The Heirs of Hammerfell (24 page)

A young man, with one eye covered with a black patch, wearing a ragged cap which

gave him a fierce and wild aspect―Storn did not remember ever seeing him

before―pushed the door open.

" What'll ye be wanting?" he asked suspiciously. "At a god forgotten hour like this when honest folk all be in bed?"

"My business is with Geredd," Storn said. "As I remember, this is his house; who are you, then?"

"Granfer," the man called sullenly, "somebody here be askin' for you."

Geredd, stooped and pudgy, and clad in wrinkled old homespun, came to the door. His face was apprehensive; but when he saw Storn the apprehension disappeared.

"My lord!" he cried out. "You lend me grace. Come in out of the cold."

In a very few minutes Storn was seated on a pad-

ded bench in the lee of the fireplace, his soaked outer garments and boots steaming in front of the hearth.

"I'm sorry I have no wine for you, sir; could you fancy a mug of hot cider, then?"

"With pleasure," said Lord Storn. He was startled by this kindness, after they had been warned to quit this farm by his factors; but he supposed clan loyalty went deep in these people; they were, after all, mostly his distant kin, and the habit of deference to the clan-leader and lord was very ancient. When the hot cider was brought, he sipped it

gratefully.

"The young man who answered the door―the surly young fellow with one eye―your grandson?" he asked, remembering how the youngster had called "Gran'fer."

But Geredd answered, "My older daughter's stepson by her second marriage; no kin of mine, his father died four years ago. I give the lad houseroom because he's nowhere else to go; his father's people have all gone south to find work in Neskaya in the wool trade, but he says he's of no mind to be a landless or a rootless man, so he stays here―" He added anxiously, "He talks wild, but you know what young men are―all talk and no doing."

"I'd like to talk to some of these young malcontents; find out what's in their minds,"

Storn ventured, looking about the old, high raftered room, from which the sullen, ragged young man had vanished; but the old man Geredd sighed.

"He's always off and about wi' his friends; ye know, sir, how it is wi' the young folk, always thinking they can change the world. Now, sir, you mustn't think of trying to make it back tonight in this weather; you

shall have my bed, and the wife and I shall sleep here before the fire. My younger daughter's here, too; they had notice to quit, but Bran―that's Mhari's husband, they have four little children under five, an' Mhari brought to bed with twins not a tenday ago, so I'm keepin' them all here―what else can I do?"

Storn tried to protest, but Geredd insisted. "No trouble at all, sir, none, we sleep here in the kitchen during the cold weather anyway; just now she's made up the bed with fresh sheets for you an' the best blankets," he told him, and led Lord Storn into the tiny bedroom. Almost all the space was taken up by an enormous bed covered with a

featherbed and quilt, and a number of old and patched, but very clean pillows. Geredd's elderly wife came and helped Lord Storn out of his damp clothing, putting him into an also much-mended but clean nightshirt, patched and faded; his wig hung on the bedpost, and his garments, in various stages of drying, were strewn about the room. The old woman drew up the blankets about his shoulders, deferentially wished him a good night, and withdrew. Warm at last, no longer shivering, Storn settled down, hearing the sleet pounding the windows. Soon he slept; it had been a long day.

16

Markos's cottage was not large, but to Erminie it seemed cozy and homey, lighted dimly by torchlight. Outside, the night was starless and the sky thick with gray rainclouds, scudding along in their own mysterious light. Beyond the low stone wall she could see the ruined wall of Hammerfell, in what she supposed Alastair's city friends would have called romantic disrepair; Gavin had already used the phrase three times, somewhat to Markos's annoyance, and Floria had finally nudged him in the ribs and scowled him into contrite silence.

The cottage was weathertight, though not spacious, a low room reasonably furnished with a couple of narrow beds―on one of which Erminie now sat, her still-damp feet stretched to the fire.

Beyond this there was a small table with a couple of stout wooden chairs. Nothing more.

Markos had laid out an old piece of embroidered linen on the

table, and a couple of tarnished silver goblets; he brought the women food and wine. "I wish it were a proper Hall for you, lady," he apologized, but Erminie shook her head.

