Risha glared at Muir. ‘Was it your intention to taunt him? He’s a farm boy, not a soldier.’
‘Most soldiers are farm boys. I was one myself not so many years ago.’
‘You—’
‘Perhaps you know me less than you think,’ he said, adding a belated, ‘my lady.’
‘Muir, ever since we met Donnel on the road, it’s been as if …’ She couldn’t find words for what she wanted to say.
As he watched her stalk away, emotions vied on Muir’s face, regret eventually settling uppermost.
The troop was ready at first light. Risha watched them with mixed feelings. She’d spent an hour the previous evening convincing Emett against riding with them.
‘This isn’t your war,’ she’d told him, ‘and you’re far more use here than wielding a sword in Fratton. Donnel’s gesture will prove token if I haven’t any allies to help me.’
Emett had finally been persuaded, but the discussion had left Risha with too many images of bloodshed to allow an easy night’s sleep. Now, as she stood ill-tempered on the steps, the noise of men and horses milling in the courtyard set her head aching. She pressed her fingers to her temple and wished the war over.
‘The day’s greetings, my lady.’ Muir nudged his mount towards her. ‘With your permission?’ His manner was deferential — and that was partly the problem.
‘You have it,’ she said stiffly. ‘Please take Lord Donnel my good wishes.’
‘Happily, my lady.’
‘And the blacksmith and the woman at the inn where we stopped — we should compensate them for their help.’
‘I’ll see to it.’
‘There’s Sair and Blor as well, but I suppose that will have to wait.’ Risha wondered how hard it would be to find Clik.
Muir’s horse, feeling the tension of the assembled riders, crabbed sideways. He reined it tight.
Risha swallowed. ‘Muir, don’t …’ She hesitated, not quite sure what she wanted to say.
‘My lady?’
‘Don’t do anything foolish.’
‘You have my word on it.’ He smiled, and the formality that bothered her was abruptly dispersed. ‘Good luck, Risha.’
She nodded, her throat taut. Muir signalled the men and a moment later they were gone, the noise and hustle replaced by stillness.
‘Go safely,’ she murmured, and turned back to the keep.
27
Fratton’s heiress
It took little time to discover that the citadel for the most part ran smoothly, leaving Risha to attend to the problem of Margetta. They had few interests in common and to Risha it began to seem that the little heiress approached the world with nothing but dread.
‘She needs something useful to occupy her,’ Risha observed. ‘Emett, would you mind if Margetta took over your lessons?’
Emett looked up from the parchment he was laboriously filling. He had a smudge of ink on one cheek. ‘I’m sorry if you find me a disappointing student.’
‘I don’t. You learn quicker than I did. But Margetta broods too much — not that I blame her for it. I just thought it might help her settle if she had something useful to do.’ Her answer was not entirely honest. She did sometimes resent the time she gave to Emett’s lessons, especially since Galyn had presented her with a freshly broken bay gelding that she promptly named Dragonfly.
‘She misses her home,’ Emett said.
‘You mean she’d rather be a prisoner?’
‘Not that. She’s glad to have escaped Somoran. But everything’s foreign here. It’s hard for her to feel she belongs.’
That, Risha understood. ‘Well, perhaps it will help. And, as well, she seems to like you.’
‘You needn’t sound so surprised.’
When Risha proposed it to Margetta, the girl responded with a rare smile. It was a beginning at least.
Lyse was less pleased. ‘She needs friends her own age. Margetta is still a child, and Emett is a man, in case you hadn’t noticed.’
The rebuke momentarily silenced Risha. It was true that Emett had grown into himself over the past year. He would never have the solid strength of Muir or Harl, but he was now lean rather than skinny and his face had a finished quality it had previously lacked. Risha wondered whether it was jealousy that had leant tartness to Lyse’s tone.
‘You’re right, Lyse. I’ll attend to it. And until we find suitable company for her, you can play chaperone.’
Lyse’s face was hard to read. ‘I’m your companion.’
‘Would you come riding this afternoon then, or play trivets with Margetta and Emett?’
