The Heirs of Hammerfell (3 page)

"She has none, sir, that is why, when your late wife, my cousin Ellendara, wished for a companion of her own blood for Alaric when he was but a child, Erminie was sent here since she was in need of a home. As you surely remember, my lord, Ellendara was a trained leronis from Arilinn, and she wished, since she had no daughter, to train Erminie in those skills."

"I do not see the difficulty, then, since no loving parents await her," the duke remarked.

"Is there a mystery or scandal about her parentage?"

"None whatever; my own sister Lorna was her mother, and her father was my paxman and a Hastur guardman, Darran Tyall. The girl was born outside the catenas, it is true; they had been handfasted when they were but twelve years old, and when Darran was killed on the border, my sister was wild with grief. All too soon we knew she was carrying Tyall's child. Erminie was born in my own wife's arms, and

we loved her well; that is why Ellendara so gladly welcomed her to this household."

"So she is your niece," said Rascard. "Is her mother living?"

"No, Lorna outlived her promised husband by less than a year."

"Then it seems you are her closest kinsman and her guardian too, and this talk of permission from 'others' is nothing but a device to delay my suit," Rascard said, angrily rising from his chair. "What objection have you to my marrying Erminie, when I was good enough for your cousin, my wife?"

"I will tell you truthfully," Renato said somewhat abashed. "This feud with Storn has grown from a smoke signal to a forest fire; it displeased me then, but it displeases me far more now. I would no longer willingly marry any kinswoman of mine into a clan so

riddled with blood feud." He saw Rascard's jaw clamp down sternly and said, "I know your ways in the mountains; it saddened me that Ellendara came to be part of such a feud, I would not wish to entangle any more of my family in it. While Erminie was no more than a guest in your household, I told myself it was none of my concern; but marriage is another thing. And more than this; the girl is too young for you. I would not care to see any girl so young married to a man of an age to be her father, or more. . . .

But let the girl herself decide, if she has no objection, I'll make none. Though I'd still rather see her married into a house less encumbered with blood feud."

"Send for her, then, and ask her," said Duke Rascard.

"But not in your presence," Renato insisted. "She

might hesitate to say before her friend and benefactor that she wishes to leave him."

"As you will," said the duke, and summoned a servant.

"Kindly request the damisela to attend her kinsman Renato in the conservatory." His eyes were icy, and Renato, as he walked down the dark hall behind the servant, found it difficult to imagine that any young woman could wish to marry this elderly and irascible man. He felt secure in the belief that his young kinswoman would welcome the news that he had come to take her away.

Rascard watched as Erminie went down the corridor toward the conservatory to confront her kinsman. He looked at her with considerable tenderness and for the first time he could see her as a desirable woman instead of the child who had been his son's

companion and playmate. He had been thinking of marriage as a desperate necessity; now for the first time he realized it might have some compensations.

After a time they reentered the Great Hall. Renato was scowling angrily, while by Erminie's blush and the faint smile she gave Rascard behind her kinsman's back, the duke realized with a warmth in his heart that she must have looked kindly on his

proposal.

He asked with great tenderness, "Are you willing, then, to be my wife, Erminie?"

"The girl's a fool," Renato growled. "I told her I'd find her a husband who'd be better suited to her."

Erminie smiled and said, "Why do you think you could find anyone who would suit me better, kinsman?" She smiled sweetly at Rascard, and the duke, for the first time since he had seen his dead son's

face through the starstone, felt light break through the dark shroud of his frozen misery.

He took her hand and said softly, "If you will be my wife, chiya, I will try to make you happy."

"I know," said the young woman, gently returning the pressure of his fingers.

"Erminie," Renato said, struggling to recapture his calm, "you can do better than this. Do you truly want to marry this old man? He's older than your father ever lived to be; he's older than I am. Is this what you want? Think, girl!" he demanded. "You are being offered freedom as few young women are given choice! No one has demanded that you must marry into Hammerfell."

