The Swans' War 1 - The One Kingdom (41 page)

PRINCE MICHAEL WATCHED HIS FATHER'S COUNSELOR WITH HIS usual patience and persistence. Hafydd did not appear to care. Nothing galled the Prince more than the blatancy with which Hafydd went about his business—as though he believed the Prince of Innes too stupid to ever notice or question his counselor's motives. And apparently Hafydd was right—as he was about so many things.

"What is it you want?" Prince Michael whispered.

They were riding into the village of Westbrook, or rather what the village became once a year. The village proper was a tiny collection of houses and a few shops, not unlike a hundred other hamlets of similar size in what was once . But for a few days at midsummer the village swelled out into all the surrounding fields. Pavilions were erected; market stalls sprang up. Carpenters built stands beneath awnings so the nobility could watch contests in comfort. A barrier was built on the tilt field, targets erected for archery, and a sand floor made for the swordsmanship contest. Paddocks appeared, as did wattle pens for ducks and sheep, swine and cattle. Butchers sharpened their knives, and ovens were built brick by brick.

Everywhere he looked Prince Michael saw people rushing about their business. The nobility were only just beginning to arrive, and a few knights and their retinues wandered about looking for their lodgings.

The Prince of Innes would set his pavilions out by the river on a piece of ground he'd purchased years before. Here he could have built a house, but there was something grand about coming to the fair and sleeping under canvas. It almost never rained during high summer at the Westbrook Fair, and the air was sweet with the smells of new-mown hay and clover. Suddenly Hafydd looked around, saw Prince Michael, and slowed his horse to await him.” My Prince," Hafydd said, barely bobbing his head. Prince Michael acknowledged him with a bow that was even more fleeting.” Do you remember our quest through the estates of the Wills family earlier this spring?" Hafydd asked.” I do." "The man I sought will be here, at Westbrook." The Prince waited for Hafydd to finish his thought, but there was apparently nothing more.” How do you know this?" Eremon-Hafydd looked off toward the river.” I know him like a brother. Once, many years ago, I chased him down, despite all his tricks, and captured him." "But he escaped apparently," the Prince said. Hafydd turned his unsettling gaze on Prince Michael.” No. He didn't escape," he said.” I executed him ... with my own hands. And yet here he is again. And here am I. The world is stranger than you know, and more brutal than you realize." The knight spurred his mount and rode on, leaving the Prince to stare at his retreating back. Hafydd was not only frightening, Prince Michael had begun to think, but he was macabre. Why in the world did his father tolerate him? "Because he is a fool with no imagination," he said softly. Men with no imagination made the best warriors, the Prince was convinced. They could not even begin to imagine what horrors might lay ahead of them. Prince Michael, however, was blessed with a fine imagination—or perhaps he was cursed. The Prince pulled up his horse and let his father's retinue continue. He could see Hafydd and his men-at-arms pushing through the throng, bobbing up and down in their black robes as they went. The people parted before them instinctively; most even averted their eyes.

They have more sense than my father, Prince Michael thought.

But at least he knew why Hafydd was here: he was seeking the man he called his whist, a person the Prince had given over a great deal of time to in contemplation. The man had once been in his father's house—Prince Michael had deduced that much. About the time that Hafydd's obsession had begun a group of minstrels had been visiting, and had suddenly fled. All but one had escaped—and he had been taken by Hafydd and was never seen again. No one, apparently, ever asked after the man.

Hafydd was a sorcerer, or had some knowledge of sorcerers—there was no doubt of that. And the whist must be a sorcerer as well. How else could one explain the chase he had led them on through lands no one had ever seen?

This man, who was named for the bird of omen, had helped Elise Wills escape, and he was the enemy of Hafydd. That made him a potential ally of Prince Michael, or so he hoped.

Prince Michael found an ostler to mind his horse and set out to scour the grounds. The fair at Westbrook was a comparatively safe place, especially by daylight—though like most young noblemen the Prince wore a blade and had been thoroughly trained in its use. Only his purse was in danger and that he tucked away inside his shirt, where even the most light-fingered would be hard-pressed to find it.

The day was fine, perhaps a little warm, but a breeze swept down from the north and carried with it a little of the coolness of the faraway mountains, or so the Prince imagined.

