‘Twenty thousand?’ echoed a woman close in front of me.
The hope that had surged through the villagers became suspicion.
Above us on his horse, Norbett plunged on triumphantly. ‘That is why I have formed an alliance with other religos who were my enemies until only last week. With our forces drawn together into one powerful army, we will sweep aside the weak who stand on their own with barely a hundred men to put into the field. And when our great army crushes the rest, its leader will be acclaimed king of all Athlane.’
‘He means himself,’ whispered Birdie. ‘You can see it in his face. He wants to be King Norbett.’
‘Using the lives of the men we love,’ I added beneath my breath.
The religo was becoming inspired by his own grandiose words. ‘This is the path to victory. Every scrap of iron in every village must be melted down to make our weapons. Every bag of wheat is needed to give my grand army strength before battle — not just the men of this village, but all who come under my command. Battles now will be few but they will be victorious. You, the people of Haywode, along with every village between here and the sea, will join in this glorious task.’
The men who had accompanied the religo dismounted and began to enter our houses. Soon we heard the clatter of cooking pots bouncing onto the road as they stripped each house of anything useful. The inn didn’t escape, either, despite Mr Nettlefield’s protests and that meant the men were close to Tamlyn. But this time the gods answered my desperate prayers, or perhaps our luck simply held strong, for they left the cellar undisturbed.
‘Is there no more?’ Norbett complained when his men had finished their rounds. Before him, in the open centre of the square, the booty lay piled, ready for loading into the wagon we saw approaching. ‘And what of soldiers eager to be part of our victory?’
The elders shook their heads, but it was my father who stepped forward to answer. ‘All men of fighting age have been taken, my lord. I will rejoin the ranks myself once my arm is healed. Today, if it pleases you.’
‘Fetch your sword, then,’ said the religo, as though Ossin owed him nothing less. ‘Surely there are others,’ he went on, twisting in his saddle to stare around him.
The leather creaked as he turned one way then another, the only sound across the entire square. Every mother tugged at her son, urging him to stoop lower and appear even younger than he was. But Religo Norbett was no fool. Boys too young to wield a sword would only get in the way. A deep frown of annoyance creased his face when no recruits came forward.
‘Was there no one in the cottages?’ he asked his captain.
‘Only men too sick to leave their beds.’
The religo’s face hardened to flint. ‘How can I win a great battle without men to fight for me?’ he growled, and as he spoke his eyes wandered over us all, as though we had somehow let him down by not conjuring more fighting men from the air. Then he straightened in his saddle. ‘Why are you all dressed in your best clothes?’
When no one answered, he began to guess. ‘Not a funeral, surely, when you all seemed so happy before we arrived. The birth of a baby, perhaps? But I see no proud mother nursing her little one. Another reason comes to mind, of course.’
He waited a moment, while we cringed.
‘Another reason to wear your best clothes and gather at the village inn.’
No one offered an answer, but Religo Norbett knew who would tell him the truth. He searched the figures before him until his eyes fell on Mrs Horsfeld’s little girl, who stood out in bright reds and yellows, just as you would expect when her mother was the village cloth seller.
The girl was delighted when such an important man praised her pretty dress. ‘What’s the special occasion, my little one?’ he added.
Too young to understand, she answered gaily, ‘A wedding, sir.’
‘Ah, I thought as much, and where are the bride and groom, so that I can congratulate them?’ Norbett asked.
But by this time Mrs Horsfeld had scooped the girl into her arms. ‘Shush now, Letty, you talk too much,’ she muttered, backing away to the rear of the crowd.
‘No matter,’ sighed Norbett, as though he was happy to play the game. His eyes went to work again and, even though I was at the back, he quickly found me.
‘Flowers in your hair, I see. And a beautiful bride you make, if I may say so.’ He gave me a mocking bow in his saddle. ‘Come out into the open. This is your day, after all. You should be the centre of attention.’
What could I do but obey?