Erminie took the duke's hand. She said, "Uncle Renato, this is my family, too, and my home; I have been here since I was a little girl, and I have no wish to return and live off the charity of .kinsmen who are now strangers to me."

"You are a fool, Erminie," said Renato. "Do you wish to see your children wiped out in this mad feud, too?"

At this she looked sober. "I confess I would rather live at peace, but which of us would not, if given the choice?" she said.

And the duke, seized by something for a moment stronger than pride, said, "If you ask it of me, Erminie, I will even sue for peace with Lord Storn."

She looked gravely at the backs of her upturned , hands and said, "It is true I long for peace. But it was Lord Storn who refused even to return the body of your son; I would not see you humbled before him, my promised husband, nor you going to him humbly as a suppliant to sue for peace on his terms."

"A compromise, then," Rascard said. "I will send him an embassy politely asking him for the return of my son's body for a decent burial, and if he does so, we will have an honorable peace; if he refuses, it is ' war between us forever."

"Forever?" Erminie asked, sobered, and then sighed. "So be it; we will abide his answer."

Renato scowled. "I realize now you are both hopeless fools," he said. "If you truly wished for peace you would somehow overcome this pride which threatens to wipe out both Storn and Hammerfell, and make both your castles into deserted eyries where

ravens cry and bandits lurk!"

Rascard shivered, for there was a tone of prophecy in Renato's words, and for a moment as he gazed up into the cavernous beamed ceiling of the Hall it seemed he could indeed see the crag and deserted ruin which once had been the proud keep of Hammerfell. But when Renato went on to ask, "Can't you conquer that damned pride of yours?" he bristled, and Erminie drew herself up with a touch of arrogance.

"Why must it be my husband who conquers pride?" asked Erminie with a flare of anger.

"Why should it not be Storn, since he has had the triumph of all but wiping out my husband's clan? Is it not for the victor to be magnanimous?"

"You may be right," Renato said, "but it is not right that will end this feud. One of you must sacrifice your pride."

"Perhaps," Rascard said, "but why must it be I?"

Renato shrugged and walked to the window. He said with a resigned gesture, "Erminie, you have made your bed; for what it is worth, you have my permission to lie in it. Take her, kinsman; you deserve one another, and much good may it do you both."

Rascard said with a dry smile, "May I take that for a blessing?"

"Take it as a blessing, a curse, any damned thing you please," Renato said angrily, and gathering his belongings, unceremoniously exited the room.

Rascard put his arm around Erminie and laughed.

"He was so angry he forgot to ask a bride-price," he said. "I fear you have alienated your kinsfolk when you marry me, Erminie."

She smiled up at him and said, "Such kinsfolk as that are better alienated than friendly; at least we will be spared many unpleasant family visits on that account."

"So that he stays long enough to play a kinsman's part at our wedding, he may go where he chooses―to hell, if Zandru will take him in, and may the devil take more pleasure in his company than we do," Rascard agreed.

3

At Midsummer, the marriage of Duke Rascard and Erminie Leynier was held. The

wedding was a small one for mountain nobility, for the bride's kinsfolk refused to come, except for less than a dozen of Lord Renato's paxmen, to signify that Erminie was being married into Hammerfell by consent of her kin. Anything less would have been

scandalous, but it was obvious that Renato grudged this duty, and there were few bride-gifts from her kin for the newly- ' made Duchess of Hammerfell. As if to compensate for this miserly show, the elderly duke endowed his young wife with all of the fabled jewels of the duchy. The few distant allies of Hammerfell who attended the ceremony were grim and disgruntled, for they had hoped, in the absence of an heir or any close kin, that one of them might inherit the title and lands of the-duke; this new marriage to a young woman who might reasonably be expected to bear children put a stop to all of their hopes.

"Cheer up," said one of the duke's compatriots to another. "It may not mean anything.

Rascard is not young; this marriage may well be childless."

"No such luck," replied the other, cynically, "Rascard looks older than he is since the death of his son; but he is in the fullness of his strength, no more than five-and-forty; and even if it were not so, you mind the old saying: 'A husband of forty may not become a father; a husband of fifty years is sure to do so.' " He sniggered and said, "It's a pity for the girl, though; she's young and hearty and deserves a better husband. I'd be tempted to seek a post here, to comfort her in the long winter nights."

