Two to Conquer (20 page)

goddesses, the harvest goddess driving a banshee from the fields, Hastur sleeping on the shores of Hali, Cassilda at her loom. The stone floor was uneven under foot, and a fire was burning at each end of the long hall. At the far end, women were clustered together, and Bard heard the sound of a
rryl;
at the near fireside, Dom Rafael di Asturien rose from his armchair as Bard came near with his son in his arms.

He was wearing a long indoor gown of woven dark-green wool with embroideries at neck and sleeves.

The di Asturien men were blond, all of them, and Dom Rafael’s hair was so light it was impossible to see whether it was graying, or not; but his beard was white. He looked very much as he had looked when Bard had last seen him, only thinner, his eyes somewhat sunken as if with worry.

He held out his arms, but Bard set Erlend down on his feet, and knelt to his father. He had never done this to any of the overlords he had served in his seven years of exile.

“I have come back, my father,” he said, sensing somewhere in his mind the surprise of his son, that his father, the renowned warrior and the outlaw, should kneel to his grandfather just as the vassals did. He felt his father’s hand touch his hair.

“Take my blessing, son. And whatever gods there are, if any, be praised that they have brought you safely back to me. But then, I never doubted that. Get up, dear son, and embrace me,” Dom Rafael said, and Bard, obeying, saw the lines in his father’s face and felt the sharp thinness of his bones. He thought, with shock and dismay,
Why, he is already old. The giant of my youth is already an old man
! It troubled him, that he was taller than his father, and so much broader that he could have lifted him in his arms as he had done with Erlend!

So swiftly had the years passed, while he fought in strange wars in foreign lands!
Time has left its hand
heavy on me too
, he thought, and sighed.

“I see that Erlend came to greet you,” Dom Rafael said, as Bard joined him on the seat before the fire.

“But now you must away to your bed, grandson; what was your nurse thinking of, to let you out into the night so late?”

“I suppose she was thinking I was already in bed, for that is where she left me,” Erlend said, “but I felt it most seemly to go and greet my father. Good night, Grandsire, good night, sir,” he added, with his funny, precocious little bow, and Dom Rafael laughed as he went out of the hall.

“What a little wizard he is! Half the serving folk are afraid of him already,” he said, “but he is clever and well grown for his years, and I am proud of him. I wish, though, that you had told me that you had gotten Melisendra with child. It would have saved her, and me too, some angry words from my Lady; I did not know that Melisendra was being kept virgin for the Sight. And so we all suffered, for Jerana was wonderfully cross, to lose her
leronis
so young.”

“I did not tell you because I did not know,” Bard said, “and Melisendra’s foresight could not have been so wonderful after all, if it did not keep her out of my chamber when I was alone and wanting a

woman.” After be said it he was a little ashamed, remembering that he had given her, after all, no choice in the matter. But, he told himself, if Melisendra had half as much
laran
as that red hair promised, she would never have fallen victim to that compulsion anyhow! He could not, for instance, have done it to Melora.

“Well, at least her son is handsome and clever, and I see you had him brought up in this house instead of fostering him out to some nobody!”

His father said, staring into the fire, “You were going into outlawry and exile. I feared he should be all I had left of you. And in any case,” he added, defensively, as if he were ashamed of this weakness,

“Jerana had not the heart to separate Melisendra from her baby.”

Bard reflected that he had never suspected Lady Jerana of having any heart at all, so that was no surprise to him. He did not want to say that to his father, so he said, “I see that his mother has taught her son some of her craft too; already he bears a starstone, young as he is. And now enough of women and children, Father. I thought you would already have moved against that damned upstart of a Hastur who has tried to make himself master of this land.”

“I cannot move against Geremy at once,” said Dom Rafael, “for he still has Alaric in his keeping. I sent for you to try to devise some way to get your brother back, so that I can move freely against these Hasturs.”

Bard said, enraged, “Geremy is a snake whose coils lie everywhere! I had him in my hand once, and forebore to kill him. Would I had been as foresighted as you say Melisendra was!”

