation.”  Gareth stood with his left fist on his hip and gestured with his right hand.

Brandon’s and Culann’s mouths formed identical stubborn lines.

“That’s an order.”

Brandon glanced at Culann and Culann glanced at Brandon.  Brandon could see Culann was beginning to squirm.  In a few minutes, he was going to tell Gareth the whole truth.

“It was a misunderstanding, sir.  A private dispute.  Culann thought I called him a liar.”

“You did!  And I wasn’t lying, Gareth.  Jonas did show me how to hold my bow.”

Brandon moved his boot over and kicked Culann’s.  Shut up, Culann, Brandon pleaded.

But, Culann didn’t.  “I punched him first, but he called me a liar in front of everyone.”

“On the practice field?”

“Yes.”  Intent on seeing justice done, Culann missed the danger in Gareth’s tone.  “And he would have broken my nose, but the Lord stopped him.”

Gareth’s eyebrow arched up like a bow drawn taut.  “Let me see if I understand.  The two of you were on the boys’ archery field.  Brandon called you a liar.”  Culann nodded.  “Then you punched him and he hit you back.”  Culann nodded again with less vigor.  “You fought like two animals in front of everyone including the Lord.  Is that it?”

As if a flash of lightning had streaked into his head, Culann saw clearly that any justice here wasn’t going to be his, not even Brandon’s, but Gareth’s.

“Is it, Brandon?”

“Yes, sir.”

Gareth said nothing and the silence started to crawl inside the boys.

“I told both of you how important it is for you to behave with honor and decorum in front of Tairne’s army.  Told you that the way the men view the two of you affects everyone in Tairne’s castle.  So what did Tairne’s men see?  And don’t mistake this, those who didn’t see the fight have heard about it.  Any suggestions?  Brandon?  Culann?  Quick to get angry and fight but not so quick when you’re asked to think, are you?

“The men saw a thirteen-year-old who bullies younger boys and a younger boy who doesn’t have the courage yet to pass up a taunt.  They saw two brothers who can’t get along with one another.  Most dangerous for the three of us, they saw that I have to be physically present in Tairne to keep you two in line.  That makes me seem a very weak leader.  It will take me months to repair the damage the two of you have done with your careless behavior.”

The edge of defeated disapproval in Gareth’s voice shocked Culann.  “I didn’t know, Gareth.”

“Maybe you didn’t, Culann, but Brandon knew.  I know the men encourage fights, but those who are easily encouraged look like fools and weaklings.  A short entertainment for everyone.  Think of the men who are always fighting, Brandon.”

When Brandon did, he lowered his eyes.

“The next time I ask you a question, Culann, you will answer it immediately and truthfully.  I don’t have time to play games with you anymore.  Right after supper, the two of you will go to bed.  At first light, you’ll muck my stables and the task won’t be finished until Gavin gives his approval.  While you’re working together, I expect you to come up with some plan for getting along.

“And Brandon?”

“Yes, sir.”

“If I hadn’t seen Culann, I would have walked out on the practice field tomorrow where all the men, except me, would have known about this.  If you ever do that to me again, you will regret it for a very long time.  You’re dismissed.”

“Yes, Sir Gareth.”  Chastened, Brandon walked from the room and closed the door softly behind him.

This was far worse than a scolding.  Tears came into Culann’s eyes.

“Don’t cry, Culann,” Gareth admonished softly.  “Your eye needs time to heal.”

While Culann blinked back his tears, Gareth sat down at his table, leaned forward, and rubbed his forehead.

Hurt and frightened by the things he couldn’t quite understand, Culann stood uncertainly for a while.

“Did Lady Rose like my flower?” he whispered.

Gareth’s mouth formed a half-smile.  “She did.  But, do you know what she told me?”

“No.”

“She really likes toads.”

“I knew it!”  Culann’s voice went up with excitement.

Before Culann could say anything else, Gareth ordered, “You’re dismissed, Sir Culann.”

Book 1: Chapter 35

[Wherein Sir Gareth returns.]

 The summer rain fell gently, but so steadily, through the night that Gareth and his men gave up their efforts to find a dry place to sleep and rode back to the castle.  By dawn, the rain had formed small rivulets in the courtyard and cascaded down the turrets and the walls of the castle.

The sound of rushing water woke Culann and he slipped out of Daren’s bed.  It’s raining.  He yawned and then his eyes opened very wide, the blackened one as wide as it would go.  “Daren!”  Culann shook him.

“What?” Daren grumbled in his sleep and then turned on his side with his back to Culann.

“Daren, I need you,” Culann whispered.

“What’s wrong?” Daren whispered back.

“It’s raining, Daren,” Culann said in a voice hollow with despair.  “Gareth will start riding back early.  How bad does my eye look?”

“I can’t see in the dark,” Daren whispered.  “I’ll light a candle.”

Both boys blinked in the brightness and Culann held his breath.

“Ugly,” Daren pronounced.

“How ugly?  Do you think Gareth will notice?”  Culann held his breath.

“Sir Gareth notices everything.”  Daren nodded sagely.  “But even if he didn’t, he’d notice your eye.”

“What am I going to do?”

Daren’s brow furrowed with deep thought.  “I have it, Culann!  Dirt.  Your face is always dirty unless mother makes you wash it.  If you add just a little more, Sir Gareth might not notice how black and blue the eye is.  He’ll wonder why it’s bloodshot, though.”

“I’ll tell him I poked it.”  Culann sighed with relief.  Even though he knew he’d have to tell Gareth eventually, now he could wait until Gareth was in a good mood.

“Thank you, Daren,” Culann whispered fervently.

“Since you boys are up,” Maudie called out.  “Get dressed so you can eat breakfast.  I’ll need your help, Daren.  And, Culann, you’ll have to move your things back up.”

********

From his bedroom window, Lord Shoban watched the rain falling into his central courtyard.  He scratched his chest.  This rain will drive Gareth back to the castle sooner than I expected.  How will I fortify myself for that interview with my son and heir?

Shoban walked up to the doorway of his sitting room.  “Breakfast!” he yelled.  After breakfast, I’ll pay a visit to my lady who, by now, has chosen a new maid.  A woman then.  An explosion of strength and the relaxation that comes afterwards.  Sir Gareth, poor boy, will be edgy from lack of sleep among other things.  Laughing, the Lord started to dress in a new tunic, gray with a deep green border and green hose.

Never hurts, Shoban, he addressed the reflection in the mirror while he brushed his hair, for a man to look his best even if he is Lord.  He turned his head from one side to the other.  He plucked a gray hair from his beard.  Not a gray hair on my head or in my beard.  He clapped his hands on the dressing table before he stood up.  Inhaling deeply, he swelled his chest.  This is going to be a good day.

Ah, summer, he thought when he smelled Maudie’s fruit pies.  Peach.  He inhaled deeply.  “Ferghus,” he ordered, “I want you to take the breakfast tray down to Maudie yourself this morning.  And send her my praises for her excellent pie.”  Then Shoban attacked his food.

Finished with the meal, he leaned back and belched loudly.  He thought fondly of Gareth, drenched, hungry after a cold breakfast.  Shoban rubbed his stomach.  It might have been me riding in this rain.  Gareth is proving to be a son with many uses.  But there was one thing he wouldn’t use Gareth for.  Lust was stirring.  Damn!  It’s good to be alive.  Shoban belched again and pushed away from the table.

Strutting a little, Shoban made his way through the narrow corridor that linked his bedroom to Clothilde’s.  With a flourish, he pushed open the door to his wife’s bedroom.

“My lord!”  Rilka said in a high-pitched squeak right before she curtsied to the ground.

Astonishment rooted Shoban to the spot.  Never in his life had he seen an uglier woman.  Her hair was thin and graying, but not as thin or as gray as her long face.  Her eyes were small and set wide apart like the eyes of a horse, but she was far less attractive than any horse he’d ever seen.  Her skirt and blouse were ill-fitting, but couldn’t disguise her lack of curves.  She was as flat and as sharp as a sword.  One’s eyes might appreciate the beauty of a finely made sword, but not even a blind man could appreciate this woman.

“Good morning, my lord.”  Clothilde smiled and bared sharp white teeth.

Shoban’s eyes went from the maid to his wife.  The pasty boy in her lap, Clothilde was seated in a padded armchair with her small slippered feet on a footstool.  The boy’s eyes opened wide with horror and he shrank against his mother.

A smile playing at the corners of his mouth, Shoban said heartily, “Good morning, my lady.”

Instantly, Clothilde’s smile faded.  Keeping her eyes on his face, Clothilde stiffened as he walked toward her.

“Good morning, Duncan!” Shoban boomed.

When he saw the man’s hands coming toward him, Duncan plastered himself against his mother.

“Good morning, my lord,” Clothilde prompted.

When Shoban lifted him from his mother’s lap, Duncan screamed, “Mother!” and stretched out his arms to her.

Very wary now, Clothilde kept her eyes on Shoban and her son, but nonchalantly folded her hands in her lap.

“Mother!” Shoban repeated the word, gripped the boy’s jaw, and turned his face to his own.  “But I’m your father, boy.  I am his father, Clothilde?”

“Yes, Shoban, you are.”  Clothilde felt the jaws of the trap closing around her.

“See, boy.”  Shoban tightened his grip on Duncan’s jaw and the boy’s eyes filled with tears that he was too terrified to shed.  “Your mother claims that I’m your father.  Mothers know these things; fathers sometimes wonder.

“I’m going to tell you a secret, boy, so listen carefully.  It’s far more important to please your father than your mother.  I can hurt you very badly, in many ways.  Do you understand?”  Duncan nodded his trembling head.  “Good.”

Shoban lifted the boy’s arm and let it drop.  “He’s weak, Clothilde.  His face looks like chalk.  That’s not good.  We’ll have to remedy that.  After all, we are concerned parents interested in our son’s welfare.

“Every day – and this is an order so don’t mistake me – I want him outside.  Rain or shine.  Hot or cold.”

“His health is delicate, Shoban.”  Clothilde was on her feet.

“Maybe.  Or maybe, he’s delicate because you keep him in your bed.”  Shoban winked at her.  “That would weaken any man.  I want you to know I’d prefer him dead than weak.  If you don’t see to it, I will.  Throw him in with all those uncouth, unruly boys.”  Ignoring the child, Shoban and Clothilde locked their eyes on one another.  “Something for them to play with, torture.  A gift from the Lord of Tairne.”

Shoban put the boy on the ground.  “Don’t,” he growled, “run to your mother’s skirts.  Stand there.

“Well?” he addressed his lady.

“I’ll do as you order, my lord,” Clothilde forced out through clenched teeth.

“A pity, isn’t it, that my attention wasn’t captured by your new maid and I had to focus on Duncan.  You’ll start today.  The rain will do him good.  He’s six now, right?  By the time he’s eight, I’ll want him riding and shooting a long bow.  If not, I’ll use him as the target.”

Clothilde’s hand went to her throat.  “He’s only five.  He won’t be six until February.”

“Gives you more time then.”

“Shoban, you can’t expect me –”

“I do.  If you won’t, I will.  She really is ugly, Clothilde.”

Chuckling, Shoban sauntered back to his bedroom.

********

Dripping wet and shivering a little from exhaustion, Gareth climbed the main staircase to Tairne’s castle.  When the servants opened the doors, the first thing Gareth saw was Lord Shoban with a self-satisfied smile on his face.  Careful, Gareth, he warned himself.  To Gareth’s surprise, the Lord’s smile faded and was replaced by an ill-concealed look of concern.

“Are you ill, Gareth?”

“I’m wet and tired, my lord.  We rode most of the night.”

“Get out of those wet clothes,” Shoban ordered.  “Then get some rest.”

“I want to see you now, before I rest, my lord.”  Gareth’s eyes no longer looked so weary.

How like Gareth to reject a father’s solicitude.  Shoban straightened his shoulders.  “You don’t need a show of strength, Gareth.”  One of Gareth’s eyebrows arched up in an expression Shoban knew well – one of his own. “As you wish, sir.  I can be accommodating, Gareth.  In my conference room as soon as you’ve changed.”

To his chagrin, as he watched Gareth walk up the stairs, Shoban, for the first time in many years, was worried about what some man was going to say to him.

“It’s your fault, Clothilde,” he muttered, “I wanted to be satisfied when I saw him, rested.”

Stalking down the corridor to the conference room, Shoban caught himself and slowed his pace.  He ordered the young man who was waiting to attend to his wishes to bring up some fruit, bread, cheese, and ale.  Gareth liked ale.

When he returned with the food, Elmond found the Lord pacing the length of the conference room.  “My lord?”

“Hurry up,” Shoban snapped and waved at the conference table.

“Yes, my lord.”  The young man hastily placed the food, plates, and tankards on the table and then backed out of the room.

Shoban rearranged the plates, sat down in a relaxed posture, but found his fingertips drumming on the table.  He stopped the minute he heard the sound of Gareth’s steps in the hall.

“My lord.”  In the doorway, Gareth stopped and bowed.

