The Legend of Lady Ilena (17 page)

I count carefully. Forty-three and Belert with any who stand beside him. Moren once told me that fifty well-trained fighters were worth two hundred ordinary warriors. “It seems so to me. You are all wiser than I in warfare. What do you say?”

Perr says, “It is what we have, so it must be enough.”

Doldalf nods in agreement. “It will be fine if we deal only with those at Dun Alyn. If others arrive we will do what we can.”

Hoel and Durant exchange glances, and Durant speaks. “We will ride with you. I ask only one thing.” He hesitates and looks at me. “The lady Ilena is important to this plan. She would be safer here at Dun Dreug. We can send for her when Dun Alyn is secure.”

I am too surprised to speak. I look around the table. Hoel and Doldalf are nodding agreement. Lenora has an amused expression on her face. Spusscio watches me closely as does Perr. Finally I find my voice.

“I will not be left at Dun Dreug.” I glare at Durant and turn to Spusscio. “I will not be taken to safety in the Vale of Enfert.” I look around the table and measure out my words slowly, with as much emphasis as I can muster. “My place is at Dun Alyn. I ride out at daybreak.”

Durant’s lips tighten. He would like to say more, I know, but remains silent. The others make no argument. I sense that they approve of my stand.

Lenora speaks her thoughts. “Good! A chief does not seek safety while others fight her battles.”

“Then let’s get to bed,” Perr says. “I’ll send word to my people.”

There is a general shuffling and scraping of benches. Spusscio nods to me and hurries out of the hall. I move slowly, hoping for a word with Durant.

He and Hoel are behind me. I can hear Hoel speaking. “Bad luck this, Durant. Your son will wait a few weeks longer to see his father.”

“Aye,” Durant says. “I promised him I’d try to return by Samhain. I hate to disappoint him.”

I move on quickly, with no more desire for a private conversation. A son! My face burns with embarrassment. I did not think about a family. How foolish my thoughts have been. He said that he would be my brother, and I imagined he meant more. Of course he would be married. He is older than I, perhaps by ten years. How could I have let my feelings build with no evidence that they were appropriate?

I hurry into the women’s quarters. The central hearth space is deserted, but the doorskins are pulled aside on three of the rooms. Gola is smoothing the bed in the room I used before; my pack is on the table beside a basin of steaming water.

“Thank you for waiting for me,” I say. I long to talk to someone, to share my pain and disappointment, to confess my foolishness to someone who would understand. If Fiona were here, I would blurt out my feelings, but I haven’t known Gola long enough yet to share such intimacies.

“I wanted to talk with you,” she says. “And Cochan waits in the men’s quarters for Spusscio. They are old friends.”

“That water is welcome. I’m cold and dirty from traveling.”

“I can bring more in the morning if you wish to bathe.”

“Thank you, but I leave at first light.”

Her face falls. “I was hoping to have a good visit with you. Must you return so soon?”

“Spusscio and I came for help. Chief Perr and the others will go back with us to aid Belert.”

“If Perr plans to take a war band, Cochan and I will surely go along. At daybreak, you say?”

“Yes. I hope we can get there before nightfall the second day.”

“If we leave early enough, and if snow holds off, we should manage that. I must prepare packs for Cochan and myself and be sure the kitchen can supply rations. May I leave you now?”

I puzzle over that question for a moment and then say, “Gola, I enjoy your company, but I can wash and dress myself. Go, and I will see you in the morning.”

I drop the doorskin behind her and prepare for bed. The warm water feels good, but I don’t linger over washing. It will be a short night. I try to think of the problems at Dun Alyn and what may be happening while Spusscio and I are gone, but I can’t concentrate.

Durant’s face when he bade me farewell last week and the smile when he saw me tonight seemed to send a message I wanted to hear. Hoel’s words about a child told me something else. It doesn’t make sense to me. There is only one thing I’m sure of. I must stop thinking about Durant.

