by Jo Walton
I had to shake my head. I put down my empty bowl and shivered; the evening was becoming cold. I reached over and pulled on my tunic. Ulf said nothing for a long moment. Armigers were moving around the camp, and there was singing a little way off, but nobody came near us.
“That he writes letters isn’t proof, and neither is a dream anyone might have read. Nor is Suliensson’s word that he hates him. The things he was saying, well, I don’t like him either. I will watch out for him, but I must stay within the law I have made, or it is no law.”
Now for the first time that evening Ulf s eyes met mine, and for once we were in agreement. “I will change his pennon so that he does not go to Thansethan so much,” I said. “I will not kill him without honor, but I will not endanger my son either.”
“Do you really think he would attack Suliensson?” Urdo asked.
“Only if he could make it look as if it wasn’t his fault,” I said. “The way Morthu was looking at him was enough to kill him on the spot. It reminded me of his mother.”
“Then don’t send him to Thansethan, but don’t harm him either,” Urdo said.
“But Urdo—” I stopped, I wasn’t sure what words could reach him in this mood. “He hates us all, he hates everything we stand for, he is an enemy as sure as Sweyn ever was, or his mother Morwen. I am sure of it from the way he looked at Darien. I am even more sure he had a hand in planning that than Flavien did.”
“Well, and if he hates us?” Urdo sighed. “He was brought up to hate me, but then so was Angas, and he is one of my most loyal people. You fought against me, Ulf, and you are loyal to me now. Morthu can come to understand what we are doing, come to realize he was wrong. He is very clever to have planned this, if he did, and he is only eighteen now, and he has only been with us for two years. I don’t like him, I admit it, and I’ve been busy, and I’ve not been giving him much of my time, even though he’s my nephew. You don’t like him either, Sulien, so you haven’t been giving him much of your time. Little wonder he’s had time to plot mischief.”
“Mischief?” I said, my voice rising. “Arvlid was raped and killed, and Darien would have been killed—”
“Morthu may have been plotting. He didn’t do it. Maybe coming into contact with the reality of it will have taught him something.” Urdo shook his head. “It would be wrong of us not to try to teach him better. We can set him good examples and talk to him. We don’t even know if he did it. I will not go outside the law on this, or have you go outside the law.”
“I wish there could have been a trial within the law for Cinon,” Ulf growled. “That way we’d have found out who was helping him.”
“That is out of our hands,” Urdo said. “But you did well, Ulf. You didn’t kill anyone and you stopped Morthu from speaking treason I couldn’t have ignored.”
“Father Gerthmol spoke treason,” I said.
“That was a misunderstanding,” Urdo said, firmly, and smiled. “He has admitted he was wrong, and in front of everyone acknowledged that I am king with my own responsibilities.” Urdo yawned. “It’s late,” he said. “Tomorrow I have to deal with young Cinon.”
He and Ulf said good night then and went off to their own tents. I went inside mine and lay down, praying that Darien was safe and wishing that Ulf had killed Morthu, whatever it might have done to the King’s Law and to the politics of the kingdom.
38
“I have the blood of gods and kings, I have walked among giants beyond the North Wind, but here I am dying surrounded by fools. When will you understand it’s time to end these squabbles and look forward?”
— Last words of Emrys ap Gwerthus, as recorded by St. Sethan
The only reason I didn’t kill Morthu in the years that followed was because Urdo trusted in my honor, and I could not violate that trust. Respect for the law wouldn’t have stopped me. I believed Darien, and even without looking any further at what Morthu might do to the kingdom, I wanted to protect my son. But the law meant so much to Urdo, and I could not betray him as Marchel had done. So although Morthu accused me afterwards of putting him into harm’s way when I could, I did not, no more than for any of my armigers. Neither, which would have been more to my taste, did I run him through at practice, nor request Ulf to hit him on the head with his ax. I will not say I did not think of these things, but I did not do them. Certainly I kept a close watch on Morthu, and certainly that did not escape him. Also Urdo went out of his way to spend time with him, and Morthu was attentive to him and to Elenn and seemed to all appearances to be learning our ways as Angas had before him. When next he acted it was in a way that I did not expect.