Shoban veiled the wariness in his eyes.  “Come in, Gareth, don’t stand on ceremony.”  Shoban sliced a hunk of light yellow cheese.  “Have something to eat.  You must be starving.”

Gareth watched his father’s studied movements and heard the false heartiness in his voice.  You’re worried, my lord?  You should be.

“The Lady Rose is well?”

“She is, my lord.”  Gareth pulled out a chair and sat down.  His hand reached out for a peach, but he pulled it back.

“Eat something, Gareth.”  Shoban waved his knife over the food.  “The visit to Penvale was pleasant, I trust.”

“But the visit to Roarke was not pleasant, my lord.  Lord Denndred expected your presence, not mine.  I think he was right to do so.”  Gareth sliced the cheese and put the slice on a piece of dark bread.  “I was forced to wonder why you weren’t there.”  Gareth bit into the bread and cheese and chewed slowly.  It was ages before he swallowed.

“I concluded your absence was meant to punish the Lord of Roarke for insulting you during the negotiations for Phidia’s brideprice and to send him a message.  You’ll be pleased to know, my lord, he failed to get the message.  His fury was so intense, he didn’t allow me to stay in Roarke long enough for him to learn that something was going on between you and Penvale.”

Shoban smiled.

“You sent me in blind, Lord Shoban.”  Shoban’s smile faded at the change in Gareth’s tone.  “I was forced to wonder why you did that.  I know it was the whipping you thought I deserved for failing you by remaining in Penvale when you went to Roarke.  The thought of me squirming was amusing, wasn’t it?  How fast can you think on your feet, boy?”

“Gareth, surely, you don’t think –”  The look in Gareth’s eyes changed as quickly as he drew his sword, became as sharp as the sword.  “You did fail me,” Shoban complained.

Very precisely, Gareth laid the half-eaten slice of cheese and bread on the small plate.  “But I wasn’t satisfied with that as your motive for sending me alone to Penvale and Roarke.  You can find other ways to punish me.  You wanted me blind so I’d give nothing away.  That was dangerous, my lord, for Tairne and for you.”  Gareth stabbed his finger down in front of his father.  “It will never happen again.”

“You have my word,” Shoban said in a husky voice before Gareth could demand it.

“See you keep your word to me, Lord Shoban.”  The force in Gareth’s gaze made Shoban’s waver slightly.  “I have one more thing to say before I take my leave.  You and Penvale better have a very good reason for the war you’re planning against Roarke.”  To his immense satisfaction, Gareth saw his father stiffen slightly.  “One that’s better than your anger over a botched brideprice negotiation. If you don’t have one now, come up with one soon or I’ll oppose the war.”

Shoban slammed his fist on the table.

Good, my lord, throw a little tantrum so I’ll know I have things right.  “I have no small interest in this.  My future father-in-law thinks that when I crawl into bed with his daughter, I’ll be crawling into his bed, too.  You, Lord Shoban, gave him that impression.  I won’t have it!  No one is to think I can be led around by lust.”

“No one does,” Shoban assured him.

“You’re straight with me from now on, Lord Shoban, or I’ll move my game piece to the opposite side of the board.”  Gareth stood up.

“Sit, Gareth.  Sit.”  As he looked up at his son, Shoban encouraged,  “You won’t have a spectacular exit filled with flaming indignation, but you’ll learn something that might interest you.”

“I don’t trust you, Lord Shoban.”  Gareth sat back down.

“See, Gareth.”  Shoban poured the ale.  “I trained you well.  Trust no one.”  Shoban held up the tankard.

Gareth smiled slowly, but didn’t return the salute.

“You know the kind of man Denndred is.  Extends his arms for an embrace, but one hand holds a dagger he sticks into your back.  Penvale’s complaint is just.  The port that lies on his border with Roarke is a good harbor, prosperous.  Denndred thinks it should belong to him.  The threat to Penvale is real.  I hoped to balance the threat with Shoban’s marriage and yours.”

“You did not.   You care little for Penvale.  Less for Roarke.”

“True.”  Shoban  grinned wickedly.  “But I thought the tension would be amusing to watch.  Each side wanting to call in Tairne, but unable to.”  Shoban stuck his knife into a peach and held it up until it bled sweet juice onto the table.  “And the tension between you and Shoban, Rose and Phidia.”

Why are you telling me this, old man?

“I’m telling you this, if that’s what you’re wondering about, son, because it no longer applies.  I’ll have to seek amusement elsewhere.”  Shoban ripped the knife down the peach, tore it open with his thumbs, and gouged out the pit.  “So you’d better keep sharp, Sir Gareth.  After all, the sharper you are, the better you serve Tairne.”  Shoban bit into the flesh of the fruit.

“I gave Culann the crossbow he’s been wanting.  Jonas thinks the boy has real talent as a bowsman, but I think Jonas wants one of the Lord’s sons with the bows.  You know how he’s always grousing about how I neglect the bows.

“I’m wagering the boy’s like you, has the potential to be one of my best swords.  I want a sword on his hip when he’s eight.  You do it or I will.  You remember how I helped to train you.  And I would be pleased to train him the same way, but I’m leaving the choice to you, Gareth, because I know you won’t oppose me about Penvale and Roarke.”

“I see, my lord.”

“Yes, you do see.  Your claim to be blinded was nothing more than a pretense.”

Book 1: Chapter 34

[Wherein, in Gareth’s absence, Lord Shoban discovers other sons.]

Struggling under the pile of Lady Clothilde’s freshly cleaned heavy winter gowns, Durga moved awkwardly and cautiously into her lady’s bedroom.

“Hurry up, Durga,” Clothilde snapped the words and then her fingers.

Startled by her Lady’s presence, Durga almost dropped the pile of gowns.

“The summer’s already well advanced and autumn will be here before we know it,” Clothilde carped.  “You should have started on these two months ago.  You’ve grown fat, lazy, and clumsy.  You’re not walking, Durga, you’re waddling like a duck.”  Clothilde stopped her string of invectives abruptly, and with eyes that had sharpened to dagger points, watched Durga.

Understanding that the dreaded moment had finally come, Durga continued to struggle forward.  She moved to the bed and lowered the mass of gowns.  Very carefully, so the Lady of Tairne would not see her profile, she turned away from the bed to get the packing muslin and herbs.

Clothilde’s eyes locked on the girl’s rounded abdomen and the carefully arranged, loose-fitting clothing.  Immediately, she knew whose child Durga carried.  “Slut!” she shrieked.  “Whore!”  Her face purple with rage, Clothilde leapt forward and pummeled Durga with her fists.

“No!  No!”  Trying to shield herself with her arms, Durga backed away, slammed into the bed, and fell.

“Slut!”  Clothilde kicked her as hard as she could.  “Whore!”  She kicked her again.

“No!”  Durga moaned as she felt the hot, sticky liquid seep down her thighs.  A sharp pain gripped her and Durga curled around herself.

“Get out of here, whore!  If I see your face again, I’ll stick a dagger through your heart.”

“Mother?”  Disturbed by the screams and moans, Duncan ran into his mother’s room.

When Clothilde whipped her head around and Duncan saw her features distorted into a demon’s face, he opened his mouth and let out a high-pitched wail.

“See what you’ve done!  Disturbed my baby,” Clothilde spat at Durga.

Duncan started backing away from the strange creature speaking in his mother’s voice.

“There!  There!  Precious.  Everything is all right.”

Shrieking in fright, Duncan ran, and cooing sweetly, Clothilde followed.

Safe for the moment but writhing in pain, Durga dragged herself through the corridor into the Lord’s bedroom.  “Ferghus!” she called out and then collapsed.

When Ferghus marched into the room, his lip curled in a sneer.  “You stupid she-goat.  Twitching your hips and sticking your tits in the Lord’s face.  Where else did you think it would get you?  Come on.”  He bent down and dragged Durga roughly to her feet.

“I can’t,” she gasped.

“You’ll have to, won’t you?” Ferghus snorted.  “You need a midwife, girl.  Do I look like a midwife to you?  Don’t feel like such a fine lady now, do you?”  Ferghus half-dragged Durga through the Lord’s sitting room, pushed her into the corridor, and slammed the door.

When the pain eased a little, Durga, dazed and bleeding, groped her way along the wall toward the servants’ staircase.  Crying, she started to walk carefully down the winding stairs until the pain returned, seared through her, and she fell.

Attempting a whistle, Culann skipped up the stairs until he heard the crying and moaning.  Frightened, he stopped whistling and cautiously crept up.

“Please, sir.”  Durga pleaded.

Immediately, Culann spun around and clattered down the stairs.  “Maudie!” he yelled.

“What is it, Culann?”

“Durga’s fallen on the stairs.  She’s hurt.”

In her condition!  Maudie pointed to the two kitchen boys nearest the stairs.  “Bring her down,” she ordered.  “Pegeen, take charge of the meal.”

“Can I help?” Culann asked.

“Not with this, Culann.  Go up the front stairs to get your bow and arrows.  You know Sir Gareth doesn’t want you to miss practice.  I’ll see you at the midday meal.  Run along.  Don’t worry, Culann, I know how to help Durga.”

Still anxious, Culann waited in the shadows until the boys brought Durga down.  She looked horrible.  As they led her into the apothecary, a strange hush fell over the kitchen.

“Culann!” Pegeen said sharply.  “You heard what mother said.  Scoot.”

Durga’s scream sent a bolt of fear that held Culann in the kitchen.  Another scream, another.  Culann trembled.  Hours seemed to pass and then he heard the strangest thing – a baby crying.  His own eyes wide open, Culann watched the kitchen staff exchange disapproving glances before they resumed the chopping and slicing.

“Culann!”  With a stern look in her eyes, Pegeen walked toward him.

“I’m leaving!” he squeaked and dashed for the four front steps.

“The baby looks healthy, Durga.  A boy.”  With his father’s black hair and blue eyes, Maudie thought.  “The bruises didn’t come from a fall.”

Durga shook her head against the pillow.  “No.  Lady Clothilde beat me. Dismissed me,” Durga said in an exhausted voice.

After she placed the baby tenderly in Durga’s arms, Maudie went for bandages and ointments.  She tended the worst cuts and then brought a chair up to the head of the narrow bed.  “Have you family to return to, Durga?”

“No, Maudie.  I won’t need to now.”  A smile of pride formed on Durga’s lips.  “The child’s a boy.  Lord Shoban won’t abandon me when he learns I’ve given him another son.”

Understanding where Durga’s thoughts were going, Maudie cautioned firmly, “Yours isn’t the first child I’ve delivered who was fathered by the Lord of Tairne.  If the child is a boy, looks strong and healthy, like yours, the Lord offers a pittance for the child’s support, tells the mother to send him to the castle to be trained for retainer when the child’s ten.  But, Durga, no matter how black the hair or how blue the eyes, the Lord never claims these children.  If you think he might, you are very foolish.

“Is there someone I can send for to come and take care of you?”

Durga sat up and cradled the baby against her breast.  “I thank you for your help, Maudie, but not your words.  You don’t know the Lord the way I do.  He speaks warmly of his sons, fawns on them.  This one is his as much as the others.  Maybe more, he was conceived in passion not duty.  I’m not like the others.  The Lord loves me.”

“You won’t be able to manage by yourself, Durga.  Think about someone you can go to.”

“I already have, Maudie,” Durga said vehemently.

********

Unable to understand how a woman could have a baby by falling down the stairs, especially since Sinead had a baby and there were no stairs in her house and no stairs in the blacksmith’s shop, Culann abandoned his efforts and concentrated on hopping from one stone in the courtyard to another without landing on any of the cracks.  Some of the stones were very large and far away from the others so he decided that he could hop twice in one stone, even three times, as long as he didn’t step on a crack.

“Sir Culann.”

Startled, Culann looked up and then found he had to look up and up.  The man was very tall.  He had light brown hair like Daren and Maudie and light brown eyes like they did, but his nose was longer and flatter and his eyebrows were thick and wild.  Culann didn’t remember seeing him before.

“My name is Jonas, sir.”  The man held out his hand, his fingers were long and thin like his body.

Extending his own small hand, Culann shook hands and then, curious, waited for what might happen next.

“I’ve been watching you practice with your long bow, Sir Culann.”

“You have?”  Culann was truly surprised.  “I didn’t even see you.”

“Your concentration is excellent for a boy as young as you are.”

“I’m not young, Jonas,” Culann protested before he remembered Gareth’s instructions to keep his mouth closed and listen carefully when one of the men was speaking to him.  He’d already started, though, so he decided to finish.  “I’m almost eight.”

I thought you were older, boy, closer to ten.  “Sir Gareth is training you well, sir, but you know that Sir Gareth is a swordsman not a bowsman.  I’ve spoken to Lord Shoban about you.  There are one or two things I’d like to show you that will keep your bow steadier and more centered.  Give you more distance.”

Culann’s face brightened with his smile.  “I’d like that.  Thank you.”

“Come along then, sir.”

“I’m trying to shoot better than Brandon with my long bow,” Culann confided.  “Do you know my brother Brandon?”

