Authors: Roberta Gellis
“You are mad, both of you,” Carys cried. “They have bows and swords. They are armored. They will kill you!”
“No, that is not likely,” Deri replied soothingly. “I do not remember seeing bows, and anyway, in a surprise a bow is useless. It takes too long to string. I do not think they would even try to follow us. This is a bad kind of wood for horses. There are many young trees close together and too much underbrush. If we fail, it is more likely they will ride back to Marston and bring back a large party to scour the woods on foot.”
“And then where will we be?” Carys asked bitterly.
“Well away,” Telor said. “There is a tree down on the riverbank. It must have fallen in the storm yesterday. One good tug will free the roots, and we can push it into the river, hold to it, and float downstream.”
“Well thought of,” Deri remarked, and went on to discuss details of where he and Telor should lie in wait for the men and how they could prevent the horses from bolting back to Marston.
Carys kept quiet, far from convinced that either man would survive, but she knew from previous experience that nothing she could do or say would convince them to give up this insane enterprise. Carys looked from one absorbed face to the other and wondered whether all men were mad.
“Now, Carys,” Telor said, placing his hand gently on her cheek, “I know you are frightened, but there is no need. What you will do is make the harp and the clothes and your rope into what will look like a respectable bundle and walk into Creklade. We will ride there and seek you when we have the horses.”
“And if you do not come?” Carys asked. And before either could answer, she laughed. “Is there nothing I can do to turn you from this madness? No? I guessed not. You do not think it is mad to try to bring down four armed men? Very well. Three will do better than two. I might be able to take out a man with a thrown knife, but I could be more sure by dropping from an overhanging branch and cutting his throat. I think I could jump off the horses before—”
“No!” The simultaneous roar silenced her. Carys looked from one indignant face to the other.
“This is no work for you,” Telor said. “I do not wish you to be endangered.”
Deri was somewhat startled by his own protest. He had, only a moment earlier, suggested to Telor that Carys draw a light tree and brush barricade across the road out of sight of their ambush to divert the horses into the woods where they would be easier to catch if they should bolt. But the image of the direct risk she would take by trying to kill one of the men on her own had made him an instant convert to Telor’s notion of sending her away.
Carys shook her head. “I will not go and you cannot make me go. It would be better to tell me how I can be most useful to you.”
“You have done enough for us,” Telor said, taking her hand and kissing it.
“You are mistaken,” Carys spat. “I have done nothing for
you.
I know you think I saved you in Marston out of gratitude and loyalty. You are wrong! I risked my neck for my own sake, not for yours. I did it because I am more afraid to be alone than to die, and so I still feel.”
Carys saw that they did not believe she had acted for her own good rather than theirs, that her outburst, which she had thought would free them of life debt—it certainly would have freed Morgan or any other man she had known—had only deepened their conviction that she was unselfishly loyal. She laughed again, as much at herself as at them, because their disbelief was binding her closer and closer. In the end, because Telor and Deri were what they were, they would make her into what they believed she was.
“I will help you, will you nill you,” she said, half laughing, half exasperated, “so you had better tell me how, or I will plan a way myself that might spoil your plans.”
Alarm sprang into both pairs of eyes, which had been fixed on her with besotted fondness.
“Carys,” Telor protested, “have you forgotten how sick it made you to shed that guard’s blood in Marston? Are you so eager now to kill? Will it not content you to do as Deri suggested?”
“I did not hear what Deri said,” Carys admitted. “I was too busy thinking of my misfortune in being so kindly treated by two lunatics that I have caught their malady. No, do not tell me again that you do not want me to take part. We are together in this as in all things, now and henceforward. What is it that you think I can best do, Deri?”
So the dwarf repeated his suggestion about the brush barricade, and Carys agreed at once, seeing that it was not a make-work task to keep her busy and out of danger. By then they had finished their meal, and Telor and Deri thought that the men-at-arms they had seen must have reached Creklade. If the men were from Marston, Telor said, he thought that they were pretending to be unattached men-at-arms to get information for Orin. He believed that Orin was training new men and hoped to enlist other mercenary troops when the siege at Faringdon ended to make another attack on Creklade. In the meantime, Orin hoped to keep secret the fact that he had taken Marston. That was why he had to discover whether Telor and Deri had passed through the town or taken shelter in it and, if they had, whether they had informed the townsfolk that their enemy was now lodged in Marston. If the men-at-arms were Orin’s, they should return on the road within a few hours. If they were not from Marston, they would not return and would be safe.
