Red Rowan: Book 4: The Dwarf Moot

by Helen Gosney

  “No. Not of you lot, anyway. I’ve simply got more sense than to wave a blade around when ‘tisn’t necessary. And I’ve certainly got more sense than to challenge four well-armed dwarves with a grievance,” he said.

  “You’d still do better to face us, lads,” a young dwarf, Morel, piped up, “Just trying to be helpful, but you’ll find Rowan doesn’t bloody mess about. I’d think again about challenging him if I were you…”

  The guards looked at Rowan’s silver hair and then at each other. They grinned and spread themselves in an obviously well rehearsed pattern.

  “Really?” the lead guard lunged at Rowan, sword aimed for his heart as the other two attacked from the side.

  The guards and Saul were treated to an unexpected demonstration of Rowan’s legendary speed, agility and expertise. They quickly found that, firstly, his reputation wasn’t exaggerated and, secondly, he truly didn’t mess about, just as Morel had said.

  Rowan sidestepped the initial lunge, neatly tripping the first guard and drawing a dagger in each hand as he did. The right hand guard’s sword clanged against the crossed daggers and fell to the ground as Rowan twisted his wrists… thus. The man fell too, as Rowan kicked him hard – but not too hard, he hoped - in the ribs. He spun to the left hand guard, disarming him in the same way and breaking his nose with an elbow as he went past.

  The first guard stared in amazement and horror at his two men on the ground as he quickly got to his own feet. The one with the broken nose tried gamely to reach his fallen sword but stopped abruptly as a g’Hakken dagger thudded into the ground between his outstretched fingers.

  The leader, seeing that Rowan had only one dagger left and seemed occupied, ran at him again. Rowan dived to the side, somersaulting easily to his feet as the other man’s sword passed through empty space where he’d just been. There was a sudden inexplicable pain in the leader’s hand and he dropped his sword. He glanced down to see the second dagger transfixing the middle of his hand. As he gaped at it he heard a soft, oddly silken hiss and looking up he found himself facing the Champion along the length of the beautiful g’Hakken sabre that rested lightly against his chest. For a dreadful moment as he stared up into Rowan’s eyes the man truly thought he’d be killed, but the moment passed.

  “I’m sorry about your hand and your man’s nose, but please, go now. Just as soon as we’ve looked you over,” Rowan said, stony-faced. He resheathed his sabre, plucked the dagger from the other man’s hand and checked the movement of the fingers. He nodded to himself, then bound the wound with a strip torn from his shirt, and turned and walked away without saying anything else.

  “We don’t hand out swords like that one just for turning up on the right day, or for having a pretty face,” Owen said to the shaking guards as he gave a clean handkerchief to the one with the bleeding nose. He looked on as Morel helped the last guard up and checked his ribs. They were bruised, but not broken, and the fellow more or less had his breath back. Finally he bent down, picked up Rowan’s other dagger and wiped the dirt off it, adding, “They don’t give you a Weapons Master tattoo just for showing up either. You should’ve listened to young Morel, here.”

  “And something else for you to think about, man,” a third dwarf said quietly to the leader, “Rowan’s just as good with a knife as he is with a bloody sabre, or anything else, and only daft buggers take him on like that. That dagger went exactly where he meant it to go, and it could’ve just as easily ended up in your damned eye or your heart as your hand. Or he could have thrown his little hand axe at you and taken your hand off, or half of your head. You should remember that.”

  “Aye, your friends could be weeping and wailing and gnashing their teeth right now, looking for a nice place to dig a hole to put you in,” Morel added, with a good attempt at keeping a straight face.

  All the dwarves knew that Rowan would no more have deliberately killed the man than flown in the air, but it didn’t hurt to spread a few… embellishments like that sometimes.

  Saul stared at them in shocked astonishment. How the hell Rowan had disarmed all those men so quickly and with no apparent effort at all, Saul didn’t know, even though he’d seen it himself. It’d simply been too fast to follow. If this was what it meant to face the Champion, Saul was very, very grateful that the Gods had given him enough brains to never, ever consider taking him on. And what the hell had the dwarf meant by ‘Weapons Master’?