“I do, sir, though not well.”

“He’s almost thirteen.  And he has a crossbow.  I’d like a crossbow, too, Jonas.  Especially since Brandon won’t let me use his and Gareth’s is much too big.  I can’t aim it well because it’s so heavy.”  Uh-oh.  Culann clamped his hand over his mouth and glanced sideways at the man.  “Do you know my brother Gareth?” he asked cautiously while he silently prayed that Jonas didn’t know Gareth.

“I do, sir.”

Culann’s heart sank.  “Do you speak with him a lot, Jonas?”

“Often, sir, but I won’t mention you handle his crossbow when he’s not in Tairne.”

“Whew!”  Culann smiled with relief.

“I think it best you do that yourself, sir.”

“He’ll be angry,” Culann muttered.

“I think it best, Sir Culann, that you don’t do things that will make Sir Gareth angry.”

“You’re right, Jonas.  It is best.  You must know him very well.”

Much to his surprise, Jonas found his lips curving into a smile.  There was something about this boy.

When they reached the boys’ practice targets, Culann waved to the other boys, but their eyes riveted on Jonas, they stiffened to attention and didn’t wave back.

“Keep practicing, boys.  Yes, I’ll be watching.”

Immediately, the boys’ movements became tense and careful.  Culann gazed at the boys and then, with more interest, at the man.  He touched Jonas’s hand.  “Who are you, Jonas?”

“I’m the man in charge of Tairne’s bows, Sir Culann.”

“Oh.”  That certainly explained the boys’ behavior.  They reacted to Jonas the way they reacted to Gareth.  Culann understood now.  Jonas must get angry a lot like Gareth.

“I think you’ve been standing too near the target, Sir Culann.  Come back here.  Right there.  Good.  Looks far away?”

“Yes, sir.”

Jonas knelt on one knee beside him.  “Take your bow.  No arrow.  Draw back.”  Jonas watched him carefully.  “Once more.”  Jonas ran his hand along Culann’s left arm. “I know you broke your arm when you were three.”

“You do?”  Culann’s head jerked up.

“Does it still hurt?”  Culann shook his head.  “Let’s see how you move it.”  Culann moved his wrist up and down then around.  “That’s good, sir.  You don’t need as much flexibility for a shield as you do for a bow.  Now.”  He took Culann’s left hand and positioned it on the bow.  “Like this.  Good.  Keep your hand like that.  The wrist looser.  Good.”  Then he positioned Culann’s right hand on the bowstring.  “Draw it.  A little more.  Good.  Now try the same positions with an arrow in the bow.”  Jonas adjusted the boy’s hand slightly and then he stood up.

“Wow!” Culann exclaimed as the arrow bit deeply into the target.

Culann squinted up at Jonas.  “This isn’t a secret, is it?  I can show it to the other boys?”  Jonas nodded.  “I can show this to Gareth when he comes back?”

Jonas nodded again.  I was rather hoping you would, Sir Culann.

“Thank you, Jonas.”  Culann held out his right hand.  “If I have this much control and distance with my long bow, Gareth will have to let me try a crossbow.”

Just as I said, my lord, this boy was born to use a bow.  It will be very good to have one of the Lord’s sons with Tairne’s bows, Jonas thought.

“I’ll stop by tomorrow, Sir Culann, to see how you’re doing.”  Jonas moved away to watch the other boys.

Focused on his bow, the arrows, and the target, Culann was no longer paying attention to Jonas or to anything else.  He shot one arrow and took another small step backward.  Come on, Culann, he encouraged.  You can do it!  You’ll be a legend.  Sir Culann of Tairne, the best bow in the world.  The best bow who ever lived!  Yes!  Another arrow hit the target.  Culann stepped back again.

“Ow!” Brandon yelled.  “Why don’t you look where you’re going, Culann?”  Brandon pushed Culann forward.

“Me!”  Culann whirled around.  He wanted to shove Brandon, but Brandon was bigger.  I’m not a coward, he told himself, but if I fight with Brandon, Gareth won’t be pleased when he finds out.  It won’t make any difference who started it.  Culann remembered Gareth yelling in a tone of such cold fury it froze the blood in Culann’s veins at two men – men! – who’d been settling a private dispute on the practice field.  If he’d yell at the men, Gareth would probably rip a boy’s head off.  Anyway, if I fight with Brandon, he’ll never lend me his crossbow.

“I’m sorry, Brandon.  I didn’t see you behind me.  I don’t have eyes in the back of my head like Gareth does.”

Brandon grinned at Culann’s apt description of their elder brother, caught himself, and growled a little, “See that it doesn’t happen again.”

See that you don’t stand behind me, Brandon.  Culann swallowed the words before they could reach his mouth.  “I’m sorry, Brandon.”  Culann kept his eyes on the crossbow lying on the ground next to Brandon’s feet. “It won’t happen again.”

“I didn’t expect you to move so far back from the target, Culann.  You didn’t yesterday or the day before.”

“I know.  Jonas taught me how to hold my hands in a better way. It worked.  And it isn’t a secret.  I can show you.”

“Jonas?”  Brandon jammed his fists onto his hips.  “Jonas never messes with the boys.  He won’t even speak to the new bows until they’ve fought with him for two years.   He doesn’t even hunt with anyone but the best bows.  But right.”  Brandon sneered, “He’s showing a seven-year-old how to hold his bow.”

“I’m almost eight.  He was here,” Culann insisted.  He looked around for the other boys who’d been present when Jonas was on the practice field, but they were all gone, replaced by others.  Brandon was late again.

“You’re a liar, Culann.”  Brandon kicked a clump of dirt on Culann’s boots.

“Am not!”  Culann’s outrage throbbed in the words.

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“A filthy little liar!”  Brandon spat the words.

Culann’s left hand formed a fist and his right hand dropped his bow and formed a fist, too.  Furious, he couldn’t hear Gareth’s words in his head warning him.  He pulled back his arm as hard as he drew the bow and punched Brandon in the stomach.

Completely unprepared for the attack and not prepared for the force of the blow that knocked all the wind out of him, Brandon staggered back a few steps.

“Take it back, Brandon!” Culann yelled.

“Will not,” Brandon gasped.  Brandon swung hard at Culann’s jaw, but Culann ducked and the blow hit Culann hard in the shoulder.  He staggered back, leapt forward, and threw himself at Brandon.  The boys fell and, swinging and kicking, rolled around the ground.

Hmm, Lord Shoban thought as he folded his arms over the small crossbow he was carrying and watched the fight.

Brandon rolled on top of Culann, who squirmed and kicked under his brother’s weight, held one hand on Culann’s throat, and drew back his right fist.

Shoban considered for a moment, but then ordered, “Don’t do it, Brandon.”

Brandon’s arm froze in the air.  He stared into Culann’s eyes and he saw his own fear.  Brandon dropped his hand and stood up.  “My lord.”  He bowed.

After Culann scrambled to his feet, Brandon nudged him with his elbow.  “My lord,” Culann panted.  When he bowed, the pain made him wince.

“It makes no difference to me if you boys want to fight.  Builds character.  But you, Sir Brandon, were going to break your brother’s nose.  That can cause permanent damage.  I’m the one who decides how badly Culann’s hurt.  The same way I decide for you, boy.

“Be grateful your brother put up such a good fight.  He’s smaller and younger than you are and it will be very dangerous for you to exhibit a tendency toward cowardice.

“You’re dismissed, boy.  Ask Maudie to take a look at your eye.”

“My eye?”  Brandon’s hand went up, but even before he touched it, he felt how tender it was.  “Yes, my lord.”

With longing, Culann’s eyes followed Brandon.

“Come here, son.”

Swallowing hard, Culann walked forward.  He was glad his nose wasn’t broken, but it was the only, the only thing he was glad about.  He thoroughly regretted everything else, and his stomach started to hurt when he realized he’d probably have cause to regret this even more in the near future, maybe for the rest of his life.  Even if the Lord didn’t mind his fighting, Maudie and Gareth would.  Culann dropped his head.

“Look at me, boy!”

Culann raised his head.

“Jonas tells me you’d like a crossbow, but Gareth won’t let you have one.”

“Yes, my lord.  No, my lord.”  Culann bit his lower lip and a flash of pain seared his face.

“Did Gareth say why?”

Culann blinked back tears.  “He said a crossbow is a dangerous weapon.  When I’m eigh, he’ll let me have one.  I’m almost eight, but almost doesn’t count with Gareth.”

Half of Shoban’s mouth curved up.  “When you’re eight, Culann, I want you starting with a sword.  Here’s your crossbow.”  Shoban handed him the bow.

“Thank you, my lord.”  The tears and pain disappeared and the eye that wasn’t swollen shut sparkled.

“I was going to show you how to use this, Culann, but your left eye looks bad.  Gareth’s right.  A crossbow is a dangerous weapon.  You have to be able to see to use it.  When the eye starts to heal, I’ll teach you.”

“Yes, my lord.”  Culann ran his hand over the fine wood.  “This is very fine work, my lord.”

“I know that, Culann.  You’re dismissed.  See Maudie about your eye.”

“Yes, my lord.  Thank you.”

Buoyed by the present from his father who’d never given him anything before, Culann started to run off the field until each step made his eye hurt.  He slowed down.  By the time he reached the back door to the kitchen, he had to drag each foot along.  When he pressed down on the latch, he hoped the door was locked so he wouldn’t be able to open it, but it swung open smoothly.  Then he hoped that Maudie wouldn’t notice him, but she was waiting for him.  Then he hoped he wouldn’t cry.

“Get up on the table,” Maudie ordered sternly.

Bracing himself for a scolding, Culann climbed on the table, but Maudie didn’t say anything while she tended his eye and the other cuts.

“Don’t touch that eye with your hands, Culann.”

“No, Maudie.”  His good eye studied her face.

“Off with you now.”

“You aren’t going to scold me?”  Culann put his hand on his mouth.  Why did I say that?

“You certainly deserve a good one, young man.  Fighting!  You know better.  Sir Brandon is your brother.  But, we’ve had word that Sir Gareth is a two days’ ride from the castle.  When he sees that eye, I think he’ll scold you enough.”

“He’s going to yell,” Culann said in a small voice.

“Most likely,” Maudie agreed.  “I’m not pleased with your behavior, Culann.  Sir Gareth left you in my care.”

“I’m sorry, Maudie.”  Studying the stern expression on her face, Culann searched for something to take her mind off his fight.  Suddenly, he remembered.  “Where’s Durga?”

“She left.”  The minute my back was turned.

“Do you always have a baby when you fall down the stairs?”

“No, Culann, falling had nothing to do with it.”

Maudie prepared herself for a barrage of questions, but Culann said simply, “I didn’t think so because Sinead had a baby and there are no stairs in her house.  May I have something to eat now, Maudie, I’m very hungry.”

“Put the crossbow away in your room first.  And be careful with it.”

“I will.  Honest.  The Lord gave this to me, Maudie.”

I wonder what other dangerous thing your father is going to give you, probably without training you properly.  I wish Sir Gareth were back.

“When I’m eight, he’s going to give me a sword!”

********

“Ferghus!” the Lord yelled.  “Food!” he ordered when the servant appeared.  “Why isn’t my midday meal up?”

“Durga’s in your bedroom.”

Haven’t seen that wench for a while.  Clothilde’s been keeping her very busy.  I wonder why.  Shoban chuckled to himself.  “Bring up food for two then.”

Three, Ferghus thought.  “Yes, my lord.”

Shoban arched his back and stretched.  When he felt an erection start, he rubbed himself.  Like her, do you, boy?

“I hope you haven’t undressed, Durga.  I’m going to do that for you,” he announced as he walked into his room.  He stopped.

Durga’s fine chestnut hair was disheveled; her face marred with bruises.  Completely dressed, she was holding something in her arms that looked surprisingly like –.  “What is that?” he growled.

Durga straightened herself up and declared proudly, “This is your son, Lord Shoban.”

“My son!”  Shoban laughed without humor.  “Your bastard isn’t mine, Durga.”

To her horror, Durga watched his face and eyes harden.  She tried again.  “He is, my lord.”  She pulled the blanket back.  “See?  He has your hair and eyes.”

“Your bastard isn’t mine, wench,” the Lord repeated.  “You know the law as well as I do.”

“Yes, Lord Shoban.”  Durga’s eyes flashed at him.  “But he’s as much yours as the others.  I brought him here so you could claim him.”

“I don’t.  You’re dismissed.”  Shoban walked back into his sitting room.  “Good.  The food’s up.  Smells wonderful.  I think I’ll have some of that dark ale, Ferghus.”

Glancing smugly at Durga, Ferghus poured the ale.

The baby stirred in Durga’s arms, opened bright blue eyes, and closed them again.  Ignoring the child, Durga stalked up to the Lord’s table.  “If you don’t claim him, my lord, I’ll kill him.  Stick him through the heart or drown him in the river.”

