Fletcher (A Prydain novel Book 3)

by AJ Adams

  “You’re okay, Ware. I never peed in your food or spat in it. Didn’t rub your tunic over my private parts, either.”

  “Yuck! Lind!”

  “Well, we do.” Lind was unapologetic. “When you’re property, you learn to fight dirty. Peeing in your food is the least of it. Trust me.”

  I got back to the heart of it. “I don’t want to get Violet into trouble. But Lind, that statue’s worth a fortune.”

  “You don’t know for absolute certain that it’s Duggard’s. It might have come from Haven or Brighthelme.”

  “But—”

  “And anyway, I left it behind.”

  “What?” I just stared at her. “What did you say?”

  “I took it out to polish it, and I guess I forgot to tidy it away.” Lind was giving me a hard look. “I accidentally left it under a bush somewhere.”

  Without evidence there was no case. Violet would be safe. It was a huge relief. Blame me if you like. I know it’s wrong. I know it’s my duty to uphold the law. But having that poor little thrall put to death would’ve killed me.

  I put on my best frown and turned to Lind. “That was awfully careless of you.”

  She wasn’t fooled at all. “Yes, I thought you’d be shocked.”

  “Torre’s Halt it is, then. We’ll pick up a convoy heading for Caern there. I still need to report to Eward.”

  Lind was quiet for a moment and then she shrugged. “Okay.”

  After the freedom we’d enjoyed in the forest, I thought she might be worried that I’d treat her as I had before when we got to the city. “Lind, everything is different now. You know that, right?”

  I got a hug. “Idiot. Of course I do.”

  “The constable is going to love it when you call me that.”

  “He’ll sigh and roll his eyes,” Lind grinned. “Come on. Let’s look at your map.”

  My charts were useless. This part of the forest was simply a big blank, but by moving steadily south, we came onto the road five days later. Even better, we hit it just outside the village.

  “Master Ware,” The innkeeper came rushing out. “We heard you were dead!”

  “As you can see, the rumour is wildly exaggerated.”

  “You burned down Raven’s Keep. Killed Ranulf. It’s been the talk of every convoy.”

  That did give me a surge of pride. “Yes, Raven’s Keep is destroyed.”

  “We heard you were separated from the troops and killed.”

  Lind was frowning. “That’ll be Kennard’s tale. I told him you were alive, but the cowardly whoreson ran away.”

  Predictably, the innkeeper reared up. “Insolent wench!”

  I put a stop to that straight away. “Lind will say what she likes.”

  The innkeeper was appalled, but as I then booked his best suite, he swallowed his anger and bowed us inside.

  “He’s going to spit in my soup,” Lind said cheerfully. “Thanks for backing me up, Ware.”

  “Any time. But Lind, you have to learn to get along.”

  “Yes-yes-yes!”

  She was impatient, and I was about to talk to her when one of the inn’s servants snapped his fingers at her and called, “Here, girl! Come and help sort your master’s gear.”

  He wasn’t being rude. He was simply speaking to a thrall. I suddenly remembered how I’d felt before I’d taken over leadership of the convoy, when everyone had yelled at me, made demands and blamed me for anything that went wrong from rain to broken wheels. It had made me feel helpless and angry, and it had been exhausting. No wonder Lind fought back.

  I took her hand and called, “I’ll sort it out in a moment.”

  “You can’t change the world.” Lind always knows what I’m thinking. “I can be a thrall and fletch or be free and get respect. I’ve made my choice.”

  She was right, but it was difficult. While we waited for a convoy to join, I had little to do except for observe people go about their business. It was an eye-opener, all right, because I’d never noticed before how badly thralls are treated.

  They’re invisible at best, unseen, unacknowledged and pushed aside in the tavern and market place. At worst, they’re slapped, cursed and beaten for any little thing or for nothing at all. It was infuriating.

  “How did I never see this before?” I asked Lind. “I must have been blind.”

  She just shrugged. “So set us all free.”

  And that was the rub. “It’s impossible. The citizens would never allow it. Even non-citizens depend on thralls. Any duke who ordered it would be torn to shreds.”