  The caravan and its guards left with undignified haste. Three guards in particular had learnt a very valuable lesson about not judging people by their silver hair and quiet manner, and their leader was very, very quiet whenever the subject of the Champion came up afterwards.

  **********

  But on this particular day there were no caravans expected. The g’Hakken scouts had reported one about three days travel away, but nothing else. It seemed that Gabonsbridge simply didn’t have many visitors from the south, or perhaps they’d heard the story from those that’d been turned away and decided not to come.

  The dwarven children had finished their chores and were playing on the nice flattish grassy area on the other side of the road from the tents. Rowan and the dwarves had made a couple of timber seesaws and swings to keep them occupied. They’d even made a rustic little log cabin that did duty as either house, or hunters’ lodge, or fortress, depending on who was using it at the time.

  Rowan and the dwarves were tending to Ashen and the ponies when the hunter Crann came over the bridge to them.

  “Look at that, lads,” he said, discreetly indicating the town gate, “Poor Saul’s going to get harassed again.”

  Several children from the town were standing by Kein’s old toll booth. It’d happened a couple of times lately, and nothing had come of it, but the youngsters looked a bit more determined today. The keen ears of the dwarves and Rowan could hear them clearly.

  “But… but we’ve got nowhere to kick a ball properly in here, Saul. You know how the old grannies get upset if we kick it too close to their doors or windows,” one boy of about eight said.

  “And the shopkeepers are no better. They complain if we even look at their stuff. And Ma keeps telling me to go and play. But there’s nowhere to bloody play!” a slightly older lad whinged, with some justification.

  “So they’ve sent you here to pester me, have they?” Saul said crossly. He was still coming to grips with the truth of the dwarven bridge and he really wasn’t in the mood for this. Surely these boys had better things to be doing, didn’t they? “Anyway, I can’t let you bloody go out there, can I? Your Ma would skin me alive, young Dennel, and you know it. Just go away and find somebody else to annoy. If you’ve done your chores and everything, then why don’t you go and play outside the north gate?”

  “It’s all muddy and horrible from the caravans on that side of town, Saul. Ma says we’re not to play there because we’ll come home all dirty and smelly,” somebody piped up.

  Dennel, the second lad to speak, knew what’d happen if they did. His mother had belted him hard when he’d come home with his clothes caked in mud and worse, and every other mother in the town would do the same.

  “Well, I don’t know what you’re going to do, lads, but I can’t let you out this side of town and that’s the bloody end of it! Now CLEAR OFF!” he cuffed the nearest pair of ears and the boys scattered.

  Rowan and the dwarves spoke together for a few minutes as Saul calmed down. Finally the elected representative crossed the bridge, vaulted the pine log, and walked up to the watchman. They’d passed the time of day a few times since Charl’s caravan had left, cautiously on Saul’s part, and the dwarves had given him mugs of tea to warm him up when the wind blew cold and strong along the chasm. They’d even offered him a hot midday meal, rather than the bread and cheese he’d brought from home, but he’d reluctantly refused and they hadn’t persisted.

  “Saul, lad, I can see those little buggers aren’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer forever, and they’ll drive you bloody daft. Let me put
a suggestion to you,” Rowan said quietly, “Our youngsters are playing just over there, you can see them clearly from here. Next time you’re being harassed like that, why don’t you let your lads and lasses play over there too. ‘Tisn’t muddy or mucky. We keep the ponies and Ashen well away from there, and we’ll keep ourselves well away while your youngsters are there, too. You have my word they’ll come to no harm. My True Word, in fact.”

  Saul watched in amazement as Rowan pricked the end of a finger with a dagger and wrote the Siannen runes for truth and his own name in blood on his right palm. There was no more serious or binding an oath, particularly to a forester.

  “I… I don’t know what to say to you…” Saul managed.

