by Helen Gosney
“Mind you, he didn’t put up with any nonsense, and you underestimated him at your peril, but he… well, he just inspired confidence and loyalty in us. He respected us and believed in us, in what we could do… and then he made us feel that we could do anything,” Bryn shrugged, “I’ve never been at another garrison where there was such a feeling of camaraderie and respect. Respect that went both ways, like that.”
Thom nodded, serious for once.
“Aye, and that’s why the Den Siddon men did so well at Messton. While all the other troops were falling apart as their leaders fell, he kept us together,” he said, “And he gathered the others to him, gave them hope again…”
“ And he was happy to share his skills with anyone, too,” Bryn added, “He taught us to ride, you know…”
“You amaze me. He would have been, what… 2i/c then?”
“Aye, he was, but he still helped out with classes even as Captain. Said he wasn’t having anyone in his garrison who couldn’t stay on a horse come hell or high water, and without pulling at its mouth. That’s why Kendall Lorrissen found himself in the first-year recruits’ riding class after he was demoted. And maybe to teach him a bit of humility too.”
“What! The Commandant wouldn’t have liked that, would he?” Karl gasped.
“No, he wasn’t pleased. He stormed into the Mess when Red was at lunch, shouting and waving his arms about… apparently Red just saluted and took him down to the stables and showed him the damage to the mare,” Thom said with another smile, “Look, give the old bastard his due, he liked horses and he was upset when he saw the poor mare: her mouth was torn and her flanks and shoulders and back were cut and bleeding. Even if the horse was a bugger of a thing, it didn’t deserve that. The old boy was suddenly very quiet after that.”
“And is Rowan truly a Horse Master?” Karl wanted to know.
His friends nodded.
“Aye, Karl, he truly is. He’s a damned good rider and a fine trainer, he can make horses dance, but it’s more than that. Just go into the stables with him sometime, see what happens…” Bryn never ceased to be fascinated as the horses turned to watch Rowan.
“You still call Rowan ‘Red’…” Karl said thoughtfully.
His friends nodded.
“Aye… the whole garrison does. He’ll always be Red Rowan to us here, and to those who were at Messton,” Bryn said quietly. “He gave all he had for us and then he gave a bit more… he damned nearly died of the lung fever after he got back to Sian… they say that’s why his hair’s silver now…”
Rowan had never bothered to correct this fallacy. It was partly true anyway.
**********
“Thom, you and Bryn were both there at Messton… ” Karl had had a broken wrist when the muster had been called and he’d been unable to go with the others from his garrison. It’d hurt at the time, being left behind, but now he could see how lucky he’d really been. Very few of Den Tor’s troopers and none of their Cadets had returned. “Look, I’ve heard the tales, like everyone has… and after sparring with Rowan today, I can believe them a bit more…” he hesitated, knowing his friends didn’t like to talk about Messton much. They seemed happy enough about it today though.
“You know, Karl, Red always says that he’s only playing games with his sabre now. I don’t mean he doesn’t take it seriously, exactly, but…” Thom shrugged, “If you’d seen him at Messton, you’d know that he’s telling the truth. He was just… utterly devastating. Unstoppable. And an inspiration to all of us who were following him. He was incredible, truly. We couldn’t believe that he wasn’t named Troop Commander.”
“Do you know why he wasn’t? He was Captain of Den Siddon, dual Champion… what else did they want? I mean no disrespect to Captain Yianni, but…”
Thom and Bryn glanced at each other for a moment. This had been a very sore point with the Den Siddon men, though Rowan himself had seemed unconcerned. He’d simply told his men to stop their whingeing and get on with the job they’d been given. And of course that’s what they’d done.
“Well, apparently the other Captains all wanted Red,” Thom said, “As you say, Captain of Den Siddon, Champion, Weapons Master, and a damned good leader too… but it seems the Commandant, may he writhe in unspeakable agony forever, he wasn’t having it. Said Rowan was too young, too inexperienced, and a mere competition swordsman who might go to pieces in battle,” Thom said something unrepeatable about the Commandant and his ancestors as Karl stared at him in amazement.