‘Yes, very pretty, and so young, too. Forgive me, young lady, but I can only guess that one as lovely as you would marry a man worthy of her. A strong young man who will make you happy for many years. Yet I cannot see such a man among all those gathered here.’
I wanted to say there wasn’t an able-bodied man left in the village because he had taken them away to die on the battlefield, all so that he might sit on the throne of Athlane. But what use would that be? Instead, I stared up at him and said nothing.
Moments passed, looping together to become a full minute. The silence was so complete I swear I could hear the sweat trickle down my skin.
Then came a stir among the sullen bodies that stood witness and suddenly a figure shuffled into the circle, coming to a halt at my side. Not Tamlyn, but the most unlikely man of all — Mr Renstable.
‘Forgive me, my lord,’ he said with a deep bow. ‘I was called away and only now heard you were looking for Silvermay’s husband.’
‘You!’ said the religo. ‘You’re old enough to be my father, let alone the girl’s.’
‘Yes, that’s true, my lord, but my wife died last year and I need someone to care for me.’
‘But who would give a girl like this to an old man? Where are the parents?’
Ossin had returned with his sword by this time, and Birdie came to join him next to me, on the other side from Mr Renstable.
‘Speak up,’ said Religo Norbett. ‘Have you truly given your daughter into such a marriage? He must have paid a handsome bride price.’
My parents did their best to look ashamed of themselves, and said nothing.
Norbett snorted more fiercely than his horse had ever done. ‘Enough! I don’t believe you. Tell me, girl,’ he demanded, staring down at me, ‘is this man your husband? Did you exchange vows with him, did you promise yourself to him until death?’
Norbett could not have known that this was the most painful thing he could have thrown in my face. I had taken a vow that day, to the man I loved, to remain faithful to him until death broke our bond. I had stood exactly where I stood now and spoken the words and I’d meant every one with all my heart. Yet here I was, only hours later, asked to deny that promise in front of all those who had heard me make it. I couldn’t do it, yet if I refused, I would betray Tamlyn in a different way. It was too much. I couldn’t decide.
The moment stretched unbearably. I had to give an answer, or the whole village might pay the price of Norbett’s anger. I opened my mouth, tasting the salty tears that streamed down my cheeks. Even as I formed the words of the lie, my head was shaking in revolt.
‘Tell him the truth, Silvermay,’ came a call from far back in the crowd.
I didn’t need to turn round to know who had broken the silence. Footsteps approached, not the shuffle of Mr Renstable’s approach, but the confident stride of a young man, then Tamlyn was at my side.
‘Thank you, sir, for trying to help,’ he said, bowing to Mr Renstable. ‘You were brave to come forward. Go back among the others now.’
While Mr Renstable backed away, Tamlyn took my hand and lifted it high on top of his own, just as we had done during the ceremony.
‘My lord, I am Silvermay’s husband,’ he said so that all in the square could hear, ‘and I value that title more than my life.’
26
Strangers in the Woods
I spent my wedding night not with my new husband, but in the same bed I had slept in as a girl, the snores of my mother
the only sound amid my sleepless tossing. There was no consolation from my sisters, either, for they’d had to return to their farms. There were cows to milk before sundown and, in the morning, vegetables to be protected from the crows.
‘I will visit you both and help with the work,’ I promised as they were leaving.
They kissed me and held me a long time. ‘Tamlyn will come back, along with our own men,’ they whispered through tears. ‘And one day you will have more children than the two of us together.’
They laughed, to show that even at such a time hope can win out over loneliness. But I cannot say I stayed dry-eyed in bed that night, despite their assurances.
Silvermay Hawker, I scolded myself, you have killed men to save those you love; you dared to breach the lair of the most feared Wyrdborn in Athlane; you have sailed across a treacherous sea to fulfil the vow you made to a dying woman. How can you weep in self-pity simply because you lie alone in a comfortable bed?
That stopped my sniffling — for almost a minute.