There were two good years after Arvlid’s death. Apart from Morthu, the constant worm in the apple, they were very good. Raul was back and Urdo was much happier. He often had time to talk to me in the evenings again, playing fidchel or just talking about the alae and the land, or whatever came into our heads; laws, taxes, integrating the Jarnish foot soldiers into the army, or why it always rains in Tevin. My ala was well trained and thriving. There was peace at last, real peace, and the land prospered. Foals were plentiful as people decided to breed their mares now they were not needed for battle every season. Ap Erbin and Alswith married and had their baby, and the year after another baby. Garah and Glyn also had another child that year, and their older children were finally old enough to talk and play with and understand properly. Babies are all very well, little children who will say “Tantie Sulien” and beg for rides are better, but talking children who can ask questions about the world and start riding properly are best of all. I remember putting Garah’s oldest and Ayl’s oldest both up on Starlight and leading them around the near pasture at Caer Tanaga. It was a reward for keeping their heels in riding and not making a fuss when they fell off their ponies. They looked very small on Starlight’s broad back, and they were almost too excited to keep still. It’s strange to think of them being grown-up and married now, and king and queen of Aylsfa.
Both of those years there were very good harvests, and plenty of food for people and animals. My mother wrote to me that they were using the dowager Rowanna’s methods of scything grain and hay, and yields were increasing. She also begged me to get the plant from Ayl he used to make his strange pink dye. He gave it to me willingly enough, and I sent it off to Derwen. I visited Magor and Derwen only once, when Veniva sent to tell me that Duke Galba was dying. I was there in time to speak to him. I was sad to see him go; the old man had always been very kind to me. My mother cut her hair for him. He was almost the last of the friends of her youth. Aurien was very cold and formal all the time when I was there. I did not try to push her to a friendship neither of us felt. At Duke Galba’s pyre I remembered Galba’s, but Emer and Lew were there, decorously beside Idrien and Uthbad, and no messenger came to interrupt with news of an invasion. Aurien ran Magor after that, until little Galbian should be old enough. Morien promised to give her whatever help she needed.
Every few months I rode to Thansethan, escorting Elenn. I visited Darien and spent time with him. I took him leather riding clothes like the ones I had worn at his age, practice spears, and a shield. The best protection I could give him was knowing how to fight. I would have had a sword made for him, but Urdo stopped me, saying it was too soon.
Yes, those were good years. Urdo finished his law code and gathered all the kings together to hear it and agree to it. He gave them all a copy afterwards. Flavien tried to sneer at Ohtar, saying he wouldn’t be able to read it, and Ohtar amazed him by quoting back what Urdo had read. He had remembered it from one hearing. The kings were not quite as they had been after Foreth. Cinon was dead, and young Cinon was more polite and cautious. He did not drive Elenn to distraction the way his father had. Young Galbian tried to be as dignified as his grandfather, but he was only eight years old. Mardol the Crow was dead, too, quietly, in bed with a young leman. Cadraith wept when the laws were read and said it would have gladdened his father’s heart.
The year after that we all cautiously r
ejoiced, especially those who were always casting glances at the queen’s waistline. It seemed Elenn was pregnant, and by the Harvest Fair it was unmistakable. Everyone was saying there would be an heir for the kingdom by midwinter.
At that time there was a new water mill built at Caer Tanaga. It ground better than the usual sort, for the wheel was mounted vertically and not horizontally in the stream. These wheels are everywhere now, of course, but then it was a new thing and a marvel to us. Nobody then had thought of using the work of the wheel for sawing wood or cutting stone; it did nothing but grind wheat to flour. I did not like it at first because it made such a roar and frightened the horses. After I tried the good bread made from the fine flour I thought it was a wonderful invention. News of it went far and wide, farther and wider than we could have imagined.
The Fair that year was the biggest I had ever seen. There is always something exciting about a fair. Even if there is nothing new, there is always the promise that there might be something wonderful around the next corner.
