Cattra's Legacy

by Anna Mackenzie

  When the storm of tears eased, he set her back a step. ‘So what’s this about? Firefly might have killed you — or you him.’ He gave the horse a glance.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t … I just …’ She wiped her face on her sleeve, avoiding his eyes. ‘I walked him and rubbed him down. I know I rode him too hard, but—’

  ‘Rode him too hard! You rode as if Goltoy himself was behind you! You left Harl’s old nag for dead. Not that you could have held Firefly once you’d given him his head,’ he added. ‘But why, Risha? What are you running from?’

  She looked down. ‘I — I don’t want to marry Donnel.’

  ‘Marry? But—’

  ‘Donnel told me himself that he plans to claim Havre in my name. I’m a prisoner just like that girl at Fratton.’ She glared at him. ‘You brought me here. You must have known. I thought I could trust you and I can’t!’

  Muir let out an explosive breath. ‘Risha, this is nonsense! You can’t marry Donnel — you couldn’t even if you wanted to.’ He paused. ‘And you can trust me.’

  She shook her head.

  He caught her chin and held it. ‘You can trust me,’ he repeated. A muscle moved in his jaw. When she finally met his eyes he held her gaze levelly. ‘On my life, Risha, I swear that no one expects you to marry Donnel. You’re here because it’s the safest place for you to be.’ He waited, watching her reaction. ‘Do you understand?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Good.’ Letting her go, he turned to check Firefly, running a tanned hand down the horse’s neck and legs. ‘You did well to ride him. Did you try to hold him in?’

  ‘It was all I could do to stay on. I was scared,’ she said truthfully.

  His lips twitched. ‘You should have been. Firefly’s a handful, even for me. You can take Harl’s nag from here. Come, I’ll boost you up.’

  Her wild flight was never mentioned at the citadel. The only change was that whenever she saw Muir she found herself blushing hotly at the memory of soaking his chest with tears. For his part, Muir remained as courteous as ever, but Risha suspected he shared her discomfort. The simplest solution was to avoid him — as Donnel seemed to be avoiding her. Though probably it was just that he was too busy to trouble with her. Unless … Risha sighed aloud, for the hundredth time wishing she’d thought to swear Muir to secrecy.

  Lyse looked up from the mending in her lap. ‘Why don’t you go riding? Harl would take you.’

  Risha shrugged. Harl was a reliable companion, but the truth was that riding her old pony had begun to pall after the terror and exhilaration of her flight on Firefly.

  ‘Well, if you mean to sit there reading all day you could at least pretend to enjoy it.’ The girl bit off a thread and tilted her head sideways. ‘Will you not tell me what troubles you?’

  ‘I’m just restless.’ As if to illustrate the point Risha jumped to her feet, the maligned book tumbling to the floor. Lyse clucked.

  ‘I might go up on the wall. You needn’t come,’ Risha added, seeing the pained look on the girl’s face.

  Content, Lyse settled back. ‘I don’t know what you find to interest you up there — unless one of the guardsmen has caught your eye.’ Her eyebrow cocked a question.

  Risha scowled. Guardsman indeed. She closed the door of her chamber none too quietly and, as if there was a point to be made, turned away from the stairs that would have led her to the outer courtyard and her quickest route to the battlements. There was a reason she felt restless, though no one here knew it.

  Without planning her steps Risha found herself in the corridor outside Donnel’s study. Voices reached out through the part-open door.

  ‘Gorth assures me the weather will hold for the crossing.’

  ‘But makes no promises for your return. If you would wait until spring—’

  A fist slammed onto the desk and Risha jumped. ‘Waiting gives our enemies time to act! Goltoy will by now be in no doubt that she lives. Havre must declare where it stands. With the rumours confirmed, the people will push the Council to acknowledge her claim. Once that is done, there will be time for pause. Not before.’

  ‘Have you told her—’

  ‘When I return,’ Donnel interrupted. ‘I … It will be soon enough. She has already had too much to deal with. I don’t wish to burden her with more.’ A chair scraped. ‘If only we’d known sooner where she was.’

  ‘Now there is a matter that warrants investigation,’ Cantrel answered. ‘Barc knew a good deal more than he told us.’

