Sword in the Storm (41 page)

At the open gates of the town there were no guards, and the two men rode into Seven Willows, heading for the main hall, no more than a hundred paces from the eastern gate.

“Usually the ruler’s home is closer to the center of a settlement,” said Conn.

“Aye, but this place has grown over the years,” said Parax. “See the remains of the old stockade wall by yon stream? As the settlement grew, they tore down the old western wall and extended the stockade.”

Conn grinned at him. “You don’t miss much, do you?”

They dismounted in a paddock alongside the hall, unsaddled their ponies, and turned them loose.

A young warrior strode out to greet them. He was not tall, but his shoulders were wide, his heavily muscled arms a little too long for his body. “You’ll be Connavar,” he said. “Lord Fiallach is expecting you.”

“You mean, surely, Lady Llysona?”

“Whatever,” the man replied, tersely. “Follow me.”

“Friendly welcome,” whispered Parax. Conn shrugged and moved after the warrior. The hall was well lit, with the shutters of the high upper windows opened wide, allowing sunlight to stream through. Lady Llysona was sitting at the head of a horseshoe-shaped table. To her right sat the giant warrior Fiallach.
The beautiful Tae was at her left. Some twenty noblemen filled the other seats.

“Welcome, Connavar,” said Lady Llysona. Dressed in a gown of green satin, she was a handsome woman. Her dark hair was braided with golden wire, and she wore a thick golden torque around her slender throat. In her early forties now, she had once been a great beauty and was still breathtaking. Connavar bowed.

“Thank you, lady. It is good to be here. I bring greetings from the Long Laird and his hopes that you are well. He has asked me to offer my advice in the matter of defense against raids from the sea.”

“We don’t need your advice,” said Fiallach.

Conn ignored him. “My lady, I am recently returned from a war across the water where I saw many towns under siege. Seven Willows is poorly placed to resist an attack. But I will make a better report to you once I have scouted the surrounding countryside.”

“It is kind of you to take the time to come to us,” said Llysona. “But Lord Fiallach is a noted warrior, and he is responsible for the defense of Seven Willows. I have the utmost confidence in him. Therefore, you may return to Old Oaks.”

Connavar bowed again. “I am sure that confidence is well placed, lady. However, the Long Laird, my lord and master and the lord and owner of this land, has ordered me to oversee the situation. Do you wish me to return to him with the news that his orders are no longer obeyed in Seven Willows?”

She gave a thin smile. “No man should be encouraged to disobey the orders of his betters. What I am saying is that the laird need have no worries concerning our well-being. Perhaps you should convey that to him.”

“I will pass on your words, my lady. As soon as I have completed my mission.”

“Are you deaf or merely stupid?” stormed Fiallach. “You are not wanted here. Do you understand that?”

Conn’s eyes never left the face of Lady Llysona, and when he spoke again, his voice was calm and even. “Back in Three Streams, my lady, a barking dog is never allowed at table. It disturbs the guests. However, if you tell me Lord Fiallach now rules in Seven Willows, I will address all comments to him.”

This time she did not smile. “I rule in Seven Willows, but Lord Fiallach is my most trusted counselor. And let me warn you that it is not good sense to anger him.”

“It is not my intention to anger anyone, merely to offer good advice and instruction. Whether the advice is heeded or ignored is a matter for you and your counselors. However it turns out, I will make a report to my lord and return to my home.”

“How long will you need?” she asked.

“Three or four days to make the initial report. After that, I do not know, my lady. It will depend on whether my advice is heeded.”

“Four days it is, then,” she said. “Farrar will show you to your lodgings.” She gestured at the ape-armed warrior who had met them. He rose from the table and led them out into the open, across the now-empty market site, and on to a small, crudely built roundhouse. The timbers had dried out and warped, leaving gaping holes, and the thatched roof was in disrepair. Two cot beds had been placed inside. Both were rickety and badly constructed. Connavar stepped inside, and a rat scurried across his foot.

“Enjoy your visit with us,” Farrar said with a sour grin.

“Just being in your sunlit presence is enough for me,” Parax told him.

The man reddened. “Is your servant mocking me?” he asked Connavar.

“I suppose he must be,” Conn replied, coldly. “Given the choice between your company and the vermin that already occupy this ruin, I’ll take the rats. Now get out of my sight.”

