The boy Joachim clung to the rear of the saddle casting many darkling looks at the warlord’s unresponsive back while Sylvia prattled freely about both of them; until she fell asleep. Gyrfalon listened with half an ear, sorting out the relevant from the rest. He could see why slavers might try to persuade the reeve of their hamlet to sell them two good looking orphans – especially Sylvia – and thought well of the man to have gone to the children to warn them to depart.
Annis might like to make a project of hunting down these slavers, he mused, and it would give her real practice at her fighting arts without being in any real risk.
“Joachim, the slaver does not know it yet, but he is a dead man,” Gyrfalon remarked conversationally over his shoulder.
“L- lord?”
“He thought to harm my kin. I do not take that lightly,” explained Gyrfalon grimly.
Joachim was left wondering whether being the warlord’s kin was good – or bad!
The siege not yet being lifted, Gyrfalon rode upriver and embarked the broad raft where the patient Caleb waited. Nightmare made his usual protesting snort but obeyed the heel that urged him onto the unpredictable and wobbling land that his master used for moving without hooves in so unsettling a fashion. Caleb made ready to cast off; and looking on the children gasped.
“My Lord, have them nuns magicked our lady into a mere babe?” he asked in hushed, superstitious awe.
Gyrfalon smiled and laid a hand on the shoulder of the simple-minded man in reassurance.
“Nay, Caleb, fear not; ‘tis the Lady Annis’ little sister I have here – and her … brother.”
“Be she awright now?” Caleb asked. Gyrfalon interpreted – correctly – the ‘she’ to mean Annis, whom Caleb adored.
“She is on the road to recovery at last,” he said. Caleb grinned all over his face.
“Then the Good Lord be praised!” he said.
Gyrfalon nodded, wordlessly, aware of the scrutiny of the big eyed Joachim as they drifted down the river silently towards the river gate in the grey predawn.
The sleeping Sylvia was put to bed in Annis’ old tower room; and though her older sibling hid yawns of exhaustion so close to dawn Gyrfalon beckoned him peremptorily to his own chamber. The youth stood in trepidation as Gyrfalon doffed cloak and armour with a sigh of relief, massaging his bandaged arm; then swung round suddenly on the youngster.
“And now, my child, why not tell me your real name?” he demanded.
A gasp, a hand raised to the mouth showed the shaft of insight had gone home; but dark eyes were defiant.
“I do not understand, Lord Gyrfalon.”
Gyrfalon frowned.
“The need for the deceit I understand; it were a good protection. You have drilled the child well to use a male name, to call you her brother – did you take the identity of a dead brother, killed with your parents, that she almost forget which you truly be?”
The stripling flushed; and Gyrfalon nodded.
“Yes I thought so. It seemed strange that a boy might be walking with his sister in the woods when the brigands came, not be helping on the holding. And then Sylvia told me that the reeve had worried how slavers were looking always for pretty little girls,” he shot a look at the youngster. “Not pretty children. And I would guess you are older than the twelve or so I took you for at first; old enough to be at risk from any licentious type, not just the perverts that like children. Now, do not cry,” he added exasperated as tears started suddenly upon the girl’s lashes. “You are in no danger of such from me. And nor will I permit it from my men. But I would know the truth if I am to be your guardian.”
The girl scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hand in a boyish gesture.
“I’m not normally weepy,” she said. “I’m just so tired and we’re both so hungry…..I am Jehanne,” she admitted, seeing that deception was useless. “It is as you have so cleverly guessed. Besides, boys have better lives.”
Gyrfalon grinned.
“Your – let us call you her step sister – would disagree,” he said laconically “She tells me that girls have it best because they can learn to fight and ride like a man and yet to choose to wear pretty gowns and embroider fal-lals. Yet a man might not so easily undertake female pastimes.”
Jehanne flushed.
“And as a girl what will I be permitted to do?” she asked scornfully “I am no real kin of yours; I am here on sufferance. I will be permitted to sew for and feed your filthy army and I suppose you’ll expect me to warm their beds for them too!”