  Risha’s feet felt glued to the floor. Barc, it seemed, knew more than he told anyone. And everyone knew more than her.

  ‘At least the man thought to send a bird to let us know she was in Caledon. Had he not …’ Donnel’s voice became terse. ‘Cantrel, in my absence, I hold you to your oath.’

  ‘My Lord Donnel.’ The reply was politely formal.

  ‘So. Tomorrow it is. Where is Arishara? I need to speak with her.’

  Risha disappeared as quickly as she could, taking herself to the kitchens to ensure she couldn’t be accused of eavesdropping. When Cantrel found and fetched her, he chided her for always proving so elusive.

  Donnel turned from his window as Cantrel ushered her into the study. ‘There you are. I’ve not seen enough of you these past few days.’

  Even as her mouth opened to make the proper response, dread that Muir had repeated her accusation gripped Risha’s tongue so that she managed only a weak nod.

  ‘Tomorrow I leave for Havre,’ Donnel said.

  ‘I had heard as much,’ she murmured, more truthfully than he knew.

  ‘The good burghers of Havre may have grown accustomed to suiting themselves, but once your claim has been publicly announced they’ll have no choice in the matter. The people will support you.’ He studied her intently. ‘In this I honour the promise I made your mother.’

  Risha gathered herself. ‘How long will you be gone?’

  ‘As long as it takes. After that.’ He paused. ‘After that you and I will have much to discuss.’

  Whether that boded well or ill she couldn’t judge. ‘When do you mean for me to go to Havre?’

  ‘My preference would be to wait till you reach an age when you might rule in your own right, but the decision will be yours. Is it your wish to leave LeMarc so soon?’ He sounded almost wistful.

  ‘I … don’t know.’

  Donnel abruptly changed topic. ‘Your birthday falls in three days’ time.’ Risha’s mouth opened in surprise. ‘I regret that I won’t be here. I hope you won’t mind if I give you your gift early?’

  She shook her head dumbly and he beckoned her to the window. In the courtyard below, Harl was holding the bridle of a young dappled mare whose hide was the colour of Torfell stone.

  ‘It was not hard to decide what to give you,’ Donnel said, ‘though harder to find exactly what I wanted.’

  ‘She’s for me?’

  Donnel nodded. ‘She’s newly broken. She’ll be a little friskier than your present mount, but she has good breeding. She should quiet to you easily.’

  Excitement broke like a wave in her chest. ‘Thank you!’

  Donnel smiled. ‘When I get back from Havre, we’ll ride together. What will you name her?’

  ‘Torfell.’

  The tension in his silence made her wonder if she’d caused offence. She glanced cautiously up at him. His eyes were shadowed, his mouth a taut line.

  ‘Arishara, I—’ He stopped. ‘Pelonius did well to keep you safe,’ he amended.

  ‘You knew him? As well as my mother?’

  ‘Not well. I learnt only in hindsight how strong an allegiance he held.’ He hesitated. ‘Did he care for you well, Arishara?’

  ‘He was … he was often distracted but never unkind,’ she answered truthfully. ‘He taught me much.’ And if he had been unaware of the hurts inflicted by the village children and by her loneliness, it had not been through choice, but rather through a kind of ignorance. Since his death, Risha felt she had come to kno
w Pelon better than she ever had during his life.

  ‘I don’t know why he chose the northern mountains as your refuge. Havre was not then safe, but there has always been a welcome for you here.’

  Encouraged by Donnel’s candour, Risha seized her chance. ‘Lord Donnel, could you tell me what my mother was like? I was never able to ask my father — he never spoke about the past. But I …’

  ‘You wish to know,’ he finished. ‘As any child might. Tell me first: is LeMarc to your liking?’

  She considered several answers before she found one to give. ‘I like it well enough, though I’m not sure why I’m here.’

  Donnel’s mouth framed words that he rejected just as quickly with a sharp outward breath. Striding across the room he sifted through a pile of papers on his desk. ‘You asked about your mother. Cattra was beautiful. Determined, yet gracious. She liked to ride and to sail. You are very like her,’ he added.

  Risha grimaced. ‘I don’t like sailing.’ And I am neither beautiful nor gracious, she might have added, but didn’t.