Shoban leaned back in his chair.  “Why do you think I care how you dispose of your bastard, girl?”  Shoban drained the ale and then smiled coldly at her.  “Take care, though.  See you don’t get caught.  The penalty in Tairne for murder is death by any means I choose.  So bury the body deep where no one will find it.  If this is brought to my attention, I’ll be tempted to let the Lady of Tairne choose the way you’ll die.”

“I thought you loved me, Lord Shoban.”  Tears sprang into Durga’s eyes.

“Love a servant?”  His lip curling with disdain, Shoban cut a piece of the roasted lamb, rubbed it in the mint jelly.  “Your presence is interfering with my digestion.  Show her out, Ferghus.  Women!” the Lord muttered.  Then he smiled.  The lamb was very tasty.

Book 1: Chapter 33

[Wherein Lord Shoban’s plots snare Gareth.]

When the road began to ascend to Roarke’s castle, Alaric’s droning about trade routes and sugar beets became as irritating as a gnat caught in Gareth’s ear.  Unfortunately, the man knew nothing about the Lord of Penvale’s plans or was clever at withholding information.  Gareth shook his head slightly.  Alaric was not a clever man.

The moment the heir to Tairne and his entourage entered Roarke’s courtyard, Lord Denndred, flanked by his sons Fenndred and the boy Ethred, started down the steps.  The absence of his ladies announced as loudly as a trumpet blast that Lord Denndred didn’t consider this a social visit.

“Sir Gareth,” Denndred said as soon as the men had dismounted.  “I’d like to meet with you right now.  Fenndred and Ethred will offer my hospitality to your men and the Lord of Penvale’s son.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

“Good.  Come with me then.”  Gareth followed the Lord of Roarke through his entrance hall and down a corridor.  A servant pulled open a large oak door, bowed, and closed the door tightly behind them.

“Sit down, Sir Gareth.”  It wasn’t an invitation, but an order, and Gareth bristled a little.  No food nor drink graced Denndred’s table.

Denndred watched Gareth noting the absence of hospitality and then he pulled out a chair and sat facing him.

“We can be coy about this, Sir Gareth, and sit here drinking or we can be straight.  I want to be straight.  I expected the Lord of Tairne, not one of his sons.”

“The Lord has pressing matters to attend to in Tairne.  They needed his presence, but he didn’t want to keep you and your daughter waiting, uncertain.”

“And so, you come two months after your brother was wounded?”

“We waited to see if the wound could heal.  It will not.  Although death comes to every man and no one knows the time, Shoban the Younger faces certain death within the year.”

“Tairne thinks this releases him from the bond of his word?”

Damn you, Lord Shoban.  “The Lord of Tairne did not believe you’d want your daughter married to a man who’s almost dead.  He releases you out of respect for Roarke and the lady.  You’re free now to form another alliance.  The lady is free to marry a man who can give her a long life as Lady of some land.  I believe that’s what you wanted for Phidia.”

The expression on Denndred’s face tightened.  “Shoban is not Tairne’s only son.”

“But I am bound by Lord Shoban’s word to Penvale.  The bond was formal before my brother was wounded.”

“But you’re not married yet, Sir Gareth.”

“Formally betrothed.  It carries equal weight.  Do you want me to insist the marriage with Shoban the Younger go on as planned?  I warn you, though, my brother cannot perform any of his husbandly duties.  He’ll leave no son to secure Lady Phidia’s position in Tairne.”

Denndred sat back, stretched his arm along the armrest of his chair.  “My Phidia’s beauty outshines the sun and the stars, Sir Gareth.  Rose of Penvale’s but a pale moonbeam in comparison.  Your father loves you well, sir, you could persuade him.”

“The Lord of Tairne values nothing higher than his word, Lord Denndred.  I could not persuade him to break his word to Penvale.”  Gareth carefully lowered his eyes.

“I see.  You’ve already tried.”

With a heartfelt apology to Rose, Gareth let the Lord of Roarke believe what he wanted to.

“There’s no help for this then.  Penvale’s a friend.  The decision had to be Tairne’s, not mine.  Express my regrets to Lord Shoban on his loss.  My thanks that he frees me.  You’ll leave for Penvale in the morning,” Denndred ordered.

“If that’s what you wish, Lord Denndred.”

“It is.”

Gareth stood up and bowed.  You are a very foolish man, Lord Denndred, he thought, to insult the Lord of Tairne.

********

Return to Penvale in the morning.  Oh yes, Sir Gareth.  Yes, sir.  Yes.  Yes.  Yes.  Arnald couldn’t prevent the joy that was tickling inside him from bubbling up into a bawdy song that escaped from his pursed lips in a jaunty, pleasant whistle.  Suddenly, the whistle died and Arnald laid out all the words he was going to say to Sir Gareth as carefully as he laid out Sir Gareth’s clothes and boots.

Elayne’s sparkling dark eyes peeked into his head.  Arnald lost his train of thought, forgot the words.  So, when Sir Gareth walked into the room, Arnald didn’t know what to say.  “M-m-m-may I speak with you, Sir Gareth,” he stuttered.

“You certainly may.”  You will be the only one who is speaking to me this evening.  “What’s on your mind?”  Gareth removed his sword and sat down to take off his boots.

What if the man says, “no,” Arnald.  Arnald knelt down to help Sir Gareth with his boots.  He glanced up at Sir Gareth’s drawn, tired face.  He wasn’t angry though.  Arnald, my man, nothing ventured; nothing gained.

“We’ve not spoken of this, Sir Gareth.  Well, we were both young when I went into your service.  How would you feel, sir, if I married?”

“You want to marry?  Aren’t you still a little too young?”

“Not so young,” Arnald huffed.  “I don’t want to marry tomorrow.”  Carefully adjusting his tone of voice, Arnald continued, “But, if I have your permission to marry, I can begin to court the woman.”

“You’re certain about this?” Gareth asked.

Placing his hand over his heart, Arnald assured Sir Gareth, “As certain as I’ve ever been of anything in my life.”

“And you’ll still be able to perform your duties?”

“All of them, Sir Gareth.  And with a light, happy heart, if the woman says, ‘yes.’”

The answer surprised Gareth.  Arnald was usually a careful, thoughtful man, but there was no sign in his face or voice of the heavy responsibility he was going to take on.

Sir Gareth’s hesitation made Arnald draw himself up.  “I have served you well and loyally, I believe, Sir Gareth.  Never given you cause for complaint.  I owe you a debt I will always honor.”

When Arnald drew in another breath, Gareth said quickly, “You have my permission, Arnald.”

“Thank you, Sir Gareth.”  Arnald shook Gareth’s hand warmly.

“You’ll let me know when the wedding’s to be?”

“If and when.  Elayne has to agree.  It won’t be for at least a year when Elayne and Lady Rose come to live in Tairne.”

“This Elayne, is she my lady’s maid?”

“She is, Sir Gareth.”  The song was starting in his head again so Arnald gathered Sir Gareth’s things quickly before the song could reach his lips.

********

“Sir Gareth.”  His name was whispered low, but it woke him.

He blinked his eyes until they adjusted to the bright candlelight and then he bolted upright, threw the covers over his naked body, and backed against the wall.  The candles threw a midnight blue sheen on Phidia’s long, thick black hair that fell around her.  Her face was pale and her lips dark red in contrast.  Speechless, Gareth stared at her.

“Don’t you find me lovely, Sir Gareth.  Desirable?”  She moved closer to the bed and Gareth tried to back through the stones in the wall.

What are you doing here, Phidia? he wanted to ask even though the question wasn’t necessary.  One look at her transparent nightdress answered it.

“I want you, Gareth.  If you’re worried about my father, don’t be.  I’m here at his command.”

“Are you?”  Gareth’s fury completely erased his embarrassment.  “Then your father is a knave as well as a fool.”

Phidia stepped back.

“If you leave immediately, you have my word that I won’t tell the Lord of Tairne about Roarke’s rude treatment of Tairne’s next lord.”

“Rude?” Phidia’s eyes flamed like the candles.  “He’s offered you his daughter, sir.”

“He’s tricked us both, my lady.  I’m betrothed to Rose of Penvale.  The betrothal formal.  Did the Lord of Roarke tell you that?”

“No.” The candle flame leapt and twisted with each of her deep breaths before Phidia whirled around and, without a backward glance, walked away.

For a while her ghostly apparition hovered in the room before it shredded and faded.  Gareth punched his fist hard into the soft feather pillow.

********

“Will you, please, hold that branch down for me, Gareth?”

Dutifully, Gareth stood up and walked over to the tree to pull down the branch.  With one eye on his brooding expression, Rose snipped at the buds.

“What happened in Roarke, Gareth?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”  Rose’s dark eyes searched his face.

“Nothing.”

“Then it’s me.”  Rose dropped the shears into her basket and stooped to arrange the flowers.

“You?”  When Gareth let the branch go, it shot back up and showered them with deep purple petals.

“Yes,” she said without looking at him.  “Apparently, after spending one day with Phidia, you no longer think my spirit catches life like a jewel or that my dark eyes are an entrance into another world.  You prefer eyes that are gray and a cooler spirit.”

“That’s not it, Rose,” he protested.

“No?”  She did look up then.  “You haven’t touched me since you returned and you’ve barely spoken to me.  You’re here now as if it were a painful duty.”  Gareth’s eyebrows went up with surprise.  “I won’t pain you any longer, Sir Gareth.”

Shocked to find tears filling her eyes, Rose stood up and tried to move down the path, but Gareth blocked her way.  He took the basket from her, put it down, and curved his arms around her.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Rose.  How can you think that after I’d given my love to you, I could take it back and give it to another?”  Closing his eyes, Gareth stroked her hair.

“Phidia is very beautiful,” Rose sniffed.

“But not like you, Rose.  No woman is as beautiful as you are.”

Careful not to move outside his embrace, Rose leaned back a little so she could see his face.  She thought to catch a lie, but his eyes were truthful.  “Then what are you brooding about?”

“Something is going on between Penvale and Roarke.  And I think Tairne.  If I knew what it was, I wouldn’t be brooding.”

“Our time together is so short, Gareth.  Can’t you brood later?”

“I wish I could, my lady, but your safety depends on my keeping one step ahead of the Lord of Tairne.  Right now, I’m two steps behind.”

Rose reached up to smooth the worry from his face, but she couldn’t.

Book 1: Chapter 32

[Wherein love snares Sir Gareth.]

Watching the curtains around her bed billowing in a gentle breeze, Lady Rose of Penvale brushed her thick hair away from her face, settled her head deeper into the feather pillows, and thought of Sir Gareth.  Her memory supplied a face whose features were blurred except for the eyes, bright blue like a cloudless summer sky.  Thick, black curly hair and beard.

The beard and mustache framed a pair of lips.  Odd, she could not recall the shape of those lips, but she felt them again touching her own.  Firm yet soft, parted slightly.  He’d said he’d never kissed a woman before.  Yet, there had been no hunger in his lips.  Hesitant.  No, that wasn’t the right word.  Respectful?  That wasn’t the right word, either.  Appreciative?  Yes.  Rose fingered a lock of her long hair.  Warm yet careful.  Responsive.  He let me start each kiss.  Rose bolted upright.  That was the truth.  He never kissed me, not once.  Oh, lord!  And my letter.  He didn’t bother to answer my letter where I poured out my longing.  Rose felt her face growing warm and her hands turning cold.  He gave you his word he’d try to be a good husband, but he’d never said he’d fall in love with you, Rose.  His kisses were dutiful.

I gave him a lock of my hair the way a lover would.  He must have thought me very foolish or young.  Why did I do it?  No wonder he didn’t know what to say when I stupidly presented it to him.  “I don’t know what to say, Rose.”  Her enthusiasm for Gareth’s visit started to dwindle.

As she swung her legs over the bed, she thought, at least I won’t have to walk around all day with my insides fluttering or wait impatiently for him to arrive.  It can be merely an ordinary day.  She walked over to the window and leaned out.  Very beautiful, but a day like any other.

********

As he looked around the empty courtyard, Sir Gareth of Tairne told himself, you’ve arrived too early in the day.   The Lord of Penvale is going to think you’re an eager puppy.  Damn.

Suddenly, the castle door burst open and a stream of servants followed by the Lord and the Lady of Penvale poured down the stairs, but Gareth’s eyes searched for Rose and he was surprised by the sharp disappointment he felt when he didn’t see her.  Remember, he warned himself, you are to pay close attention to the Lord of Penvale not his daughter.  But where is she?  Still asleep, most likely.  He shook his head.  Not on such a fine summer’s day.  You weren’t expected this early, Gareth, she’s probably out riding.

Carefully removing the look of glee from his face and replacing it with a solemn expression, Cedric extended his hand to Gareth of Tairne.  When Gareth held out his own hand, Cedric clasped it firmly and felt Tairne’s seal ring.  It’s true then.  Excellent.  Everything’s going as planned, better than planned.

“Welcome to Penvale, Sir Gareth.  We heard a rumor that Sir Shoban was mortally wounded.  I hope it was a rumor, nothing more.”

“It’s the truth, Lord Cedric.  My brother lives, but he’s not expected to live much longer.  The Lord of Tairne has named me his successor.”