The girl’s pursed mouth was answer enough, but Risha knew it was a short-term solution.
She tracked Galyn down in the guardroom. ‘If you’re free this afternoon, Captain Galyn, I wonder if you might accompany me on a ride?’
Galyn’s mouth opened and closed before he settled on a nod. ‘Has Palt displeased you, my lady?’
‘Not at all. The reverse.’ The thickset, middle-aged guardsman who usually rode with her was invariably pleasant company. ‘I just thought you and I might get to know one another better.’
Galyn asked nothing more. When they emerged from the barbican Palt looked out from the gatehouse and Risha gave him a cheerful wave: she didn’t want him to think he’d been ousted.
‘Is there any word today from Donnel?’ she began, though she knew there was not. There had been only one courier in a month.
‘Nothing, my lady. But no news is good news, they say.’
‘Even in war?’
‘Especially in war.’
As they cleared the town’s outlying cottages, Risha nudged Dragonfly to a canter. Initially she had chafed at the lack of information, but the war had lately begun to acquire an air of unreality.
‘He’s settling to you,’ Galyn commented, as Risha eased back to a walk. ‘Spirited but trainable: as soon as I saw him, I thought he might suit you.’
Risha glanced at him sidelong, wondering whether he’d intended the double meaning, but his expression was guileless.
The road led them inland through a patchworked landscape of orchards and farmsteads. In the north the high meadows would be coming into flower. Risha’s thoughts circled and shied.
‘Is something troubling you, my lady?’
‘I was remembering my childhood.’ A tongue of wind shivered the trees. ‘It’s too cold for orchards like these in the north.’
As a consequence the first apple she’d ever tasted had been given her by Marit. Recalling the man’s rough kindness, Risha hoped that the traders had been well clear of Bethanfield when the battle Donnel’s courier had described had taken place.
Dragonfly sidestepped as a bird darted up from the verge, seeking refuge in the tree above. ‘With so many men away, how will we manage come harvest?’
Galyn grunted. ‘Depends how long the weather holds. Labour’ll be short, that’s certain.’
In the north it might be possible to enlist the hill people to help. It was an idea that bore thinking about — but not right now. She eyed Galyn cautiously. ‘Do you have a family, Captain Galyn?’
‘Wife and two little ones with another on the way. Should be born with the harvest.’ His pride was evident in his smile. ‘I’ve had a house in the town since my second was born — makes things easier when I’m away. My mother lives with us.’
The conversation hit a lull. ‘Was there something in particular you were wanting, my lady?’ Galyn asked eventually.
The man was no fool. ‘No. Yes.’ Risha hesitated. ‘I want to find company for Margetta; someone her own age, but …’
‘Citadel’s not the most companionable of places for a young girl,’ he said shrewdly. ‘It’s a little outside my sphere, but I could ask my wife …?’
Anya, when she called two days later, proved a pretty, moon-faced woman who laughed easily and often, bringing out the same in those around her. Risha felt pleased for Galyn that he’d made such a good match. With her was a
tall, rangy woman, handsome in an austere way, who was introduced as Captain Kern’s wife, Lisbet.
‘My daughters Cecily and Treia,’ Lisbet said, adding an apology for their tardiness in visiting. ‘My husband has often spoken of you, Lady Arishara. It’s a pleasure to meet you at last.’
Perhaps the women had been waiting for an invitation, even one so indirect as her own. Risha glanced at Fretha but her expression was non-committal.
‘Do you play trivets, Lady Margetta?’ Anya asked. ‘Cecily and Treia would spend their whole day at games if Lisbet let them.’
‘Not the whole day,’ Treia said. ‘At least not if it’s fine, because then I’d rather be outdoors. It’s Cecily who prefers board games.’ The younger girl blushed.
‘I’m not very good yet,’ Margetta said. ‘I’ve only just learned to play.’
‘Don’t they have trivets in Fratton?’ Treia demanded.
Margetta shook her head. ‘There’s a game that’s similar.’
‘Perhaps you might teach that to the girls,’ Anya beamed. ‘I’m sure you’ll find you have all sorts of things in common.’