Telor was sure, however, that sooner or later Orin would send out men, so their preparations would not be wasted in any case. Final polish of the plan depended on the road itself, so they came down from the tree and began to walk toward Creklade, Deri stopping when they reached the little brook to seek out suitable small stones for his sling. They hoped it would still be some time before the men-at-arms returned, but Telor carried his quarterstaff and Carys her rope. Both men frowned when she said she would take it, and Deri asked why openly, to which she replied that she would not again be parted from it, for without it she was nothing. Telor kissed her and said she could never be nothing, that even without her craft she was a pearl beyond price, but he thought he understood what she felt and he said so.
What Telor said and the way he said it silenced Deri, but the dwarf still frowned at Carys suspiciously. His mind, Deri thought, was not all muddled up with love songs about the perfection of women. He believed that Carys did not wish to be parted from her rope, but there was something about her reply that reminded him of his dear Mary when she was making plans she wanted to keep secret.
The suspicion was soon buried when they came upon a stretch of road seemingly made for their purpose. A huge boulder thrust out into the straight path caused a short but sharp curve, and before and behind that curve the road was narrower than usual because most people instinctively formed a single file to go around the boulder. The brush that lined the road had overgrown the verge for a short stretch from the boulder to where the road widened again, which would permit Telor to hide much closer to the road and enhance his chance of surprising a rider. From there, the road ran quite straight for a distance, and that was all Deri needed. He could conceal himself anywhere, step out into the road silently, and let lose a stone.
Their first business was to build the barricade. There was more than enough brushy undergrowth to be woven into the branches of a fallen beech sapling, which was long enough to bar the road at its narrowest point. Propped up, the barricade was nearly four feet high. It was extremely flimsy; any rider would see at once that his horse could push right through or jump it without danger—but a riderless horse would stop or turn aside, reason not being one of the strong points of a horse.
The device was not heavy. Carys could grab it by the roots of the sapling, steady it so the brush would remain upright, and drag it across the road as soon as she heard any shouting; all of them had agreed that the barricade must be set up only when the men-at-arms were actually at hand. They did not wish to block the road to any other traveler to prevent damage to their device and also for fear the travelers would report what they had found at either Creklade or Marston. Once the sapling was put in place, Carys only had to stay hidden, and there would be no danger. If one of the men escaped Telor and Deri, Carys was ordered to let him go.
Carys had other plans. She did not intend to allow any man to pass her. They were no more than a mile from Marston. If even one man escaped, a whole troop would be back in no time. She and her companions would be fleeing for their lives with Orin’s men virtually, or actually, on their heels. If, on the other hand, no one escaped, they would have some hours before Orin grew alarmed. Even then, he might well blame the townsfolk of Creklade for the loss of his men.
In the shelter of the brush beside the road, Carys finished cutting away at the bottom roots of the sapling to stabilize it. When she pushed gently at the brush attached to it, there was still a tendency to tip, and she wove in a few more branches at the bottom to prop the structure upright. Then she peered around the roadside growth and listened. One small party, farmers with a creaking cart, had passed since they had come down from the tree, but the road seemed empty now.
On one side of the road, Carys fastened the end of her rope to the sturdier oak upon which the uprooted sapling had been resting. Then she flitted across the road and found a tree opposite the oak. It was not as strong an anchor as she wanted, but it was in the right place and did not break when she pulled on it with all her strength. Then there was nothing to do but glance at the sun and pray more fervently with each movement she noticed that Telor had been wrong and the men-at-arms would not return.
As the day wore on, that seemed more and more likely to her, and she was almost drowsing when a yell of rage almost simultaneous with a shriek of pain brought her out into the road in a single leap, with one hand lifting and pulling at the upturned roots of the sapling and the other paying out her rope. There were more shouts and cries, and Carys sobbed with fear as she gave the sapling one last desperate tug, for the burden was heavier and more unwieldy than she expected. Then it struck. There was a gap, but Carys was too frightened to struggle longer. She was sure she would be overrun by the enraged men, and she leapt for the shelter of the brush on the other side.
In that illusion of safety, the actions Carys had rehearsed over and over in her mind took hold of her. She pulled her rope as tight as she could and wound three turns of it around the little oak. Then, although she heard hooves, her eyes remained fixed on the rope, making a loop, pushing that through one of the turns, pushing another loop through the first, and tugging hard.