“A terrible sorrow.”  Cedric lowered his head so Gareth couldn’t see the pleasure in his eyes.  “But a comfort to your father.”  Cedric patted Gareth’s hand.  “That he has you, sir, to carry on Tairne’s honor.”

“I still hope, Lord Cedric, my brother will mend.”

“And that’s Penvale’s hope as well.”  Cedric opened one arm to the other men.  “You are all welcome as my guests.”

Curving his arm around Gareth’s shoulders, Cedric shepherded him into the castle.  “The servants will show you to your rooms.  After you rest, Gareth, you might like to see Rose.  She’s in her garden.  Isn’t she, Lilia?”

“She is,” Lilia answered curtly and then poised herself to run to the garden and warn Rose and Doria.  It was so like one of the Tairne boys to arrive when Rose was under Doria’s protection, the defenses weak, and Rose vulnerable.

“Rose’s garden in the summer, Gareth, is a lovely spot.”

“I don’t want to intrude on her, my lord.  The morning was so fine; the ride an easy one.  I fear we arrived too early.”

“Nonsense.  You’re family, Gareth.  Rose has talked of nothing for days but your longed-for arrival.”

Before he could stop it, Gareth felt his face soften with pleasure.

“You wouldn’t want to disappoint the lady.”

“No, my lord, I wouldn’t.”  To Gareth’s dismay, he felt his heartbeat quicken in anticipation.

“I’ll say no more and see you at midday.”  Cedric curved his arm around Lilia’s waist and tightened the grip.  “You know where the garden is.”  Cedric raised his free hand toward the main staircase.

“I do, my lord.  I’ll take my leave.”  Gareth forced himself to walk slowly up the stairs.

“Whatever you’re planning, Lilia,” Cedric growled out of the corner of his mouth.  “Forget it.  You’ll stay with me for a while.  Rose’s virginity is not worth losing Tairne.  He leaves for Roarke, don’t forget, and Phidia’s there.  I wouldn’t be surprised to discover Lord Shoban’s given him permission to choose Phidia if he wants.  But I don’t want Roarke, allied with Tairne, snapping at my southern border.  Shoban married to Roarke, Gareth married to Penvale was a balance.  That balance is gone.”  Cedric glanced around to make sure they were alone, and then he turned around to face Lilia.

“I want you to speak to Rose.  I expect her to encourage his advances.  Take him into her bed if he wants it.  Don’t think that once Roarke’s learned about Shoban, he won’t throw Phidia into Gareth’s bed.  You’ve seen Phidia and you’ve seen Rose.  No man would pass up flawless beauty for our Rose unless he’s bound to her by words and deeds.”

********

Alone with Arnald, Gareth tugged off his dirty boots, and then tore off his dusty hose, tunic, and undershirt.  He cupped his hands and washed the grime from his face and beard.

“My formal tunic?  No, that’s not right for morning.”

“No, sir, it isn’t.  I’ve laid out something more suitable.”

Gareth dried his face and arms, touched the locket with his fingertips, and walked over to the bed.  He looked at the dark brown linen hose and the tunic of unbleached linen.  “What’s this, Arnald?”

“Suitable clothing for the morning, Sir Gareth.”  Arnald straightened his shoulders.

“These aren’t mine.”

“They are, sir.”

“I didn’t order them made.”

Arnald moved down to the end of the bed to finish unpacking.  “I assumed that was only because you’ve been too busy, Sir Gareth.  I took the liberty of ordering them for you.”

“What?”  Sir Gareth’s eyes hardened and so did Arnald’s.

“I understand you’re to be the next Lord of Tairne, Sir Gareth.  You needed attire that suits your new position.”

Gareth ran his right hand through his damp hair.  Tairne’s ring snagged on a curl and he carefully moved his hand back before he lowered it.  “You’re right, Arnald.  And you have my thanks.”

Unwilling to let the argument go so easily, Gareth insisted, “You didn’t spend your own silver for these, did you?”

“No, sir, I didn’t.  It seems that you’ve an open account with the weavers and tailors that the Lord settles twice a year.”

“Splendid,” Gareth groused.  Why the hell wasn’t I told about this arrangement?  Gareth snatched the pair of hose from the bed and starting dressing.  The Lord means to keep you off balance.  He’s using everything against you.  Everything.  Gareth pulled the undershirt over his head.

Watching Sir Gareth’s angry movements, Arnald decided not to mention how accidentally he had discovered this fact.  “I know it was a liberty, Sir Gareth.  If you don’t like anything, I’ll return it.”

Gareth ran his hand down the linen tunic, a weave so fine it felt as smooth as silk.  Arnald knows about cloth; his mother is a weaver.  “I hope you ordered this from your mother.”

“I did, Sir Gareth.”

“The weave is very fine.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Arnald took a cloth bundle from the traveling chest and handed it to Sir Gareth.  “Here’s the book you brought for Lady Rose.”

“Ah yes, the book.” Gareth ran his hands along his thighs before he took the bundle.  He cleared his throat.  “I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

“It will take me awhile to settle in, sir.”

When Arnald walked determinedly away, Gareth sighed.  There’s a slight possibility, Gareth, that you won’t be able to find the garden.  Then you can see her at the midday meal when everyone is around.  Even though that cowardly thought snared his mind, Gareth’s body moved quickly and surely toward Rose’s garden.

He started down the path of crushed shells, but when he heard the voices, he stopped.

“I think four baskets are more than enough, Rose,” Doria argued.

“Don’t you think Sir Gareth might like an arrangement in his sitting room?  Something simple.  A small vase of – wild roses, perhaps.”

“I’ve never met a man who cared a whit for flowers, Rose.”

Very quietly, Gareth moved around the bend in the path and he stopped again.  One hand on her hip, her shears waving in the other hand, Rose was far more beautiful than he had remembered.  In his thoughts, she had grown ethereal, but she was solid and real now.  Her thick blonde hair, very golden in the sunlight, had escaped from her braid but caught petals and leaves in its softness, the same softness he’d felt every morning and every evening when he’d opened the locket.  She brushed it absentmindedly away from her face with the hand that held the shears.  Her cheek dimpled and Gareth felt his knees weaken though he didn’t know why.

As if she felt him gazing at her, she turned to face him.  Her lips moved.  “There’s Sir Gareth now, why don’t we ask him?”  Her lips stopped moving.  The shears dropped to the ground.  Her hand went up to her slender throat that wasn’t circled by the row of diamonds but the silver chain supporting the blood red garnet.

Instantly, Rose forgot they weren’t lovers, were only a man and a woman bound by duty to marry one another.  As they watched her, his eyes looked warm and willing.  She forgot, too, that his kisses were dutiful.  What she remembered now was the way they’d stirred something inside her.  She forgot her mother’s warnings about proper behavior.  “Gareth!” she exclaimed and ran down the path and into his arms.  This time, he was kissing her and not very dutifully.

“Oh!”  She moved away to catch her breath.

Gareth’s eyes caressed her as passionately as hers caressed him.  “I love you, Rose,” he said even before he knew he’d opened his mouth to speak.  “And I have missed you.”  His knees felt weaker, but now, she was here to help him.

Rose touched his cheek.  “I love you, too, Gareth.  Thought of you so often.”

This can’t be true, Gareth, his mind argued.  You barely know one another.  Yet, like that moment right before the battle when he drained his mind and let his body take control, at this moment, his body seemed definitely wiser than his mind.

Shocked, Doria watched the expressions on their faces that drank one another in so deeply the rest of the world disappeared.  That man is in love with her, she thought bitterly.  When Gareth’s head bent down again, Doria cleared her throat once and then louder.

Gareth raised his head and stared at her with unseeing eyes that suddenly focused.  He dropped his arms. “Lady Doria, I beg your pardon.  I thought we were alone.”  And that seemed true, though he’d heard the voices.

“That’s very clear, Sir Gareth.”  Smiling stiffly, she looped the handles of the two baskets over her arms.

“Please, don’t leave on my account.”

Rose said absolutely nothing, but her expression said clearly, “Leave, Doria.”  There was no “please” in her eyes.

“I must, sir.  We’ve finished here and I have other duties to attend to.”

“I’ll wish you a good morning, my lady,” Gareth said a little too eagerly.  “I’ll see you at midday.”

“Good morning to you, sir.”

Gareth beamed a slightly foolish, benevolent smile at her before he moved out of her way.

“See your mother understands the choice is yours, Rose, not mine,” Doria hissed into Rose’s ear.

“I will, Doria.”  Rose watched Doria walked along the curve in the path and listened to her footsteps until they faded.  “Oh lord!” she exclaimed, “I must look a sight.”  She smoothed her hand along her apron.

“You do, Rose.”  Gareth brushed a petal from her hair.  “The most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”

Believing him completely – she could see the truth of his words in his eyes – she still protested, “My hair’s a mess.”

“Yes,” he agreed and put his face into her messy hair.

“I really meant you to see me gowned and jeweled when you came down for supper.”  Rose laughed at herself.  You ruined my plan.  But I like yours better.”

“It really wasn’t much of a plan, Rose,” he admitted.  “I rode too hard.  We arrived too early.  And I looked far too eager.  It was a bad move on my part.  But, I was eager.  And now, I don’t really care.  I’ll worry about it later.  Can we sit down?  I have something for you.”

“Why can’t you appear eager, Gareth?  I think it’s charming.”  Rose sat down and smoothed her skirt.

“My men think I look weak.  Thinking about you distracts me.”

“You were thinking about me?”  She grinned.

“Far too often, I’m afraid.  I’ve been reprimanded several times.  Though very respectfully, of course.  No one wants to anger the next lord.”  The words brought a wintry breeze into the summer garden and Gareth turned his head away.

“Oh, Gareth, I am so sorry.  I forgot about your brother.  How is he?”

His face saddened, he turned back to her.  “Very ill.  Dying, though I don’t want to admit that.  I know this improves our fortune, but I didn’t want this, Rose.”

“No, Gareth, I don’t think you did.”  Rose put her hand on his and left it there.

“I have to ride to Roarke with the bad news.  That shortens my visit in Penvale, I’m afraid.  I’ll stop on my way back to Tairne,” he added quickly.  “I am pleased my father’s word to the Lord of Penvale was firm and I’m not forced to marry Phidia.”

“Forced to marry, Phidia,” Rose echoed.  Her stomach fluttered.  “You want to marry me, not Phidia?”

Gazing at her face, Gareth’s blue eyes warmed.  “I rather like the bargain we struck.  You asked for very little, Rose – no beatings, a chance to read and swim, and your performances.  Phidia, I’m certain would demand gowns, jewels, and a gaggle of maidservants.  Refraining from beating you will cost me nothing.  Ink and paper.  Not such a big expense.  You told me the scenery and costumes were made from odds and ends.  You won’t strain my treasury at all.”

Gareth smiled wickedly and then his face grew serious.  He touched her cheek and then her hair.  “I want you, Rose, only you.  Your spirit catches life like a fine, well-cut gem catches the light, magnifies it.  You’re dangerous, I know.  Your dark eyes are so deep, they seem like the entrance to another world and I might get lost there.  But I don’t mind or only a little.  I’ll never know you and that frightens me.  Thrills me, too, that I can watch you unfold like the petals of a flower until the day I die.  I don’t know how to explain it, Rose.  I spend very busy days, but now they seem empty without you.”

Astounded that Gareth had said so many words – and very lovely ones, too – all at one time, Rose stared at him intensely.  “I’m frightened, too, Gareth, and thrilled.”  She leaned forward to kiss him again.  He was right; this was another world where the light was jeweled and she was melting into it.

“Rose,” he mumbled and moved his lips away.

“What?” she cooed.

I’m finding this much too arousing and I have strict orders not to get you pregnant, he thought.  “I need to catch my breath,” he said.

“Oh.”  To her surprise, Rose saw that somehow she’d managed to crawl on top of him, but it had felt so very good to press her body against his.  She leaned back a little and Gareth removed her hand from his thigh.  He sat up.  She sat back.  She looked into his eyes and then lowered hers.  When she raised her eyes again, he looked into hers and then lowered his.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked.

“No.  No, you didn’t.”  He turned away from her, put his hands on his knees.  His knuckles whitened.  “Since I was eight years old my father trained me to be a man like he is.  The next Lord of Tairne.  In the race between my brother and myself, I don’t think my father ever cared who’d win.  I war, Rose, and I prepare to war.  It’s all I do.  And it doesn’t leave me much time to think of other things.  I always knew I’d marry.”  He glanced at her.  “I knew I wouldn’t get to choose the bride nor the time.  I was expecting that.  What I never expected.  Never.  Was that I’d fall in love.  That I’d want you so much.”

“And you didn’t really want that.”  Rose’s voice was without inflection.

“No, I never did.  I’m off guard now, weakened.  Yet, I’d kill anyone, gladly without a second thought, who tried to take this away from me.

“A little while ago, I offended Lady Doria.  She’s the wife of the next Lord of Penvale.  It was a dangerous thing to do, Rose.  I’m frightened because I didn’t care.  Still don’t.  Your touch seems all the world, even though I know it’s not.”

