by Jo Walton
“I think we should come back later,” Galba whispered, and I assented gratefully.
“If you do that you’ll find you’re feeding them on grass, and then see how they fight!” shouted Raul, storming out through the door. He almost tripped over us. He looked absolutely furious, and his glance at me would have curdled fresh milk. “Excuse me,” he said, with clearly strained politeness. We leapt aside and he brushed past us. We looked at each other again, uneasily. I felt twelve years old.
“You may as well come in, whoever you are,” Urdo said. We went in. Urdo’s hair was sticking up all over as if he had just been running his hands through it. The heaped-up pile of writing tablets and parchments on his table seemed higher than ever. On the top was a map of the north with new lines drawn on it in black ink. He looked at us with an expression which looked as if he was trying to pull together the tattered edges of patience. “Yes?”
“It’s not a good time,” Galba said. “It isn’t urgent. We’ll come back.” Urdo sighed, and ran his hands through his hair again, smoothing it down.
“It’s not going to be a good time for quite a long time, so you may as well tell me now.”
Galba shifted his feet and took a deep breath. “I’m supposed to go to Derwen and get married. You said—”
“What, now?” Urdo’s voice rose, then he suddenly laughed. “Well, yes, now. You’ve been planning it for years, haven’t you, and I’m in no position to complain about getting married in the middle of a war. Derwen. Yes.” He glanced at the map, saw it was the wrong one, and started to reach for another from underneath. I leapt forward to catch the pile as it slithered inexorably towards the floor.
“It’ll take about half a month to get there, and then about the same to get back,” I said, straightening most of the pile and sliding it back onto the table. Urdo’s eyes were shut. I picked up the map and a scraper and put them on the top. I bent down again to pick up the rest. I picked up a slate covered in the drearily familiar calculations of the arcane art of logistics, chalked and erased and redone so that the slate was ghostly white. I put it down very carefully.
“Somebody needs to be down there anyway,” he said, opening his eyes one at a time and looking at Galba. “Take the recruit pennon. Take both recruit pennons. Go by way of Caer Gloran. Make sure there’s a pennon there. Tell Amala and—and—whoever Angas left in charge of whatever troops are there that you’re in charge there now. Then head down to Magor and Derwen, get married, and send me back three good war-ready pennons. Send them to Caer Tanaga, I’ll be there by the time they get there. You’ll have a whole ala, counting the recruits, and you’ll have a chance to train them up.”
“I’m to stay down there, then?” asked Galba, looking worried. I put the green-and-brown stylus Urdo had said was made of the shell of a Lossian creature on the table and stepped away from it. The pile looked as if it was about to slip again at a breath. I held mine and backed away.
“Yes. For this year at least. Marchel won’t like it, but you’ve a family claim, too. She’s going to be coming up here in any case. If you’re going to marry, you ought to have a little time at least somewhere near your wife. I’m not completely stripping the south and west, but the troops are going to be needed along the Jarnish line whether Raul likes it or not. You’ll have one ala there, there’ll be another at Caer Thanbard, and that’ll be it. We have to stay mobile. The Jarns have to think we’re everywhere. If I really need everyone who can ride I’ll summon you back.” Galba’s face cleared a little at this. Poor Galba. I was glad I wasn’t going to be stuck down in Magor while the war was all happening miles away. That was for those too old to fight full-time. “You should be able to hold that whole area against anything that’s likely to come up against you. If you really need help—which means if you’re invaded, which could happen—hold on, send to me, and I’ll get it to you from somewhere. Cooperate with your father, with Gwien ap Nuden, and with old Uthbad One-Hand at Talgarth. They’ll supply you as much as they can. Have you written to Uthbad, Sulien?” His glance swung round to me.
“Why?” I asked, and then I remembered. Uthbad, the Lord of Tathal, was Enid’s father. “No, I haven’t. I didn’t think. I wrote to Larig.”
“Well copy it out and send it to Uthbad, too, and give the letter to Galba to deliver. Give him my regrets, too. Tell him I liked Enid, she saved my life once. She’ll be much missed.”