“He called Rowan a… a what? A ‘mere competition swordsman’? He’s the bloody dual Champion!” he said, outraged at the mere thought of such an insult.
“Aye, unbelievable, isn’t it? Gods, Red put up with a lot from that bloody man,” Thom shook his head. “And of course you don’t get named Weapons Master if you go to pieces at the sight of a sabre or axe or anything else coming your way. We’re lucky to see one in a generation.”
“Aye, that’s true. So what did Rowan do? What did he say?”
“Well, we weren’t there of course, but apparently he simply smiled at the Commandant, agreed that he had in fact won a few competitions as every man there had, and politely pointed out that none of them had any experience with battle either, but naturally he would support whoever the Commandant chose,” Bryn said, “Pity he didn’t take the old bastard outside and show him just exactly what a ‘mere competition swordsman’ could do.”
To the troopers, Rowan’s incredible display against Rollo at his second Trophy was a cherished part of his legend.
“Aye, it truly was,” Thom agreed bitterly. “Anyway, the word was that Captain Yianni himself protested, said that Rowan should lead the Troop, but the old bastard was adamant. So Yianni had the gold sash and Rowan had a red sash like all of the other Captains. I remember he used it as a sling when his arm was injured.”
“And… and they say that the Commandant pulled his sabre on Rowan when he realised it was him leading the men home from Messton…” Karl had never known whether to believe this incredible insult to Rowan and his wounded troopers or not, but after what his friends had just said…
“Aye, he did,” Thom said slowly, “Rowan was exhausted and badly hurt, only keeping going on courage and sheer bloodymindedness, I think, but for just a moment I thought he’d kill the Commandant there and then. He’d have handled him, too. Truly, I believe nothing could have stopped him that day.”
“I think he could have handled him too, but… well, I’ve always thought Red realised how volatile things were in the garrison,” Bryn said thoughtfully, “If the Commandant had touched him, there’d have been a bloody riot. So he just unhorsed him before the old bastard could have a swing at him.”
Thom grinned.
“And then he gave him a couple of kicks where they’d do the most good. He didn’t even draw his sabre until after that, just to keep the old bugger quiet while he spoke to the men. No, he was unstoppable.”
“But… but what would you have done if he’d…?”
“If he’d been killed in the battle?” Thom shook his head. “We’d have made the bastards pay for killing him, just as we made them pay for killing so many of us. We’d never have shamed him by falling apart too.”
“Aye. He said he’d come back and haunt us if we gave up just because something happened to him. Daft bugger,” Bryn smiled slightly, “But he was simply extraordinary. Nobody could stand against him. He was knocked from his horse, but we’d got separated from him by then, we didn’t actually see it… but we heard a great groan from the men with him. They were sure he’d been killed. It… it seemed as if everything stood still for a few moments… it sounds daft, I know, but…” Bryn shrugged again.
“And then Rollo’s men were screaming and trying to get away and Rowan and Mica galloped straight at them and through them,” Thom continued quietly. “Rowan’s arm was useless, streaming blood. You’ve seen the damned great scar there… I don’t know how the hell he got back on the horse and kept going, b
ut he did. And… and the men shouted his name… ‘Red Rowan’… it… it sent shivers up my spine then and it still does now, when I think of it… and it put new heart into all of us.”
“I’d sell my old Gran to be half the Captain that Rowan was, Karl, to be half as respected and admired by my men. We thought he was… wonderful,” Bryn said, “We truly thought he could do anything, and nothing that happened at Messton or after it has ever made me think otherwise.”
**********
38. “The problem is easily fixed, my lord.”
“Oh, Rowan lad, I'm glad to run into you. Bella wants to see you,” Fess said one morning as they were both on the way to the stables.
“Bella wants to see me, Fess? Now?” Rowan looked at his old friend in surprise. “What does she want, do you know?”
Fess shook his head and tried to look innocent.
“No idea... I don't think it's anything urgent though,” he said.