“I’m the one who threw myself shamelessly at you.”  Rose smiled and her cheek dimpled.

Gareth closed his eyes to capture that dimple in his soul.

“Are you saying we should be more discreet?”

“Yes, we should, but I’m shocked because I don’t want to.  I thought I knew myself.  I don’t any more.  I am unprepared for this.”

“And you’re a man who likes to feel guarded and prepared.”

Gareth nodded.

“Maybe, Sir Gareth, there are some things in life you can’t be prepared for.

“Maybe.”

“I don’t think Doria will mind, but I’ll speak to her.”  Rose lowered her eyes.  “I wasn’t prepared for this either, Gareth.”

Gareth smiled then.  “This is for you.”  He handed her the book.

Smiling back to him, she opened the wrapping and found the mate to the book, he’d already given her, bound in the finest calfskin, beautifully illustrated, and written in a perfect hand.  “You mean to spoil me.”  She lifted the cover and saw the pressed wild rose.  “And a flower from Tairne.”

“That’s not my doing,” he laughed.  “Culann was so pleased with the ships, he wanted to give you the finest thing he owned.  I cautioned him not to.  Right now his prized possessions are his toads.”

“I like toads.”

“You do?”  Gareth’s eyebrows went up.  “I didn’t know.  I assured him they’d never survive the trip.”

“Toads are very hardy, I believe.”  Rose grinned.

“Culann will be very pleased to hear you feel that way.”  Gareth smiled back.  “He assumes you’re fond of hair because of the locket and toyed with giving you a lock of his own.  But he hates having his hair cut so he settled on the rose.”

“Give him my thanks.”  Rose took Gareth’s hands again.  “I know you love him and I don’t want you to worry.  I’m prepared to love him, too.”

“Are you?”  Gareth leaned forward and kissed her lips.

********

“Ah!”  Lord Cedric settled back in his chair and linked his hands over his stomach.  His gaze went up and down his table and then rested on Rose speaking in her animated manner to Sir Gareth who was paying rapt attention to every word she said.  He couldn’t quite understand how his very plain daughter had managed to capture the man, but she had.  Cedric glanced at Jerret who was watching the young couple and looking not at all pleased.  Sir Gareth must have brought Rose back to Tairne with him.  Thoughts of her interfering with his duties?  It will be very good to have the next Lord of Tairne in Penvale’s pouch.

When Lilia started to get up, Cedric shook his head firmly at her.  I want Sir Gareth caught in Rose’s web before he leaves for Roarke tomorrow.  Maybe, Lord Shoban has given Sir Gareth a choice.

Shoban claims his word is firm, but his own father gave him the choice.  He chose Clothilde.  Now, she was a beauty.  Pale hair like flax and blue-gray eyes.  But, a cold one.  There was a rumor.  What was it?  Ah, she loved another not Shoban.  Still, she served him well as wife.  Six sons.  Six.  Cedric looked at Gareth whose face had relaxed with his laughter.  The man favors his father, but he has his mother’s nose.  Yes, Clothilde had a perfect nose.  Her profile was sculpted.  Painters and sculptors pleaded to do her likeness.  What was the name of her lover?  Cedric grinned.  Gareth!  That was the man’s name.  Gareth of Aylesbury.  Excellent.

“It’s getting late, Cedric,” Lilia hissed.  “I want to take the ladies up.  Rose is behaving shamefully.  Hanging all over, Sir Gareth.”

“Shameful?”  Cedric kept his voice low.  “She’s his betrothed.”

“They’re not married yet, Cedric.  Think of the scandal if Gareth dies or is wounded like his brother.”

“Think, Lilia, of the difficulties if Sir Gareth goes to Roarke and his affections turn to Denndred’s beauty.  Tell Rose I’m pleased with her.  Tell her to carry on with what she’s doing.  Damned if I know what it is, but she’s captured the man.  All right.  All right.”  He waved dismissively at his wife.  “Take the ladies up.”

Oh, bother, Rose thought when her mother stood up.  She leaned closer to Gareth.  “Come to my room after the men are finished, Gareth.”

“That is tempting, my lady.  I’ll see you in the morning, Rose.”  He meant to keep his voice firm, but it wavered.

“Good night then, Gareth.”  She took his hand and pressed it gently with her own.

“Good night, Rose.  Dream sweetly.”

She bent down and whispered in his ear.  “I will, Gareth, I’ll dream of you.”

“Come along, Rose,” Lilia ordered sharply.

Even though, he didn’t mean to, Gareth felt his eyes watching Rose until she was gone.

Cedric allowed him to watch her before he invited, “Move closer, Gareth.”

Gareth tensed a little.  His gaze moved across the table to Jerret and saw a warning underneath the indifference in the man’s expression.  Is something up?  Or is Jerret suggesting I keep alert?  Lord, this is annoying.  Gareth’s chair scraped back and then he moved down the table to the seat Lady Lilia had vacated on Lord Cedric’s right.

Servants arrived with Penvale’s mead.  The honey liquid flowed into the cups.

“You cut this visit short, Sir Gareth, and leave for Roarke tomorrow?”

“It seems fair, Lord Cedric, to release Roarke from his bond to Tairne.  The summer is a good time to seek another match for his daughter.”

“Honorable.”  Cedric raised his cup to Gareth and then drank the mead.  “And you, Sir Gareth, will merely bring Tairne’s message?  Not look to honor Tairne’s promise to Roarke yourself?”

So, this is what’s been on your mind, my lord.  “Lord Shoban’s word to Penvale is firm, Lord Cedric.  My brother had the choice between Penvale and Roarke, but the choice was also Lord Denndred’s.  He wanted no marriage with a second son.”

Galled you a bit, did it, Sir Gareth?  “It was his right as lord,” Cedric offered.  Stupid fool not to think circumstances might change.

“It was,” Gareth agreed.

“You were always my first choice, Sir Gareth.”

“I’m pleased to hear that, my lord.”

And keep that in mind, son, always.  “If you have no objection, I’d like Alaric to accompany you to Roarke.”

Gareth’s eyes sharpened and he gazed across the table at Penvale’s elder son.

“I want to send assurance of my friendship to Roarke.  He’ll be disappointed that his match with Tairne has been called off.  I want no hard feelings.  Sir Shoban’s wound was one of life’s tragedies.  A tragedy.”

“I look forward to Sir Alaric’s company, my lord.”

“Very good.”  Lord Cedric raised his hand and the servants poured more mead. Cedric steered the conversation away from women and onto his second, or perhaps, his favorite topic – war.

Alert now, Gareth paid careful attention to the Lord of Penvale until his words began to slur.  With careful assurances of his mead and hospitality in his absence, Lord Cedric stood up unsteadily and his sons helped him leave the dining hall.

For a while, Gareth and Tairne’s four retainers sat in silence.  Jerret swirled the mead in his cup and then drank it.  “The lords of Penvale and Roarke are great friends, Sir Gareth.”

“Yes, they are.  And how easily Lord Cedric moves from friendship to war.”

“My thoughts exactly, sir.  You’d best keep sharp tomorrow, Sir Gareth.  See what Sir Alaric knows.”

Considering how open he could be with Jerret, Gareth swirled the mead in his own cup, but he didn’t drink it.  Instead, he pushed the cup away.  “Not every son knows his father’s mind, Jerret.  Am I one of those sons?”  Damn Lord Shoban; he sent me blinded to Roarke.

“It’s possible, Sir Gareth.”  The gaze in Jerret’s light brown eyes was hard, but steady.  “I give you my word, sir, that if I knew something I would tell you.  Even trusted retainers don’t always know a lord’s mind.”  Jerret paused before he continued.  “How unfavorable for Tairne were the negotiations for Lady Phidia’s brideprice?”

“It hardly matters now.”

“I think it matters, Sir Gareth.”  Jerret stood up.  “I think it matters very much.  Like wounds, careless actions bleed.  Sometimes into the future.”

Gareth raised his eyes to Jerret’s face that seemed to offer a mirror to reflect Gareth’s stupidity back to him.  “I’m warned.  I’ll take care how I phrase the Lord of Tairne’s message to Roarke.”

“See you keep yourself out of this, Sir Gareth.”  Jerret stalked out of Penvale’s dining hall and one by one the other retainers bid Gareth good night and left.

I don’t put anything past the Lord.  Gareth shook his head.  But not this.  He wouldn’t do this.

Book 1: Chapter 31

[Wherein Sir Gareth learns how to use his new position.]

Stooping down in the mare’s stall, Culann carefully brushed Lake’s forelegs.  When he heard voices, he almost jumped up, but something about the tone of those voices warned him to stay still.

“Because,” Gavin explained impatiently, “There is more privacy here than in the kitchen and I want to speak with you.  Sir Gareth is leaving tomorrow.”

Even though Gavin had asked no question, Maudie replied curtly, “He is.”

“And that means that Sir Culann will be down in the kitchen again and sleeping with Daren at night.”

“Yes.”  Maudie studied her husband’s anxious face.

“I want you to ask Sir Gareth to make a different arrangement for the boy.”

“I will not.  The arrangement was my own, not Sir Gareth’s.”

“I always suspected that.”  Exasperated, Gavin took one look at Maudie’s face and decided to sound as conciliatory as possible.  “When he was a baby, it seemed safe enough, but Sir Culann’s growing.  I’m worried about my children, especially Daren.  He’s too young to understand that Sir Culann isn’t simply another boy.  He’s the Lord’s son.  I don’t need to remind you what kind of man Lord Shoban is.  This time, the Lord stays in Tairne and Sir Gareth leaves.  There’s no telling what might happen.  Sir Culann is a danger to our family, Maudie.”

“He is not!”  When her voice grew fierce, Gavin shook his head.  “He’s a warm, loving boy and little better than an orphan.  I patched up his broken body every time his mother decided she needed something small and weak to vent her rage on.  When he was a baby, I fed him with milk from my own body.  I love him.”

“There are laws here, Maudie, hierarchies.  People are born into a certain place in life.”

“And how love finds a way to destroy all that.”

Gavin placed his hands firmly on Maudie’s shoulders.  “I think it’s time, Maudie, for you to decide whom it is you really love.”

“I don’t have to decide, husband, I know.  I love you.  I love Roarlin, Pegeen, Daren, and Culann.  Love makes the decision, we don’t.  I can’t stop loving any of you, even if you command it.  This argument is over, Gavin, I have work to do.”

“Damn that woman!”  Gavin slammed the doors to Gareth’s stables and blocked out the light.

In the shadows, Culann dropped the curry brush and opened Lake’s stall.  After he lowered the latch to lock the gate, he ran as fast as he could out of the stables and back to his room.

Since he couldn’t stay with Maudie and was too afraid to stay alone, Culann decided there was only one thing he could do.  He opened the chest at the end of his bed and started to remove his neatly folded pairs of hose and tunics.  He didn’t know how long he was going to be gone so he decided to take everything.  He carried the stacks of clothing into Gareth’s bedroom and placed them as neatly as he could into Gareth’s traveling chest.

The chest was almost full, but he decided to take his ships and the wooden box with his toads.  Then, just in case Gareth might not like the idea of taking him to Roarke and Penvale, Culann decided to hide until it was time to leave.  I’ll ride a little behind Gareth until we’re far from Tairne.  Gareth won’t send me back alone.

He scooted under his bed and curled himself into a ball in one corner.  Fortunately, he wasn’t alone.  There were several spiders, all spinning their webs.  Culann settled down to watch them.

Barely glancing at the open chest, Gareth walked to his side table.

“I’ll start packing now, Sir Gareth.”

“I thought you had.  The chest looks filled.”

Shaking his head and frowning, Arnald walked to the chest.  He smiled.  “Decided to bring your toads with you, Sir Gareth?”

“What?”  Gareth raised his head and the water poured down from his face in streams.  He grabbed the drying cloth and walked to his bed.

“It looks like Sir Culann is planning to go with us,” Arnald said in a low voice.

“It certainly does.”  Gareth’s eyebrows moved together in a deep frown.  “Get those things out of here,” he ordered.

“Culann!” he yelled and stalked into Culann’s bedroom.

Because the tone in Gareth’s voice didn’t sound very good, Culann scrunched himself more tightly into the corner.

“If you’re hiding in here, Culann, I want you out right now.  That’s an order.”

“I can tell it’s an order,” Culann complained to the spiders.  He straightened out and crawled from under the bed.  “I was watching the spiders spin their webs, Gareth, honest.”

Shaking his head, Gareth stared down at his grimy brother.  The determined look on Culann’s face warned Gareth that it was going to be difficult to extract the truth from the boy.  Gareth sat down on Culann’s bed.  “Come here, little brother.”  He patted the bed.

The determined look on Gareth’s face warned Culann that he was going to have to think quickly to protect Maudie and her family.  Culann crawled up on the bed.

“I can’t take you to Roarke with me, Culann, you’re still too young to make the trip.”