“Of course. Would you mind telling my mother I can’t go, though?” Urdo looked at me as if I’d started to whinny instead of speaking Tanagan. I changed feet, uncomfortable. “My mother’s very insistent I go to Galba’s wedding. He’s marrying my sister. I thought if you explained that ‘in the circumstances’ doesn’t just mean that Galba and I used to be betrothed and I changed my mind but the fact that the land’s at war and I’m needed, she might understand. You have met my mother,” I added. Urdo raised an eyebrow.
“You can go,” he said. “Half a month there, and then six or seven days to Caer Tanaga, you’ll be there nearly as soon as I will. I’ll take the ala down, don’t worry. It’ll make it easier in a way because you can bring the pennons back with you.”
“I don’t mind not going,” I said, hastily. Urdo laughed.
“I can tell. But if you’re not afraid to charge the might of Jarnholme uphill and almost single-handed, it’s about time you stopped being afraid of your mother. It’ll probably do both of you good to see you’ve grown up. Which you have, Sulien, and don’t forget it. We have a truce for the time being. There won’t be any fighting until the thaw. I don’t think the White God himself knows when next this will be the case. I can spare you, briefly. Oh, and call at Caer Rangor and tell ap Cathvan that I don’t care whether he’s been kicked by a mare he should make his way to Caer Tanaga to be there when I get there. I need him. Tell him I don’t expect him to be up to training horses, I do expect his mouth to be working. He knows the horses better than anyone. Make sure he’s sitting down before you talk about the Isarnagans, though. I’d hate to hear he’d expired of joy.” We laughed, and laughing he accepted Galba’s thanks and gave him his blessing. We left him to his work.
It was bitterly cold and frosty when we set off south. We rode out of Caer Avroc in a mist of our own breath and the horses’ breath. The ground was hard as stone. We stopped one night in Caer Rangor and one night in Caer Gloran. The other nights along the way we camped to give the pennons practice at making and breaking camps, cold camps, camps with fire, and night camps. Galba and I took a pennon each and raced each other, practiced tracking each other and pacing each other. We took turns going cross-country. The recruits were more than half-trained already and merely needed a lot more work, especially at charges and close-order discipline. They learned quite a lot before we reached Talgarth, though we didn’t have to fight at all. I quite enjoyed the journey. I think the recruits did, too, for all that they raised the usual loud groans and complaints whenever they thought we were out of earshot.
We reached Derwen the day before the full moon, the day before the wedding. We made the best procession we could, coming up. Galba led with one pennon, and I brought up the rear with the other.
I hardly recognized my home. It had developed wharves on the river and a town wall all around. There was a forge, and a mill upstream, merrily turning. The house had been restored and looked larger than it had been, with a much larger stable, two blocks, big enough for three pennons. Outside the house a gaily striped yellow-and-white awning had been spread and pegged like half a tent. The winter sun shone on it and through it. The place looked almost like a Vincan town, though half of it was built of wood instead of stone. People came running up to us as the trumpeter blew a blast when we approached. I didn’t recognize any of them.
We dismounted at the house and grooms came up to take our horses. I did recognize some of the grooms, but only some of them. I’d have liked to take Beauty myself, but it didn’t seem courteous. Emlin came up and greeted me, then took charge of the pennons.
I went forward behind Galba to greet my family as they came out. We embraced, formally. Veniva looked thinner than ever, and there was no black left in her hair. It was twisted up tightly and held by the gold comb from the hoard. Her embrace was stiff. Gwien was still using a stick to walk but apart from that he looked well. He smiled as if he were truly glad to see me. Morien had all the growth he would ever have, though he was still shorter than I. He had not yet filled out to fit his bones and looked stretched and gangling. I hoped Galba would soon give him a good training as an armiger and help him build up his strength.