  “Tyr’s hairy balls! You think so?”

  Lind can be awfully sarcastic at times.

  For a second I wanted to tell her that I loved her and to ask if there was any hope for me. But I was afraid to speak. I had lost my heart to her, but seeing for myself the horrendous way thralls were treated, I now believed that Lind was right. A thrall could never love a man who’d claimed ownership. It was a concept so obscene that there was no overcoming it.

  So I kept my yearnings secret and as she went about, gossiping with the inn’s thralls, hanging out with the horses, practicing her sanding and laundering our gear, I fretted. It didn’t help that the first convoy that arrived came from Caern and brought news from Llanfaes, too.

  “Master Ware! We heard you were dead!” The convoy leader, a burly man leading ten wagons filled with furniture, was smiling at me. “It’s so good to see you’re well.” He shook my hand and frowned. “We heard about the farm and the shrine. Imagine Apollo’s holy place being defiled. No wonder you took revenge. I’m so sorry.”

  I couldn’t bear it. “Thank you. What news of Caern?” But of course everyone wanted to talk. The innkeeper, his wife, the guests and even the stable thralls all chimed in, “So sorry to hear about the farm and the shrine, Master Ware. Did you get Apollo’s arrow back?”

  I was polite and then I took refuge in my room and let Lind handle it. She saw them all off and got us a place in a convoy, too.

  “It’s a group from Volgard, going to Llanfaes.”

  “Llanfaes? We should go to Caern.” I told her. “I should report.”

  But Lind was adamant. “Trust me on this, Ware. This is important.”

  “But Lind!”

  She took my hand. “Tell me again what Ranulf said.”

  “What?”

  “He was boasting about destroying your home, like you destroyed his.”

  It gutted me still. “Yes.”

  “But he didn’t say anything about murdering your family, did he?”

  I just stared at her. “What are you saying?”

  “He should have said the most hurtful thing possible but he talked about things, not people.”

  “So his values were different.”

  “I’m not so sure,” she said slowly. “Have you noticed people are talking about the shrine being destroyed and the arrow stolen? But they’re not talking about your family.”

  My breath was caught in my throat. Was there hope? “They’re repeating gossip. I saw their funeral pyre, remember?”

  “You saw burned buildings and a pyre,” Lind corrected me.

  “Well, yes but—”

  “I was wondering,” Lind interrupted. “Who burned the bodies? It can’t have been old Marta. It’s too big a job.”

  “Neighbours?” That hope was surging now. Had I been wrong?

  “Well, maybe. But it’s odd, isn’t it? I mean, the people at the shrine would be home, but farmers are out and about all day,” Lind pointed out. “Some would come running if they saw trouble, but there would be a few who’d be too far away.”

  I sat down abruptly. “Ohmigod, Lind. You’re right. But there was just old Marta there.”

  “Right, she wouldn’t leave, no matter what. Also, she’s not sane, so you shouldn’t take her answers as gospel.”

  “She said everyone was gone.”

  “Yes but what do you do when a troop of rogue knights comes and destroys your home?”
/>   “You lodge a complaint with the duke.”

  “You didn’t go to the city, did you?”

  “No. The Duke of Llanfaes and I don’t get along.”

  Lind grinned. “I hear he thinks you’re too stuck-up. He doesn’t like sneaky tactics, either.”

  “Do you really think my family survived?”

  “I might be wrong,” Lind said gently, “but I think we should go and see.”

  “Yes. Lind, I must go home. At once!”

  “The convoy leaves in the morning.”

  We could have travelled faster alone, and in winter I would have risked it, but in high spring with everyone abroad, it would have been madness. Even with Ranulf’s men decimated there were still too many dangers.

  So I was sensible and patient, but I spent the rest of the time questioning everyone in Torre’s Halt. It got me nowhere.

  “I’m sorry, Master Fletcher,” the Caern convoy leader said apologetically. “All I know is what I heard in the marketplace back home. Your farm burned down, and the shrine’s sacred arrow gone. There was no mention of your family. I’m so sorry.”

  It was the same all over the village. The news was third, fourth or even fifth hand.

