Red Rowan: Book 4: The Dwarf Moot

by Helen Gosney

  Rowan was sitting on a wooden bench outside the main barn, cleaning harness. Naturally the cats and dogs were there, helping him. Well, Ollie, Boof and Umber were assisting by simply doing nothing but sit quietly beside him –purring, in Ollie’s case - but Scrap, inevitably, was being helpful by trying to drag a bridle away.

  “Don’t go and kill the bloody thing, Scrap!” Rowan said, trying not to laugh at the little cat’s antics, “Just because you and Ollie caught a couple of mice today, it doesn’t mean you can run off with anything you see!” he turned his head as he heard Gavin’s footsteps. “A good day to you, Gavin. Keeping you busy, are they?”

  Gavin came nearer, stopped, and barely managed to stop himself from saluting.

  “Hello, Sir. Aye, they surely are. One of the silly buggers wants another measure because he’s lost his own somewhere.”

  “I hope young Scrap hasn’t made off with it,” Rowan said with a smile, “He likes to take things and hide them. I’m sorry to have to admit it, but he’s a wonderful thief, and too damned clever for his own good.”

  Gavin grinned at the cheeky black cat for a moment, then realised that this was just the chance that he’d hoped to get: a few private moments with Rowan. He hastily pulled himself together.

  “No, Sir, I don’t think he has. I think it’ll be in Bayle’s bag, where he left it. Er, Sir… could I speak with you about a… um… a private matter, please, Sir?” he said.

  Rowan looked a bit surprised, as well he might, but he nodded.

  “Aye, of course you can, Gavin. So long as you call me ‘Rowan’,” he said, curious as to what this might be about, “Sit yourself down. Just move Ollie along a bit.”

  “Thank you, Sir. Er, sorry, Rowan,” Gavin said, somehow avoiding the automatic salute again. He moved the huge ginger cat carefully and sat down, surprised at the invitation to do so. “I think it’ll take a while for all of us to get used to that, Sir.”

  Rowan suppressed a sigh. It’d taken him quite a bit of time to train the Den Siddon men to it when he’d returned there to prepare for the Trophy, and no doubt it’d take these men a while to learn it as well.

  “Aye, I suppose so,” he said, “But you wanted to speak to me about something, you said? Here I am, Gavin lad. Speak up, please.”

  “Aye, Sir. I…” Gavin took a deep breath and tried to do as asked, “Sir, I promised my Ma that I’d say this to you if ever I was lucky enough to meet you, but I… I’ve wanted to do it myself, anyway…” he hurried on as he saw the baffled look on Rowan’s face, “Sir, I wanted to thank you for bringing my brother back home to us from Messton. I… we…” all of his prepared words deserted him as he saw Rowan’s sudden pallor.

  Rowan blinked and pulled himself together. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t this.

  “From Messton?” he looked at Gavin more closely, as if trying to recall him from that time. But of course Gavin hadn’t been there, had he? His brother, though… “What’s your brother’s name, Gavin?”

  “Bran. Bran Mierson, Sir. He was a corporal from Den…”

  “… Den Escher. He was from Den Escher, wasn’t he? You look like him, Gavin, but I think perhaps his hair was a bit darker,” Rowan said slowly, “He had leg injuries, I think, and a gash down the side of his face that just missed his eye. But, Gavin, how is he now? Is he all right?”

  “Aye, Sir. Well, he has a limp and some scars, but he still has both his legs and he gets around well. He only limps when he’s tired, really.”

  “Please, tell me more of him.”

  “Well, I… I don’t know what to tell you, Sir.”

  “’Rowan’. But just tell me about him, ‘tisn’t so bloody hard, surely? Is he still in the Guard?”

  “No, Sir, he’s not. Rowan, I meant to say, Sir. Bran… well, he’s lame, as I said, and he didn’t really want to…” Gavin saw Rowan’s nod of understanding and continued, “He works on our farm at home, Sir. Pa’s getting on a bit now, and Bran’s in charge, really. We run cattle, beef cattle, down near the Cat’s Eye Lake. Bran can still ride as well as he ever did, so he can do anything that anyone else can. And he’s… he’s wed now. He was betrothed before… um, before Messton, and he wed Maya after he recovered from his wounds. They’ve got two fine little lads, too. Rowan and Fess, they called them.”

