Ravenheart (40 page)

“They say he’s broke and ruined,” said Grymauch.

“I have heard that. Now, go and greet him.”

Jaim chuckled and shook his head, but he obeyed her, as he always did. Maev sat down in a wide chair, gathering her thoughts. Then she listened as the former schoolteacher entered the kitchen.

“This is Shula,” he heard Jaim say. “Best cook in the highlands and a beauty to boot. What will you have? Steak and eggs, hot oats, fresh bread and cheese?”

“Just a little water, if you please.”

“By the Sacrifice, man, there’s not an ounce of flesh on you. You need to eat. It’ll drive the cold out faster. Shula, fry a little bacon and eggs for our guest and cut some of that bread.”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” said Alterith. “Perhaps you could let Mrs. Ring know that I am here.”

“She knows, sir teacher, and she’s told us to feed you. So sit yourself down.”

“Do I know you, sir?”

“I am Jaim Grymauch.”

“Ah. I do believe I have heard the name.”

“Most people have. I am renowned for my many good works. Some tell me that when I die, I shall be named among the saints.”

“Yes, indeed,” Maev heard Alterith reply. She smiled. She could hear the nervousness in the Varlish teacher’s voice.

“How do you like your eggs, sir?” she heard Shula ask.

“With the yolk firm, madam, thank you,” replied Alterith.

“My nephew Kaelin asked to be remembered to you,” said Jaim.

“Did he? I doubt he recalls me fondly. I had occasion to discipline him many times. The last time, however, still causes me grief.”

“Why so, sir teacher?”

“He argued about the nationality of King Connavar, and I caned him for it. I have since discovered he was quite right to argue, for he was correct. Connavar was undoubtedly a full Rigante.”

“It takes a man to admit when he is wrong,” said Jaim, and Maev heard a grudging respect in his voice. “I shall tell Kaelin what you said when next I see him. Ah, Banny boy, come in and fill your belly.”

Maev heard a chair leg scrape on the floor. “So, boy, how many is twenty-five times twenty-seven?”

“Six hundred and seventy-five,” Banny said instantly.

“You made that up,” Jaim said with a laugh. “That was too quick.”

“Because it was too easy, Grymauch,” answered Banny.

“No one can do a sum that quickly. Isn’t that right, schoolteacher?”

“Banny is correct,” said Alterith. “He has a wonderful mind for numbers.”

Maev heard plates being laid on the table, and conversation ceased as they ate. She guessed that Jaim was also tucking into a second breakfast. Rising from her chair, she added coals to the fire. The conversation had taught her more about Alterith Shaddler, and she liked what she had heard. The man was more open-minded than she had expected and obviously had affection for Banny. Added to that she sensed that Grymauch also liked him, and despite the big man’s many faults he was a good judge of character.

With the breakfast concluded Jaim returned to the room. “Are you ready to see your guest yet?” he asked.

“Yes, show him in.”

Alterith Shaddler was ushered in, and Jaim left quietly, pulling shut the door behind him. The teacher wore no wig. His hair was cut short and was thinning at the temples. He was stick-thin, his clothes almost threadbare.

“Thank you for coming at such short notice,” said Maev Ring. Alterith bowed and said nothing. “I have a proposition for you. Please take a seat.” Alterith settled himself on the edge of a nearby chair. He was monstrously ill at ease. “I want to open a school for clan youngsters,” said Maev Ring.

“A school, madam?”

“Aye. I have a building I believe would be suitable, and I have ordered fifty desks and chairs. Now I need a teacher to run it.”

“A clan school? I fear that the authorities will not allow it.”

“They cannot prevent it. The king issued the proclamation five years ago that highland youngsters were to receive schooling. Doctor Meldane can do nothing to prevent such a school.”

“I was not thinking merely of Doctor Meldane. The civil authorities will present objections.”

“The Moidart is a loyal follower of the king, and all lessons will begin with the prayer for his health. I understand that was the policy in your classroom.”

“Indeed so, madam. Yet I fear there will be many difficulties.”

“I will tackle each as it arises.”

“What of textbooks and writing implements?” he asked.

“The man who runs the school will have a budget to purchase such items as are necessary.”

“What will be taught?”

“Initially? Reading and writing, arithmetic, and history. After that we shall see how the project fares.” An uneasy silence developed.