“I’m almost eight,” Culann protested.  “I’ll be very good.  I won’t ask questions.  I won’t talk at all, Gareth.” Afraid he’d be unable to keep that promise, he amended it, “Only a little.”

“I’m not leaving you in Tairne because you ask too many questions, Culann.  The trip’s too long for you.  And I have business to attend to in Roarke.”

“You can leave me in Penvale.  With the Lady Rose, Gareth.  I bet she’d like to meet me.”

“The Lady Rose would like to meet you,” Gareth agreed.  “But even the trip to Penvale’s too long for you.”

“I have to go with you this time, Gareth.  Honest.”

“Why?”

“You’ll be gone and the Lord will be in Tairne.”

“But you’ll be in the kitchen with Maudie.”  A look of genuine fear distorted Culann’s features and he shook his head stubbornly.  “What are you afraid of, Culann?”

Culann clamped his mouth shut, but tears filled his eyes.

“Culann?”

“You’ll be gone a long time, Gareth.  I can’t stay in my room that long.  I have to eat.”

“Of course, you do, but there’s plenty of food in the kitchen.”

Culann shook his head again.  “I can ride hard, Gareth.  Please, don’t ask me any more questions.  Please, say you’ll take me.  I’ll be very quiet.  I won’t cause any trouble.  I’ll sit still in one chair.  I know I don’t,” Culann admitted.  “But I could if I tried, Gareth.  Honest.”

Thinking he’d solved the puzzle, Gareth asked, “Did you do something to make Maudie angry?”

“No,” Culann replied in a small voice.  “Maudie loves me.  But she can’t choose, Gareth.  Don’t make her choose.  Take me with you, please.”

“Choose what?  Culann, I can’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.  Why don’t you just tell me the truth?  Why are you afraid to stay in the kitchen?”

“I have to go with you, Gareth.  That’s the truth.”

“If you won’t tell me, Culann, I’ll have to speak to Maudie.”

Knowing what Maudie was going to say, Culann grew desperate.  “Don’t,”  he sobbed.  “Please, Gareth, don’t.  She doesn’t know I heard.”

Ah! Gareth thought.  “What did you hear?  And let those tears wait for a little while until we see if there’s something to cry about.”

Culann drew in a ragged breath.  “I’m dangerous to Maudie’s family.  There are laws in Tairne, Gareth.  And harchies.  What’s a harchy?”

“Hierarchy?”

“Yes.”  Culann nodded.

Finally, Gareth knew who’d been speaking to Maudie and he guessed what Maudie had replied.

“A hierarchy is the way people are positioned in a land.  Like a ladder has a bottom rung and a top rung.  Lord Shoban’s on top so he makes the rules for everyone else.  We can’t blame Gavin for being worried, Culann.”

“And everyone’s afraid of the Lord.”

“Almost everyone.  But I’m the rung right below the top, Culann.”  As he said the words, Gareth realized that’s exactly who he was.  No longer the second son, but the next Lord.

“I need a permanent arrangement for you when I’m gone, Culann, at least until I’m married, but it has to be one that everybody finds acceptable.  I’ll see what I can do.”  Knowing Gareth could do anything, Culann smiled with relief.  “Now, clean up so we can eat.”

Nodding, Culann slid off the bed.

“Culann.”  The boy turned around.  “It would be far easier if you’d simply tell me the truth right from the beginning.”

Culann’s eyes widened at the thought.  “For you, Gareth,” he insisted.  “But not always for me.”

********

“Gavin!” Gareth called out and his voice echoed through the empty stalls.

“Good day, Sir Gareth.”

“I’m here to discuss the horses for the trip to Roarke.”

Gavin nodded at the future lord and led him to one corner of the stables where four stools rested against the wall.

Gareth placed the two pewter mugs he carried onto one of the stools, let the wineskin fall from his shoulder, sat down, and filled both mugs.  After he handed one to Gavin, he motioned to a stool and Gavin sat opposite the future lord.  Gareth raised his mug to the stable master and then drank.  Only then, did Gavin lift his own.  He took a long, appreciative draught of the smooth honeyed-mead.  He let it roll across his tongue.  A fine brew, Penvale’s mead, finer than any brew Gavin had tasted.  Gavin settled in.

After he drained the mug, Gavin wiped his hand across his mouth and placed the mug on the stool.  Sir Gareth refilled the mug and leaned back against the stable wall.

Leaving his mug next to Sir Gareth’s, close but not touching, on the stool, Gavin asked, “Four horses or six, Sir Gareth?”

“Four, I think.  Two pack horses, two to ride.  All four swift and strong.  I’ll want to ride hard.”

It isn’t like Sir Gareth to be so careless with his horses.  Gavin’s eyebrows moved closer together in stern disapproval.

“I’ll be stopping in Lysle and Randor for a few days.  The horses will have their rest.”

Gavin nodded.  “Four horses then.  Not Duir.”

“No,” Gareth agreed.  “He’s earned a rest.  I know you’ll see he’s well cared for.”

“I will, Sir Gareth.”  Gavin nodded and drained his mug.

As Gareth reached for the wineskin, he said, “You have my thanks, Gavin, in advance for caring for my brother in my absence.”  He poured the mead.  “I view it as a great personal kindness.”

His face darkening, Gavin reached for the mug.  “That’s Maudie’s doing, not my own.”

“And it disturbs you?”

Trying to gauge the man’s reaction, Gavin studied Sir Gareth’s face.  It was difficult to read the man, but he should understand about his brother.

“Well now, Sir Gareth.”  Gavin tried to choose his words as carefully as he’d choose his footing when walking through a dangerous bog.  “You brought this topic up, not I.  You’re a truthful man, Sir Gareth, so I’ll speak the truth to you.  Maudie loves Sir Culann like a son, but he’s not her son.  He’s the Lord’s son.  Sir Culann doesn’t understand that.  I know he’s young and he’s a fine boy.  I say that not to ingratiate myself, but because I think he is a fine boy.” Gareth acknowledged the compliment with a nod.

“It won’t harm the Lord’s son to forget his place and hang about the kitchen.  But my children, especially Daren, forget their own place when they’re with him.  That endangers their lives.”

The stables, empty of horses, was now empty of all sound while Gavin, guessing he’d angered the future lord even though the man’s face showed no sign of anger, waited for Sir Gareth to reply.

“Neither my brother, nor I, would ever endanger your family.  Culann owes his life to Maudie and he honors that debt with his love.

“Though Tairne is Lord Shoban’s now, it won’t always be.  I give you my word, Gavin, as the future Lord that whatever positions in Tairne your children want they can have.  Even the army will be open to your sons.  If their choices demand apprenticeship fees, I’ll pay them.  For as long as I live, your family will be under my protection.

“In return, I ask only one thing – you leave my brother be the way he’s always been with your family.”

Astonished, Gavin watched Sir Gareth’s right hand bearing the heavy silver ring cross to his heart.  “You have my word.  Think it over, Gavin, and then let me know what you decide.”

Overwhelmed by the offer, Gaven offered his hand to the future lord and Gareth took it. “You have my word, Sir Gareth, and my thanks.”

“None are necessary.”  Gareth stood up and pointed to the wineskin.  “When that’s drained, tell me.”  Gareth clapped his hand on Gavin’s shoulder and walked out of the stables.

Gavin placed his elbows on his knees and stared at his dangling hands.  He carefully reviewed every word Sir Gareth, the next Lord of Tairne, had said to him and the import of those words for his family.  No amount of hard work could buy what they’d just been given.

********

After Gavin closed the back door to the kitchen, he stood hesitantly in front of it.  Aware of his presence, Maudie turned around, but shook her head firmly.  Even more firmly, Gavin nodded in the direction of the apothecary.

As Maudie moved away from the bubbling soup toward the doorway, she shook her head again, this time at the reckless stupidity of the gods who, after having fashioned a nearly perfect being, ruined the world by creating men.  Perhaps, that’s not fair, Maudie, she reasoned.  They might have created men first, and when they realized their horrible mistake, they tried to right it by creating women.  By then, of course, it was too late.

“What is it, Gavin?  I have supper to prepare.”

“I know.  I wanted to tell you that Sir Gareth paid me a visit.  He offered our family his personal protection.  For our children, any position in Tairne they fancy when they come of age.”

“Humph!” Maudie snorted to keep from smiling.  “I don’t always agree with Sir Gareth and the way he handles Culann, but anyone can see how much he loves that boy.  So much that he’d protect anyone who treats Culann kindly and do his best to help them.  Even if that means securing a position for her children.” Maudie did smile then.  “Are you at peace now, Gavin?”

“You knew all the time he’d protect us?”

“No.”  Maudie’s smile faded.  “I only wanted Culann with me, safe from the Lady of Tairne.”  Maudie squeezed his hand gently and returned to her kitchen.

********

“I’m pleased to find you alone, my lord.”

At the confidence in Gareth’s tone, Shoban raised his head.  His eyes were alert and wary as he watched Gareth move with the same confidence to the head of the table.

“What is it, sir?”

“I’ve chosen our battleground, my lord,” Gareth said as he pulled out the chair next to his father.

When Shoban stared at his son’s steady, hard eyes, he understood that whatever Gareth was going to say, he would mean every word.  The muscles in his shoulders tensed.

“I’ve given my word to Gavin and Maudie that I’ll be their protector and their children’s until I die.”

“Why?” the Lord blurted out, but immediately regretted that expression of his discomposure.

“I have my reasons, my lord.  They don’t concern you.  See no harm comes to them in my absence.”

The Lord frowned.  “Gavin’s the finest stable master I’ve ever met.  Maudie the best cook and healer.  It wouldn’t be in my best interests to harm them.”

“No, Lord Shoban,” Gareth agreed.  “It wouldn’t.”

Book 1: Chapter 30

[Wherein Sir Gareth of Tairne takes charge of the boys.]

Knowing he was going to be late, arguing that no one could tell the time with the sun behind thick clouds, Brandon dashed down one of the side staircases.  When his boots slipped on the slick stones, he tried to regain his balance by swinging his shield back, but the heavy shield pulled him down and the seat of his hose hit the step with a loud thwack.

“Ow!” he yelled.  Then, “Shit,” he muttered.  He stared grimly at the sky. The mist is going to fall all day.  Maybe, practice will be called off.  Before he completed the thought, Brandon saw the look on Gareth’s face when Melvon had been stupid enough to ask, “If it rains tomorrow, will we be expected on the field?”

Gareth’s eyebrows had arched slightly over his icy blue eyes.  “It’s practice every day – rain or sunshine, hot or cold.  I thought I made that clear.  War doesn’t wait for a sunny mild day so you’ll be trained to fight efficiently in any weather.  Does someone else need further clarification?”

All the boys had lowered their eyes and shaken their heads, but Gareth had waited, and not very patiently, until each one of the twenty boys had said, “No, Sir Gareth.”

Everyone heard the whip crack in the words even though Gareth had used the same even tone, “Good.  I don’t like to repeat myself.”

You, Brandon, were stupid enough to try and make that cut so you’d be able to fight with the best boys.  Now, you’ll have Gareth breathing down your neck.  Stupid, stupid move.  Gareth won’t let you ease up now.  If you do and he pushes you back with the less talented boys, you’ll be humiliated in front of all of Tairne.

“Shit,” he muttered again.  The seat of his hose was wet and he could feel one or two bruises forming.  And I’ll have to sit on a saddle for hours.  Wonderful.  He started a little more cautiously down the steps until he remembered he was going to be late and then he ran to the stables.

For a while, Brandon leaned against the open stable doors to catch his breath before he walked quickly inside.  Keld raised his fine chestnut head, but unfortunately, Gareth raised his head, too.

“You’re late, Sir Brandon.”

Since nothing he could say would mollify Gareth, Brandon walked quickly to the saddle rack and took down his saddle.  There was one thing he could say and he guessed it had better be the truth.  “It won’t happen again, Sir Gareth.”

“If it does, Brandon, you’ll be standing at attention, alone, on the practice field for several hours.  The practice starts when I arrive on the field so I sincerely hope you know what I’m going to say.  I won’t repeat myself.”  Gareth clicked his tongue and Duir moved forward.

Who the hell does Gareth think he is?  Brandon swung the saddle over Keld’s back.  Small beads of perspiration formed on Brandon’s forehead.  Gareth knows who he is – the next Lord of Tairne.  You really messed up, Brandon.

“You know how to do this, right, Keld?  I sincerely hope you remember what Gareth taught you.”

********

Even from a distance, Gareth could see how nervous the boys were.  The line of horses and their owners was loose and shifting up and back.  The horses’ heads went up, down, and then moved from side to side.  Barely able to control themselves, the boys were incapable of controlling their horses.  Better now than in Tairne’s line or on a battlefield.  Far too many boys were lost their first time out because they couldn’t control their horses.

When he saw Gareth riding closer, Erim sat up straighter in his saddle and raised his right hand in a salute.  Gareth returned the greeting.  I do hope you work out, Erim.  He should, Gareth reassured himself.  Few of the Lord’s retainers had any patience at all, but Erim seemed to have a great deal.  He gets along well with Aelfric, with most of the men.  The expression on Erim’s face was amused, but he was trying to keep it in check.