I have never envied Glyn his job, and then I envied it less than ever. With Elenn pregnant and Garah just brought to bed, all the work of provisioning the ala fell to him. As I passed through the main part of the fair where the farmers were selling their extra produce, I caught sight of him bargaining with a fruit seller. Glyn had grown plumper with time and good cooking. By now he was quite a round man. Little ap Glyn was next to him, jumping from foot to foot and looking bored. The younger one, the boy, was perched on his shoulders pulling his hair; the new baby was left at home with Garah. Ap Glyn Junior was too old to be carried really, but with the coming of the new baby he had slipped back into some of his ways of a year or two before. He missed being the youngest. Both children spotted me before their father did, and I gave them the ala hand signal for silence. I came right up behind Glyn and poked him in the ribs. He jumped, and the child on his shoulders giggled. “Don’t buy as many pears as last year,” I said. “They were coming out of our ears before spring and half the armigers were giving them to their horses because they were so tired of them.”
He laughed. “We got pears in tax from Guthrum and Rowanna last year; I didn’t have to buy any. This year Guthrum sent beans and Rowanna sent hay—hay I ask you! I want tax in coin, but Urdo says he won’t push it yet.”
“Hay, I ask you,” the little boy echoed. “Over land, too, the old lady must be cracking at last!”
I crowed with laughter, and Glyn looked terribly embarrassed. “Well,” he said. “I don’t think we’ll have any pears at all this year if I have to pay these prices for them.” He shook his head over the baskets at the farmer and put on his most doleful expression. “I don’t suppose the thought of all those hungry horses can soften your heart?” The boy on his shoulders pulled Glyn’s ear, and the farmer grinned and started to haggle.
“I thought I’d borrow one of your children,” I said, before Glyn was too absorbed. Both children immediately started to draw attention to themselves, but stopped when I frowned at them. “Mind, if I do take you I’m expecting really good behavior,” I said. “No touching things, and if I’m talking, you be quiet. I want someone to help me with money, and I know you two are better with it than I am.”
“You think she’d be joking,” Glyn said to the farmer, who was giggling behind her hand at the way the children were raising their chins in agreement. “But no, the Praefecto here lives in barracks and eats in the king’s hall and never remembers how many silver pennies there are in a gold victrix, and as for haggling, she has less idea than my month-old babe at home, never mind these two.”
I smiled crookedly. Then I went on with both children and Glyn’s sincere thanks, wrapped up but not hidden in his teasing. We went quickly through the part of the fair selling food. Next came the artisans. Some were local and had shops in the town all year, but others had come a long way especially for the fair. Here there were fewer people with baskets and more boards set out on the ground. Some even had little tents hung about with their merchandise. There were potters, some selling bowls and jugs and crocks and even beakers, others offering to mend any broken pots. Beris was there having a plate mended with rivets; she smiled at me as we went by. The new pots were very expensive, and I didn’t need any, not having a house of my own. The colors and glazes were beautiful. The children were clamoring to get on. We stopped for a moment to watch the tinkers mending broken metal tools. The smiths at Nant Gefalion grumble about tinkers and their work, but few people would buy anything metal if they had to go all the way to a smith to mend it if it cracked. There were craftspeople selling cloth of all kinds, and rolls of yarn. I told the children that you could get a whole set of clothes at the Harvest Fair, cloth and thread and the tinkers would sell you needles to sew it together.
“Would they sell it to you if you came in wearing nothing though?” The little girl giggled.
“The Jarnish ones wouldn’t,” the little boy said, indicating a nearby tent hung about with distinctive pink cloth from Aylsfa and presided over by two veiled and pigtailed young Jarnswomen. The children roared with laughter at the thought of needing new clothes so badly and not being able to get them. “You could get boots, too, look, leather, and shoemakers to make them up for you if you can’t cobble.”