Watching Treia’s face, Risha was less certain, but as the visit wore on she began to hope Margetta and Cecily might suit one another well.
Later, as they farewelled their guests in the courtyard, Lisbet took Risha’s hands in her own.
‘It’s been a true pleasure,’ the woman said. ‘I didn’t know your mother long but I did count her a friend. You’re alike in many ways, I think.’
‘I …’ Risha’s tongue tangled on her reply. Of course the woman would have known her mother. Lisbet would have been younger than Cattra, but not by much.
Lisbet squeezed her hands. ‘Next time I visit, we’ll speak of her.’
Risha managed a nod, and to return Cecily’s shy wave. As she turned back to the keep she met Fretha’s eyes. She straightened under the woman’s surveillance. ‘That went well.’
Fretha’s response was muted, but Risha was rewarded by Margetta’s timid smile.
Did Cantrel ever find his office a prison? Risha brooded on the question as she cantered up the needle-carpeted track. With her time stretched between the seneschal’s paperwork, her daily weapons practice and the various schemes she was arranging to enlist help with the harvest, she found less time for riding than she would like.
At a fork she veered left, directing Dragonfly to the clearing where Timon had first taught her to jump — hard to believe it was only a year ago. A haze of flowers dotted the grass, the drone of bees filling the air with the industrious hum of summer. She loosened the reins so that Dragonfly could graze.
‘You’re doing well with that horse,’ Palt said. ‘I thought him too unschooled when the captain first found him, but he’s settled to you well.’
‘Galyn was lucky to find him.’ Risha patted the gelding’s withers. Most of LeMarc’s horses had gone north with Donnel’s army but as a newly broken colt, Dragonfly had been considered too flighty.
The crisp tearing of grass was the only sound for several minutes, until Risha reluctantly gathered in her horse’s reins. ‘We’d best get back; I promised Fretha I wouldn’t be late. Cecily and Treia are coming this afternoon.’
‘Citadel sees a lot more visitors than it used to,’ Palt observed.
‘Too many,’ Risha muttered. To Fretha’s unconcealed amusement, Margetta had adapted more readily than Risha to their newly busy social life.
Palt shrugged. ‘It’s good to see a bit of life about the place again.’
She studied him. He was older than Donnel. ‘Palt, do you remember my mother?’
He nodded. ‘I didn’t know her well; I was only a trooper back then. She was a breath of summer air about the place; always smiling. And pretty, like you.’
Risha frowned.
‘Donnel was a bit easier in himself too — happy, if you take my drift. Happiest of all when you were born. He used to carry you around in the crook of his arm. I found him introducing you to the horses once, and you no more than a tiddler.’
Risha tried to fit this image to the man she’d last seen on the road south of Harlen.
‘Shall we head back, then?’
She nodded.
They had almost cleared the trees when Dragonfly’s head lifted sharply. Moments later the sound of hoof beats reached them from the road.
‘Someone in a hurry,’ Palt observed.
Risha urged Dragonfly on. ‘It could be a courier.’
The courtyard was milling with men and horses as they clattered through the barbican. Risha scanned the group quickly. It was larger than she’d expected, mainly guardsmen and — ‘Cantrel!’
The man’s weary expression was relieved by a smile as Risha flung herself from her horse and ran to embrace him. ‘Greetings to you, my Lady LeMarc.’
She eyed him critically. ‘How are you, Seneschal?’
‘My bones have found new ways to ache this past winter, but I’ll live a while yet.’
‘Have you any news of Donnel?’
‘Nothing recent. I travel slower than I used to.’ He smiled to offset the complaint. ‘Somoran’s losses at Bethanfield were too heavy for him to risk another confrontation. The last courier to Othbridge reported that he’d run home with his tail between his legs and Donnel snapping at his flanks.’
‘Good.’
Cantrel’s mouth twisted. ‘Perhaps. FrattonSeat is well fortified. While their supplies last, two hundred men can hold it against a thousand, and not everyone will see Donnel as a saviour. Between the Othar and the Dee the people are not antagonistic to LeMarc, but beyond it they fear outsiders as much as they fear Somoran. It’s a stalemate.’