“Good day, Sir Gareth,” he called out.

Feeling the tension increase until it filled the air like the mist, Gareth rode up.  “Good day, Erim.  The boys seem nervous.”

“Scared shitless, I’d say.”  When Sir Gareth dismounted, Erim followed.  “The horses are in worse shape.  I tried to picture this line.”  Erim nodded toward the boys.  “Going up against an opposing army and it was all I could do to keep from laughing. Then I pictured myself with them and it was no longer so amusing.  Yours is a good idea, sir.  Too much was left to chance in the past.  Some boys caught on quickly.  And others.  You know, as well as I, they never did.”

And never will, Gareth thought.  They paid for their lack of training with their lives.

“I’m honored to help.”

“Good.  I’ll inspect the horses and get this line in shape.”

Whatever preening the boys had been doing to cover their nervousness stopped immediately when Sir Gareth started walking toward them.  Deflating in his presence, they looked very young.  The moment Gareth started down the line, Brandon, hoping Gareth wouldn’t notice him, dismounted, and slipped Keld into the far end of the line.

Gareth finished his inspection of Selby’s horse and then announced, “The practice begins when Erim or I arrive.  No one will be late again.”

“No, Sir Gareth,” the boys chorused.

Selby started to tremble and Gareth placed his hand lightly on the boy’s shoulder.  Worrying about what he might have done wrong, Selby flinched a little under Sir Gareth’s hand.

“You and your horse know each other well.”

Having expected a reprimand, Selby let the surprise he felt at Sir Gareth’s words show on his face.

“Yes, Sir Gareth, we do.  I raised him from a foal.”

“You have a wise father, Selby.  Now tell me the horse’s name.”

Selby blushed bright red.  “Duir,” he mumbled.

Helden, the next boy in line, was trying to stand at attention and still crane his neck to hear what Sir Gareth was saying.

“Speak up, Selby,” Gareth ordered.

“Duir.”  Selby closed his eyes.  When he opened them again, he saw a small smile curving Sir Gareth’s lips.

“While you’re standing at attention and holding Duir’s reins, what’s he doing?”

Selby watched his horse shifting up and back, raising his head and shaking it, a manifestation of how nervous Selby felt.

“He’s shifting around.  He’s very nervous.”

“Because you are.  If you follow instructions carefully, I won’t harm you, Selby.  The real harm will come if your horse is out of control because you are.  Your sword work is good so there’s no reason to worry that you won’t do as well on horseback.  You wouldn’t be here if Aelfric and I didn’t think highly of your talent.

“While I take a look at the other horses, I want you to concentrate on staying alert but relaxed.  Here.”  Gareth placed his right hand on the boy’s solar plexus.  “I want the fluttering gone and a calmness inside.  Duir will settle down as soon as do.  Feeling and keeping that inner stillness is one of the most important things you’ll have to do, Selby.”

“Yes, Sir Gareth.”  Perplexed by the command, Selby was still pleased by Sir Gareth’s praise and he felt himself beginning to relax a little.

Slowly, Gareth made his way down the line and repeated the same calm instruction to each boy until he reached Brandon.  Since they both knew what Gareth expected of them, Brandon and Keld were standing very still at the end of the line.

“Well done, Sir Brandon,” Gareth praised.  “But this doesn’t excuse your tardiness.”

“No, Sir Gareth.”

His eyes on his brother’s face, Gareth allowed some time for Brandon to think about the warning, and then he turned sharply and walked over to Erim who was watching the transformation of the straggling boys and nervous horses into a straight, fighting line worthy of Tairne’s best retainers.

“Turn your heads to the right,” Gareth ordered.  “Now to the left.  When I ride onto the field tomorrow, this is what I expect to see.  You’re dismissed.”

Visions of themselves galloping across the field, swinging their swords, and yelling Tairne’s war cry like the men they’d watched so often faded quickly.  Bewildered, they gazed at one another.  Then, one by one they started gravitating toward Sir Brandon who had seemed to know what he was doing.

When the group was assembled around him, Sir Brandon smirked a little.  “As Sir Gareth always says, the control is the most important thing to learn.”

After he watched the boys for a while, Gareth turned to Erim.  “I want you to keep sharp eyes on Sir Brandon.  He’s good, but he’s lazy.  I don’t want him to step over any lines I’ve drawn.  If he’s late again, he and his horse will be standing at attention after practice until I dismiss him.  That goes for the other boys as well.”

“Yes, Sir Gareth.”

********

Raucous laughter and loud talking spilled from Shoban the Younger’s rooms into the corridor.  The men were getting drunk and Gareth surmised that his brother would be inebriated faster than the others.  It had been cowardly to put off this confrontation.  Cowardly, ha, Gareth told himself.  This was the only time you’ve had free all day.

A little tipsy himself, Sean opened the door.

“Tell, Sir Shoban, I’d like to see him in private.”

“Yes, Sir Gareth,” Sean hiccuped.

Gareth let the disapproval show on his face, but since Sean saw Gareth’s face and the entire world through a rosy tint, he grinned warmly at Sir Gareth.

“Right now, Sean.”  Gareth raised his voice to be heard over the noise in Shoban’s bedroom and the haze of mead in Sean’s head. “Never mind.  I’ll see to it myself.”

After Gareth moved Sean out of his way, he walked through Shoban’s sitting room and into his bedroom.  It took a moment for the men to notice Gareth’s presence, but when they did, the laughter and the talking stopped.

“Sir Gareth,” they mumbled.

“I’d like a word with Sir Shoban.  In private.”

“Sir Gareth,” Shoban roared.  “Sir Shoban doesn’t want a word with you.”  Shoban waited for the laughter, but none came.  Instead, the men started to walk unsteadily out of the room.

“Come back,” Shoban ordered.

“They’re not drunk enough to heed that command, Shoban,” Gareth said quietly.  “You and I need to talk.”

“No, Gareth, we don’t.”  Shoban sat up straighter in bed and crossed his arms firmly over his broad chest.  “You and I have nothing to say to one another.  Even from here, I can see Tairne’s ring flashing on your finger.”  Shoban held out his right hand and looked at his own ring.  “See mine, Gareth.  Take a look at how much it’s worth to be named Lord Shoban’s successor,” Shoban complained bitterly.  “One day, you’ll lie wounded in bed and Gordon will be wearing the new, shiny ring.”

“Not Gordon.  Gordon’s dead, Shoban.”

Shoban waved his hand impatiently.  “Brandon then.  Or Culann.  Or what’s the other boy’s name?”

“Duncan.”

“That’s right.  Duncan.  And then we’ll see how you feel, Sir Gareth.”

“I didn’t want this, Shoban.”

“You’ve wanted this from the moment you were born, Sir Gareth.  Shoban spat on the floor.  “You think I’m too stupid to know that.”

“I didn’t want this,” Gareth repeated.

“But you wanted the allowance, didn’t you?  I’ve watched you count your gold and silver.  Worry over every copper coin.   You’re a miser, Gareth.  You cheated me each and every time we divided the spoils.  You’ve been cheating me for years.  Now, you’ve done the final cheat.  My position.  My allowance.”

“I don’t have your allowance.”  Gareth ran his hand through his hair.  “The Lord said nothing about an allowance.”

“Not the Lord.  Ferghus.”  Shoban’s voice was edged with tears now.  “Ferghus scurried in like the rat he is and announced it.”

“It’s a mistake, Shoban.  I’ll speak with the Lord.  Unless you mend enough to fight in the spring, you’ll need your allowance.”

“You’ll speak with the Lord?”  Shoban blinked back his tears.

“Yes, there’s some mistake.  You’re still his eldest son.”

“Yes.”  Shoban grasped at the straw.  “I am.  He can’t cut me off without even a piece of copper.”  Shoban smiled, but then frowned.  “What are you waiting for, Gareth?  Go see the Lord.  You don’t expect me to get out of my sick bed.  And send the men back in.  We were having a good time before you arrived.”

Reminding himself that his brother was very ill, possibly near death, Gareth tried one more time.  “You and I need to speak about what this means for our futures, brother.  If you mend –”

“The Lord will have to give everything back to me.”

“And if he won’t?”

“He’ll have to, Gareth.  I’m his eldest son.  And you’ll be nothing again.”  Shoban chuckled.  “So, I’ll mend quickly. Wait and see.”

Gareth walked up to the head of Shoban’s bed.  “He might not do it even if you mend.  You and I need to decide how we’ll handle things if he doesn’t.”

“I see.”  Shoban pointed his finger at Gareth.  “You want to tell me what scraps you’ll be willing to throw to me?  I’m not interested in listening, Gareth.  And Tairne’s army will support the rightful heir.  Now, see about my allowance.  No, wait.  Why should I trust you?  Tell the Lord I want to see him.”

“I’ll do that, Shoban.”  Gareth turned sharply on his heel and stalked out.

“Send the men back in,” Shoban called after him.

********

Hearing the anger in every step he took reverberating in the corridor, Gareth slowed his pace and finally stopped.  It’s your own fault, Gareth, you should never have visited Shoban before you had to see the Lord.  Why did you think that being near death would change the man?  Gareth started to walk again more slowly toward his father’s apartment.

“The Lord wants to see me, Ferghus.”

“He does, Sir Gareth.  Go right in.”

When Gareth walked in, Lord Shoban raised his head from his private supper.  “Would you like something to eat, Gareth?”

“Thank you.  No, my lord.”  Gareth pulled out a chair and sat down facing his father.

Still chewing, Shoban cut another piece of the roast beef.  “I want you to go to Roarke, Gareth.  Deliver our regrets that Shoban’s dead and won’t be able to marry Phidia.”

“He’s not dead, my lord.”

“Not at the moment.”  Shoban waved his fork at Gareth and the piece of meat flopped up and down.  “But soon.  He’ll be dead soon.  Unless, of course, you want Phidia.”

“Your word to Penvale is firm, my lord.”

Shoban chewed the meat and swallowed.  “It is.  I’ve no desire to break my word to Penvale.  But you could have two wives, Gareth.”  Shoban chuckled.  Since Gareth didn’t respond, he continued, “Leave in a month.”  When Gareth’s eyebrow went up slightly, the Lord argued, “We don’t want to seem too accommodating.  But, stress this is a friendly act, freeing Roarke and his daughter.  Then stop in Penvale, send my affection.  Come next spring, we’ll have your wedding, Gareth.”

“I want to stop in Penvale before and after I see Roarke, my lord.”

“Why?”  Shoban drained the ale, poured himself another.  “To see the lady?  Hot for her, are you, Gareth?”

Yes, my lord, I plan to throw Rose on the ground and ravish her, Gareth thought.

As if he had read that thought, Shoban said, “See you don’t get her with child.  I don’t want the wedding date moved up.  Cedric will force that if she’s pregnant, Gareth.”

“She’s still very young, Lord Shoban, I’m content to wait until next spring for the wedding.”

“Good.  Which of my retainers do you want to accompany you?”

“I think that choice should be yours, Lord Shoban.”

Gazing at his son’s expression, Shoban tapped his plate with his fork.  “And that’s a very good idea.  You’re dismissed,” he ordered, but Gareth didn’t move.

“Shoban tells me you’ve cut off his allowance.  That it’s to go to me.”

“So?”

“I wonder why you said nothing to me.”

“Why would I?  It’s not negotiable, Gareth.  You’ll get what’s due my heir and nothing more.”

“I don’t want more, Lord Shoban.  I want you to be fair to my brother.  Because you pronounce him dead, doesn’t make him so.  He’s your eldest son.”

Shoban picked up his knife and cut another piece of meat.  “You’re dismissed, Sir Gareth.”  When Gareth still didn’t move, Shoban growled, “You’re Lord only after I’m dead, sir.  You take orders from me; you don’t give them.  That’s not changed.  I won’t support a worthless, dying man.  Get out.  You’re disturbing my digestion.”

“This discussion isn’t over, Lord Shoban,” Gareth growled back.  “Think how you’ll appear to your men if you mistreat your eldest son.”

Shoban slammed his fist on the table.  “What happens in my household doesn’t concern my men, sir.”

The Lord placed his palms flat on the table, leaned back, and considered Gareth for a while before he spoke.  “Shoban hates you, Gareth.  So, what is this about?  If you want to war with me, why choose Shoban as the battleground?  And remember if you war with me, son, Tairne is weakened.  A weak Tairne, dangerous.  Not just for you and me, but for your younger brothers and your lady when she’s here.  Think about that, Gareth.  I know we have our differences, but I’m prepared to put them aside for Tairne.  You’d be wise to do the same.  That, Gareth, is a threat, don’t mistake me.”

Gareth ground his teeth silently and the muscle in his jaw twitched.  He’s right, Gareth, Shoban hates you and warring with the Lord is a dangerous game.  Too dangerous if you’re unsure of the outcome.

“I’ll leave for Roarke in a month, Lord Shoban.”

“Good.  I know you can be reasonable when you want to be.”  Lord Shoban belched.