by Helen Gosney
“Going where, Sir?” somebody asked hesitantly.
“Back to the Moot, of course, but we’ll have to be careful or these ponies of yours will founder. In fact we should walk for most of the day and go slowly to give them a bit more rest. Get on with it, please, lads.”
**********
57. “What the hell did you do?”
Later that day, Rowan was thinking about making an early stop to rest the ponies some more, even though they’d only been actually ridden for half an hour or so, and slowly at that. He looked up and saw Finn and Dann riding towards him. With them were Dass of the g’Delsren, Theorle of the g’Ballen, Oswain of the g’Tull and Therellen of the g’Hyr.
The dwarves’ eyes roved anxiously over the group, relieved to see that all of their young kinsmen were there and unharmed. Yes, they’d disobeyed their clan elders and gone against the wishes of the entire Moot by coming out here like this, and there’d be strict consequences for that, but still… Suddenly there was a horrified gasp.
“Great bloody Beldar! Feore!” Theorle cried, “What the hell did you do?”
The young dwarf hung his head, but came out of the group, dismounted and knelt before the headman of his clan.
“I… I’m so sorry, Grandfather. I…”
“’Tis Finn g’Hakken you should be apologising to, I’m thinking,” Theorle said, mortified that his grandson had so angered Rowan that he’d invoked an’Keyilar tel. He didn’t question it though: no dwarf would do this without very severe provocation, and the Champion’s membership of the g’Hakken was accepted without reservation. Besides, he was widely known to be a very calm man. Hot-tempered at times, yes, but not a man to let that rule him, and certainly not one to make rash decisions. No, he wouldn’t have done this lightly.
“Aye, Grandfather.”
Feore scrambled to his feet, moved over to where Finn sat on his pony, his face a picture of stunned horror. He knelt again and bowed his head.
“Master Smith Findarel, I… I hope you might accept my sincere apologies. I offended your clansman and insulted your clan in a way that was… was discourteous, cowardly and shameful. I… I’m truly sorry…” he stumbled to a stop, the clear strip of skin on his face very pale.
Finn and Dann exchanged a quick glance. They’d have to get the whole story out of Rowan somehow, but they didn’t doubt his decision. Yes, he had a short, sharp temper still, but it was well controlled, as evidenced by the single, narrow strip that’d been shaved. All the same, whatever Feore had said or done, it must have truly offended their clansman. Thank the Gods that Owen hadn’t been with him.
Finn was about to open his mouth when Theorle also fell to his knees before him. His head too was bowed, and his face was pale and appalled. His strong miner’s hands were shaking slightly.
“Finn, we’ve been friends for a long time, and it shames me to see that my grandson has caused a grievous offence to your clan and your clansman. I hope you can find it in you to forgive him in time. I… I don’t know what else to say to you,” he said softly.
“Get up, please, Theorle. I don’t know what’s happened, but I’m sure we’ll both find out in due course. ‘Tisn’t the time or place to go into it now. But I think your grandson has paid the price for his transgression. The friendship between us, personally, and between our clans will not be affected by this,” Finn said, dismounting quickly and reaching down to help Theorle up and shake his hand.
Feore became even paler as he realised that his foolishness had almost caused a serious rift between the clans.
“Thank you, Finn. ‘Tis more than the lad deserves,” Theorle said. He turned to Feore, who was still kneeling. “You have shamed yourself and your clan, Feore. You are banished for a year.”
“May I speak?” Rowan asked softly.
“Of course,” Finn said.
“May I speak to you, please, Theorle, I meant to say.”
“Of course you may. But first, I must apologise to you as well…”
Rowan shook his head.
“No, Theorle. I thank you for the courtesy, but no. Feore has apologised and as Finn said, he’s paid the price for his offence. Please… I know this is your clan’s business and not mine, but please… don’t banish the lad,” he said softly, “He’s learned his lesson, I think, and it’ll be reinforced when we get back to the Moot. Send him away then, perhaps, but please don’t banish him from the clan. He’s just a lad. A loudmouthed, arrogant and thoughtless one, to be sure, but… I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t wanted to do dreadful things to the folk of g’Beyans’ Bridge when I realised the truth of it.”