‘But surely—’
‘Let Cantrel settle before you plague him with questions, Arishara.’ Fretha’s fierce tone betrayed her concern.
‘Peace, Fretha. And Lady Margetta: it’s a pleasure to see you again, and looking so well.’
Margetta slipped from behind the door and Risha tried to see the girl as Cantrel might. She’d filled out during her months at the citadel, losing the haunted air she’d carried, if not her shyness. Her smile at least came a little more readily now. They perhaps had Cecily to thank for that.
‘Barc sends his greetings,’ Cantrel said, ‘and the request that I pass on a message from someone called Raen.’
Spots of colour in Margetta’s cheeks heightened the paleness of her skin. ‘She was my nurse when I was young! She worked in the kitchens, after, and smuggled messages to me sometimes.’
‘You’ve lived in the shadow of too much sorrow and suspicion. I trust LeMarc has treated you better?’
‘Much better, Seneschal. Please, what was Raen’s message?’
‘That she looks forward to seeing you in your rightful place — which will be soon, if Donnel has his way.’
‘Come inside,’ Fretha said. ‘Really, Cantrel—’
‘I’m coming, woman. I don’t deny a hot bath will be welcome. Arishara, will you join me in my study in an hour?’
‘Of course.’ His right leg lagged as he climbed the steps.
Risha turned stiffly towards the stables. Cantrel’s return meant her stewardship of the citadel would be over: she didn’t know whether to feel relieved or irrelevant.
Dragonfly had already been unsaddled — by Palt, probably. Risha fetched a nosebag and ran a hand along the horse’s neck. The seneschal would find no faults in her record-keeping or in Margetta’s growing confidence. He might notice that even Fretha seemed to disapprove of her less. ‘But what now?’ she muttered, resting her forehead against Dragonfly’s bony nose. The horse huffed a breath that tickled her cheek. She scratched his ears. ‘If only this war would end.’
‘Aye,’ a voice agreed. She spun around.
It was Harl. A changed Harl. One side of his face was distorted by a livid scar that ran from temple to jaw, and as well — she swallowed — he had only one arm. ‘Harl.’ She was embarrassed to find tears in her eyes. ‘You came afte
r me. They said …’
‘Takes a lot to kill me,’ he answered gruffly. ‘And you, it seems, though there was a troop of Fratton’s finest trying.’
‘There were less than a dozen from what I saw, and half that number by the time you reached the bridge.’
‘If they’d been all, we’d have dealt with them easy.’ He shook his head. ‘When I went looking for you I stumbled on a regular encampment. Seems Somoran had been planning a move against us, probably aiming to make it look like border raids and lay the blame on the hill people. It wouldn’t be the first time. It’s lucky we caught him at it.’ Lucky was the last thing Harl looked. ‘I heard Muir made it as well?’
Risha nodded. ‘It took most of the winter for him to recover from his wound. He’s gone north to join Donnel.’
‘He’ll be doing well if Donnel doesn’t kill him for his part in losing you.’
‘No one had any part in losing me! My decisions were my own.’ She shook her head, acutely aware that she’d had no thought for consequences in the choices she’d made. ‘We met Donnel on the road. I’m sorry, Harl, I suppose he was angry with you as well. I didn’t—’
Harl raised his hand. ‘Not me. It took me a while to get back to Othbridge. Donnel had been and gone by then. It gave me a real boost when Cantrel told me you were safe.’
And that was another apology she owed.
‘We headed south as soon as we could, but … Well, it was a slow journey.’
‘Oh, Harl! If it wasn’t for me, you—’
‘Nay, lass, none of that. It’s a soldier’s lot, and in a good cause. It might have been the ones I killed that kept you safe, and even if it wasn’t, I put a dent in Somoran’s surprise.’
‘But all the farms they burnt and—’
‘They went off a little rash, and that’s worked in LeMarc’s favour. War’s never done without harm,’ he added.
She tightened her lips. ‘Do you plan to stay?’
He bowed. ‘If you’ll have me, my lady.’
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