  “Gods! Not another poor bloody Rowan! The world’s full of little lads called that, now,” Rowan said, still surprised that folk seemed to forget that he hadn’t been the only one there at Messton, “And the other lad’s named Fess? I must tell him when I see him next. He’ll like that.”

  “Bran wanted to honour you both, Sir. He was one of the men that you and Captain Fess saved after they were all unhorsed and surrounded by bloody Plaitens.”

  Rowan remembered that particular incident all too well. It still surfaced in his nightmares at times, though it didn’t always play out as it’d actually been.

  “I am honoured, Gavin, truly honoured, and I know that Fess will be as well,” Rowan looked away for a moment, “Thank you for telling me about Bran, Gavin. I’m glad he’s all right.”

  “I’m surprised that you can even remember him, Sir. It’s been a long time,” Gavin said, though it was obvious that Rowan truly did recall Bran. He’d even remembered his garrison.

  “I remember all of those men, Gavin,” Rowan said simply, and for a moment Gavin thought that he was going to say something else.

  There was a shout of, “Gavin! Where the hell are you? And how long does it take you to find a cursed measuring tape and a level, you fraggin idiot! Get a bloody move on before it starts raining!”

  Rowan glanced at the sky and sighed softly. Rill was right again, he thought, it’s going to pour down in about half an hour.

  “Sounds like you’re needed, lad,” he said.

  “Aye. I’d best be going, Sir. Thank you again. Bran always says he thought he’d be left behind at Messton when he couldn’t ride with his injured legs, but you…”

  “Hush, Gavin lad. You don’t need to thank me, truly. It was my job to get the men home if I could, and I could no more have left Bran and the others like him behind than… than flown in the air. Truly, I simply couldn’t live with myself if I’d left them.”

  **********

  24. “they could use the barn”

  “Now, Sir, er, Rowan, tell me again what you had in mind, please,” Marcus said after he and his men had spent a couple of days looking at likely sites. The rain had hampered them a bit, but now it was sunny again and everything was drying out rapidly. He understood the need for an undercover training area for the horses, and perhaps a bit more stabling space too, but the idea of a sort of barracks had him confused.

  “Well, somewhere for the men to stay while they’re here learning how to train the horses. They’ll be here for two or three months over winter, and they’ll be coming back and forth for a few years, I’d imagine. And I think there’ll be more from other provinces once word gets out.”

  “Mmm… well, we’ve certainly been glad of the barn to stay in, instead of tents, with all that damned rain, and of course it’ll be worse in winter. But, with all respect, why couldn’t they use the barn as well? It’s very comfortable.’

  “Aye, well, I suppose they could, in some ways… but I think there’ll be too many of them for that. At least there will be once we get it up and going properly.”

  “How many are we talking about, Sir?” Alben piped up.

  Rowan shrugged.

  “No idea, really. But I think maybe up to half a dozen from Wirran to start with, early next winter…” Rowan saw the look that passed between the Engineers and hastily added, “Aye, I know they could use the barn, but, well… we do use it for other things than just foaling, especially at that time of year, and I truly think there’ll be a lot more men coming here after the first year or so. Possibly up to thirty or forty, and some from further afield, as I said. Besides, we do often have folk come from quite a distance to see our horses - buy our hor
ses, I should say - and ‘tis easier to accommodate them here rather than in the town. The poor buggers always seem to get lost while they’re trekking to and fro.”

  He smiled as he saw the troopers’ nods. They’d near as dammit got lost themselves the first couple of times they’d headed off into the trees, determined to find their own way to the town. If Umber and Boof hadn’t found them and led them home, Rowan thought they’d still be going around in circles in the trees.

  “And, more importantly than all that, Cris and Rill and Brother Tadeus are feeling guilty about taking up space with Griff and Honi and me, and they’d be happier in their own little part of the barracks, they say. Daft, but there it is. We’d have built them their own cottage if the Horsemasters weren’t coming, but they’re happy to just live in with them.”

  The Engineers nodded wisely.