“But he’s offended your clan and shamed his own!”
“Aye, he has. But he’s apologised sincerely for it, accepted the punishment with no dissent, and the offensive words he said have blown away on the wind. Please, let this be enough.”
Theorle looked at him for a good while as he thought hard. The an’Keyilar tel was shocking enough, but it could certainly have been done far more severely: Theorle could remember a dwarf of another clan who’d been completely shaven as a punishment for offending one of the g’Ballen. Finally he nodded and prodded Feore none too gently with the steel toecap of his boot.
“Feore, get up now. You will return to the Moot, but after one day there you will return home to the mine. And you will work very bloody hard there, too, even if I have to kick your backside three times a day as encouragement.” He turned back to Rowan. “Thank you. I’ve heard it said that you are a wise man. For once it seems that rumours are right.”
Therellen came up to Rowan as they started to make camp.
“You did well there, Rowan. It would have broken Theorle’s heart to have sent Feore away, but he would still have done it. Finn said you’d do the right thing when you caught up with those stupid young buggers, and he was right,” he said quietly. The an’Keyilar tel was a severe punishment, but Therellen believed it was a wise punishment too, particularly in this instance.
**********
The very chastened young dwarves kept a low profile when they returned to the Moot, and Feore even more so before he slipped out of the big camp a day later. Before he left, he sought out Rowan and found him brushing Ashen a little away from anyone else.
“Thank you, Rowan,” he said humbly, “What I said was unforgiveable, but you… you spoke up for me when my grandfather would have banished me.”
Rowan looked down at the dwarf, so different now from the loudmouthed braggart of a few days ago. The an’Keyilar tel was devastatingly effective and a salutary lesson to others as well. Feore had learned his lesson the hard way, but he had learned it. And already the dark stubble of the young dwarf’s beard was showing through the shaved strip.
“You’ve paid a big price, Feore, and you’ll keep on paying it until your beard grows back in. There was no need to punish you more,” he said quietly.
“But… I…”
Rowan put a hand on Feore’s shoulder.
“Please, Feore, don’t say anything else now. You’ve apologised to Finn and to me, and we’ve both accepted that apology and we bear you no ill will. Go home now, work hard down in the mine where nobody will be able to see your beard, and try to learn to think a bit before you speak,” he said, “And lad, I don’t mean to frighten you, but what I said about some of the clan slitting your throat was the truth. You know that as well as I do…” he sighed softly and said, “You might think on this too: a shaved beard will be as good as new in time, but a slit throat won’t.”
Feore looked stunned at such bluntness for a moment, and then he nodded slowly.
“Aye, you’re right there,” he said and tentatively held out his hand.
Rowan smiled at him and shook the proffered hand.
“Goodbye, laddie. A safe journey to you.”
**********
The wild rumours and gossip that flew around the Moot were surprisingly short-lived.
If the dreaded words ‘an’Keyilar tel’ were whispered arou
nd the camp, they were quickly disregarded as those who’d been involved in the incident were irritatingly closemouthed about the whole thing, and the clan chieftains were even more so. Life moved on: other things took the dwarves’ attention and other people became the talk of the Moot. Rowan was relieved to find that he wasn’t one of them.
**********
58. “delighted with their purchases”
The g’Hakken would leave the Moot a few days later. They’d seen and done all they’d wanted to and they’d finished their business there; now it was time for them to go back home. They all hoped it’d be a less eventful trip home than it’d been in the coming.
