Time Patrol (67 page)

Edh nodded. "Since you gave me back my life."

Floris could not stifle a sigh. "A life lamed and twisted, I fear."

Emotion quickened. "You did not save me for nothing, I know. It was for all the others, wasn't it? All the women ravished, men slain, children bereft, free folk laid in bonds. I was to call their avenging down upon Rome.
Was I not?
"

"You are no longer sure?"

Tears glinted on lashes. "If I was wrong, Niaerdh, why did you let me go on?"

"You were not wrong. But child, hearken." Floris held out her hands. Like a small girl in truth, Edh took them. Hers were cold and faintly atremble. Floris drew breath. The majestic words rolled forth.

"
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
"

Awe looked at her. "I hear you, goddess."

"It is olden wisdom, Edh. Hear onward. You have wrought well, you have sown for me as I would have you. But your work is not yet done. Now gather in the harvest."

"How?"

"Thanks to the will that you aroused in them, the westfolk have fought for their rights, until at last the Romans would fain yield them back what was robbed. But they, the Romans, still fear Veleda. As long as you might cry again for their downfall, they dare not withdraw their hosts. It is time that you, in my name, call for peace."

Rapture blazed. "They will go away then? We shall be rid of them?"

"No. They will take their tribute and have their warders among the tribes as erstwhile." In haste: "But they will be righteous; and dwellers on this side of the Rhine will also gain by the trade and the lawfulness."

Edh blinked, shook her head violently, crooked fingers into claws at her sides. "No real freedom? No revenge? Goddess, I cannot—"

"This is my will," Floris commanded. "Obey." Once more she gentled her voice. "And for you, child, there shall be reward, a new home, a place of calm and comfort, where you shall tend my shrine, that will henceforward be the halidom of peace."

"No," Edh stammered. "You, you must be aware—I have sworn—"

"Tell me!" Floris exclaimed. After an instant: "I . . . wish you to make yourself clear to yourself."

The shaking, straining figure before her gained back its balance. Edh had long coped with menaces and horrors. She could overcome bewilderment. Briefly, she sounded almost wistful. "I wonder if I ever have been. . . ." She stiffened herself. "Heidhin and I, he got me to swear I would never make peace while he lives and Romans remain in German lands. We mingled our blood in the grove before the gods. Were you elsewhere?"

Floris scowled. "He had no right."

"He—invoked the Anses—"

Floris donned haughtiness. "I will deal with the Anses. You are free of that oath."

"Heidhin would never—He has been faithful through all these years," Edh faltered. "Would you have me cast him out like a dog? For
he
will never end war against the Romans, whatever other men or you gods yourselves may do."

"Tell him I gave you my bidding."

"I know not, I know not!" ripped from Edh's throat. She sank to the floor and buried her face on the knees she hugged. Her shoulders quivered.

Floris glanced aloft. Roof beams and rafters were lost in blackness. Light had left the window and cold crept inward. The wind hooted.

"We have a crisis, I fear," she subvocalized. "Loyalty is the highest morality these people know. I'm not certain Edh can bring herself to break that pledge. Or if she does, she may be shattered."

"Which'd leave her incapable," sounded Everard's English in her head, "and we've got to have her authority to make this deal work. Besides, poor tortured woman—"

"We must make Heidhin release her from the vow. I hope he will heed me. Where is he?"

"I was just checking on that. He's at home." They had bugged it some time ago. "M-m, it happens Burhmund is with him, riding circuit among the trans-Rhine chiefs, you know. I'll find another day for you to approach him."

"No, wait. This may be a stroke of luck."
Or the world lines tightening as they seek to regain their proper configuration?
"Since Burhmund is trying to rouse the tribes to a new effort—"

"We'd better not pull any epiphanies on him. No telling how he'd react."

"Of course not. I mean, I won't appear directly to him. But if he sees Heidhin the implacable suddenly converted—"

"Well . . . okay. It's dicey whatever we do, so I'll trust your judgment, Janne."

"Hsh!"

Edh looked up. Tears streaked her cheekbones, but she had fought the weeping off. "What can I do?" she asked colorlessly.