Gyrfalon took her chin, almost brutally; and his eyes glittered angrily.
“Did you not hear me say I would not permit my men to offer you insult?” His tone was dangerously soft. “Clean they may not be, for being under siege conditions; but they are not filthy nor are they ill disciplined. And have I not accepted you as my kin – as Annis most assuredly will? And did I not tell you, my girl, that you might serve as my squire and learn feats of arms? I like your spirit in speaking up but before God, I like not your lack of common sense and your failure to listen! If you not listen when acting as squire, wilt get blows for it, that I warn you!”
She held his gaze briefly then dropped her eyes.
“I – I thought that as you had said I should be your squire before you knew it would not count” she muttered.
“Aye; I did not know; but I had my suspicions almost from the first. If you have talent ‘tis of no moment to me if you be boy or girl. If you have no talent, it were foolish to pursue the craft anyway and so I shall tell you when hast had time to find out.”
He released her.
“I am sorry,” she said.
“Next time think harder that you not have to be sorry after,” he said. “Now get you to your chamber with your sister and sleep out your sleep. Shalt both join me above the salt for the noon meal; for I doubt you’ll wake afore then. Wait,” he went over to the bowl of fruit he kept in his chamber and tossed her an apple “Eat that afore you sleep to keep thy belly from growling and to prepare it for a proper meal later. Whether you be clad as boy or girl be your choice; some of my wife’s clothes are in the chest there, both breeches and gowns that may fit you.”
Jehanne ran stumbling from the room, grateful for the apple, and the rough kindness, but tears of exhaustion and humiliation that she had made a fool of herself flowing down her face.
She devoured the apple hungrily before lying down beside Sylvia; and sober reflection gave her the realisation that she and her sister might have found hope with the harsh tongued warlord; and even a real chance of happiness.
In the Abbey, Annis woke before dawn as the Matins bell tolled its summons. Sister Pauline sat by her side sewing by candlelight on shifts for poor children.
“Hello?” said Annis.
“Awake are you?” Pauline laid aside her work. Annis frowned thoughtfully.
“I know your voice. You gave me medicine.”
“Yes. You are a bad patient.”
“I think I did not realise I was with nuns who knew what they were doing; I was afraid for my baby,” it was an apology for being difficult; and Pauline smiled her grim smile.
“Yes, you made that quite clear; your baby is fine.”
“Sister, how came I here?” Annis was puzzled.
“You don’t recall? No, you were in a bad state when Lord Falk rode in with you.”
“Falk?” Annis blinked “Dear God has the castle fallen? Mine husband …” she made to rise. Pauline pushed her back.
“Your husband is in fine fettle and he and Lord Falk have both been to see how you do,” Pauline was watching narrowly the young girl’s face; and saw it suffused with relief, and love and joy.
“Then I did hear Gyrfalon’s voice? … I have had such strange dreams that it all seems mixed in and I know not what is truth and what is not … he came here? Through the lines of besiegers? Oh he should not! He put himself at too much risk!” She sat up again. Pauline pushed her back again reflecting that at least t
he troublesome patients generally healed well.
“Lord Gyrfalon got through well enough,” said Pauline; hesitated and added honestly, “he did sustain a small wound, but I have myself dressed it and I understand that as he and Lord Falk are now reconciled the siege is to be lifted.”
“He let you dress it? That’s good, he wasn’t in too cussed a mood,” commented Annis. “And he and Falk reconciled? How came that to pass? It seems almost miraculous!”
Pauline smiled a half smile.
“There are those who think that Gyrfalon’s changed attitude is little short of miraculous,” she said dryly “But it came about, as I understand, that he asked Lord Falk for aid for you; and they started talking.”