"I doubt you'd have much luck," said the first, "She seems a modest girl, and truly fond of the old fellow."

"As a father―I doubt it not," replied the second, "but as a husband?"

This was typical of the conversation; and Erminie, who was a strong telepath, and whose barriers were not accustomed to the company of so many people, had to hear all this without betraying that she heard. It was all she could do not to show her outrage― and on her wedding day! When the time came for the women to take her away to the bridal chamber― they were mostly her serving-women, for none of her aunts or cousins had bothered to make the long journey―she was all but in tears, and had no heart for the typical game of protesting and struggling as they led her out of the room, though she knew she .could be accused of being less than a properly modest bride.

Though it was midsummer, the chamber felt chill and drafty as Erminie was stripped to the revealing bedgown traditional for a bedding-ceremony (by old custom, so that the bride might be seen to be healthy and free of hidden deformity or defect); she waited, shivering and trying to keep back her tears―she did not wish Rascard to think her unwilling. Stern as he seemed, she knew well that he had a gentler side; she felt that this was a good marriage for her, whatever her kinsfolk said; being Duchess of Hammerfell was nothing to be despised. She would have had to marry sooner or later, and better an elderly man she knew would at least be kind to her, than to be given over to some complete stranger, however young and handsome he might be. Many a bride had been

left alone in the arms of a man she had never met―she was desperately glad this was not to be her fate.

The jewels of Hammerfell were cold and heavy about her neck; she wished she could take them off, but as her serving women stripped off her clothing they would not let her take off the heavy stones;

"The duke will think you disdain his gifts," they warned her. "You must wear them tonight, at least."

So she endured the weight and cold of the stones cutting into her, wondering how long it must go on. They gave her a goblet of wine, which she was glad to have. She was faint after standing through the ceremony and sick at heart from all she had overheard. She had not been able to eat much of the wedding supper. The wine warmed her quickly and she felt some color coming back into her cheeks; so when Duke Rascard was led into the chamber, robed in a fur-lined bedgown (Erminie wondered why custom did not require a bridegroom to exhibit himself

free of physical defect or deformity, for the benefit of the bride's family), he saw her sitting up in the high, curtained bed, her cheeks flushed a lovely pink, the shapeliness of her young body revealed by the thin gown, her loosed copper hair flowing over her breasts. He had never seen her hair unbound before, only in the severe braids she wore for every day; it made her look so young and innocent that his heart ached in his chest.

As the serving-folk left them with many rude jests, the duke held one of them back with a gesture.

"Go into my dressing room, Ruyven, and bring me the basket there," he said, and when the man reappeared with a huge basket in his arms, he said, "set it there. Yes, at the foot of the bed. Now go."

"Good night, me lord an' lady, and I wish you both much happiness," the man said with a broad grin, quickly withdrawing. Erminie stared curiously at the big basket, covered by a piece of blanket.

"This is my true wedding gift to you, my lady," Rascard said softly. "I know jewels mean naught to you, so I found you a personal gift which I hope may please you a little more."

Erminie felt the blood flooding into her face again. "My lord, please do not think me ungrateful―it is only that I am not used to wearing jewels and they are so heavy―I would not ever wish to displease you―"

"Here, what's this? Displease me―?" he said, taking her gently by the shoulders. "Do you think I want to be loved for the jewels I give you, girl? I'm flattered that you treasure your husband more than your bride-gift. Let's have them off, then." Laughing, he unfastened the massive gold clasps of the

emeralds and helped her to lay them aside, hearing her sigh of relief. When all the necklaces and heavy bracelets had been unfastened and laid in heaps on the night table, he quietly asked, "Now will you open my other gift to you?"

Erminie sat up in bed and eagerly drew the basket toward her. She pulled the blanket aside and with a single small cry of delight she reached into the basket and drew forth the large furry puppy.