Farrar’s jaw dropped. “I’ll take no insults from—”

Conn swung, grabbed the man by the front of his tunic, and hauled him in close. “Understand this, you discourteous dog turd. You have neither the wit, the strength, nor the power to offend me. Now, if you want to challenge me, do so. I will take no pleasure in killing you, but I will do it if you force me.”

Releasing the frightened man, he pushed him from the hut, then turned to Parax. “We will sleep in the open,” he said, his voice cold and angry.

“You do have a way with you, lad,” Parax said with a smile. “I’ve never known a man so adept at making friends. You should teach me sometime.” Conn’s anger evaporated, and he smiled. “Anyway,” continued Parax, “we can make this place habitable.” The blankets within the hut were lice-ridden, and Conn left them where they were. He and Parax walked out into the settlement, where Conn purchased new blankets, a broom, several wooden plates, a copper pan, a hank of bacon, a small sack of oats, and some salt. Returning to the hut, the two men dragged the two rotten beds out into the open, throwing the lice-infested blankets over them. Parax swept out the rotted straw that covered the floor and prepared a fire.

Conn moved out into the open and stood before the pile of furniture they had placed there. He saw Tae stroll from the long hall and cross the open ground. She looked at the pile.

“I am sorry,” she said. “This is awful. But my mother was angry that Father should send someone to crack the whip over us, and Fiallach has not forgotten that you shamed him.”

“I hope you will not get into trouble for speaking to us,” he said stiffly.

“It doesn’t matter. Would you like me to show you around the country tomorrow?”

“I would like that very much.”

She smiled at him. “It would be nice if you were to tell me you accepted the laird’s commission because you wanted to see me again.”

“I can tell you that because it is true. You have been in my mind ever since the fire night.”

“I have thought of you, too,” she said, then turned away and ran back to the hall.

Parax emerged from the hut. “Sweet girl,” he said. “She’ll make that Fiallach a fine wife.”

Conn felt his hackles rise, then saw that Parax was grinning at him. “You see too much,” he said.

“I’m not the only one.” Parax inclined his head toward the hall, where Fiallach was standing in the doorway, staring at them. “You watch him carefully, boy,” said Parax. “He’s a killer.”

As night fell, Conn and Parax sat in their small hut before a fire set in a circle of stones, which also served as light in the absence of lamps or lanterns. “Why are they being so unpleasant?” asked Parax. “You are the same tribe, after all.”

“We are caught between two evils,” Conn told him. “First, there is the ill feeling between Lady Llysona and the laird. He was unfaithful to her, so it is said, and she responded by moving to Seven Willows. She could have ended the marriage, but that would have left her with little power and no income. So it is natural for her to try to thwart the laird’s plans. Second there is the question of Fiallach. The man is a brute and a bully. I watched him fight. He tormented his opponent cruelly. And he has no affection for me. Since he appears to be Llysona’s chief counselor, we have little hope of any real cooperation.”

“Then why stay?”

“I like to finish what I start, my friend,” Conn replied with a smile.

“There is another reason,” offered Parax.

“Aye, there is. Do you think she is beautiful?”

“I find all women beautiful, especially the fat ones. Not too fat, mind. But plump. Oh, yes, and dark-eyed, full-lipped.
And friendly. They have to be friendly. I married a fat woman back in Alin. She was a joy.” Parax sighed. “Plague took her after two years. Never found a woman to match her.”

“Have you given up trying?”

“Never give up, boy!” replied the old man. “But I don’t think the young ones will have any time for an ancient like me. Unless I get rich, of course. Rich men are never too old in the eyes of some women. Still, not much chance of that.” Parax added fuel to the fire, then watched the smoke spiral up to the narrow opening at the center of the domed roof. A flea bit his arm. Parax deftly caught it between thumb and forefinger and flicked it into the fire. “We should find somewhere better to stay tomorrow,” he said.

“I intend to. Banouin, an old friend of mine, told me of a comrade living here. His name is Phaeton. He is a merchant. I will seek him out tomorrow.”

Conn lay down beside the fire and pulled his blanket over his shoulders. Tae’s face hovered in his mind, and he slept fitfully.

Parax woke him just after dawn. The old man looked concerned.

“What is it?” asked Conn.

“They’ve stolen our ponies.”

Conn sat up. “This nonsense ends today,” he said.