Rowan looked at him sceptically.
“Fess... I know us foresters are the world's worst liars...” They were, too. Completely hopeless at it. “.... But that doesn't mean we don't know when someone else is being, um... frivolous with the truth. Out with it.”
“I don't know what you mean!” Fess said indignantly.
“Fess, lad, it wouldn't do if the Captain of Den Siddon was picked up bodily and turned upside down in front of all his troopers, would it? Just as all his troopers came into the stables, perhaps?”
Fess stared at Rowan. He might be a truly pathetic liar, but he could look innocent and harmless with the best of them. And Fess knew that his friend could do exactly what he’d suggested, too, if the mood took him. He laughed.
“No, it wouldn't do, would it? Dammit. But it's more than my life's worth to tell you, Rowan. Truly, Bella would...”
“Turn you upside down and hang you by your braces in that tree over there? In, let’s say, the next couple of minutes?”
Fess closed his eyes for a moment. Bloody Hells, he thought. I can't win either way. He opened his eyes again to see that Rowan's face was alight with laughter.
“I'm truly sorry, Fess, but Bella's not here right now and I am. Out with it, laddie.”
“But, Rowan...”
Rowan picked him up off the ground with no trouble at all and flipped him over his shoulder.
“Rowan!”
Rowan raised an eyebrow at him and bunched his muscles as he prepared to turn his friend upside down as he’d threatened.
“Put me down, you bloody fool! I'll tell you all I know.”
Rowan put him back on the ground, straightened his uniform for him and smiled.
“Thank you. Now, ‘twasn't so hard, was it? So, what is this big bloody secret that you and Bella have cooked up?”
“It’s nothing to do with me! I'm just the poor fool who's passing on the message! All right, all right...” Fess said as Rowan looked at him consideringly. “Bella wants to take you... I’m truly sorry to say it, lad… shopping...”
“What! Why...?”
“It's something to do with the Ball... The Champion's Ball, you idiot!” Fess said as Rowan looked blank.
“The Champion’s Ball? But why would I... Dammit! I told her I'd go, didn't I?” He had, too, in a weak moment. How could he possibly have thought she'd forget?
**********
Commandant Telli certainly wasn’t as fond of Galas and Balls as his predecessor had been, but there were some that were simply unavoidable and the Year’s Turn and Mid Winter Balls came into that category. Rowan had managed to miss the Year’s Turn Ball, but he faced a lot of opposition to his plans to do the same at Midwinter. Bella was the most vocal.
“But why not, Rowan? You like dancing, and you’re damned good at it, and Fess and I’ll protect you from the matchmakers, and the Gods know you’ve got nothing better to do in the middle of bloody winter!” she said, exasperated by his complete lack of interest.
Rowan shrugged.
“I’ve got no reason to give to you, Bella, but I’m not going,” he said.
“You bloody stubborn bugger. Don’t think you’ve heard the last of it,” she frowned at him, “And what about the Champion’s Ball, after the Trophy? You must go to that.”
He raised an eyebrow at her and smiled.
“Must I, indeed? And what exactly will happen to me if I don’t?”
Fess winced and shook his head slowly. They were sitting around in the Captain’s Cottage after a fine supper that Bella had cooked; the children were in bed and the conversation had turned to the upcoming Ball. Fess knew that Bella had no hope at all of changing Rowan’s mind if he didn’t want it changed, but she was a feisty little woman and up for the challenge.
“I’ll bloody shake you until your teeth rattle and I’ll nag you until your ears drop off!” she said fiercely.
Rowan smiled at her again, knowing it would infuriate her more.
“I’ll look forward to it, Bella love,” he said. He laughed at her and decided he’d teased her enough. “All right, I’ll go to the cursed Champion’s Ball if it means that Fess and I’ll get a bit of peace in the meantime. But I’m not going to the Mid Winter Ball… that’s the best I can do for you.”
She took a deep breath. Truly, Rowan could be the most aggravating man when he set his mind to it, she thought.