  “But what’s this business about it not being just a single big long room and a common room, Sir?” Jass Olverson said.

  He was a very quiet young fellow among his more outspoken colleagues, and Rowan hadn’t expected him to be the one to raise this issue. No, more likely Marcus, he’d thought. Well, it looked like he’d thought wrong.

  “Aye, ‘tis a radical idea, I know, but… well… the men who’ll be coming will be Guard Horsemasters, a lot will be lieutenants, and none will be below sergeant’s rank. I don’t imagine they’d be too thrilled to find themselves back in a bloody dormitory, do you?”

  Rowan was pleased to see Marcus shudder at the thought.

  “And of course Brother Tadeus will need his privacy, and so will Cris and Rill,” he added.

  “Of course they will. Anyway, ‘tisn’t a big deal to build the thing as individual rooms, rather than one bloody great big one,” Kieran d’Kyle said softly. He was a kinsman of Griff and Rowan, a very big man of fifty-five years, his long dark braid brindled with grey. The Wirrans had been fascinated to see that he had the same mottled greenish-brown eyes as Rowan and Griff: eyes that were so rare elsewhere, but apparently not here in Sian.

  “No, ‘tis just like building a damned big house, is all. We could even add a little kitchen as well as a couple of common rooms. Doesn’t matter if nobody ever uses it, even, but ‘tis easier to build it at the time, rather than later. And somebody might want a cup of tea or something,” another forester, Bryn d’Merril, said cheerfully. He was of the Marblebark clan, Honi’s clan. He also had a single braid that seemed the same as everyone else’s to the Wirrans’ untutored eyes, but of course it wasn’t and any forester would know the difference at a glance.

  “Aye, I suppose you’re right,” Marcus said, “But…”

  “But you’re Engineers, not bloody house builders. Don’t fret yourself, lad, that’s what you’ve got us for, to help you out with the bits that you’re not familiar with,” Kieran said, “Same as you’ll help us out with stuff that we’re not used to, like these stone foundations.”

  He couldn’t really see why they were needed, but he wasn’t going to argue the point. So long as the damned building didn’t fall down around everyone’s ears, he truly didn’t care whether the foundations were of stone or timber. Besides, stone might be better for this particular size and style of building, for all he knew. They were building it bigger than was really necessary, but a bit of extra space never went astray, and it was better to build it that way first off, rather than tacking bits on later.

  “Aye, you’re right. Well, we’ll just have to modify the plans a bit, then, make it more like, um, Officers’ Quarters. Maybe we’ll give the men a little study with each room, and a sort of private sitting room and separate bathing facilities for Brother Tadeus and Cris and, er, Rill. Hmm… I suppose we could even give them their own little wing and their own entrance,” Marcus frowned thoughtfully, “And two-storied, I think. There’s plenty of space here, so we can spread it all out a bit and we won’t need to make it any higher than that. Is everyone happy with it being over there?” he pointed to a nice spot near a big tree. It was close to everything, but not too close to the other houses.

  “Yes… well, we will be when we’ve got rid of that bloody dropper,” Kieran said. He laughed at the mystified faces of the Engineers. “Sorry, lads, that lovely rose-flowered brittletree, as I should have said. The cursed things have a nasty habit of dropping branches when you least expect it. See underneath it?”

  Marcus and his men looked at the offending tree. It was very pretty, with its big, highly scented rose-pink blooms and blue-green leaves, but yes… below it were several branches of varying sizes, with quite a big one that hadn’t been there the last time they’d been over that way.

  “Aye, we’ve been meaning to chop the damned thing down, but it makes Griff and me nearly sneeze our heads off when we’re anywhere near it. We decided it’s not hurting anyone over there, so we’ve sort of ignored it,” Rowan said contritely, pleased to see that everyone seemed to be getting into the spirit of the thing.

  “Never mind, laddie. We’ll soon get rid of the bugger for you!” Bryn said, idly fingering the axe on his back.

  “And we’ll put the training area in that big paddock there, where it’s nice and flat. Well, more or less; it will be when we’re finished with it,” Marcus continued happily, “We’ll put the new stables over there somewhere too, and that way it’s nice and handy and they won’t have to be traipsing around all over the place to find their horses. We can easily fence off another paddock for you.”