“We’re going back to Three Streams?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Pulling on his boots and belting on his sword and dagger, Conn walked from the hut. It had rained a little in the night, just enough to put a shine on the buildings and freshen the air. Parax joined him. “Where are they?” asked Conn.

“I followed the tracks to a field about a half mile from here. There are three men there. Armed men.”

“Show me.”

As the two men set out, Tae came riding up. She was
wearing a dark brown leather shirt and matching leggings and boots. “Where are your ponies?” she asked innocently.

“We are just going to fetch them,” Conn told her, forcing a smile. “We will meet you back here in an hour.”

Tae rode her pony to the paddock and dismounted. Leaving the beast, she ran to join the two men. “This is obviously some kind of bad jest,” she said. “I am sorry.”

“It is not your fault,” said Conn. “But it is probably best if you are not close by when we find the men who took them.”

“Tell me where they are and I’ll ride there and fetch them,” she offered. “That way there’ll be no trouble.”

“It has gone too far for that,” Conn told her. He slowed, then stopped and turned toward her. “Are you betrothed yet to Fiallach?”

“No.”

“Good. That is one fact to cheer me. Now please leave us.”

“You won’t kill anyone, will you?”

“Do I seem so savage to you?”

“There is a savage part of you, Connavar.”

“Aye, there is. But there is also a gentle side. I hope to show it to you.” He walked away from her then, and he and Parax continued on their journey, coming at last to an open area with a grazing meadow beyond it. The ponies were there, tethered to a rail, and three men, Farrar among them, were sitting on a blanket, playing dice bones.

They looked up as the two men approached, then climbed to their feet.

Farrar walked toward Conn. “Your ponies seem—” he began. Conn smashed a hard left into his face that crushed his lips, spraying blood over his face. An overhand right clubbed him to the ground. One of the other men pulled a knife, but Conn stepped in close, slapped the knife hand away, and struck him with a right cross that sent him spinning to the grass. The third man backed away.

“I’ve only just come here,” he said. “I don’t have anything to do with whatever it is that has angered you.”

“Then get you gone,” said Conn.

The man turned and sprinted away. There was a barn close by. Conn strode to it, returning with two lengths of rope. Moving to the unconscious men, he tied their hands behind their backs.

“What now?” asked Parax.

“Now the fun begins,” Conn said coldly. Farrar groaned. Conn hauled him to his feet. “Wake the other one,” he ordered Parax.

The old man knelt by the fallen man and nudged him several times. “He’ll sleep for a week,” he said. “I think you’ve broken his jaw.”

“There’s a well behind the barn. Draw some water and douse him with it.”

“Fiallach will kill you for this,” Farrar said, through bleeding lips.

Conn ignored him and waited for Parax to return with a bucket of water. He drenched the unconscious tribesman, who at last began to stir. Parax helped him stand. He swayed groggily but kept to his feet.

“Now let us go to the hall,” said Conn, mounting his pony.

As they rode through the settlement, a crowd began to gather, and by the time they reached the long hall, word had reached Lady Llysona, who was standing in the square, Fiallach with her.

“What is the meaning of this?” she asked icily.

Conn slid from his pony and offered her a deep bow. “I am sorry to bring you sad tidings, my lady, but these men stole our ponies and I apprehended them. As you are aware, the penalty for such an offense is death by hanging. However, as is my right as a free Rigante, I demand trial by mortal combat. I will kill these two men, and that will be an end to the matter.”

“You’ll kill no one, you whoreson!” bellowed Fiallach.

“Yes, I will,” Conn said quietly, “for that is Keltoi law, and no one—not you, you arrogant pig, or the lady you serve—can go against it.”

“By Taranis, I’ll kill you myself,” stormed the giant.

“I accept the challenge,” said Conn, angry now. “As soon as I have killed these two, I will make myself available to you. And I hope you fight better with a sword than you do with your fists, for you are old and slow and I will cut you to pieces.” The force of his fury radiated out over the group, and a silence fell upon them. Conn removed his cloak, folded it, and threw it to Parax. Then he drew his Seidh sword and stepped back, slashing the blade through the air in a bewildering series of glittering arcs as he loosened the muscles of his shoulders and arms. The speed of his movements was dazzling, and not a man present failed to appreciate how deadly the young warrior was. Parax glanced at Fiallach and saw doubt in his eyes. As a fistfighter he was greatly skilled, but Conn was right. He was too heavy in the arm and shoulder to be fast with a blade.