“Then I be glad I was ill that it bring about such,” said Annis. “I prayed for reconciliation; I suppose if I want miracles I have to pay the piper for being the means. Though I think my Gyrfalon have not changed so very much,” she added. “He hates hypocrisy and suffers fools not at all. But he have come to recognise the hastiness in himself that has led to actions he regrets. But once these feuds start, and you be accused of certain behaviour you get rather locked into those behaviour patterns, don’t you, in the attitude that you may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.” She frowned “He wouldn’t like being likened to sheep or lamb; as well be hung for a wolf as a dog perhaps would be a better phrase.”
Pauline raised an eyebrow.
“And to what do you attribute his improvement in temperament?” she asked.
“I would say, if it be not immodest, that freedom from constant pain must have helped. Had he only permitted the abbess here to aid him when he kidnapped her instead of taking a contrary fit as he do at times he might have been happy sooner. Perchance she did not shout at him and call him names as I did.”
Pauline blinked.
“You shouted at him and called him names?” She could hardly believe it.
Annis giggled.
“He only took exception to one; when I told him that as an effective rescuer he was almost a good angel ... his face was priceless! And so he let me try, expecting me to fail, and then he got quite happy because I knew what I was doing. And of course being free from the clutches of that awful magician helped some too methinks.”
Pauline had not heard that story; so Annis told it in a way that made light of her own contribution. Pauline drew her own conclusions.
Annis brightened as a thought struck her.
“An Falk be intending to lift the siege, only Gyrfalon’s most militant enemies will hang stubbornly on; and perchance he will be able to come again and see me more easily,” she said.
Pauline patted the girl’s hand.
“I am sure he will come and see you,” she reassured Annis. “He is not a man to care for any risk anyway.”
Annis frowned.
“He had better not take too many risks or I shall have to tell him off,” she said firmly. “His disregard for his own safety in coming before displeases me.”
“Yet it may have helped save your life. Be not ungrateful; you clung to the sound of his voice in the crisis” said Pauline, wondering to herself that she was defending the actions of the warlord.
Annis felt her eyes fill.
“Ah, he is so good to me,” she whispered. “You are right, Sister; I will not carp at him for his concern. I must have worried him greatly. I wish I had not put him through that; I sought only good by risking the marsh to speak to Falk.”
Pauline knew little of what she meant but said,
“And good has come of it. Has not your husband returned to God and come to friendship again with his brother? There, child, do not cry; you are still weak. You should try to sleep.”
The cup she gave Annis had a bitter taste; and with a protest on her lips at the drug, the girl slept again, good healing sleep.
Sylvia awoke refreshed and promptly woke Jehanne once she had had a peer out of the turret’s window.
“We’re in a castle, Je – Joachim!” she said excitedly.
Jehanne rubbed her still sleepy eyes.
“Yes, it’s lord Gyrfalon’s castle,” she said “And we do not have to pretend now, sweetheart, about my name; he knows.”
The child’s mouth made a scared ‘O’ and Jehanne hugged her.
“It’s going to be all right,” she reassured her little sister, praying that it might indeed be so. “Well, let us get dressed and go explore our new home, shall we?”
An examination of the chests uncovered a tunic that would do as a gown for Sylvia; and Jehanne, after a moment’s hesitation, chose breeches and a tunic for herself.
And so they came to the battlements where Gyrfalon stood, watching Falk’s men pack up camp. Not all the enemy were going; for Gyrfalon had too many enemies to give up siege on him on the say so of one warrior, however famous or favoured by the church that one warrior might be. Some of those who remained had been those who had ignored the warning; some had come since. That night, those who had not heeded the warning would die; and the rest receive a warning. Gyrfalon kept his promises.
The warlord turned and favoured the youngsters with a half smile. Lukat, at his side, gave them a searching and direct look.
“You should have slept on,” Gyrfalon commented.
“Sylvia woke and needed me,” said Jehanne.
He nodded.
“You remain Joachim?”
She shook her head.
“N- no. But – but I like the breeches.”
“You mean you would like to use your true name and make no issue of your garb?”
She nodded, grateful for the understanding.
“You can work out with me if you like,” said Lukat. “My lord says you have no training at all, so I can start your instruction.”