  “Your youngsters can play with ours if they want to, but if they’d rather not, nobody’ll be offended. Of course, they’ve all got to have permission from their Ma,” Rowan smiled at him, “And if you like, you can cross the bridge and keep an eye on them from over there. We’ll keep the townsfolk safely in their precious bloody town and the youngsters can run around and kick a ball without worrying about being pests.”

  Saul thought about it. It seemed like a good solution to the problem, but he knew how bloody-minded some of the townsfolk could be. Every time he’d tried to speak of the plaque on the bridge to anyone but his wife he’d been shouted down and generally told to shut up about things he knew nothing about. Even his friends at the inn had got tired of him and thrown him out. All the same…

  “My two lads have been driving my wife, Becca, mad too. ‘Tisn’t so bad when they’ve got school to go to, but the teacher’s ill and there’s nobody willing to take her place. Can’t say I blame them, mind,” he thought a bit more and came to a decision. He hoped nobody’d lynch him for it. “I’ll speak to Becca about it tonight. And if all goes well, I think quite a few of the little buggers will be crossing the bridge to play – not straight away, mind, but in a couple of days. Thank you for the offer.”

  “You’re welcome, Saul. The others said to mention there might be a cup of tea or mug of ale in it for you.”

  Saul’s eyes widened.

  “Ale? Proper dwarven ale, do you mean?”

  “Aye. ‘Tis strong enough to grow hair on your teeth,” Rowan laughed.

  “Gods, it was wonderful…” he’d never tasted anything like it before or since the day Dann had given him some as a quick restorative. It’d certainly done the job and it’d tasted like… like molten gold.

  “Well, it keeps the cold out, at least. ‘Tis said to be quite good for stripping paint as well.”

  **********

  44. “… this is my wife, Becca”

  The next morning, Saul was late to his post. In fact, everyone was starting to think that he’d finally got fed up with the cold wind and the sneers of the few townsfolk who came to the southern gate now, but no.

  A couple of hours after his usual time, Saul came up to the gate accompanied by a sturdy little fair-haired woman, with a couple of youngsters in tow. The boys both looked to be about the same size, perhaps seven or eight or so, and they were clean and neatly dressed, though their clothes were well patched. One carried a fairly battered leather ball.

  It happened that Rowan was at the Town End log that day, rather than the Camp End one. Saul came over a bit hesitantly and made the introductions.

  “Rowan, this is my wife, Becca, and these two little horrors are my sons. The bit bigger one’s Benji, and the other one’s Josey. They’re twins, and they’re seven.”

  Twins. Rowan was instantly interested, being a twin himself, but he turned his attention to Saul’s wife as was proper.

  “A good day to you, my lady Becca. I’m Rowan d’Rhys del’Quist of the Forest Giant and g’Hakken clans. I’m very pleased to meet you, and I’m sure the clan ladies will be too,” Rowan smiled at her as he carefully shook her hand, “I hope you’ll let the lads play with our youngsters, but if not… well, they can still run about over there and kick their ball around. There’s a couple of swings and things they can use, too, if they want to. Maybe they’ll wear themselves out enough to give you a bit of peace.”

  Becca looked up at him. Saul had told her quite a bit about him, but he’d left out bits too. She’d expected his beautiful manners, and an accent of some sort, but she was surprised by how soft and beguiling that accent was; surprised too by how young he looked in spite of his thick silver braid. And his hair was longer and neater than her own locks. Glossier too, if truth be told. And his eyes were… an odd colour, but beautiful. She’d seldom seen such a striking looking man. She hastily pulled herself together.

  “You’ve… you’ve made swings?” she said.

  Rowan nodded.

  “Aye. It gives the children something to do, rather than get underfoot and be pests after they’ve done their day’s chores.”

  “Do you have children of your own?” she asked and immediately wished she hadn’t, as a deep sadness crossed his handsome face.

  “No, my lady, I’m sorry to say that I don’t. My little lad was born too soon, and he lived for only a few minutes, and my… my wife died very soon after…” he looked away for a moment, unconsciously twisting the gold and silver ring on his little finger as he got himself under control again, “I’ve had a bit of practice with youngsters, though. My best friends have five children at last count, and my sister – my twin sister, as I should say - has twin girls of her own. Most of my friends have children, and of course my kinfolk are always having them too.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said softly, “I shouldn’t have asked…”

  “You weren’t to know, my lady.”