" 'Who gives of his best is the equal in courtesy of a king, though his best be but the half of a heap of straw,' " she quoted. "This is certainly better than any heap of straw."

Gavin was curled up on the rug at Erminie's feet, where the hearth-fire crackled, throwing out reassuring warmth. On the other side of the fire, on the second cot, Floria sat, a thick velvet robe over the thin white cloth of her Tower robe―which she had put on, like Erminie, because her riding clothes were soaked to the innermost undergarment.

The half-grown puppy Copper was curled up in her lap. Conn sat on one of the wooden chairs, Markos hovered near the other, nervous and obviously still unsure that his cottage could adequately house the Duchess of Hammerfell. In the small space beyond the table and chairs, four or five men had crowded into the end of the room; half a dozen more had squashed themselves into the small inner room and were trying to crowd their heads through the door to be at least a small part of what was going on. These were, Erminie knew, the men who had ridden with Conn on his first foray and heard him

acknowledged as rightful heir to Hammerfell. When Markos had called for their

attention and introduced Erminie, they greeted her with a cheer that made the low rafters vibrate with the sound, and startled bats fluttered out from their lodging in the narrow space between the rafters and the thatch. Erminie had been warmed by this welcome, even though she knew perfectly

well it was not really for her. Even so, she was sure Conn must have deserved it of them, and it spoke well for her son if these people, twenty years without a rightful lord, could even now be so loyal to the family of Hammerfell.

And in Thendara I never thought of them. I am ashamed. Well, I must try and make it up to them. With King Aidan's help . . . She stopped there, drowsily wondering what after all these years she could, in fact, do.

Then, with a sigh, she remembered; Conn was not their rightful duke either; that honor was reserved for her older son, though Conn still bore his father's sword. This welcome, really due to his brother, only prolonged the people's belief that they should follow him; and if it was personal loyalty to Conn, not loyalty to the house of Hammerfell, there could be trouble ahead. Her heart ached for both her sons; the one she had loved

lifelong, and the one she had suffered for loss of.

These heavy feelings were not suited to the moment; though, raising her eyes, she saw Conn's frown, and wondered if he followed her thoughts and was equally troubled. She raised her glass and said quietly, "A pleasure to see you again in your proper place, my dear son. I drink to the day when your father's house will be restored, and his Great Hall rebuilt for you and your brother."

Copper, in Fiona's lap, wagged her tail as if to echo the sentiment. Erminie wondered where old Jewel was now.

Conn lifted his glass, meeting his mother's eyes. "All my life, Mother, since First I knew who I was, and even when I thought you were dead, I have dreamed of seeing you here; this night is joyous

indeed., for all the storm outside. May the Gods grant that it be only the first of many such occasions." He drank and set down the cup. "Too bad Alastair's not here to share it; it rightly belongs to him, but that day won't be long coming. Meanwhile― Markos, do you think we should send for Jerian's son―he's a fine hand to play the rryl, and the old man's four little daughters can give us a dance . . . Markos? Where's he off to now?" He looked round the room, searching for his foster-father.

"Don't trouble the fellow, my dear," Erminie said. "I need no entertainment; I am glad to be in my own country, and need nothing more. Though I am sorry to put poor old

Markos to such trouble; his house is hardly big enough to hold so many. Floria and I have had five days of hard travel and want no finer entertainment than a good

featherbed. If we want music, Gavin is here to sing to us," she added with a kindly smile at the young musician.

"But look, that man seems as if he wanted something with you―" she said uncertainly, seeing a tall burly man beckoning Conn from the shadowy far end of the room where she could just make out Markos as well.

Conn rose from his chair. "Let me just go and see what it is that he's wanting."

With his mug in his hand, he went off. Erminie followed him with her eyes, saw him approach the man, listen to him attentively for some moments, then spring backward spilling the contents of his cup. Then he scowled with an angry gesture, and after a moment he whirled, shouting.

"Men of Hammerfell!"