Before he left though, Rowan made a last trip to the market. He’d had to be stern with the stallholders about his paying: as the g’Hakken had said, nobody wanted the Champion to be paying for anything, but while he appreciated the gesture, Rowan wasn’t having it. All these folk had worked hard at producing their goods, and they deserved fair payment. It wasn’t as if he was destitute, after all - and even if he were, he’d find a way around the problem even if it meant chopping firewood for everyone in the camp. But Fallon had left him with plenty of money to buy what he wanted, so it hadn’t come to that.
**********
“Would you like to come to the market with me, Anna?” he asked after breakfast on their last day. He was going to Sharra’s stall to collect the gifts he’d bought for Dana, Rose and Honi.
“Aye, I’d like that. I might just get a few more supplies while I’m at it. Are you going now?”
“Aye, whenever you’re ready.”
She smiled at him, grabbed a couple of woven bags, and they set off for the market place hand in hand.
They passed several stalls: firstly a weaver’s, then a sweets stall where Rowan replenished his supply of peppermints and bought toffee apples for his young kin; next was a large stall that sold pottery, and another that sold saddles and harness. Rowan had bought a fine sheepskin saddlecloth as a gift for Rhys and a new halter for Ashen from that particular stall – of course he’d had to wait a day or two while the saddler made items big enough for the horses, particularly Rook - and the dwarf who was running it waved cheerfully as they went past.
Inspiration having failed him when it came to gifts for Tadeus, Cris and Rill, he’d bought fine new halters for their horses too - but at a different stall, so as to spread his custom around a bit. The one for Tadeus had a line of trees embossed on the noseband; Cris’ one had little prancing foals; and Rill’s had leaping fish. He hoped they’d like them.
They came to the very big tent that housed the fruit and vegetables grown at the far side of the Moot site.
“Just a moment, please, Rowan,” Anna said, “Let’s have a look in here, before everything’s gone. We can collect it as we come back.”
Rowan nodded and followed Anna as she selected carrots, potatoes, corn and greens.
“Do you want apples and things as well?” he asked, eying a neat pyramid of glossy fruit dubiously.
“Aye, but we won’t disturb their display… surely Freyn and Dree have got some in…?”
“Bags, Anna? Or boxes?” a stout dwarf said as he appeared from the other side of a mound of pumpkins, “Of course we have. What sort do you want?”
“The ones that’ll keep the best. We’re off home tomorrow.”
“Ah. Well, we’ll all be sorry to see you go, but ‘tis unavoidable, isn’t it? Now, let me see… these green apples will keep the best, but they can be a bit tart, even though they’re ripe…”
Anna laughed.
“That won’t be a problem, Freyn. Rowan and young Owen will eat anything, and if the others find them a bit sour, I’ll cook them,” she said.
Freyn nodded.
“Now, what about some pears? Oh, and the lads went out this morning and got these, but of course they won’t keep…”
‘These’ turned out to be several baskets full of fine mushrooms and some more filled with plump blackberries and the shiny red berries known variously as bloodberries, heartberries or fireberries.
Anna and Rowan looked at each other and laughed. None of the clan would turn their noses up at any of these delicious morsels, and their keeping qualities wouldn’t be a problem. They wouldn’t survive the next day.
“Aye, we’ll have some of those as well, thanks. Can we leave them here until we come back?”
“Of course you can, but how about I have the lads take them around to your wagons instead? ‘Tis no trouble, and it’ll get the little pests out from under foot for a bit.”
Two young dwarves who looked to be about fourteen grinned up at Rowan.
“And it’ll get us away from bloody potatoes and things for a while too,” they chorused cheerfully.
“Then thank you. It’ll save me carting the stuff back later, so we’ve all won, haven’t we?” he said, rewarding the youngsters with a toffee apple each.
**********
They continued on their way for a few steps, then both stopped as one and inhaled deeply.
“Gods, that smells wonderful. If only they could bottle that somehow, they’d make a fortune,” Rowan said happily.
Anna nodded; it was one of her favourite scents too.
“Aye, it certainly would,” she said.
