11.01 Death of a Hero (5 page)
8
H
E BURIED THE WOMAN IN A SMALL CLEARING BEYOND THE HOME
paddock, marking the grave with a stone. He didn’t know her name, or the family name. So he inscribed the stone with a simple legend:
A BRAVE MOTHER
.
Kord and Jerrel deserved no such treatment. They had destroyed a happy, loving family, so he dragged their bodies into the woods, leaving them for the foxes and crows.
The baby slept quietly in his cot while Halt attended to these matters. As Halt sat nursing a cup of coffee in the disarranged house, the infant woke and muttered quietly. Halt noted with approval that he didn’t cry.
“I expect you’re hungry,” he said. He had a warmed bowl of cow’s milk and a clean linen cloth ready. He twisted the end of the cloth into a narrow shape and dipped it into the milk, then placed it by the baby’s mouth. The lips formed around the cloth twist and the baby sucked the milk from it. Halt dipped it into the bowl again and repeated the process. The system was time-consuming but it seemed to work. The baby watched him as it fed, big, serious brown eyes staring at him over the milk-soaked cloth.
“The question is,” Halt said, “what am I to do with you?”
The farm, he knew, would revert to the baron of the fief, who would appoint another tenant family to work it. So there was nothing for the infant to inherit. He couldn’t leave him here—as the mother had so desperately pointed out. And he couldn’t raise the baby himself. He simply wasn’t equipped to look after a baby, nor was he in any position to do so. His work as a Ranger would keep him absent from home for long periods and the baby would be left alone and uncared for.
But an idea was forming. Baron Arald had created a Ward at Castle Redmont where the orphans of men and women who died in his service were cared for. It was a bright, cheerful place, staffed by kind, affectionate people, and there were several recent additions to the ranks of children being cared for there. A baby girl called Alyss, and another boy—Horace, his name was.
Will would know warmth and companionship there. And as he grew, he would be given a choice of different vocations to follow. All in all, it seemed like an ideal solution.
“Problem is,” Halt told the watchful infant, “we can’t let on that I’ve brought you there. Folk are suspicious of Rangers. If they thought you were associated with me, they might tread warily around you.”
Rangers had an aura of mystery and uncertainty about them. And that could have drawbacks for the child. People often feared things they didn’t understand, and he didn’t want that fear transferring itself to young Will. Better if his background remained a mystery.
“Which it is,” Halt mused. “I don’t even know your last name.”
He considered that. He could ask around the district. But as he had learned, the family was new to the area and people might not know their names. In addition, he would have to reveal his plans for the baby, and he wasn’t sure if what he was planning was exactly legal. Will was the child of two subjects of the local baron and Halt technically had no right to carry him off to another fief.
But then, in his lifetime, Halt had often ignored what was technically legal. Technicalities didn’t appeal to him. All too often, they simply got in the way of doing the right thing.
He dipped the cloth in the last of the milk and held it to the baby’s mouth. Will sucked eagerly, his eyes still fixed on the Ranger.
“Yes, the Ward is the best place for you,” Halt told him. “And it’s best if you’re anonymous. I’ll tell Arald, of course, in confidence. But nobody else will know. Just the two of us. What do you say?”
To his surprise, the baby emitted a loud burp, then smiled at him. A ghost of a smile touched Halt’s bearded face in reply.
“I’ll take that as agreement,” he said.
Four days later, just before the first gray streaks of light heralded the dawn, a dark figure carrying a basket stole across the courtyard of Castle Redmont, to the building that housed the Ward.
Setting the basket down on the steps outside the door to the Ward, Halt reached in and moved the blanket away from the baby’s face. He placed the note that he had composed into the basket, at the baby’s feet.
His mother died in childbirth.
His father died a hero.
Please care for him. His name is Will.
A tiny hand emerged from the blankets and gripped his forefinger.
“I’d swear you were shaking hands good-bye,” Halt whispered. Then, gently disengaging himself, he stroked the baby’s forehead.
“You’ll be fine here, young Will. With the parents you had, I suspect you’ll grow to be quite a person.”
He glanced around, saw no sign of anyone watching, then reached up and rapped sharply on the Ward door before melting away into the shadows of the courtyard.