  “We could sort of build the stables on to the end of the training thing, Sir, rather than as a separate building,” Alben said thoughtfully.

  “Aye, I suppose we could… well, we’ll measure it out and think on that a bit more,” Marcus said.

  “So, when do you think you’ll be starting? With the actual construction, I mean, not all the measuring and things you’re already doing,” Honi asked, “You’ll have to give me a bit of warning, or you’ll find yourself eating the dogs.”

  “Gods! We don’t want that, tasty as they’d undoubtedly be with your fine cooking, Honi,” Bryn laughed, “We’ll have to take these lads to the timber yard, make sure they’re happy with the timber they’ve put aside for us, and of course we’ve got to go down to Crahl to see the stone and organise the delivery of it as well. Hmm… A couple of weeks, say? Maybe a day or so more? Would that be too soon?”

  “That’d be fine, Bryn. And how many of you will there be?” Honi said.

  “As many as we need. What do you think, Marcus?”

  “I… er… I don’t know, really,” he managed. He looked a bit shocked. Certainly he hadn’t expected the foresters to be so well organised, but as they obviously were, there was no reason to delay. “How many can you provide?”

  Kieran and Bryn looked at each other and laughed.

  “Most of two clans, and likely two-thirds of the town. Oh, and at least half a dozen trolls at any one time,” Kieran said happily, “And of course the dwarves will send a couple of lads with a portable forge if we need it.”

  “Bloody Hells! I, um, I don’t think we’ll need quite that many. The forge could be handy, though.”

  “Mmm, I think so too. As for the others, no, I don’t think we’ll need them all at once. ‘Tisn’t as if everything’s got to be done in a couple of days, is it? Not like a damned barnraising. Besides, the buggers’d eat us out of house and home. Well, we’ll bring perhaps half a dozen strong lads and a couple of trolls to dig the foundations, and take it from there. Oh, and Lana and Lori said they’d help you with feeding the starving hordes, Honi,” Kieran said.

  She nodded.

  “Thank them for me, please, Kieran. I’m sure they’ll be needed,” she said.

  “Aye, especially with the trolls, with all respect to them,” Griff laughed, “They’re great workers and great diggers, but they’re bloody great eaters as well!”

  “Whereas we foresters only eat like birds!” Bryn said with a grin.

  **********

  25. “dealing with the military mind”
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br />   A day or so later, Griff, Rowan, Cris and Tadeus were riding the young horses in a neat quadrille, while Honi and Rill had gone to prepare lunch. Well, Honi was doing the preparation with Gavin’s help and Rill was doing any necessary running about and fetching things. Cris wasn’t used to riding in a disciplined group like this and he tended to lose his way and get left behind at times, but he was learning quickly, just as the young horses were.

  “Visitors!” Rowan and Griff said at the same time, and laughed.

  “Quite a few, too,” Griff said thoughtfully as he listened carefully while still keeping his place in the drill, “Who the hell would be coming out here now? We’re not expecting anyone, are we?”

  “No, but we’ll soon find out who they are, lad,” Rowan said, “And whoever they are, they’ll have to wait until we finish this. Boof and Umber will look after them.”

  A few minutes later they stopped their horses in a neat line, smiled at each other at the success of the drill, and turned to see who it was that the dogs were looking after. A troop of Siannen Guardsmen sat quietly on their horses, having watched the quadrille with initial astonishment followed by a profound professional interest.

  “Ah. I wondered when they’d turn up,” Rowan said softly, “Who wants to go and talk with them?”

  “Nobody!” Griff laughed, “This is your baby, laddie. Besides, you’re the expert in dealing with the military mind, so…” he nodded his head in the Guardsmen’s direction, “… off you go!”

  “Ha! Fraggin ‘military minds’ indeed!” Rowan replied, “Er, Cris, would you mind going and finding Marcus, please? He should be here too.”

  Rowan trotted his bay mare over to the visitors as Cris hurried off. He could see that they were looking closely at his mount, indeed at all of the young horses, and he smiled to himself. Aye, young Teazel is better than any of your horses, he thought happily. Any horse here is.