The truth was, I was tired of being strong. The vow I had made that day, standing with one special man in front of the elders, meant I should have someone to share every burden with, someone to be strong when I felt myself flagging. That luxury had been taken from me before I had found out whether it was true. I was alone once more, and the strength to carry on must come from within me.
This thought dried my tears. I had further to go, it seemed. I might be home in Haywode, but the journey I’d begun, with Tamlyn leading the way and Nerigold cradling a tiny Lucien in her arms, wasn’t over yet.
In the days after the wedding, I discovered that some journeys don’t require roads and miles of travel to wear you down. There was so much work to do and only the women and old men to do it. I made it my job to work harder than the rest, just as Tamlyn had done. Beside me as we dug the rows in the fields were women who saw me as one of them now, a wife who missed her husband. I didn’t consider myself one of them, though. My husband had been carried off before our marriage had even begun.
A week passed without word from the religo. There wouldn’t be any, the other women told me, unless it was bad news, like the death of poor Obie. For that reason it was better not to look for travellers on the road — an easy thing to be told, but harder to make your eyes comply. I looked for chores out of sight of the road, which often brought me close to the woods.
I was there one morning, only twenty paces from where the first trees marked the edge of the forest, when the strangest sensation came over me. I stopped working the hoe and stared into the darkness beneath the branches. No eyes met mine, not even an owl perched in the shadows — a sight I often saw at this time of year. Yet the sensation had felt like eyes peering at me so intently I could feel their weight on my shoulders. My first thought was brigands and deserters, like the gang that had robbed Tamlyn and me. Was it Haywode’s turn to be harassed?
With hoe in hand, I worked my way up the row, loosening weeds and turning the soil until the feeling came again. This time I dropped the tool and walked to the nearest of the trees.
‘Who’s there?’ I called.
‘What is it?’ cried a woman who was chopping and chipping at the dirt close by.
But I hadn’t actually heard anything, not even the breaking of a twig underfoot. Certainly no voices.
‘Nothing,’ I was forced to admit. ‘Just imagining things.’
We walked back to the village for the midday meal, but with children to fuss over and her own house to run, my companion did not return in the afternoon.
I had laboured with the hoe for another two hours before a little boy came running across the field towards me. I thought he must be the woman’s son, come to give her apologies, but he seemed in too much of a hurry for such an errand. Even before he reached me, he began to call out and only then did I see it was Jenky, who lived across the lane from us.
‘Silvermay! Silvermay, a man has come. He is asking for you.’
Not Tamlyn, then. He would have come himself, and besides, the idea that it might be him jumped too easily from my daydreams. But was it news about him — bad news?
‘Is he from the religo?’ I asked when Jenky stood panting before me.
He shook his head. ‘I’ve seen him before, though. At least I think I have.’
He seemed confused, which prompted me to set out across the field faster than I normally would have. Poor Jenky was taking two steps to every one of mine.
‘When did you see him before?’ I asked.
‘A while ago. It can’t be him, though.’
‘You think you know him, but it can’t be him. Why’s that?’
‘Because before he only had one arm, but this man has two.’
I was running now, without a thought for poor Jenky, who was left in my dust. I arrived home even more breathless than he had been and there was the person I knew would be waiting, seated at our kitchen table and drinking from the bowl of broth my bemused mother had put before him.
‘Ryall! I can’t believe it.’ He barely had time to stand before I cannoned into him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and hugging the breath out of him. ‘I thought you’d been eaten by sharks.’
‘Oh, my meat’s too tough for sharks,’ he joked.
His arms were around me, as well. Neither of us was keen to let go. Only when I spotted my mother’s face over his shoulder did I step back a little. Her eyes were fixed on Ryall’s left arm, the one she had cut off in this very house.
‘You have a lot of questions to answer,’ I whispered into his ear. ‘And not just from me.’
He released his grip and sat down once more at the table. ‘Do you think I could have another bowl of broth?’ he asked Birdie. ‘I haven’t eaten a proper meal since the last time I saw Silvermay.’