The cry at once drew all eyes to him; the men in

the room looked up in expectation, and the others crowded round the outside door

shoved into the room, crushing against the fireplace and squashing into the very edges of the narrow beds where the women sat.

"They are on the march, those folk of Storn! Wouldn't you think they'd keep themselves within doors in this dreadful weather, but no such decency; Storn's bullies are out on the road in rain and snow, turning out old folk who've deserved better of him! Let's go and put a stop to it, lads!"

He turned toward the door and led the men, who swarmed after him, pulling on cloaks and shouting with enthusiasm. After a few minutes Markos came toward the women and said, "M'ladies, my lord sends his humble apologies, but he is needed; he begs you to go to bed and he will wait on you tomorrow."

"I heard him, Markos," said Erminie, and Markos' eyes glowed with pride.

"See how they follow him! They'd die for their young duke."

Erminie thought that Markos had assessed the situation very well, except that Conn was not their young duke . . . but this was not the time to bring up what this might be doing to Alastair's rights.

"Let's hope they will not be required to die for him, not yet anyhow," she said. The men had gone except for Markos, the old servant and Gavin, who had been crushed against the hearth and unable to move; he got up and would have followed, but Markos shook his head.

"No, m'lord; my master meant you to stay here and guard the women; think what would happen if the folk of Storn knew that the duchess was concealed here. At the very least they'd burn this place over our heads."

"As they did once before," Erminie said. She was not at all surprised that Conn had ridden off swiftly with the men he had known all his life, forgetting Gavin's existence; she, in fact, felt quite safe, and was grateful to the old man for saving Gavin's face.

The little room was very quiet after the men left, with only the crackle of the fire, and the heavy splashing of rain outside against the cobbles of the village street. Erminie finished her wine―it was not very good wine, but she was not much of a drinker and it did not matter to her―troubled about Conn riding in such weather, about the men

following him blindly and thinking him their rightful leader.

"But of course he is," Floria said quietly, acknowledging her unspoken thoughts. "He has earned their loyalty and love and he will always have it, whatever Alastair may win in his own right."

Erminie recognized the wisdom in Floria's words, but she couldn't shed her worry.

"I love them both, too," Floria said, "and I am troubled for them both. Conn is even more troubled about Alastair than you are. Why do you think he rode off in such a hurry?" Erminie made no attempt to answer, so Floria answered her own question.

"Until all this with Alastair is settled, he does not want to be in the same room with me.

He loves his brother and doesn't want to betray him."

At last it was in the open, and Erminie was glad; it seemed that she and Floria had been carefully walking around this topic almost since Conn had first come to Thendara. And since the night of the aborted

handfasting, it had seemed to stand before every word she and Floria spoke to one another.

"Do you want to betray him?"

"No, of course not. I was brought up with him; I have always been fond of him. And so I was happy enough with the thought of him as my husband; I know he is fond of me and would be kind to me. But then Conn came to Thendara, and now everything has

changed."

Erminie did not know what to say. As always, she who had been denied this kind of love and fulfillment, was tongue-tied and felt helpless before a young woman who took it for granted.

"I wish I could marry them both," Floria said, near to tears. "I cannot bear to hurt Alastair, yet without Conn, my life will be empty and meaningless."

Gavin said, with his crooked good-natured smile, "A hundred years ago in these mountains, I have heard, that would indeed have been possible."

Floria colored, and said, "Those were barbarian days; even here in the hills, such things are no longer allowed." Oh, how could she possibly choose between her old playmate, whom she had loved as a brother so long and well, and this his twin, who was so very like him―and so entirely unlike? It was not only that Conn shared the gift of laran and could enter into her heart in a way Alastair could never do―Floria knew it was more than that―she had never known passion, never known how to desire, until Conn swept so unexpectedly into her life and her heart. She was ashamed to admit it, but it seemed to her now that Conn was vivid and vital to her, Alastair only a dim and lesser reflection.

"In either event," she continued, trying for a light-

er tone, "you will have me as a daughter―so does it matter to you which one of them I marry?"

"Only if you wish to be Duchess of Hammerfell," Erminie said softly.