“Oh, I bear the boy no ill will,” Dom Rafael said. “In his boots I should have taken the same step, no doubt. He was hostage at Ardrin’s court for the good will of King Carolin of Thendara! I have no doubt Geremy grew to manhood knowing that if ill will came between Ardrin and Carolin, his own head

would be the first to fall, be he ever so much the foster-brother of Ardrin’s son! And speaking of Ardrin’s sons— you knew, did you not, that Beltran was dead?”

Bard set his teeth and nodded. Some day he would tell his father how Beltran had come to die; but not now. “Father,” he asked what he had never thought to ask before. “Was I hostage at Ardrin’s court for your good behavior?”

“I thought you had known that all your life,” Dom Rafael said. “Ardrin never trusted me overmuch.

Yet, no doubt, Ardrin valued you at your true worth, or he would never have promoted you to his own banner bearer, nor set you above his own son. You flung that away by your own folly, my boy, but you seem to have prospered in these years of exile, so we will say no more of that. But while you, and then Alaric, were at his court, Ardrin knew I would make no trouble, nor strive with him for the throne, though my claim to sit there was as good as his own, and better than that of his younger son. Now, however, with both Ardrin and Beltran dead, it would be catastrophe, in times like these, for a baby king to reign—rats make havoc in the kitchen when the cat’s a kitten! If you are with me—”

“Can you doubt that, Father?” Bard asked, but before he could speak further, a woman came from the woman’s fire, slender, with graying hair, clad in a richly embroidered and braided robe.

“So you are back again, foster son? Seven years outlawry seem to have done you no very great harm, after all. Indeed,” she added, looking at his fur-trimmed garb, the jeweled dagger and sword hanging at his side, the warrior’s braid banded with jewels, “you must have prospered in the foreign wars! This is no wolfs pelt!”

Bard bowed to the Lady Jerana. He thought,
still the same sour-faced, ill-spoken bitch, it would take
three times seven years to make any improvement in her, and the best improvement would be a shroud
, but in seven years he had learned not to say everything that came into his head.

“Seven years indeed have made small change in you, foster mother,” he said, and her smile was sour.

“Your manners, at least, are much improved.”

“Why,
domna
, I have lived seven years by my wits and my sword; in such lands and circumstances, lady, one improves quickly or one dies, and as you see, I still walk among the living.”

“But your father is remiss in hospitality,” Lady Jerana said. “He has offered you no refreshment. How came you to ride so late in such times?” she added when she had signaled to her servants to bring food and wine.

“Is it so unsafe, Domna? Old Gwynn said something of this, but I thought, at his age, his wits might well have gone roving.”

“His wits are clear enough,” Dom Rafael said. “It is I who have given orders for the gates to be barred every night at sunset, and that every beast and man and woman and child shall be within the walls. And I have set rangers to ride the borders, with beacon fires to warn us if more than three riders are sighted in a party—which is why we did not welcome you properly. It never occurred to us that you would ride alone, without bodyguard or paxman or even serving manor squire!”

“I am not called Wolf for nothing,” Bard said. “
Lone wolf
, and
rogue
, are the kindest of the names they give me.”

“Yet, despite all these precautions,” Dom Rafael said, “raiders, bandits they said, but I think myself they may be Geremy’s men, have broken into the villages and driven off some horses. We built

stockades here in the castle, where they may keep their beasts if they will, but they have begun to keep them at home again. The raiders also took sacks of grains and nuts, and half the harvest of apples.

There will be no great hunger, but the markets will go short, and people will have little coined money, and some of the village folk have armed themselves. There was even talk of hiring a
leronis
, to frighten away the raiders with sorcery, but nothing came of it, and I was not displeased; I like not that kind of warfare.”

“Nor I,” Bard said, “but little Erlend said something of being trained as
laranzu
.”

Lady Jerana nodded. “The boy has
donas
,” she said, “and his tutors think he has probably not the muscles for a swordsman.” Servants had brought wine, and were handing around savory tidbits. Bard froze suddenly, looking down into the eyes of a small, round-bodied woman whose hair was like a

living flame around her face, escaping in small fiery tendrils despite the modest braids coiled low on her neck,

“Melisendra?”

“My lord,” she said, lowering her head in a bow. “Erlend said, when he came to me to be put back to bed, that he had seen you.”