Floris moved to stand above her, bent, again offered her hands. She helped the other rise, clasped arms about her, stood thus for a minute giving what warmth her body was able. Stepping back, she said: "Yours is a clean soul, Edh. You need not betray your friend. We will go together and speak with him. Then he ought to understand."

Wonder and dread became one. "We twain?"

"Is that wise?" Everard questioned. "M-m, yeah, I suppose having her along will reinforce you."

"Love may be as strong as religion, Manse," Floris said.

To Edh: "Come, mount my steed behind me. Hold fast to my waist."

"The holy bull," Edh breathed. "Or the hell horse?"

"No," Floris said. "I told you, yours is a harder road than the way under."

18

Fire sprang and crackled in a trench down the middle of Heidhin's house. Smoke did not rise well toward the louvers, but hazed and made stinging an air that the flames hardly warmed. Their red light wrestled with darknesses among the pillars and beams. It wavered across the men on the benches and the women who brought them drink. Most sat wordless. Although Heidhin's home was as grand as many a royal hall, it had commonly known less mirth than a crofter's hut. This eventide there was none. Outside, wind shrilled through a deepening dusk.

"Naught can come of it save treachery," Heidhin snarled.

Seated beside him, Burhmund slowly shook his grizzled head. The fire threw a bloodshot shimmer over the milkiness of his blind eye. "I know not," he answered. "Yon Everard is an odd one. He may be able to bring something about."

"The best he, or anybody, could bear back to us is a refusal. Any offer would be meant for our ruin. You should never have let him go."

"How could I have stopped him? It was the lords of the tribes whom he spoke with, and they who sent him off. I told you how I did not hear till lately, when I was already on this quest."

Heidhin's lips writhed. "They dared!"

"They had the right." Burhmund's tone fell dull to the ground. "They do not forswear themselves merely by talk with the foe. I think, now, I would not have tried to forbid them, had I been on hand. They are sick of this war. Maybe Everard can find them a hope. I too am death-weary."

"I thought better of you," fleered Heidhin.

Burhmund showed no anger; but then, Wael-Edh's oath-brother stood well-nigh as high as he did. "Easy for you," said the Batavian patiently. "Your house has not been riven. My sister's son fell in battle against me. My wife and another sister lie hostage in Colonia; I know not whether they yet live. My homeland is laid waste." He stared down into his drinking horn. "Are the gods done with me?"

Heidhin sat spear-straight. "Only if you yield," he said. "I never will."

A knock sounded on the door. The man seated nearest took an ax and went to open it. Wind gusted in; the flames jumped and streamed sparks. Murk rimmed the shaped that trod through.

Heidhin leaped up. "Edh!" he cried, and started toward her.

"Lady," Burhmund whispered. A mumble went around the hall. Men got to their feet.

Unhooded, she moved a ways alongside the fire trench. They saw she was stiff and pale, and that her gaze went beyond them. "How, how came you here?" Heidhin stumbled. The sight of him, the relentless, thus shaken, daunted every heart. "Why?"

She halted. "I must speak with you alone," she said. Fate rang in her low voice. "Follow me. None else."

"But—you—what—"

"Follow me, Heidhin. Mighty tidings are come. You others, abide them." Wael-Edh turned and strode back out.

Like a sleepwalker, Heidhin went after her. At the entry, his hand of itself plucked a spear from the weapons left leaning against the wall. The two of them passed into the dark. Shuddering, a man crept to close the door.

"No, bar it not," Burhmund told him. "We will wait here as she bade till she returns or morning does."

The first stars winked faint overhead. Buildings crouched shapeless. Edh led the way from the yard to the open ground beyond. Sere grass and wind-ruffled puddles faded off into blindness. Near the edge of sight stood a great oak at which Heidhin offered to the Anses. From behind it spilled a steady white light. Heidhin jarred to a stop. He made a noise in his gullet.

"You must be brave tonight," Edh said. "Yonder is the goddess."

"Niaerdh . . . she . . . has come back?"