Aurien, however, looked beautiful. She was wearing the traditional orange overdress of a bride, fastened with her pearl brooch, over a long white shift, and her thick black hair was piled up on the top of her head. She was not yet at her full height, but it was clear that she would be tall and slim like Veniva. Also like Veniva, she looked regal. I have never understood Aurien. She gave up learning to fight as soon as she could defend herself at minimum competence. She never liked horses, and as soon as she could stay on one she gave up bothering with them. Even as a little girl she loved to do accounts and household management, and she could sew a seam that stayed straight for a mile or embroider a flower in four colors. She could draw, too, and read Veniva’s improving books with an appearance of enthusiasm I’d never been able to summon. Now she was being married at the youngest possible age to a man ten years older. She had only met him twice, but she appeared to be thrilled at the prospect. It was fortunate for me that she was.
We embraced briefly and formally. Then I stepped aside and presented Galba to her. I realized a moment later that I should have left it for his father to do, but nobody noticed. Galba clasped both her hands and said a few formal phrases, then he embraced her decorously and whispered something in her ear that made her giggle. He looked very pleased indeed, and so did the old duke as he came up to greet me. Then I greeted Duke Galba and old Uthbad and his wife Idrien. They all three looked much older than when I had last seen them. Enid’s death had been hard on them. They presented their two remaining children to me, Cinvar, the heir, and their other daughter, Kerys. We bowed politely. When this flurry was over Veniva announced that the wedding would take place at sunrise the next day and all were welcome to witness, and we all went inside.
The stone walls of the hall were hung with bright-colored tapestries. I regretted the old familiar ones, but was impressed how much had been done in so short a time. The carpenter Urdo sent must have been good, for there were wooden window boxes and strong shutters on all the windows. I went over and looked out. I could see the wharf below. People were unloading bales of linen and strong hemp-cloth from a cart into a warehouse just uphill. The place was bustling even though it was midwinter.
A servant came up to me with a steaming pottery beaker, which I accepted gratefully. He then offered me salted bread, and I realized he must have taken me for a stranger. I stared at him for a moment, taking in his green tunic, his plaited hair, the pebble around his neck. He must have thought me some soldier companion of Galba’s, needing to be given the hospitality token. We had kept no such custom when I lived at home, any breaking bread with the family would be real and immediate. But then strangers were few at Derwen when I was growing up. I hesitated. I was in my father’s house. In days gone by, I could have killed him for this insult. Even now if I did not keep the King’s Peace I could offer challenge and take him outside to fight, though it would be as good as murder to do so. He did not know me. I tugged on my white praefecto’s cloak, straightening it to make sure he saw the gold oak leaves, and his face did not change, though his smile was growing more forced. I did not believe my parents were casting me out. If they had wished to greet me as a stranger they would not have embraced me as kin outside. Where had this smugly smiling servant been then? In here heating the drink very probably.
I took the bread in my hand. If he had the right to offer it then I must take it or leave, no excuses, no other choices. Once he had offered it I could not speak, except the ritual words, anything else would be a rejection. All this rushed through my mind very fast. I truly meant no harm to any within and would keep the laws, and that was all this welcoming ritual meant. If I didn’t know him then why should he know me? Any attention I drew would only make matters worse, and all my instinct was to have things go smoothly.
I bit into the bread. “Peace in this hall,” I murmured.
“And a welcome to you who keep the peace within it,” replied the servant. His expression now was one of intense relief. He cannot often have seen someone hesitate over accepting hospitality of the house, I thought. I wanted to laugh out loud.
“I am the eldest daughter of Gwien of Derwen,” I said, and paused, politely, for him to tell me how he should be addressed. The blood left his face and he looked grey. The look on his face was as good as a picture. I took a sip of my drink to hide my smile. It was good spiced cider, ideal for a cold day. Just then, to my relief, my father came up to me.
“What are you doing, Dal?” he asked, sounding horrified. “This is no stranger; this is Sulien, my eldest child.”
“Lord,” he stammered. He tried to touch his hand to his head, but could not, because of the tray. He looked at me again, stricken. He either had really not known or he was a very good actor. “I beg pardon.”
“He meant no harm, Father,” I said. “It is a long time since I have been here.” And in my heart it was not my home, my home was in the alae, looking forward between a horse’s ears. I knew that then, but did not say it.