She had no time for a more secure knot. The rope was torn from her hand as a terrific blow struck it, bending the tree out toward the road. She cried out with fear, but the compulsion of her fixed plan held, and when she heard a scream, abruptly cut off, she ran forward, her knife in her hand.
A horse was down, floundering in the brush, and beyond the barrier a man lay in the road. Carys hesitated for one instant, sobbing again as she remembered the terrible feeling of blood pouring over her hand when she killed the guard. Passing the knife to her left hand, she stooped to pick up a stone and approached cautiously—but the man was not stirring, not even twitching, and then she saw that his head was bent at an impossible angle. Relieved, she backed away as the horse heaved itself to its feet, and she ran around the barrier to catch its rein. Her hand closed on the smooth leather, but when Carys tried to pull the frightened animal toward the wood, it whinnied and resisted. She swallowed hard, preparing herself to speak in a soothing voice, but she had no chance—another horse was coming.
“Carys!”
The bellow froze her in place, and then she screamed, “Stop! Telor, stop!” thinking he would hit the rope and be killed too.
But Telor had not been coming toward her at as headlong a pace as her terror had made it seem. He was able to check his mount easily before he reached the rope. By then, he had taken in the trembling horse, pulling back on the rein Carys held, and beyond the animal the still body in the road. He flung himself off his mount and snatched the rein of the dead man’s horse away from Carys, interposing his own body between her and the frightened animal, which had tried to rear. Clucking and crooning to the beast, he stretched his other arm out for Carys, and she ran into the refuge offered, shuddering and laughing at the same time.
“Which of us are you trying to soothe?” she gasped.
Telor bent his head and kissed her hair. “Carys, Carys, what am I to do with you? You were supposed to hide in the wood and be safe. What happened here?”
“Is Deri safe?” she asked, lifting her head.
“He is binding the other men,” Telor replied and glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t think this one needs binding.”
“I did not touch him,” Carys cried, thinking Telor was disturbed because she had killed again. “I think his neck is broken. Would you like it better if he were on his way to Marston to tell his lord we are here?”
The horse was perfectly quiet now, and Telor dropped the rein to enfold Carys more fully in his arms, smiling down into her defiant face. “No, dearling, no. I am more concerned that you rush into danger without proper thought for yourself.”
“
I
rush into danger,” Carys echoed indignantly. “Did I not beg you and Deri to give up this mad…” Her voice faltered into a slightly hysterical giggle. Carys was quite literal, and she could not call “mad” a plan that had won them four horses and possibly other loot, even though she still found it difficult to believe they had succeeded.
Telor laughed heartily and dropped a kiss on her nose. “I told you we could do it—at least, we would have if not for the strangest piece of ill luck that let that one escape me. Deri brought down two men; the first cried out as he fell, and the second, as we hoped, turned to see what had happened. “
Carys shivered briefly. “I thought we were lost when I heard him yell.”
“He was down before he had done shouting,” Telor told her. “And I thought I would be just as fortunate as Deri because the man in the lead was on the far side of the road, and this one”—he gestured with his head at the body in the road—“was just the right distance behind. I was sure either that he would be caught by the side of my staff and knocked off balance or that he would pause to draw his weapon and give me time to hit him with my return swing. Instead, at the very moment I struck, he must have been stung or pinched by his stirrup, for he cried out and bent down. My staff went right over his back and hit the horse, which naturally ran off. How did you bring him down?”
“My rope,” Carys said, pointing at it.
“My God,” Telor marveled, “I never would have thought of that.”
Carys giggled. “You would have if you had been beaten as often as I by people who walked into it.” Then she shook her head. “But I did not think it could kill him.”
Actually Carys was more surprised than regretful, but Telor did not realize that. He hugged her close again, satisfied, thinking that Carys had not intended to kill.
“Likely,” he soothed, “the rope did not kill him. It may have brought the horse down, and he fell in such a way that he broke his neck. It is not important, dearling. Let me put you up on one of the horses, and you go tell Deri that no one escaped, and there is no need for us to flee. I will pull this barricade out of the way. We do not wish to frighten any travelers.”
The horse Telor had been riding had come close to be with the other animal, as horses will do, and Telor caught the rein and drew it still closer while he shortened the stirrups for Carys. By the time he turned to lift her to the saddle, Carys had had time to think, and she said, “Telor, are we going back to Creklade to tell the bailiff that Orin is in Marston?”