Alterith Shaddler stared at the floor. Maev watched him closely, sensing his disquiet. Alterith Shaddler, she surmised, was conservative by nature. There was nothing rebellious in the man. From everything Kaelin had told her of him, he was proud of his Varlish heritage. The thought of being considered a kilt lover would probably appall him. Maev felt a touch of anger but kept her face expressionless. Perhaps it had been a mistake to invite this skinny Varlish to her home. Then Alterith spoke: “Firstly, madam, I must raise the matter of salary. My funds are … my funds are gone. I am living in lodgings and have no money for rent. From today I also have nowhere to live.”

“I have furnished two rooms above the classroom, Master Shaddler. There is a bedroom and a study. I shall pay you five chaillings a month, and you will have a budget of three pounds a year to purchase books and any items you deem fit. How much rent do you owe?”

“One chailling, three daens.”

“I shall give you the first month’s salary in advance. You may take with you today five chaillings to settle your debts.”

He took a deep breath, then looked into her eyes. “I appreciate this offer, madam. I have to say, however, that I will brook no interference in the way I teach my classes or the methods I use. I will teach both clan and Varlish history. If that is acceptable, then I will willingly—even gladly—take on this role. If not, then I must decline.”

Maev nodded and gave a small smile. “I appreciate a man
who stands by his principles in the face of disaster. You will run the school the way you see fit. I shall not interfere. If it is successful, we will talk of hiring another teacher to help you in your duties. There will also be a housekeeper to clean your rooms and a cook to prepare meals.”

“Then I accept, madam, with grateful thanks.”

“Good. Banny will take you back to your lodgings. You may collect your belongings, and he will then drive you to your new home. Please prepare a list of items you will need, and we will meet next week to discuss them.”

Alterith rose but did not leave.

“Was there something else, Master Shaddler?” Maev asked him.

“Why have you asked me to undertake this role, madam? My dealings with your nephew were hardly conducive to such trust.”

“There are many reasons, Master Shaddler, but the only one which counts is that I believe you will excel in the role.” Stepping forward, she handed him a small pouch. “Here is your first month’s salary. And now you will find Banny waiting to take you to your lodgings.”

The apothecary Ramus disliked traveling to the poorer quarters of Eldacre. In the heat of summer the narrow streets stank of refuse piled up against the walls, and there were beggars, hard-eyed men and women who would cut a man’s throat for a copper daen. In winter there was less stench, though half-starved dogs roamed the streets, occasionally attacking travelers. The decaying houses were set close, with people living in cramped quarters, huddling together against the cold. The poor of Eldacre were miserable indeed: thieves, cutthroats, beggars, and whores. Received wisdom was that these people were lazy and shiftless and therefore predisposed to crime. Ramus often wondered about the veracity of such claims. Was it surprising that the starving stole bread or that a man weighed down by failure would become bitter at the success of others?

Every week there were hangings in Eldacre as thieves were dragged to the scaffold. Yet there was no shortage of crime thereafter. Would laziness alone cause a man to risk the rope?

Ramus heeled the pony on through the icy streets. Snow was swirling again, and the night was bitter cold. Two soldiers of the night watch, heavily wrapped in black cloaks, appeared from Potter’s Street. They stood for a moment watching the old man on the fat pony, then moved on. Ramus rode halfway down Potter’s Street and turned left into Shoe Lane. The streets were unlit, but candles and lanterns shone in windows, casting a glow over the snow-covered cobbles.

The pony plodded on. Ramus found the gate leading to Bramble Field. There, on what was once common land, some twenty or so roughly built huts had been erected. Originally they had been for transient workers who arrived in the summer seeking casual employment. Now run-down, they were used to house the sick and the dying who had no homes of their own and no money for rent.

Ramus saw a watchman sitting before a glowing brazier. He rode his pony to the man. “Good evening to you,” said the apothecary.

“Are you lost, man?” asked the watchman.

“No. I am seeking the house of Maldrak.”

“Don’t know the name.”

“A retainer of the Moidart’s. I am told he was moved here some days ago.”

“Oh, aye. Stinks of piss and blood. I know him. Fourth hut on the right.”

Ramus thanked the man and rode on. Tethering the pony behind the hut and out of the wind, Ramus entered the ramshackle building. There was but a single room with a narrow bed and two rickety chairs. There was an old brazier, but it held no coals, and there were no candles. In the faint light of the moon shining through the doorway Ramus could see old Maldrak lying on the bed. He appeared to be asleep.

Ramus trudged back to the watchman. “I need a lantern and some coal and kindling,” he said.