He walked across the already trampled grass, searching among the stalls being built and the hawkers' stands. He made way for a knight and his retinue, the man barely nodding to him as he passed. The Prince knew they would not all be so haughty by week's end. Most would have left their pride upon the tilt field, and many would have lost mounts and armor and more. Some would suffer hurts from which they would never heal. Others would be killed, for there were a few deaths every year—all accidental, of course, and much regretted by the conquering knights. A blind man crossed his path at the center of a knot of men and women—minstrels, the Prince realized.” Lord Carral?" Only the briefest hesitation.” Prince Michael, is it?" "It is, sir, and very pleased I am to see you." "And I to hear you," Lord Carral said, and smiled.” Have you come to enter the lists?" "No, my father's physician says I am not wholly recovered from broken ribs, so I will be forced to watch." "Well, I'm sorry to hear you've been injured." "Oh, don't trouble yourself over it. I'm perfectly hale. I bribed the physician so that I might avoid this madness. A man can be hurt on the tilt field. Even bruised. And to what end, I ask you?" Lord Carral laughed.” To what end, indeed." "And you, sir? Will you honor the fair by playing?" "Hardly an honor. No, I am to judge the minstrels. The best will play at the costume ball on midsummer's eve. The rest..." He shrugged.” Now, that sounds preferable to entering the lists. The wrath of the minstrels passed over will be nothing compared to an angry man-at-arms." "Then come and hear the players with me. I should enjoy the company and—" Carral's face changed as he remembered.” But of course your family will not permit it." "Oh, I will convince my father that it is the best thing possible. We shall lay to rest these rumors that your lovely daughter spurned me. After all, would I consent to judge the minstrels with the father of a woman who—what is the rumor?—ran off the day after marriage was proposed? Lady Elise is well, I take it?"Lord Carral nodded but looked uncomfortable, even ill, at the mention of his daughter.” Then I will begin in the morning," Carral said softly, "in the Guildhall. Join me, if you will."Prince Michael stood and watched the blind musician go, surrounded by minstrels who were honored just to be in his presence. Luck had smiled on him this day, and he took it as a good omen. Where better to look for Hafydd's enemy than among the minstrels? What better way to be among them than to sit at Lord Carral's elbow and judge their merit? He would have occasion to speak with them all. And he would find the whist before his father's counselor.

But what then? he wondered.

ELISE WAS BRUISED, DISHEVELED, AND FRIGHTENED NIGH TO DEATH.

The air in her lungs seemed somehow very thin, and she gasped terribly. The men who held her, one to each wrist, had no regard for her station or dignity but treated her like a common criminal. When she had tried to wrench a wrist free of one, he had cuffed her, and not gently.

Her feet seemed barely to touch the ground as she was hurried along between her captors. But even in this situation, images kept springing to mind.

Elffen had been cut down by a rider. Cut down! Pray that she was wounded and no more. Elise had been taken up by one of the raiders and carried away from the Fael encampment, the sounds of people being ridden down filling her ears: ridden down because of her. And now they were in a compound near the fair at Westbrook. She did not think she needed to ask whose compound. The door flap of a small pavilion was swept aside and she was thrust in, her captors releasing her wrists and stepping back to bar her escape. The man standing behind a wooden table looked up.” Sir Hafydd," she said. He regarded her gravely.” How many people have died that you might take this foolish flight to nowhere?" "As though you care that people die," she said.” Oh, I do not care. You are quite right. I would murder a thousand to have you back. But what of you? Do these lives mean nothing to you?" "They could never mean nothing to me," she said, looking down at her hands. Poor Elffen.” Then do not try to thwart me again, for I would slaughter a town to find you." He came out from behind the table and stood before her, forbidding in his black robe.” Who are these people who helped you escape?" She looked up at him, angry suddenly.” They are dead. What matter their names now?" "I shall warn you only once, Lady Elise. I care nothing for your family or station. I will beat you until your pretty face is unrecognizable if that is what is required to have you answer my questions. Is that what is required?" Elise hesitated for only a second, then shook her head.” Perhaps you are not as foolish as you seem. Who were these people who helped you escape?" "Minstrels: Gartnn and a young woman named Elffen." "Had they no other names?""I'm sure they did but they did not tell them to me, nor did I ask."He leaned back against the desk, folding his arms before him.” There were no others?""A man I met at Braidon Castle. A minstrel as well. Alaan he called himself.""Did he keep a small bird as a pet?" She nodded, not looking up.

"And you went with him willingly." It was not a question.” Anything to prevent the war that you are planning." Hafydd leaned back against his desk and contemplated her for a moment.” You do not care that your family has been humiliated, reduced to country gentry by the Renné ? Does that mean nothing to you?"She met his gaze, which she found profoundly disturbing.” I would not see one life lost to change our situation," she said evenly, but could look into those eyes no longer.

