The Rope Dancer (19 page)

“Here, take it.” Deri thrust the knife he was holding at her. “You can use the cloth for polishing harness to clean it.”

“I just forgot about them,” Carys said in a small voice. “I was not hiding them apurpose—not after the first day or two.”

Deri laughed. “And I thought you were joking when you asked Telor if you should have knifed that man instead of trying to gouge out his eyes.” Then he laughed again, more mirthfully, when he saw how distastefully she looked at the bloody knife in her hand. “For someone so easy with knives, you are very chary of blood.” And when she shuddered, he reached for the knife again. “Oh, give it here. I will clean it for you. Look about for some very dry wood so I can make a fire that will not smoke. I think hot soup would be good for Telor.”

“Are you going to hunt?” Carys asked in a frightened voice.

Like all players, Carys knew the forest laws, which prohibited the common folk from taking game or wood, were strict and brutal. Most foresters would overlook a small fire using only thin deadfall, particularly when the players were willing to pay with entertainment, but any evidence of killing game would bring the full wrath of the law on them.

“Not yet,” Deri replied. “I do not wish to lose a hand or be hanged. I have some grain and dried meat in my saddlebags.”

“I can find some greens and roots along the stream,” Carys offered.

Ermina had taught her to recognize wild plants that were good for food, and Carys had listened out of curiosity since Morgan’s troupe rarely needed to live off the land. In the years with Ulric, Carys had blessed Ermina—whenever her dulled mind had lifted from the bare necessity of the gathering—for she might have starved altogether if not for those lessons.

***

Deri produced not only grain, dried meat, and salt but a flat pan from his saddlebags, and Carys, having dropped her gleaning of twigs and branches, went up and down the stream banks and found wild onions and garlic, lily bulbs, plantain, and nettles. Neither Carys nor Deri was much of a cook. They cut everything into small pieces and dropped them into the pan, precariously balanced on three rocks above the fire, where water was already boiling briskly. The dried meat, hard as leather, needed time to cook, and Carys scrambled up the tree over Telor to hang the tent cloths, which Deri handed up to her. These were somewhat “aromatic,” since they were periodically oiled and the oil grew rancid with time, but Carys’s nose was accustomed to worse, and the cloths would keep them dry unless it poured. After the cloths were fastened, Deri and Carys took turns watching the pot and adding water when necessary while the other slept.

By the time Telor woke, they had a mess the consistency and appearance of mud in the pan. Deri tied back the edges of the tent cloths, helped the minstrel sit leaning against the tree, and presented him with a horn spoon and a wooden bowl full of the “stew.” Telor had taken the bowl eagerly, for the aroma, strongly redolent of onions and garlic, was most appetizing. His expression of consternation when he looked at the contents of his spoon was comical.

“You cannot sew, and I see you cannot cook either,” Telor said to Carys, half annoyed and half amused.

“I can,” Carys protested. “I just never had meat to mix in the pot before.” And then, seeing the sparkle of laughter in Telor’s eyes, she realized that she might have fallen into a trap and added, “It is not my favorite task. I only do it so I will not starve. If we travel all day and I am expected to cook, I will have no time to practice my craft.”

Telor started to laugh, clutched at his sore chest, and shook his head instead. “And sewing takes up even more time,” he remarked.

“No, truly,” Carys cried, “I never learned to sew. I did not lie to you.”

Deri grinned. “Carys never lies, but sometimes she does forget to mention something. Go on, Telor, eat. It is not so bad—a little sticky going down, but if you do not look at the stuff, the taste is passable. I cannot say I would prefer it for a steady diet, though. Should we try to get to Marston tomorrow?”

“No, not to Marston. I told you I did not want Eurion—or for that matter, Sir Richard—to hear of this. Eurion would be worried and Sir Richard will want to send out men to clean out the outlaws. You know this is no time to be marching men-at-arms around.”

“Hmmm…” Deri nodded agreement. “That was a large band of outlaws. It might mean that men have been driven from their homes in these parts. We rode through a village about a mile back, but not a soul showed a face when we came galloping up the road. I took that for a sign that the people might be in league with the outlaws, but for all I could see the place might have been empty. I do not remember even seeing chickens. Carys, did you notice—”

“I did not even see the village,” Carys admitted. “I was so frightened, I was blind, deaf, and dumb.”