‘You can have all the broth you can swallow, Ryall, as long as I hear how that arm of yours grew again from your elbow.’
Ryall stared at me.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘There’s a lot I haven’t told them.’
‘Lucien?’
‘About Lucien most of all.’
‘Then it’s best that you tell the story of my arm, Silvermay, and a lot more besides.’
And that is what I did, with Birdie as my astounded audience.
‘As big as a man?’ she gasped. ‘That tiny baby we nursed in this house, not a year ago … You mean he is already grown enough to be a young man?’
‘I can only tell you what he was like the last time I saw him,’ I said. ‘He might be the size of an oak by now.’
‘No,’ Ryall interrupted. ‘He hasn’t grown any larger that I could see.’
‘You found him, then? Oh, Ryall, I was afraid the Felan would find him and somehow …’ I couldn’t voice my fear.
‘Oh, they tried, but I found him first. I’d guessed he would head into the wilderness of Erebis Felan, and once I’d dried myself off after my swim that’s where I went searching. Following his trail was no different from tracking wild animals in Nan Tocha.’
‘But Lucien’s not an animal,’ I said, surprised that Ryall would even use the word.
‘He is wild though, Silvermay. He knows me — and I think he trusts me, too, but there were still times he frightened the life out of me. How the Felan hoped to take him prisoner is a mystery. He could have killed them all, just like he killed the Wyrdborn.’
‘The Wyrdborn?’ cried Birdie. ‘You never told us this, Silvermay.’
There was no hiding the story after that. Between us, Ryall and I told of what had happened in Erebis Felan. When we were done, the blood had drained from Birdie’s face.
‘Then they are not gone, after all,’ she said. ‘Their magic, their evil, all their strength lives in one man. No, a boy, really.’
My mother fell silent as she tried to take in such news. After her stark words, it was a wonder I could speak at all.
‘Where is he now?’ I managed to ask Ryall. ‘Is he still in Erebis Felan? How did you get h
ere?’
Ryall took his time answering. Perhaps he was considering a lie, but he was no better at it than I was.
‘Where is he now? Closer than you could imagine, Silvermay,’ he said finally.
And immediately I knew. ‘It was Lucien in the woods this morning. He was watching me.’
‘The two of us together,’ said Ryall. ‘He wanted to see you without letting you see him. I think he’d been waiting for that moment since he ran off from Delgar’s house.’
‘But how did you escape?’ I asked again.
‘We found our way to the other side of Erebis Felan and there we commandeered a ship.’
‘Commandeered?’
‘What do you want me to say, Silvermay? We forced our way aboard and Lucien showed the captain what would happen if he didn’t cast off immediately. It was the only way.’
I put my hand gently on his arm. ‘I’m sorry. Tamlyn did the same thing when we brought you here to Haywode. Sometimes it is the only way.’
Birdie looked at us in wonder. ‘I didn’t realise I had pirates under my roof.’
‘How is Lucien?’ I asked, ignoring Birdie’s comment. ‘Did he send you in first, to pave the way?’
Ryall shook his head. ‘He’s not coming at all. The sight of you was too much for him. He might be the most fearsome creature ever to walk on two legs, but he is afraid of you.’
‘Of me!’
‘Of what you think of him. He’s worried you hate him after what he did to Tamlyn. I convinced him it wasn’t true, enough to get him back to Athlane and all the way to Haywode, but that’s as far as he would come. He’s out there in the forest right now, more unhappy than a being should ever be.’
Poor Lucien. I was more unhappy than a being should ever be, too, but once Tamlyn returned from this war, my misery would vanish in an instant. For Lucien, there was no loving face that could appear in a doorway, no word he could easily believe that would lift the weight he carried.
‘Does he still have the rope of his own hair?’ I asked.
‘He carries it tied to his belt.’
Then misery could lead to tragedy in a single act.
Lucien Page 20