The enticing smell of freshly baked bread wafted around them. An enterprising baker had set up a big clay oven to bake beautiful bread, buns, pies and pastries. He’d let anyone use it to bake their own bread dough or anything else for a small fee, and it was a very popular spot.
“Would you like a bun, Anna?”
She laughed.
“You know I would, but we can’t very well go into Sharra’s tent munching on buns, can we, laddie?”
Rowan thought about it. If they waited until later, there’d probably still be some buns left, but they wouldn’t be warm like they were now.
“We’ll take her one too. What sort do you think she’d like?”
“Er…”
She looked at the array: beautiful sunflower and poppy seed buns sat side by side with plump fruit-filled ones and plain ones glazed with something sticky, dark brown and delicious-looking. She thought it was probably treacle. A bit further along were buns filled with jam and dusted with powdered sugar, and the baker’s stout cheerful wife was just putting the finishing touches to a tray of iced buns. They all looked wonderful.
“I don’t bloody know, Rowan love. What do you think?” she said.
He smiled down at her, his eyes sparkling.
“No good asking me. I’d eat any of them, even those they’ve ruined with those cursed poppy seeds.”
“Don’t tell me we’ve actually found something that you won’t eat, Rowan!” Anna said in amazement.
Rose, Griff and Rowan were the least fussy eaters she’d ever known; in fact they were often held up as shining examples to certain young dwarves of the clan who were unwilling to try anything new or unfamiliar.
He laughed.
“Oh, I’d eat the damned things all right, Anna love. Gran taught us to sit down, eat up and shut up,” he said, “And she always said if somebody’d been good enough to make us a meal, then we’d thank them for it and do them the courtesy of eating it, if we knew what was good for us. Doesn’t mean that I actually LIKE bloody poppy seeds though.”
The same applied to pumpkin, mashed potato and boiled fish, as far as Rowan was concerned. There were far better ways to cook beautiful fresh fish and he liked them all, though he thought there was little to be done about pumpkin – no matter how it was disguised, it was still pumpkin. And mashed anything was beyond redemption and a complete waste of time… assuming one had teeth.
“Dana’s a wise woman, Rowan.”
“Aye, she truly is,” he agreed, “Now let me see… the jam ones look good, but they can be a bit messy…”
“Aye, they can, too. Well, we don’t want to be going about looking scruffy and grubby, do we? And I doubt Sharra would thank us if she got powdered sugar and
hot jam all over herself. Hmm… what about, um… what about these raisin buns? They’re still warm,” she said, knowing that’d help him to make up his mind.
Rowan looked at the slightly steaming, soft round buns bursting with plump raisins and smiled.
“Aye, who doesn’t like raisin buns, after all?”
**********
Sharra certainly wasn’t one who didn’t like them. She was surprised to be offered one, but she took it happily and munched it as Rowan and Anna did the same.
“Here, look at these while you’re eating that, Rowan. I hope they’re what you wanted,” she said between mouthfuls.
‘These’ were the gifts that Rowan had bought for Rose, Honi and Dana, and she’d finished making them just the day before.
For Rose: a lovely pendant, a silver rose with its petals and leaves delicately edged and veined with gold, hanging on a fine silver chain.
For Honi: a charming cloak pin, with a silver mare with golden mane and tail trotting across rich green enamelled grass and a tiny golden foal prancing beside her.
And for Dana: a pair of silver hair clasps, embellished with gum blossoms that were highlighted with gold on the ends of the delicate-seeming stamens. A dainty golden bee lurked cheekily among the flowers and tiny silver gumnuts and leaves veined with gold.
All of the gifts were superb.
“Oh. Sharra! They’re… they’re wonderful. Absolutely beautiful,” Anna said, her eyes wide at the beauty of them and the wonderful workmanship.
“Aye, they are. They’re exactly what I wanted, Sharra. Thank you doesn’t seem enough, but… thank you very much,” Rowan said softly. He bent and kissed her cheek.
She smiled up at him.