“He is a fine, likely-looking boy. Word came to me, just before I came here, of his existence; I had not thought of it before. Any man would be proud of such a son.”

A faint smile touched her face. “And for such compliments, no doubt, a woman is rewarded for

whatever price she paid. I think now, perhaps, he was a fair price for what I lost; but it took me many years to come to think so.”

Bard studied the mother of his son in silence. Her face was still round, snub-chinned; she wore a sober gown of gray, over an under-tunic of blue, embroidered with a pattern of butterflies at neck and sleeves.

She had a poise and dignity which reminded him, suddenly, of his young son’s solemn way of

speaking. He had not remembered her this way.

She said, “Lady Jerana has been kind to us both; and so has your father.”

“I should hope so,” said Bard. “I was brought up in my father’s house, and there is no reason my son should not be treated as well.”

Her eyes glinted with an ironic smile. “Why, yes, my lord, that was the last thing you said to me, that you were certain your father would not allow me and the babe to starve in the fields.”

“A grandson is a grandson,” Bard said. “Even if his birth was blessed with no ceremonious rubbish!”

Melisendra said quietly, “No birth is unblessed, Bard. Ceremonies are to comfort the heart of the ignorant; the wise know that it is the Goddess who gives a blessing. But how can anything which gives comfort be rubbish?”

“I take it, then, you are not among the ignorant who had need of such ceremonies?”

“When I had need of them, my lord, I was more ignorant than you can guess, being very young. Now I know that the Goddess alone can give more comfort than any ceremony devised by mankind or

woman.”

Bard chuckled. “Which goddess is she, among the dozens who comfort the ignorant in this

countryside?”

“The Goddess is one, by whatever name she may call herself, or whichever name the ignorant may give her.”

“Well, I suppose I must find some name by which to thank her,” Bard said, “for giving me such a fine son. But I would rather think that I owe thanks to
you
, Melisendra.”

She shook her head. “You owe me nothing, Bard,” she said, and turned away. He would have followed her, but the minstrels began to play near the fire. Bard went and sat beside his father again. At the other end of the hall some of the women were dancing, but he noticed briefly that Melisendra was not among them.

He asked, “How is it that Geremy is trying to claim the throne? The very name
Asturias
means
land of
Asturiens
, what has a Hastur to do with it?”

“He claims,” said Dom Rafael, “that once all this land was held by the Hastur kin, and that Asturias was given to the di Asturiens only to hold at Hastur’s will; that
Asturias
means, in the old tongue,
land
of Hasturs
.”

“He is mad.”

“If so, it is a self-serving madness, for he claims this land for King Carolin of Carcosa.”

“What shadow of a claim—” Bard began, then amended himself. “Leaving aside the claim of Prince

Valentine, and I would as soon leave
that
, for that land fares ill where the king’s a child, what shadow of claim does he have, save the old myth of the sons of Hastur and Cassilda? I will not be ruled by a king whose claim comes from legend and myth!”

“Nor I,” said Dom Rafael. “I would as soon believe that the Hasturs were once gods, as myth has it, and that the Hasturs were true sons of the Lord of Light! But even if the first Hastur were son to Aldones himself, I would not so peacefully give up my claim to the land the di Asturiens have held for all these years! I cannot move against him while he holds Alaric; but I think he knows that the people will cry out against a Hastur on the throne. Perhaps he holds Alaric to set him there as his puppet, but he must be shaking in his sandals, the wretch!”

“When he knows I have come back, he will have cause to tremble,” Bard said. “But I thought, perhaps, he had chosen to marry the daughter of King Ardrin and hold the throne for his children.”

“Carlina?” Dom Rafael inquired, and shook his head. “I know nothing of her, and certainly she is not married to Geremy;
that
, I would have heard.”

Soon after that, the minstrels were dismissed, Lady Jerana sent her women away, and Dom Rafael bade his son an affectionate good night. Lady Jerana had sent a body servant to his old rooms, to take his boots and clothing, and see him to his bath; but when he came back to bed the servant omitted the customary courtesy of asking if he wanted a woman for his bed. Bard started to call him back, then shrugged; he had ridden far that day, and had seen no woman among Lady Jerana’s maids who