  “Come on, Ware.” Lind came to find me at sunset. “There’s no point in exhausting yourself.” She piloted me back to the inn. “I’ve spent a load of your money buying the best oats and supplies.”

  I was appalled. “Oh Lind. That’s my job.”

  She just laughed. “I got a good deal, don’t worry.”

  “You do entirely too much for me.”

  I got a hug. “Buy me a flagon of wine, then. And we’ll have a hot bath before bed?”

  “Absolutely!”

  The Volgard convoy was a small one, just twenty carts, half of which were filled with white wine and the others with clocks and fine woodwork.

  “We could do with an expert bowman,” Danker, the leader confided, but as it turned out, we weren’t attacked once. We travelled quietly along the road, moving twice as fast as we had with the Caern convoy. Even so, I became more and more uptight, imaging the best and then the worst.

  “If they are dead, it will be as if I’ve lost them twice,” I jittered.

  “I shouldn’t have told you,” Lind sighed.

  “You had to. Otherwise I would be in Caern by now.”

  “Well, at least get off Wolf and walk a few miles. You need to get rid of this nervous energy, or you’ll never sleep tonight.”

  Lind fussed over me, making sure I ate, slept and stayed sane. She was a delight, and for every second I spent in frantic concern, there was another when I was wondering if she’d ever love me. Oh, she cared for me, looked after me better than anyone ever had, but she laughed when I tried to be romantic and brushed off any attempt to talk about love.

  “Romance is for stories,” she said one afternoon as we listened to one of the cart drivers singing a ballad. “In real life people marry for money, power or lust.”

  “Oh, come on. There’s love, too.”

  “Maybe,” Lind conceded. “But I’ve never seen it.”

  “My parents are happy.” My heart was beating madly as I spoke about them in the present tense. “They love each other.”

  “Did they marry for love?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not because their families wanted it?”

  “Their families also wanted it. But they were in love when they married.”

  “Lucky them,” Lind said nicely, but she didn’t believe it. I changed the topic and consoled myself with the hope that time would mellow her. Time was certainly teaching me a lesson; the more I was with Lind, the more I loved her. But I kept silent and the days rolled by, each bringing me closer to the truth.

  Almost three weeks after leaving Torre’s Halt, the convoy reached a fork in the road. Llanfaes lay south, our farm west. It was a lovely day, warm with blue skies. We waved goodbye and set out down the smaller road. Gradually the countryside began to look familiar. We turned a sharp corner, and suddenly I recognised my surroundings. “That oak is a hundred years old,” I told Lind. “I prune it every autumn for my Annihilators.”

  “So we’re within striking distance of your home?” Lind’s eyes were wide with concern and hope, no doubt mirroring mine. “Tyr’s hairy balls, Ware! Don’t hang around here! Go see!”

  Wolf took off, racing home. We galloped up the road, crossed a field, and then, like a mirage in the eastern desert, I spotted a roof. Brand new wood, soaring up in front of a newly tilled field. I could see people in the distance, herding sheep and planting seed. Most of all, I was drawn to a figure in blue, standing waving.

  “Ware! Marie! Ware’s home!” My father, hale and hearty, jumping up and down with excitement as he called for my mother. “Owen! Lorraine! Pedr! Your brother’s back!”

  Wolf put on a burst of speed, and then I was sliding off his back into the loving, living arms of my family. I was home.

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Lind

  Ware came galloping back, yelling his head off. “Lind! They’re okay! They’re all here!” He jumped off Wolf, bounced onto the cart and then he was hugging me, laughing and crying at the same time. “Lind! Everyone is there, hale and hearty! Mum and my father! Owen! Lorraine! Pedr, too!”

  “Freyja’s purse! All of them? Oh Ware!” I was so happy for him that I was crying. “Go on, love. Go now. I’ll follow.”

  He streaked off, and by the time the girls and I arrived, there were fifty people crowded around him, all of them hugging, crying and shouting excitedly.

  “It’s Master Ware! Back from the east!”

  “Sir! You’re back! We missed you!”

  “Wolf! You brought him back to us!”