“Scubby brat, ‘twas not what I said,” said Gyrfalon. “I said she might work out with you; and I shall oversee the instruction of the both of you; and Sylvia too if she wish to be my page and learn swordplay.”
Sylvia considered.
“If I learn, I don’t have to use it if I not want but it might be handy,” she said.
“As practical as Annis too,” approved Gyrfalon. “Art of an age with Lukat here, Sylvia; he shall be your companion and show you around in his leisure hours; and the two of you will take lessons with him under Father Michael; whether art to be page and squire or ladies of the castle shalt need instruction. Lessons in warcraft shalt have from me.”
“Please, what is happening out there?” asked Jehanne.
“My brother, Falk, is dispersing the church troops and mercenaries. I suspect he may set them against that nasty villain Lord Marfey; who did, after all, attempt to have my brother assassinated. The most temperate of men finds that irritating.”
Jehanne shuddered.
“I’ve heard rumours about this Marfey,” she said.
“Well, I doubt even rumour tells the worst of him. Anyway, they go; only my most diehard enemies remain and without the binding influence of the church and Falk, those I cannot kill will soon fall to bickering,” he grinned a lupine grin, “and with a few spurious peasants spreading rumour and malificent calumnies of treachery between camps they’ll hopefully fall to fighting between themselves rather than me, and we may sit back and enjoy the show until ‘tis time to sally out and defeat them in detail.”
Jehanne frowned as she digested this.
“That do seem to be good sense rather than spend your own troops,” she said.
“Good; we may make a warrior of you yet” he said. Sylvia tugged his cloak.
“Do you have to fight and kill them?” she asked “Can’t you make them go away another way?”
With a swift movement he lifted her so he could speak face to face.
“Angel child, your sister Annis would ask the same question. And I say the same; sometimes it isn’t possible. I try a trick to frighten some commanders; and kill those that would not be frightened, that may make their men go away; and that will kill the least possible if it wo
rks. But as your sister Jehanne understand, my job is to see that my people do not get killed. Others should care for their people; and they did not have to come and attack me, you know.”
Blue eyes – lighter than Annis’ midnight smoky eyes – regarded him solemnly.
“I s’pose so” she said dubiously. “It’s not nice.”
He gave a harsh laugh.
“A lot of things aren’t nice, Sylvia. Lukat will tell you that the men who tried to hurt him and his mother ere we got them to safety in the castle aren’t nice; he has no sentimental feelings for them, have you sprout?”
“Only the ones that were polite like Lord Falk and Sir Lyall,” said Lukat.
“What do I call you?” asked Sylvia.
“You call me Gyrfalon; for I am your goodbrother.”
“And what do I call you?” asked Jehanne.
“The same; I care nothing for titles in any case. Shalt call me ‘my lord’ in company when you serve me as squire. Or page, at first methinks. Annis says ‘my lord’ but she has her way of saying it…..” he tailed off, picturing Annis beside him, her face demure and her eyes roguish. And gave thanks again that so she would do again, that she lived.
Jehanne nodded.
“As Pa was used sometimes to call Ma ‘Goodwife’” she nodded. She sniffed loudly. “Cold wind up here” she remarked.
Gyrfalon passed her a kerchief without comment.
Through the day the massed troops dispersed, trudging away in the cold winter’s air, their bright banners and tents replaced by churned dirty-looking muddy ground. The reeve Bullard exclaimed in horror at what had happened to the village; but Gyrfalon laughed.
“Why, man, think of all that free manure! We shall plough in the piles of shit they have left and raise fine crops on it and rebuild the huts better than before too, and have a good rich little village!” He did not add, as he thought, that the blood and flesh of those who had died in the harsh camp would add even better to the nourishment of the soil. But he caught Bullard’s eye; and each knew that the other had had the thought. And Gyrfalon thought better of the reeve that he was a realist.
Falconburg Divided (The Falconburg Series Book 1) Page 22