"You are the daughter of a minstrel," he said with undisguised disdain.” There were others who aided you. Young men from the north and a Fael bowman.""They did so unknowingly. They rescued us when our boat came near to sinking, and they carried us downriver. They thought us to be minstrels, no more." "Did I warn you not to lie?"Elise backed up a step.” They told me they had befriended a traveler in the north, and that this traveler had been set upon by men-at-arms who these young men believed murdered him. Their attackers then hunted them through the wildlands and down the river, though they claimed not to know why. I believed their story, for they seemed innocent young men.""There are very few innocent men, in my experience; and these ones were accompanied by a black wanderer, and twice they interfered with my guards. Tell me their names.""Two cousins named Loell—Tarn and Fynnol. Another named Baore, though I don't know his family name. The Fael's name was Cynddl.""What was their purpose, do you think?" "They were seeking this traveler, who they'd learned was still alive. Apparently he had robbed them." "Of what?" She shrugged.” I know not." Hafydd shifted. Elise could feel him staring at her.” What are you not telling me?" She hesitated, not sure why, but Hafydd noted her hesitation and she went on quickly.” We were followed by something other than men-at-arms," she said, afraid to lie outright, but not wanting to tell Hafydd the truth either.” There was some kind of river spirit—a woman whom several of us saw in the water and on the riverbank." She glanced up to see if this meant anything to Hafydd. His face did not really change, but he swallowed noticeably and became very still.” Describe her," he said softly.” When she was seen in the water she was slick as a fish, with hair like seaweed and unsettling eyes: pure white but for a gray pupil at their center. But when she was seen on the shore her form was more human, though not wholly substantial. 'Ghostlike,' the others said, for I never saw her thus. Tam said she was dark haired and beautiful, but silent and sorrowful; though men are given to talking about women in this manner." "Do you know what this was?" "Cynddl named it a nagar, but he said that no one really understood what they were." "Who among you did she follow?" Hafydd asked. He was speaking very carefully now, and listening with an intensity Elise found disturbing.” There must have been someone she was drawn to?" She nodded.” Gartnn, I think." "Gartnn . .." Hafydd said, and Elise nodded, casting her gaze down again.” And what became of him?" "He was struck with an arrow and fell into the river. We never saw him again.""Into the river ..." Hafydd said, too softly.

Elise glanced up and thought he looked suddenly pale. She looked back to the floor, afraid that he might realize she'd seen this.

Hafydd called out a name and a guard appeared.” I will speak with Grirhh. Immediately."Hafydd pushed himself away from his desk and paced across the rug, upon which, Elise realized, was embroidered a scene of battle. She watched his black boots as they went striding over the fallen warriors, and she wondered why she felt such fear. Twice the boots stopped and Elise felt Hafydd's gaze burning her. Once he seemed to mutter, "Not a minstrel," but she could not be sure.

The tent flap opened and another black-clad guard appeared. He glanced once at Elise as though in recognition.

"You told me you killed a minstrel when you failed to seize Elise Wills," Hafydd said.

"Men in my company did, Sir Eremon," the guard answered, making a small bow.

"What became of him?"

The guard hesitated.” I—I don't know, sir. He pitched into the river. Perhaps his body washed up on the bank the next day, as they often do.""Take a small company north and find out if this is so. If this minstrel was found and buried, dig him up and burn him. If they set him on a pyre and gave his ashes to the river, talk to the men who did it and be sure it was this minstrel Gartnn. Collect any possessions that he might have carried on his person. I will have them all—to the smallest thing."The man bobbed his head.” Sir," he said, and swept out of the tent.

Hafydd nodded, staring down at the floor a moment.” Where did these young men hail from?""Somewhere in the north. On the river, I think, for they were skilled watermen and one was a boatwright. They mentioned a bridge-----Telanine Bridge.""Telanon," Hafydd said.” A great battle was fought there once, long ago—and even before that it was an important way-point, for it lay upon the road from the northern mines. These men from the wildlands: they must have given something to the minstrel Gartnn—some object?""Perhaps, but I know nothing of it.""And these young men are with the Fael now?""They were earlier this night. Perhaps they are dead now, for your minions swept through the encampment, riding down everyone in their path." Elise forced herself to look up.” What will be done with me?" she said suddenly.

Hafydd looked at her as though she had just appeared.” You will marry Prince Michael and bear him a child," Hafydd said, his mind still elsewhere.

"And what if we choose not to bear a child?" she said.” What if we refuse to give you a son to put on the throne?"Hafydd fixed her with his unsettling gaze.” You may bear Prince Michael's child," he said, "or mine. That is your choice." He looked up at the guards and nodded.

They stepped forward and took her by the arms, and she was led out into the moonlit compound. Somewhere, far off, she heard minstrels playing, and a tear came unbidden to her, tracing a cool track down her cheek.