  Becca smiled at him.

  “I’m not a lady, Rowan. Just call me ‘Becca’, as everyone else does.”

  “Thank you, Becca,” Rowan said, relieved that she seemed interested in the dwarves’ idea. He wondered how much Saul had told her about the plaque on the bridge… perhaps quite a bit. She wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t, would she? He looked down at the two little boys. They weren’t identical, but still fairly similar in appearance: tow-headed, blue-eyed, and all knees and elbows. He knelt to their level.

  “Hello, lads,” he said, “My name’s Rowan, and I promise you I don’t bite. Except maybe at Mayor Figgins and his Council when they’re being daft.”

  The boys giggled together for a moment.

  The slightly bigger one – Benji – spoke up, “Are you really a twin too?”

  Rowan nodded.

  “Aye, I truly am. I have a twin sister, Rose is her name. She’s wed now, and she’s got twin girls, as like as peas in a pod. They’ve just turned three,” he smiled at the boys cheerfully, “Now, you’re very welcome to come and play with our youngsters if your Ma’s happy about it, but if you’d rather just play together, that’s all right too. And if you decide that you don’t want to stay, nobody will be upset with you. You can use anything you want to, but you must tidy up when you’re finished,” Rowan remembered something else, “Oh, and this is very important, lads. We haven’t quite finished fencing off the edge, so we’ve put a rope on the ground about ten yards or so back from it. You must promise not to go over that until the fence is done. The only exception is if your ball is just on the other side of the rope and it’s safe to get it, but under no circumstances are you to go anywhere near the edge. Come and find me if you need any help, or anything at all. Does that seem fair to you?”

  “Ya,” the other lad, Josey, said, “We’ll be careful, I promise. Have you really made a swing over there?” He craned his neck to see. He and Benji had been pestering Saul to make them one for quite a while, without success.

  “Aye, we have. There’s a low one for the babies and a couple of bigger ones. I think you’d fit on them all right. There’s a couple of seesaws and climbing ropes and a little sort of cabin there too. You might have to be a bit careful of splinters, but we’ve smoothed everything as best we can,” he smiled again as he saw the boys’ eyes widen. “…But your Ma has
the final say.”

  He turned to her, flowing easily to his feet.

  “You’re very welcome to come and watch our children playing, see that it’s safe, and I know the clan ladies will want to meet you. I hope you’ll let your lads run around over there, but if you decide not, then we won’t be offended. A bit disappointed, I’d think, but not offended. What do you think?”

  Becca looked around, undecided. She could see the dwarven children running about on the other side of the river, and hear their joyful noise. Several dwarves were putting up a post and rail fence along the cliff’s edge and for a moment she wondered why the townsfolk had never done that. Odd, now that she thought about it. She could see a long bit of rope on the ground, just as Rowan had said, and she saw the dwarven children were keeping well away from it. She doubted any child would ignore Rowan’s very clear instructions. He hadn’t been overbearing at all, but there was certainly something about him that inspired respect and obedience. And now she could see several women, presumably the children’s mothers, sitting around talking and laughing as they busily knitted and sewed while keeping an eye on their offspring. One even looked to be cutting up a big pile of wild carrots and mushrooms and some sort of greens, probably for lunch or supper. She glanced up at Saul quickly.

  “One of us can keep the townsfolk safely inside the gate and Saul can go with you, if you like,” Rowan offered, guessing at the reason for her hesitation.

  She smiled at him gratefully.

  “Thank you,” she said, “Now, let’s go and see what’s going on over there before these two lads explode.”

  **********

  45. “over the edge of the chasm”

  “Oh, bugger!” Dennel said helplessly as the wind picked up his ball and blew it over the edge of the chasm. This was the first day he’d been allowed to come and play with his friends Benji and Josey, and before this disaster he’d been having a good time. He looked around for the twins, but they were busy climbing a tree and not really in a position to do much anyway.