  “Sir! We were worried! We expected you back months ago!”

  Ware was hugging, laughing and protesting. The snooty master craftsman had vanished completely. This was a warm, loving man, a happy part of a huge extended family.

  “Eurwen. You’re looking great!”

  “Nye. You’re as tall as your father!”

  “Glenice. Come and give me a hug!”

  It was complete pandemonium. Rose and Daisy pulled up, and then Ware was fighting his way through the crowd towards me. “Lind.” He lifted me up, twirling me round in a circle, filled with joy. “We’re home.”

  Then it was all eyes on me.

  “Ware, you son of a dog! Who’s this?” A big hulk of a man, with Ware’s eyes and nose, was slapping him on the back. “You’ve brought back an eastern charmer.”

  “A northern one, Pedr. Lind’s from Tanweld.” Ware swung me round to face an older man with the same steel eyes and aquiline nose. “Dad, this is Lind. She saved my life.”

  I got a hug. “Welcome, Lind. And thank you!”

  His mum was weeping as she kissed me. “You brought my boy home.”

  “Dear girl.” His sister, by her eyes and lips. “Thank you!”

  They were so excited that they hugged me like I was one of their own. Or maybe they just hadn’t noticed my neck. The collar had been off for weeks, but the rough skin was there for life. I decided they were just happy. It would wear off, and they’d remember I was just a thrall. But at least they seemed nice people. It was a relief. Hopefully I could be happy here.

  They certainly were. People ran around, screaming and shouting, and when they coalesced, there was a party, a massive, wild, loud, raucous affair with bonfires, roasts and enough beer and wine to drown a duke’s personal guard.

  Wolf and the girls got their own feast, a field with a pond, a muddy puddle and a bale of hay big enough for a herd. There was also a steady stream of kids running through to feed them carrots.

  “Wolf has a fan club,” Ware grinned. “He and the girls will be fat as butter by the end of the week.”

  For the two-legged people there was dancing and singing, and everyone piled in, regardless of age and status. Actually, apart from the family with their characteristic features, I wasn’t sure who anyone
was. I didn’t see anyone wearing collars, and with everyone dressed in smocks, and looking well fed, it was hard to spot who was who.

  Everyone hugged me, crying variations of, “You brought him back to us. Our dear Master Ware!” He’d been kind to the migrants, and from what I saw, he was loved dearly at home. The men hugged him, the women kissed him, and the kids were all over him. It was strange yet exhilarating. The sweet Ware, the man I thought well-hidden and private turned out to be his real self. At the Esyllt farm, the cool master fletcher was as joyful and relaxed as I’d ever seen him.

  We ate, danced and the last thing I remember is Ware picking me up and tucking me into our own cart, saying, “They’re still rebuilding. We’ll be best off in our own space for now.”

  I slept like a log, and when I woke up, Ware and his family were sitting at a table in the yard, finishing off an enormous breakfast.

  It was astonishing how alike they were. Ware and his brothers Owen and Pedr had their father’s eyes, while their sister Lorraine had their mum’s delicate features, but they all had the same way of holding themselves: proud and strong. The Esyllts were in charge.

  “Lind, come, sit and eat.” Ware was still glowing with happiness, but I wondered if he’d had any sleep. Maybe he’d thought it better not to join me, seeing I was his thrall. From the night before it was crystal clear that his father and brothers kept their hands firmly to themselves when around farm womenfolk.

  “Come on, Lind.” Ware was smiling, holding out his hands to me.

  I wasn’t sure what the others were thinking, but when Ware pulled me down next to him and put some bread and honey on a plate, and nobody said a word or looked surprised even, I stopped worrying. I never turn down food, especially delicious honey, so I chowed down while they talked.

  “We expected you back in the winter,” his dad said. “As you can see, we had a bit of excitement.”

  “We were attacked,” Pedr informed him. “They stole a relic from the shrine.”

  “Apollo’s Arrow?” Ware sighed, and then they were all staring as he pulled out a Thunderclap. “I make these.”

  “Heavens!” Ware’s mum cried. “The merchant from Haven told us it came from the east. A sacred arrow from the god himself.”