“But you promise me that you’ll go to the Champion’s Ball and you won’t moan and complain about it?”
“Nothing was said about not moaning!” Rowan laughed again, “Oh, all right, love, I promise. I’ll go to the Champion’s Ball and I won’t whinge. I promise I’ll behave myself.”
“Just as well for you, young man,” Bella said darkly. She smiled suddenly. “And now that’s all settled, do you think you two loafers might be able to fit in another bit of apple pie? It seems a shame to leave that little bit that’s left.”
Fess and Rowan looked at each other and quickly agreed, glad to change the topic to anything else at all.
**********
But on Mid Winter’s Night Rowan changed his mind. He heard the folk rattling up to the Ball Room in their carriages, heard the troopers laughing as they ran down the steps of the barracks and out into the snow, and he heard the music… and he decided perhaps he’d go to the Ball after all. He hurried up to the battlements and found the Duty Sergeant, Bryn Harssen as it turned out. Bryn laughed, left his corporal in charge for a few minutes and hurried back with the trousers of his dress uniform over his arm.
“But they’ll be too short for you, Rowan, and a bit roomy too,” he said as he handed them over, “And what about a jacket?”
“Don’t worry, Bryn lad. I’ll think of something,” Rowan laughed, “If they don’t like what I’m wearing they can always throw me out.”
Bryn and the corporal thought that was very funny.
“I’d like to see that, Rowan. Give me a whistle when they start, won’t you?” Bryn said with a grin.
Bella and Fess finished their dance and headed back to the table they were sharing with Telli and his wife, Beatrice, and some local and visiting dignitaries. They were most surprised to see Rowan sitting there quietly waiting for them. He smiled at them, and stood and bowed elegantly as they came over.
Bella’s eyes widened as she took in his attire. He’d solved the problem of Bryn’s trousers by the simple expedient of tightening his belt and tucking the too-short legs into the beautiful black boots the g’Hakken had made for him on his last visit to them. She could just see a glimpse of a creamy silk shirt under his well-made, well-fitting and almost new silver-studded black leather jacket, and for some reason best known to Rowan himself he’d left the last twelve inches or so of his hair unbraided so that it fell in gleaming waves past his hips. He looked oddly exotic among the Guardsmen’s dress uniforms and the brocades and velvets of the guests, but he looked magnificent.
“Rowan…!” she managed, “What are you doing here? And why didn’t they announce you?”
“I changed my mi
nd,” he shrugged, “And they… um, didn’t notice me come in, I suppose.” He didn’t mention that he’d simply come through the back way. “Might I have the pleasure of dancing with your charming wife, Captain?” he added politely.
Fess laughed, delighted that his friend was there to liven things up a bit.
“Aye, why not, you cheeky bugger,” he said.
Rowan turned to Bella, bowed again, and kissed her hand.
“You silly bugger, Rowan,” she smiled at him, “You don’t have to bow to me. I know it irritates you.”
“Of course I do, Bella. I don’t want to set a bad example to the other lads here,” he said, “Good manners never hurt anyone.”
Bella could feel more and more people looking at them as she and Rowan went back to the centre of the dance floor and began to dance. It’d been a long time since Rowan had graced a Ball here, but the townsfolk were delighted to see him there again. She looked up at him and smiled. He was as graceful and light footed as he’d ever been and he’d remembered the steps too.
“Rowan…? You said you weren’t coming…”
“I told you. I changed my mind. You’re a beautiful dancer, Bella, so why should all of these louts here get to dance with you and me miss out? It didn’t seem right,” he laughed.
“I’m surprised you can even remember the steps,” she said.
“So am I, a bit. Perhaps it’s like riding a horse, and you never really forget.”
“You know there might be some folk offended by your outfit, don’t you? Not me… I think you look wonderful, but … well, the new mayor has already upset folk here tonight. He insulted Master Tailor Darius and he’s the Head of the Tailors’ Guild. Seems the stupid bugger didn’t like Darius’s formal robes, and in fact doesn’t like anything that’s not Wirran.”