Telor’s lips thinned. He did not wish to take time to warn the bailiff of Creklade, but he knew that was wrong. Telor realized defeating Orin was not a piece of work for a man, a dwarf, and a girl. Although he had not yet mentioned his plan to Carys and Deri, his hope for bringing punishment on Orin was based on the information that William of Gloucester was in Lechlade.
Not that Telor believed Lord William would attack Orin for Eurion’s sake, but there were other good reasons and inducements for him to take Marston if he could do so easily. First, Orin came from the king’s army; Telor thought he might be a deserter, a captain who had taken his troop and left when both pay and loot failed to materialize. Lord William, Telor was sure, would prefer someone loyal to his father to hold Marston. Also, there was another inducement special to Lord William’s unusual tastes: Sir Richard’s books and scrolls, which Orin probably had not yet destroyed. Telor was sure that Lord William would value those writings above any ordinary loot. Finally, Telor hoped he could convince Lord William that it would be no great trouble to take Marston. The manor was not designed for a strong defense, and he intended to offer to get inside and try to unbar the gates.
All these plans, however, depended on finding Lord William in Lechlade. If they went at once, they might be in Lechlade before the long summer evening ended. If they carried to Creklade the unwelcome news that Orin was now the town’s nearest neighbor, they would certainly not reach Lechlade until the next day and might be delayed longer while the bailiff made sure they were telling the truth.
“I suppose I must warn them,” he said unwillingly.
“They may not believe us.” Carys stated Telor’s doubt. “Would it not be better just to leave the barricade and the dead man in the road? Whoever passes will then bring a warning that all is not well here, and the townsfolk will soon discover the truth on their own.”
“Clever girl,” Telor approved. “We will do just that.”
He cupped his hands for Carys to be lifted to the saddle, but she cried, “My rope!” and ran to untie it. While she was doing that, Telor examined the horse that had fallen to see whether it had been hurt. Although there was a long scratch on the animal’s right fore-shoulder, it seemed otherwise sound, and when he and Carys were mounted, the horse moved easily.
As soon as they passed the boulder, they saw Deri coming, leading the two other horses with one hand and carrying Telor’s quarterstaff balanced over his shoulder. He uttered a wordless cry of relief, and as they reached him and dismounted, he asked eagerly, “Did you catch him, Telor? How? I thought we would have Orin on our heels any moment.”
“Carys caught him,” Telor replied. “She stretched her rope across the road, the horse ran into it, and the man was thrown and broke his neck.”
“I
thought
you had some other reason for bringing that rope than that you would not be parted from it,” the dwarf said with satisfaction, remembering his suspicions. He grinned at her. “
I
do not think girls are perfect just because they are pretty and desirable creatures. I—” He stopped abruptly and then continued, just as abruptly. “Well, where shall we go and what shall we do?”
Both Carys and Deri looked at Telor, but he did not respond immediately. He had been distracted by what Deri said about pretty girls followed by his abrupt change of subject. Together with the change he had noticed in Deri since Carys had joined them, this brought the sudden revelation that the dwarf had at last put grief behind him and was ready for—needed, in fact—a woman to care for. Carys? Telor’s gut tightened. No, not Carys. Deri had denied wanting her, and more important, his attitude toward her had been like that toward a beloved, if exasperating, sibling.
As Telor’s thoughts followed one path, another part of his mind was aware that the question Deri had asked about what they should do next had not been answered out loud. Telor began to say, “Go to Lechlade,” when the name of the town called out a memory. Some years before Telor had found Deri close to death on the road, Telor’s master Eurion had been consulted about what to do with a dwarf daughter by the owner of a cookshop where they always ate because the food was good. Telor remembered that the cook had said that he and his wife had kept hoping the girl would grow, but she had not, and now that her fluxes had begun they had given up hope. What the cook wanted to know was whether he should send the child off with a troupe of traveling players who had offered him money for her. He was fond of his daughter and did not wish any harm to come to her, but he said he could never find a husband for a dwarf and did not know what else to do with the girl.
Eurion was strongly prejudiced against the jongleurs. To him, they soiled the image of the bard and were the cause of the loss of respect for the tradition of singers of history and legend. Eurion therefore filled the cook’s ears with horror stories about the treatment of dwarves among the traveling troupes. Better, the minstrel had said bitterly, to take the girl down to the river and drown her, since she would not live long among the players and the little time left to her would be a continual torment. The cook had not been pleased with Eurion’s advice, but he had growled that the creature was his daughter and he would do his best for her.