“Veniva will have your ears,” Gwien said to him. “This is Daldaf ap Wyn, Sulien, your mother’s steward. You will know each other again, no doubt.” Daldaf blushed now. “Go on, take that cider round. Don’t chatter about this mistake to the others.” Daldaf bobbed his head and moved off with the tray. Gwien turned to me. “You’re truly not angry, Sulien?”
“No,” I said, and I was not.
“Let me tell Veniva about it then,” he said. “It will have to be put the right way, or she might feel she had to send Dal off, and she has just got him trained to her ways. He is come out of the east and he is a great help to her now that the household has grown so.”
“I was admiring how it has grown,” I said, gesturing to take in the hall.
“I wanted to rebuild as a fortress,” he said, “but Veniva wouldn’t have it, it had to be Vincan style or nothing, ‘our strength is not in stones but hearts,’ you know her way. The walls are thick, though, and you will have noticed how the windows would give a good field to an archer?”
“I did indeed,” I said. “But the next line of that is ‘stone-strength shows how heart-strength holds,’ and we need strong walls and strong hearts both, Urdo says.”
Gwien beamed, straightened himself, and hugged me again. “I see by your cloak you’re now a praefecto of the High King? When did this happen? You shouldn’t have been away so long, Sulien, I’ve missed you. And you’ve grown taller than I am, I wouldn’t have thought it.” He seemed proud of it. The truth was that his back was a little bowed because of his injuries. We would have been eye to eye otherwise. But I didn’t tell him so. I was very pleased to see him and to have him approve of me.
“I’ve missed you, too,” I said. “But I have been so busy in the ala, Father, and I have enjoyed it so much. After Caer Lind Urdo has made me praefecto of his own ala.”
“That’s a great honor, wonderful thing,” Gwien said, and clapped me on the back. “I always knew you’d do great things; Duncan and I used to say so when we saw you going at it with a sword when you were quite small, you and Darien.” His face clouded, then he smiled again deliberately. “Sit down a minute and let me look at you, so tall and fine you are.” We sat down together on the window seat. The shoulder piece of my armor caught the sunlight and blazed out. Gwien looked at it and said in quite a different tone. “Where ever did you find this, Sulien?”
“Urdo gave it to me. Isn’t it splendid?”
“Is
there a dragon on the other arm?” He looked, and there was. “You know, I think this is the very armor my mother used to wear. She was killed when I was just a little boy, but I remember her wearing this and showing me the pictures in it. I thought it had been lost with her.”
“Urdo said it was in a chest in Caer Segant. He said the dowager Rowanna found it and thought it might fit me, and so he gave it to me after Caer Lind when I needed some new armor. He said they thought it belonged to a giant, but it could just as easily have belonged to my grandmother I suppose. How strange though.”
“Not really, if it was size they were going by. There aren’t many women big enough to wear this. It’s beautifully made stuff, and I’m sure it’s the same armor. Galba may remember it too. Galba! Come and have a look at this!” Duke Galba excused himself from a group that contained his son, Aurien, Veniva, and Idrien, and came over to us.
“You remember my mother, don’t you Galba?” said Gwien. Duke Galba inclined his head.
“I was only ten or eleven when she died, but I do remember her,” he said.
“Then look at this armor and see if it looks familiar.” I stood and let the two old men look at it. I preferred the story about the giant in some ways. I tried to remember what I’d heard about my grandmother, other than that she’d been killed fighting in the civil wars. I couldn’t even remember her name. I knew my male line ancestry, Gwien ap Nuden ap Iarn all the way back to Edwy who escaped the Flood with his eleven companions and was shipwrecked on our shore and married a woman made out of alder. They’d all had to make do with trees for wives and the trees were the only women’s names I’d been made to learn. Duke Galba shook his head slowly.
“I think I do remember her wearing it. Well, well. Though it was all a long time ago. Getting on for fifty years. I wonder where Urdo got it from.”
“From a chest in Caer Segant.” I repeated the story. “The odd thing is that they didn’t send it back here with her things, if it was hers.”