"Yes, to my tower, whence she fetched me hither. Come." Edh went steadily on. Her cloak flapped in the wind, which threw the loosened hair about the head she bore so high. Heidhin gripped his spearshaft hard and trailed her.

Gnarled boughs reached widely, half seen by the glow. The wind clicked their twigs together. Dead leaves squelched wet underfoot. The two came around the bole and saw her who stood next to a bull or a horse cast in steel.

"Goddess," Heidhin moaned. He dropped to a knee and bent his neck. But when he rose again, he held firm. If his spear shook, it was with the same wild gladness that burst from his lips. "Will you now lead us to the last fight?"

Floris's look searched over him. He stood lean and dark, somberly clad, face etched and locks streaked by the hunter years, the iron of his weapon asheen above them. Her lamp cast his shadow across Edh. "No," said Floris. "The time for war is past."

Breath rattled between his jaws. "The Romans are dead? You slew them all for us?"

Edh flinched.

"They live," Floris said, "as your folk shall live. Too many have died in every tribe, theirs also. They will make peace."

Heidhin's left hand joined his right, clutching the spearshaft. "I never will," he rasped. "The goddess heard my vow I made at the shore. When they go, I will dog their heels, I will harry them by day and raid them by night—Shall I give you my kills, Niaerdh?"

"The Romans are not going. They will remain. But they will restore to the folk their rights. Let that suffice."

Heidhin shook his head as if smitten. He gaped from woman to woman for a whole minute before he whispered, "Goddess, Edh, do you both betray them? I will not believe it."

He seemed unaware that Edh reached toward him. The wind ran between them. Her tone pleaded. "The Batavi and the rest, they are no tribe of ours. We have done enough for them."

"I tell you, the terms will be honorable," Floris said. "Your work is ended. You have won what will content Burhmund himself. But Veleda must make known that this is what the gods want and men should lay down their arms."

"I—you—We swore, Edh." Heidhin sounded puzzled. "Never would you make peace while the Romans held on and I lived. We swore to it. We mingled our blood in the earth."

"You will set her free of that vow," Floris commanded, "as I already have done."

"I cannot. I
will
not." Raw with pain, the words suddenly lashed at Edh. "Have you forgotten how they made you their slut? Do you no longer care for your honor?"

She fell to her knees. Her hands fended. Her mouth stretched wide. "No," she keened, "don't, no, no."

Floris moved toward the man. In the night above, Everard aimed a stun pistol. "Have done," she said. "Are you a wolf, to rip her whom you love?"

Heidhin flung an arm wide, baring his breast to her. "Love, hate—I am a man. I swore to the Anses."

"Do as you like," Floris said, "but spare my Edh. Remember you owe me your life."

Heidhin slumped. Leaning on his spear, Edh huddled at his feet, he shadowed her while the wind blew around them and the tree creaked like a gallows rope.

All at once he laughed, squared his shoulders, and looked straight into Floris' eyes. "You speak truth, goddess," he said. "Yes, I will let go."

He lowered the spear, gripped it with hands below the head, and stabbed the point into his throat. In a single swording motion he slashed the edge from side to side.

Edh's shriek overrode Floris's. Heidhin went down in a heap. Blood spouted, blackly aglisten. He kicked and clawed at the grass, blind reflex.

"Stop!" Everard rapped. "Don't try to save him. This damned warrior culture—it's his only way out."

Floris didn't trouble to subvocalize. A goddess might well use an unknown tongue to sing the soul on its way. "But the horror of it—"

"Yeah. Think, though, think about everybody who will not die, if we work this right."

"Can we, now? What will Burhmund think?"

"Let him wonder. Tell Edh not to answer any questions about it. An apparition of her, when she'd been miles away—the man who wanted no end to violence, dead by it—Veleda speaking for peace—The mystery will lend force, though I suppose people will draw the obvious conclusions, which'll be a big help."

Heidhin lay still. He looked shrunken. Blood pooled around him and soaked into the ground.

"It is Edh we must help first," Floris said.

She went to the other woman, who had risen and stood numbed. Blood had splashed onto Edh's cloak and gown. Heedless of it, Floris laid arms around her.