I burrow into the bedskins, and my tired muscles relax. There is a pain in my heart that swells and pushes away sleep and sensible thought. At last I give in to it and weep. The pictures in my mind blur and blend until I do not know if I weep for Moren and Grenna, for Belert, or for myself.

A
HORN SOUNDS IN THE DARK
. I
HEAR VOICES AND THE
jingle of harness. It seems the middle of the night, but I hear Lenora’s voice outside my door. Another woman answers her, and their conversation fades as they move to the entrance. I pull the doorskin aside to let in light and warmth from the fire.

I dress as quickly as my tired body will move and carry my pack outside. The grounds are a jumble of horses and stable boys. Men and women in full battle dress move into the Great Hall. The sky is turning light with approaching dawn.

“Ilena. Over here.” Gola’s voice rises above the din. She motions for me to join her at the hall entrance. “Breakfast first. And gather enough food for your pack.”

Inside, torches sputter around the walls, and the fire blazes. Durant sits with Hoel and Perr near the hearth.
He rises and comes to meet me. “Will you reconsider, Ilena? You would be safer here.”

“No, Durant. I thought I spoke plainly last night.” My voice is sharper than I intend.

He sighs. “Then will you remember that as a chief you must stay inside the fighting ring?”

I know that warriors try to protect their chiefs, but I also know that I must show leadership. I answer, “I will be careful. I hope that there is no battle, anyway. Belert believes the presence of his allies will stop opposition to me.”

The horn sounds again, this time a series of quick notes in an urgent rhythm, and people begin to move out of the hall. I hurry to gather loaves and dried meat, and Gola brings me warmed ale.

“Drink this. You’ll need it against the chill.” She carries two waterskins. “I’ll fill yours while you eat.” She moves to a table that holds large pails of water.

Outside I find my gear on a tall roan mare. Rol, wearing a light halter, paces impatiently around a stable boy. Spusscio rides a small gray horse and leads his black mare. I am grateful to Perr’s stablemaster. Our horses need more than one night’s rest after such a strenuous trip. Rol doesn’t appreciate the kindness and threatens to nip the roan when I mount her. I take his lead rein and pull his head up close beside me. There are other extra horses, most with packs, in the group.

I am amazed that such a large company could
gather on a few hours’ notice. Durant and Hoel are near the gate. One of their companions raises a spear with Arthur’s pennant on it. The bards often sing of the white dragon on a red background, but I’ve not seen it before. I feel a tremor of excitement as I watch it unfurl against the gray dawn sky.

Other pennants rise around the compound. Cochan holds one of blue with a gold boar, and a brown bear on green cloth snaps in the wind above Lenora’s head.

Elban leaves Perr’s side and rides over to me. “Chief Perr asks if you are ready, lady.”

“Yes,” I answer. Something more seems expected, but I don’t know what.

He says, “Will you take the lead, then?”

I turn Rol and the roan toward the gate and hear the company move into place behind me. With Durant and Hoel on either side, the trumpet sounding its quick rhythm behind me, and the dragon pennant of Arthur streaming over my head, I ride through the gates of Dun Dreug out onto the track that leads to Dun Alyn.

The red rim of the rising sun greets us. It is a fair day for travel.

“Spusscio thinks we can reach Dun Alyn by late afternoon tomorrow. Do you agree?” Hoel asks.

I consider. “We have an early start, certainly. Days are short now that Samhain approaches, so it depends, I suppose, on how fast a group this size can travel.” I remember our pace yesterday. “With Spusscio driving
us on, we should certainly be there well before nightfall.”

“Do you think we’ll have trouble gaining entry to the fortress?”

“Spusscio will have a plan. And Belert will be watching for us.” I hope that Belert is safe and able to watch for us and that he has found Ryamen. I steal a sideways glance at Durant. The sharp ache that kept me awake last night returns, and I look away quickly.

When we reach the turn where the trail leaves the streamside, I glance down the faint path that leads to Mona’s Well. I wish there were time to stop and ask protection for our journey and for Belert’s safety. Moren used to say that a warrior learned to pray on horseback. I can feel myself smiling as I think of him.