  ‘Perhaps not, but you are strong and stubborn and outspoken. She was those things as well.’

  ‘How did you—’

  ‘When I return. Then you may ask me anything you like. But for now, go greet your horse.’

  If he intended it for a distraction, it worked. Risha took the stairs three at a time. In the courtyard Harl grinned and handed her the reins. As she stroked the young mare’s nose and the fine, strong arch of her neck, Risha pushed the puzzle that was Donnel to the back of her mind. Her own horse! Under Harl’s guidance she ran her hand down the mare’s legs. Torfell flicked an ear towards her and snuffled her hair. When he judged them both ready, Harl boosted her into the saddle. Risha could scarcely contain her delight as the mare skittered beneath her, flanks shivering with nerves.

  At the window above Donnel raised an unseen hand as Risha nudged the little mare out through the barbican and onto the roads of LeMarc.

  16

  Deliveries

  At the sound of footsteps, Risha turned from her vigil. It was two days since Donnel had sailed from the harbour, taking both Gorth and Timon with him. The weather, at first fair, had turned overnight, a brisk wind galloping up from the south, driving dark clouds before it.

  ‘Gorth knows what he’s doing,’ Cantrel offered, reading her thoughts. ‘They’ll reach Havre all the sooner with a following wind in their sails.’

  Risha remembered with a shudder the queasy agonies of the storm. ‘But if Havre doesn’t welcome them? Could they sail back against it?’ She couldn’t shake the shadow that Donnel’s departure had left.

  ‘Havre will do nothing in haste, but they will be courteous,’ Cantrel said. ‘The ties between the duchies are strong. And Donnel can be very persuasive.’

  She didn’t doubt it. ‘How long will it take?’

  ‘Ten days, perhaps longer. He’ll send word to let us know how your claim is greeted.’

  Risha moved impatiently. The claim did not feel hers.

  ‘We each must live the life laid before us,’ Cantrel said, his astute guess at her feelings only increasing her discomfort.

  ‘I don’t know if I want to go to Havre.’

  ‘Which is one reason Donnel didn’t take you,’ Cantrel answered, smoothly turning her complaint into something smaller than she had intended. After a pause he continued. ‘It is my custom, after the harvest, to tour LeMarc, to see firsthand how the people fare, and to hear their hopes and fears for the coming year.’ He watched her shrewdly. ‘I had wondered whether you might care to travel with me. You are confident enough on your new mare? We would be away for at least a week, perhaps longer.’

  Risha felt a thrill of excitement. ‘I should like to see LeMarc,’ she said. ‘And my riding is much improved. I won’t slow you down.’

  ‘So I’ve heard,’ Cantrel said dryly. Risha blushed. ‘Muir and Harl will ride with us. Tell Fretha you’ll need a heavy cloak and decent boots. The weather can be unsettled at this time of year.’

  The wind that whipped around the corners of the buildings was sharp-edged and insistent, its fingers creeping tenaciously between the fastenings of Risha’s new cloak. The rain that had fallen overnight lay puddled across the courtyard but did nothing to dampen her spirits.

  Lyse had found Risha’s enthusiasm impossible to comprehend. ‘You’ll likely be broiling one day and soaked the next, eating no better than the horses and bedding each night on a lumpy mattress with a host of small biting bedfellows.’

  Good natured as she was, Lyse saw comfort as a treasure, while Risha turned her back on the routines of the keep without regret.

  Their road took them through a string of fishing villages, then inland across rich alluvial plains. Everywhere there was evidence of the newly gathered harvest. Watching a father and son weighting the thatch of a barn with stones, Risha asked Muir about the weather the coming winter would bring.

  ‘The rain can be so heavy you think you might drown crossing the courtyard, but it’s not as cold as Westlaw.’

  ‘Have you been to the north?’

  ‘Often as far as Caledon. Twice further.’

  Cantrel interrupted to point out a bridge that was under repair, and to explain the system of tithes that paid for each settlement’s shared amenities.

  Risha was impressed. ‘There are no such amenities in Torfell.’

  ‘Goltoy is not known for either generosity or compassion,’ Cantrel remarked.