The Ward’s staff was already up and about, and he heard the door open a few minutes later, then the cry of surprise.
“Why, it’s a baby! Mistress Aggie, come quick! Someone’s left a baby on the doorstep!”
Wrapped in his cloak, hidden in the shadows of the huge wall, Halt watched as several women came bustling out, crying out in surprise at the sight of the baby. Then they took him inside, closing the door behind them. He felt an unfamiliar prickling sensation in his eyes and a strange sense of loss.
“Good-bye for now, Will,” he whispered. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
Halt felt that same prickling sensation once more as he finished the story. He turned away slightly so that Will couldn’t see the tears that had formed in his eyes.
“But, Halt, why didn’t you tell me for all those years? Why did you say my mother died in childbirth?”
“I thought it would be easier on you,” Halt said. “I thought if you knew your mother had been murdered, it might make you bitter. And, as I said, I thought it would be easier on you if nobody knew of my involvement. If I’d said your mother was murdered, people would have started asking questions. I didn’t want that. I wanted you to be accepted.”
Will nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose so.”
The older Ranger shifted uncomfortably.
“There was something else . . .”
Will opened his mouth, then closed it. He sensed it would be better to let Halt speak in his own time.
Eventually, his mentor said, in a low voice that Will could barely hear, “I was afraid you’d hate me.”
Will recoiled in astonishment at the words. “Hate you? How could I hate you?
Why
would I hate you?”
Now Halt turned back to face him, and Will could see the anguish in his eyes. “Because I was responsible for the deaths of both your parents!” The words came out violently, as if they were torn from him. “Daniel died saving my life in battle. Then your mother came to my aid when I was fighting Jerrel. If she hadn’t done so, she’d still be alive.”
“And you’d be dead,” Will pointed out. But Halt shook his head.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But the fact remains, it was my fault that your family was destroyed, and up until now I was unable to tell you. I thought you might blame me.”
“Halt, it wasn’t your fault. Who could blame you? You were keeping a promise you made to my father. Blame Morgarath. Blame the Wargals. Or blame Kord and Jerrel. That’s where the fault lies. Not on your shoulders.”
Watching Halt, Will now saw those shoulders sag with relief.
“That’s what Pauline said you’d say,” Halt whispered, and Will put an arm around him. It felt strange to be comforting the man who had comforted him so much over the years.
“Halt, you didn’t destroy my family. That was fate. You gave me a second chance at having a family. You gave me a whole new life. How could I hate you for that? Besides,” he added, “can you imagine me as a farmer?”
He felt Halt’s shoulders begin to shake, and for a moment he was afraid the older man was weeping. Then he realized with relief that he was laughing.
“No,” his teacher said, “I certainly can’t see you as a farmer. Farmers are disciplined folk.”
They both laughed at the thought of Will plowing and planting. Then, after a while, the young Ranger grew serious.
“I would like to see my mother’s grave,” he said, and Halt nodded.
“I’ll take you there.”
And then they said nothing more, but sat together in companionable silence as the shadows lengthened and the sun finally set.
Also by John Flanagan:
T
HE
R
ANGER’S
A
PPRENTICE
E
PIC
B
OOK 1:
T
HE
R
UINS OF
G
ORLAN
B
OOK 2:
T
HE
B
URNING
B
RIDGE
B
OOK 3:
T
HE
I
CEBOUND
L
AND
B
OOK 4:
T
HE
B
ATTLE FOR
S
KANDIA
B
OOK 5:
T
HE
S
ORCERER OF THE
N
ORTH
B
OOK 6:
T
HE
S
IEGE OF
M
ACINDAW
B
OOK 7:
E
RAK’S
R
ANSOM
B
OOK 8:
T
HE
K
INGS OF
C
LONMEL
B
OOK 9:
H
ALT’S
P
ERIL
B
OOK 10:
T
HE
E
MPEROR OF
N
IHON-
J
A
T
HE
L
OST
S
TORIES
T
HE
B
ROTHERBAND
C
HRONICLES
B
OOK 1:
T
HE
O
UTCASTS
B
OOK 2:
T
HE
I
NVADERS (MAY 2012)