“You look cheerful, Ilena,” Durant says. “When I saw you so grim this morning, I feared you were frightened. It would be natural, certainly, since we may have a battle on our hands.”

“I am not frightened!” Surely it is only a small sin to lie at a time like this. Mock fighting with Moren was one thing. Actually being attacked or trying to kill someone else is quite another. I think back to the battle at the fork and feel the fear building inside me.

“You could let the rest of us go ahead and secure the fortress. That would be sensible.”

I glare at him. “I am not frightened, and I will not stay behind!” I urge my horses forward until I am several yards ahead.

When we reach the first ascent, there is a short rest. Riders dismount and lead horses to a pool where water spurts out of the rock above. Standard-bearers stow pennants in their spear holders, and I watch Perr’s trumpeter lash his instrument carefully on top of his pack.

After my horses have drunk their fill, I take their reins and head up the slope. My leg muscles ache at first, but the pain soon stops and I trudge on steadily. Spusscio is in the lead now, and Durant and Hoel are somewhere behind me.

When I reach the summit, the sun is directly overhead, lending welcome warmth to the day. I look below and see our party stretched far down the mountainside. A metallic jingle floats above the sounds of hooves and feet on the rocky track. Sunlight glints on helmets and sword hilts.

Hoel steps up beside me. “How far ahead is Spusscio?”

“I think he’s just over the summit. He keeps stopping and waiting for us.”

“I wish I had his energy,” Hoel says.

I’ve thought the same thing several times on this trip. Hoel and I are both breathing heavily from the climb, and I hope Spusscio is ready to stop for a rest.

Durant and Perr join us. The horses stamp and blow while we stand quietly to watch the others approach.

Spusscio has come up behind us. “There’s a spot
large enough for some of us a short distance down the other side. Let’s push on.” He speaks easily, as though he’d been strolling along a pleasant path instead of scrambling up a mountain.

I pull Rol and the mare into motion and follow him. Durant moves to walk beside me, but the trail narrows sharply, and he lets me go ahead. I’m glad. I am not ready to talk with him. I want to keep his friendship. A brother is a fine thing to have, but I cannot keep the pain out of my voice yet.

Spusscio’s rest spot is a gentle slope just off the main trail. A stream splashes over a series of flat rock ledges. There isn’t room for our entire group, but several horses at a time can water along the stream. I snatch a few minutes to sit before moving on to make room for those behind me.

Our night stop, hours later, is a strip of meadow that lies at the base of our next ascent. There is enough debris from shrubs and small trees to feed several fires. It is cold, and I am thankful we aren’t higher. I roll myself in my own cloak and Ryamen’s and fall asleep listening to quiet conversations around me.

I awaken to a whistling wind that moves down the valley. The only sounds close to me are the crackle from a dying fire and someone’s snoring. The moon hangs just above the mountain across the valley, and clouds dim its light. I roll over and tighten my cloaks, but it is no use. I was too tired to find a place to relieve myself earlier, and now I cannot sleep.

I pull on my boots and move as quietly as possible among the sleeping forms to a jumble of large rocks just beyond the campsite.

As I come back around the rocks, I hear a shrill whine riding above the wind’s whistle. Clouds are roiling fiercely now, and the moon casts a ghostly light that glimmers around them.

A footfall nearby startles me.

“Who …?”

“Ilena?” Spusscio whispers from the other side of a boulder.

“Is it the Wild Hunt?” I ask.

“Aye.” He pulls himself up onto the rock. “The Hounds of Gwynn. We always hear them this close to Samhain.” He looks up into the sky, where a number of dark, V-shaped lines move from north to south.

I shiver and pull my cloak tighter. The noise strengthens, and the wind increases. “The monks call them the Gabriel Hounds,” I say.

“Gwynn ran his hounds of the Wild Hunt long before the monks came.”