Deri looked at her, remembering simultaneously the deadly knives and how dazed she had seemed, unable to obey the simplest order. She was, he thought, not lying about being frightened, but she had fought like one possessed. There must be a gentle soul under the hardness life had taught her.

Unaware of Carys’s condition during their escape, Telor felt an odd mixture of eagerness and disappointment. He raised his brows and remarked dryly, “At least you waited until we had won free of the fight before your afflictions overtook you.”

“Should I have let those men drag me off the horse?” Carys retorted angrily. “Or break your arm? Or stab you?”

Common sense was all on Carys’s side. Telor knew his sisters would have done just what Carys had sneered at, and he would be dead and they, very likely, worse off. Nonetheless, that flash of light he had glimpsed entering a man’s eye gave him chills. Despite his gratitude to her for saving them both, the way Carys fought grated against what he believed was true womanliness.

“I said there was no debt between us. You saved my life,” Telor admitted uncomfortably.

“We all did what we had to do,” Deri said hastily. “Let us decide what to do next. You do not want to go to Marston, and I agree because I think you should not ride until that cut heals. It is not deep, but it is long. Do you think it safe to stay here?”

“I think so,” Telor said, “but I have no idea how far we rode after we broke free of the attack. It seemed several thousand leagues to me, but that does not seem likely.”

“Perhaps a mile or a little more past the village,” Deri replied. “It seemed a few thousand leagues to me too. I expected every moment to hear a loud thump when you fell off Teithiwr. How Carys held you at that speed I will never know. But I was worried about the villagers sending the outlaws after us. I wanted them to think we had fled all the way to…to wherever is past here.”

“Creklade,” Telor said. “There may be another small village on a side lane going north—I do not remember the name—but Creklade is more than a league closer than Marston and it is a town—”

“Thank God for that,” Deri exclaimed. “They must have cookshops. We eat
food
again.”

Carys made a face at Deri and laughed, but then she shook her head. “Perhaps you know better than I,” she said, “but I do not think it would be wise for Deri to pay with money not earned in the town, at least, not more than once.”

Both men looked at her in surprise and then at each other with concern. A dwarf could not be overlooked, and would be known for a stranger and likely for a player. A player with money was immediately regarded as a suspicious person. If he were simply passing through, no more than doubting or ugly glances might be cast at him; if, however, he was seen more than once, making it clear he was staying in or near the town, he would almost certainly be arrested while the citizens were asked whether they had been robbed or defrauded. Even if none took advantage of the opportunity to accuse him, just for the amusement of seeing him whipped or put in the stocks, he would be ordered to leave the town and not return on pain of punishment.

“But if I danced and Deri beat the drum for me,” Carys continued before either of them could speak, “no one would think anything of that. I think I could earn enough for food. Of course, if I had a rope I could make much more.”

“No,” Telor said, and simultaneously Deri exclaimed, “That’s the answer!”

Carys looked from one to the other. “Does Creklade forbid players?” she asked.

“No,” Telor replied, “but you cannot dance in those clothes, and you have nothing else. Besides, so close to Marston Deri will be recognized, and—”

“I think you
did
get hit in the head,” Deri interrupted. “I have been in Marston twice in my life and never in Creklade. Why should anyone know me there? And even if a groom from Marston should be in the town,” he added with a touch of bitterness, “I doubt he would look hard enough at a fool in motley to recognize his face.”

“And I still have my dancing dress,” Carys said. “It is not very fine, but—”

“It is fine for our purpose,” Deri remarked. “A dwarf and a dancing girl would be expected to be poor.”

“It is not decent!” Telor exclaimed with such force that he hurt himself and put a hand to his ribs.

Carys first looked astonished; then her face cleared. “You mean because the dress is so torn. I have made the tears all smooth so they look like slashes done apurpose, and the front of the gown is sound. The cuts will ravel after a time, but for now the dress will serve very well.”