Aside from a momentary feeling of sympathy, Telor had not given that child a thought from that day until he had found Deri. The idea of introducing Deri to the dwarf girl had first occurred to Telor when Deri’s physical condition had improved enough to allow him to feel his terrible loss. But Telor had known that the grief was too overwhelming to leave room for any new, happier emotion and he had dismissed the idea. In the fourteen or fifteen months that Deri had been with him, Telor had not passed through Lechlade nor thought again of the cook’s daughter, and of course, she might be dead or miraculously grown and married by now. But since Lord William was in Lechlade and they had to go there anyway, it would be very nice if going to Lechlade solved more than one problem.
Telor had delayed in answering the question of what to do next just a moment too long, and the glance at Carys freed her tongue. “We must now rob the men,” she said with determination. “The body too.”
“But—” Telor began to protest, and then nodded.
It would never do, Telor realized, to seem too anxious to get to Lechlade, and above all he must act as if he had no knowledge of the cook’s daughter. If Deri suspected he was being steered toward the girl, he would be angry and resentful; whereas if he met her seemingly by accident he might be interested in her.
“You are right again, Carys,” Telor went on. “Renegade men-at-arms or outlaws would rob them, of course. Not to do so would cry aloud that the men were brought down for a grudge or other special reason.” Then he frowned and said, “But—” and hesitated, looking at Deri.
“Damn!” Carys exclaimed, picking up the thought that stuck in Telor’s throat for fear of hurting his friend. “None of this will work if any of those men saw you, Deri.” Carys never allowed delicacy to interfere with practical matters.
“I am not an idiot,” the dwarf said. “I know that one sight of me would tell them who attacked them. Only one twitched, and I tapped him with a stone to quiet him. I heard two groaning before I got out of earshot, but I doubt they could see me. Their heads were toward Creklade, and the horses were between us.”
“Good.” Carys nodded and smiled. “I will rob them.” She saw Telor’s expression and shook her finger at him. “One might recognize you. None ever saw me.”
“I did not tie them very tight,” Deri warned. “I thought, since we were not going to kill them outright, that for a man-at-arms to lose the use of his hands—”
Telor shrugged. “Those are nothing to me and I have no reason to wish any of them more ill than we have done them already.” Then his voice grew soft and cold. “Orin I will bring down—and kill with my own hands, if I can—and I hope his two captains are dead, but those…I do not care.”
“It would be better, I think, if I ride back,” Carys said hastily, with a glance at Deri. She had hoped that the profit of the extra horses and what they would take in the pouches of the men-at-arms would have pacified Telor and diverted him from a purpose that seemed as dangerous as it was hopeless.
Deri’s eyes met Carys’s for a moment, but they slid away at once, and his face held no expression. Carys’s heart sank. Either the dwarf had not heard Telor repeat his intention of somehow destroying Orin or he agreed with it. This, however, was no time to begin to argue against Telor’s crazy idea.
“I will follow you in case one of the men has already freed himself,” Telor said to her and held out his hand for his quarterstaff. Then he gave Deri the rein of the horse he had been riding, saying, “Take the horses far enough into the wood not to be seen. We left the barricade and the dead body, so if someone should come up the road it would be better if you were out of sight.”
Deri signified that he understood and began to search for a thin spot in the brush. Only his eyes were engaged in the task, and when he led the horses to the place and held aside the brush, urging them through one at a time, he was scarcely aware of what he was doing. His mind was fully occupied with self-loathing. It was a terrible sin to be so selfish that he envied Telor and Carys their joy because what now bound them together made him like a third leg. But his heart sank sickeningly. He would be in the way now, always in the way. No one needed him. He was a useless thing, only a burden.
Holding the horses in the first open space he came to, Deri stared into nothing, wishing he could tear out the disgusting self-knowledge—bury it, hide it, burn it—but it was not a physical thing that could be wrenched out, or burnt out, or cut out with a knife. It was not even a decent sorrow, like the grief he had carried for so long. He had not been ashamed to show that. This filthy, festering ulcer of knowing he was nothing must be concealed or Telor and Carys would feel they had wronged him. Still, Deri hated them both, hated their need for each other, and for the first time in his life, he felt his soul to be as misshapen as his body.