  Contrasts between the two duchies quickly accrued. Although the hot, dry climate of the south was no less demanding than the harsh winters of the northern mountains, still there was no sign of the hand-to-mouth poverty she’d grown up with, and everywhere they went the people were open and welcoming. The difference seemed to lie in the land’s governance — imbuing Cantrel’s dry lessons with more significance than she’d previously credited them.

  On the afternoon of their fourth day they reached a town with a market green expansive enough to gain even Marit’s approval. ‘Harlen is the main market town in central LeMarc,’ Cantrel told her.

  The inn that he led them to promised greater comforts than the hamlets where they’d previously lodged. As she unsaddled Torfell, Risha let herself dwell on the possible luxury of a bath.

  Muir glanced at her. ‘You look tired. Harl and I can see to the horses.’

  She rubbed Torfell’s nose and the mare whickered softly.

  ‘Go on with you,’ Harl added, tipping oats into the trough in Torfell’s stall. As the mare stamped and nudged past her, Risha smiled.

  She was halfway across the yard when a youth emerged from the kitchens. At the sight of her he let out an incoherent cry, dropped the pails he carried, and charged forwards.

  Harl reached her first. Springing past he flipped the lad to the ground. Risha caught a glimpse of fair hair as Harl pinned him face-down in the dirt. Even muffled, she heard her name.

  ‘Wait! Let him up, Harl. I know him.’

  Harl slackened but did not entirely loose his grip. His captive struggled free and rolled sideways, wiping dirt from his mouth. Risha’s world turned on its head.

  ‘Emett! Are you all right?’

  Glancing from her to Harl and back again, Emett’s expression was a mixture of outrage and relief. ‘It might be more fitting I ask you that question.’

  Harl made a noise in his throat.

  ‘What in Sargath’s name is going on?’

  Risha frowned at the sword in Muir’s hand. ‘Put your blade away,’ she said. ‘This is Emett. We grew up together.’

  Muir did as she asked, though without hiding his doubt at the wisdom of it.

  Risha studied Emett. He looked ragged and thin. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Ma sent me.’

  ‘Ganny! How is she? She’s not—’ Fear bit at her, but Emett was shaking his head.

  ‘She’s well. She sends her love.’ His glance ran from Harl to Muir and he lowered his voice. ‘Risha, is everyt
hing all right? I didn’t expect to find you with … with men such as these.’

  ‘They’re friends. Why did Ganny send you?’

  ‘Perhaps this conversation might be conducted in private,’ Muir interrupted, tipping his head towards the group that had gathered to witness the unexpected excitement.

  Risha nodded. ‘We’ll go inside.’

  Emett scrambled up. ‘I can’t. I’m working.’ He looked about for his abandoned buckets. ‘To pay my keep.’

  ‘We’ll pay your keep.’

  There was a slight pause before Muir responded. ‘As you wish, my lady.’ Emett gaped in surprise.

  The landlord looked equally startled by the sudden change in Emett’s fortunes, but was quick to oblige them with a table and a jug of ale.

  ‘Ganny found the deed to your cottage,’ Emett said, once they’d settled. ‘If she’d known I’d have to walk the length of Elgard to deliver it, she’d likely not have sent me, but once I was on the way … well, I couldn’t just turn back.’ He looked sheepish. He hadn’t wanted to go back, Risha realised. Once he was out of Torfell, he’d wanted to see what there was of the world.

  He reached inside his shirt. ‘Here.’

  Risha fingered the tattered packet without opening it. The deed to her father’s holding had once been all she could have wanted. Now … now it felt as though it belonged to a different world. ‘Where did she find it?’ she asked, groping for time.

  ‘Taped beneath Pelon’s chest. You knew Borik was marrying Bett at midsummer? Tok tithed them the cottage as a wedding gift, and told Ganny she had to return all your furniture. Ganny told him she’d as soon see it burned.’ He smiled grimly. ‘He didn’t think she meant it. Neither did I, but she took Pelon’s bed and broke it up with an axe and burned it in a pile on the green.’

  Risha gaped. Muir made an appreciative noise.

  ‘It was when she emptied out the chest that she found the deed, taped underneath, and some other papers too.’

  ‘Did she burn it?’ Risha asked faintly. ‘My father’s chest?’