“Serve very well to expose you for every man of the town to gape at,” Telor snarled. “I forbid it!”

As the words came out, color rushed into Telor’s face. He realized that his opposition to Carys’s dancing had little to do with a fear of damage to his reputation and that he had betrayed his true feelings to her and to Deri. Plainly and simply, he was jealous; he did not want other men to possess, even only with their eyes and lewd thoughts, what he wanted for himself. And yet he was just as bad as any of those men, for was it not only lust he felt? He tore his eyes from Carys’s stunned face and closed them, fighting tears of embarrassment and weakness.

His process of thought and reaction were too quick, and he missed the change in Carys’s expression from angry shock to a kind of marveling adoration. To Morgan and Ulric she had always been an item of trade. Her ropedancing was the main moneymaker, but both would also have sold her body every night had they been able to cow her into agreeing. And Telor wished to forbid her exposure to no more than lustful looks.

She knew it was because he wanted her himself…but that was so different too. Morgan and Ulric had also wanted her—but they had always been willing to sell her for whoring first and use her later themselves. Only Telor thought her worth enough to keep her all to himself. A shiver of delight went through her, and she reached out and gently touched the hand nearest her, which had balled into a fist.

“I think I could pass as a merchant’s servant,” she said, smiling at Telor’s averted face. “So if you would add the cost of a rope to that of the clothes, I could buy one. I would wear my fine clothes and the hood to hide my hair when I buy the rope, and change my face—I can do that. Then I could meet Deri, change my clothes to the old braies and the plain shirt, and we could come into the town together. No one would recognize me, and I could rope dance dressed as a boy. It is the skill and seeming danger that counts on a rope. No one cares whether the dancer be man or woman.”

Telor opened his eyes cautiously and glanced at Carys sidelong. He had found it hard to believe the practical words and the joyous tone of her voice were real. But her expression confirmed that she was delighted with his rude objection—her eyes a glinting gold in the dappled light under the tree and her mouth curved into a smile that had no tinge of either amusement or mockery. There was an immediate pleasure in knowing that Carys was glad to escape dancing and what it implied, and an instant filling and warmth in his loins despite the pain and weakness of his racked body because he could not believe Carys had not recognized his jealousy.

Telor tried to shut off his desire by comparing Carys to his sisters again but this time she came out ahead. She was unlike them in ways other than sticking knives in men’s eyes. Where they would pout and sniffle for hours over any affront, even an imagined one, and seize on any sign of weakness in father, brothers, or husbands to use for their own purposes, Carys…At that point Telor checked his thoughts, knowing that these were almost more dangerous than his desire. He told himself firmly that the reason Carys was pleasant and reasonable was that he was offering her what she wanted, not because her nature was sweeter than that of other women.

“So do you agree to that, at least?” Deri was asking in an irritated voice, unaware that Telor had been lost in his own thoughts. “And if you do not, would it be safe to hunt hereabout, or are we to starve?”

“Let him be,” Carys said softly. “We are fools to talk about such matters now. We must make do with what we have tonight. Tomorrow I hope we will all be better able to decide what is best to do.”

They did not come near starving in making do. Telor had hard cheese in his saddlebags, and Carys found more edible bulbs and thin, young wild onions, which they ate with chunks of stale bread. For her, it was a better meal than many in the past, and she sat contentedly afterward, wrapped in Deri’s cloak because her blanket was under Telor, watching the brightening twinkle of the fireflies in the open area near the stream as the dusk deepened. She hummed happily, an old folk tune, “Summer Is a’Comin In.” Both men watched her in silence, but she was unaware, absorbed in her own thoughts. Soon Deri rose and helped Telor to lie down. Then he checked the animals and walked off toward the road, murmuring that he would sit there awhile to make sure no threat to them was moving along it.

“You sound happy,” Telor said softly to Carys after Deri was gone.

“I am happy,” Carys replied, turning her head toward him.

Telor could just make out her smile. “You are not afraid to be abroad in the dark?

“It is not new to me. Why should I be afraid?”

“What of the spirits that are said to wander in the night?” Telor asked.