“It’ll be wasted on him, man. He’s dying. He’s been pissing blood ever since he came here.” The watchman made no move to rise from his stool.

“Tell me where I might find what I need,” said Ramus.

“It’ll cost you. Coal don’t come cheap.”

“My understanding is that the poor souls here are guaranteed food, coal, and candles until they die,” said Ramus, his voice calm. “But I shall pay you two daens for fetching what I need.”

“Three daens might persuade me to leave my fire,” said the watchman.

“Then three daens it shall be,” said Ramus. “But I’ll require a full lantern, if you please.”

Within the hour Ramus had the brazier glowing in Maldrak’s hut and, by the light of a lantern, examined the old man. His skin was hot and dry to the touch, and there was a large lump just above his groin. The thin sheet below him was stained with blood and urine. Maldrak drifted in and out of consciousness.

“I’ll be right as rain in a few days,” he said, opening his eyes and seeing Ramus. “Just need a bit of rest is all.”

“You are losing blood, my friend.”

“No, not blood,” insisted Maldrak. “I been eating beetroot. Just beetroot, see?”

Ramus sat quietly. The fear in the man’s voice made him pause. The apothecary had brought with him several bottles of fever-reducing potions and one that would help dull the pain. Only the last one would be of any use to the old man. Ramus looked around the squalid room. Maldrak had served the Moidart’s family for more than fifty years, and this was his reward: left to die in a cold and barren hut. “Can I get you something to eat or drink, Apothecary?” asked Maldrak.

“No, thank you,” answered Ramus, aware that there was nothing there, not a water jug, not even a stale loaf.

“Good of you to visit. My wife is out tonight. Otherwise she’d cook you a meal.”

His wife had been dead for twenty years.

“How’s the little pony?”

“She is well.”

“Nice little creature. I’ll give you some apples to take away with you.”

“How are you feeling, Maldrak. Is there much pain?”

“Just a bit. Pulled muscle, I think. It’ll heal, right enough.” The old man dozed for a while. When he awoke, he talked again for a while, then paused. “Are you the priest?” he asked.

“No, I am Ramus.”

“ ’Course you are. Stupid of me. Don’t ever get old, Ramus.” He looked around. “Why am I here? Don’t see none of my stuff. I wish the priest was here. Need to talk to him. Put things right. Because it wasn’t my fault, and I could do nothing. It was all over by the time I got there, you see. Bothersome, though.”

“What is bothersome to you, my friend?”

“Best not to say. Best not. How is the old pony?”

“She is well. Rest a little. Gather your strength.”

“There’s apples in the orchard. I’ll fill you a sack. They’ll only go bad otherwise.”

Ramus felt a weight of sorrow on his soul. He had heard only the day before that Maldrak had been moved to Bramble Field. A young retainer had called at the apothecary to collect the balms needed by the Moidart. Ramus had asked about Maldrak. “He’s gone, sir. He’d started acting odd, you know. And he stank something terrible. Bramble Field is the best place for him. He’ll get food and medicine and stuff.”

There was no food there. This was a place for the discarded, somewhere to die out of sight and out of mind. It was rare for Ramus to feel anger, and even now it was tinged with sadness and disappointment. “Are you the priest?” asked Maldrak. “I need a priest.”

“Yes, I am the priest,” Ramus said sadly.

“I have sins, you know. I haven’t been a good man. But I
want to see my wife again, you know. I don’t want the gates shut on me.”

“They won’t be shut,” promised Ramus.

“I couldn’t have done nothing. When he killed her, I was downstairs. I wasn’t supposed to be, you see. He’d told us all to take the night off and go into town. But I didn’t. It was raining, and I had on my old boots, and they leaked. I came back to change them. That’s when I heard her scream.”

“Who screamed?”

“His wife, Rayena. Lovely girl. It was only a few days after the birth. She was still recovering. I thought she was just—you know—in pain. I was by the stairs, and I saw him on the upper landing. He come out of the bedroom, and there was blood on him. He didn’t see me. Then I saw he had something stuck into his belly, low down. He dragged it out and flung it away. It was a pair of scissors. She’d obviously stabbed him as he strangled her. I ducked down. Didn’t want him to see me. For years I’ve been wondering whether I could have saved her if I’d run upstairs when I first heard the scream. And then later I thought I should have gone to the captain and told him what I’d seen. But I didn’t. Is that a sin?”