“People do that,” I said. “I’ve done it myself, though there are more years where I get the boots I’ve worn down cobbled together to last me another winter.” There was a tannery at Caer Rangor where we bought leather for the ala. The stink of it hung on the air for miles around. I paused and looked at a lovely piece of leather hanging on a tent. It was tanned very pale. I felt it, it was very soft, it would be better for gloves than boots.
“Do you fancy that, Praefecto?” Morthu asked, softly and suddenly. He had come up behind the tent and had a covered basket over his arm.
I was startled. “It’s beautiful stuff,” I said, honestly. “I don’t need any at the moment.”
“What a shame,” he said, putting out his hand to stroke the leather. I let go of it abruptly and moved away. Although he had said nothing but casual politeness, there was something about him that made my skin crawl. He was a grown man now, with nothing of the boy left about him, and I was suddenly aware of that, as if he wanted me to be. He didn’t look like his father or his mother. Indeed he looked a little like Urdo, which wasn’t surprising in a nephew. He smiled at me deliberately and continued to stroke the leather. “It’s very soft,” he said.
I wanted to shudder, or hit him, and deliberately stopped myself. The children were being good and quiet, as I had asked them. I wished they would ask for something or catch sight of something interesting and give me an excuse to leave Morthu. I looked down on him. “Have you been buying leather?” I asked, indicating his woven basket and hoping my voice would stay even.
“No,” he said. “Wine. There’s a ship in from Narlahena, and they’re selling some of their cargo.”
“Oh, where?” I asked. He turned and took my arm to show me the direction. I flinched, and I know he felt it for I saw an instant of triumph in his face. I couldn’t say anything, what he had done was something any of my comrades could have done without offense. The difference was that he was an enemy and that he did mean offense. I moved away from him and went off with the children, glancing back to make sure he did not follow.
The next place was selling smith’s ironwork, daggers and spades and hoes. I had to explain to the children how the handles would be fitted into the implements. They wanted to buy a spade for their grandfather back at Derwen, who only had a wooden one. They haggled for a while, but the smith was not fool enough to sell to a seven-year-old for a promise of coin later. They had to be contented with the thought of coming back and asking their father to pay for one. By the time we went on I was feeling almost calm again.
We passed people selling dyes, then a man selling hot sausages, and the children had to have one each. We went on past people selling spices and trinkets and love potions and cures for all sorts
of illnesses. Some of these were real enough healing herbs, but others were not, and in any case I hated to see them sold as wonder cures and not medicine. I wondered if I could ask Urdo if there was anything we could do about that. Then at last we came to the Narlahenans.
They had barrels of wine and a board set out on two big barrels so it was like a table, and they had wine in flasks and flagons spread out an embroidered cloth on top of that. Lots of people were haggling over them as they sampled the wares, including the High King’s cook. As well as wine they had some other items, and these were what interested us. The children stuffed their sausages into their mouths and put their greasy hands behind their backs to stop themselves from touching everything in sight. There were glass beads, and glass jars, and glass beakers, all in beautiful reds and blues and some in green. Also there were some books. I looked at them longingly. I doubted if I had enough money to buy one, even if I wanted them. I looked at them quickly. I was disappointed to see they were all copies of the Memories of the White God except for one, which was a book of prayers composed in a monastery in Narlahena. I put them back and turned back to the glassware.
The children were pining over some little glass animal beads, very cunningly made and about the size of my thumbnail. I asked how much they were, and was surprised to find they were quite cheap. Ap Glyn insisted on bargaining for me, even though the Narlahenan spoke only Vincan and she spoke only Tanagan and so I was forced to translate all the haggling. The children spoke Tanagan at home and heard Vincan only rarely. The Narlahenan had the same clipped accent as Amala, biting off the ends of words, so I knew he must be a Malm. I bought them a bead each, a little red hare for the boy and a blue horse for the girl. On impulse after the price had been agreed I bought a red squirrel and a blue dog for my nephews in Magor, Aurien’s two children. I wasn’t planning to go home, but I could send them in my next letter to Veniva. I was sorry Darien was too old for one, and then I saw a blue pig and decided to buy him one anyway. It might make him smile.
