The Rope Dancer (22 page)

Telor and Deri first realized something was wrong when the grooms did not hurry forward to greet them. There were several new horses in the stable too, and as the men dismounted, they exchanged worried glances.

“There is trouble here, I think,” Telor said softly to Carys as she slid down from Teithiwr. “I fear we are too late with our warning and Marston is in new hands.”

Carys stiffened with panic, remembering all too clearly what had happened when she and Ulric went into a newly taken keep. But while Telor was speaking to her, Deri had called out in a perfectly calm voice to one of the grooms, “Can we take our horses to the back?”

“Wherever there is space,” the man replied, shortly but not uncivilly, as he walked away, and even Carys realized his manner held no threat.

Fear remained, but it slipped well below the surface of her thoughts, through which flickered a kind of amused gratitude for the general laziness of all those who served others. Help was the last thing any of them wanted, since they needed privacy to decide what to do.

“I think we must at least seem to unpack,” Deri murmured as they led the beasts away from the cluster of men gambling in the stable entry. “Everything seems peaceful enough here, but to try to leave again in this weather will arouse suspicion against us.”

“You might as well unpack in earnest,” Telor said, his face rigid. “I am deeply sorry if Sir Richard has lost Marston, but there is no way we can help him now, and we must get dry. I think it will be safe. The new master cannot wish us harm, and the men-at-arms look to be well controlled.” He turned Teithiwr toward a space between two of the barn posts to give himself a chance to look back at the men. “But, Deri”—his voice dropped even lower so that Carys, only a few steps away, could hardly hear him—“I do not see one familiar face among those men. I do not like that.”

“That space is too small,” Deri said loudly and with a touch of sullenness. He knew Telor wanted to be farther away, near the far wall, and he wanted to speak about something the men could hear. “We will never squeeze all three in there.”

“Why do they all need to be together?” Telor asked sharply, picking up Deri’s intention at once. “Just to save you a few steps?”

“Yes, because your few steps are a great many more for me,” Deri replied with a laugh.

“So they are,” Telor agreed, laughing too, as if a minor quarrel had been patched up, and then went on in a lower voice. “I must find out what has happened to Eurion. I could not see much sign of destruction in the keep. Sir Richard was old. Mayhap he just died.”

Deri shook his head. They were now in the space between the last post and the side wall of the stable and knew they could not be seen or heard if they kept their voices low. “I wish it was so, for your sake, but why would the new man send away the old servants?”

“You must be right,” Telor admitted. “It is more likely that Sir Richard would have yielded and been driven out. The servants might have gone with him, I think. He was greatly beloved. Eurion would certainly have gone with him, but I must make sure. If Sir Richard tried to defend the place and was killed…”

“Would Eurion have stayed with his patron’s slayer?” Deri asked.

Telor sighed. “I wish I knew. I cannot tell you how often he pounded it into my head that a traveling minstrel must take no sides. If Sir Richard had been killed in the battle but not by the hand of the new lord, there is a chance Eurion would have remained here, knowing that I would soon come.”

“But then what happened to the manor servants?” Deri persisted, feeling that all was not well and trying to warn Telor not to delude himself.

Telor went to Teithiwr’s head and began to remove the bit. Dim light came through the open space under the eaves and to Carys it looked as if Telor’s face had turned to stone, it was so grey and hard. There was a short silence during which she began to unstrap the bundles on Doralys. She did not care what had happened to Eurion, but she was sensitive enough to the men’s attitude to know that it would do no good at all to protest that they should leave as soon as the storm abated.

“I imagine they have all been sold, possibly Eurion too,” Telor said. “When this new lord discovered, as no doubt he soon did, that there is no loot in this place, only scrolls and books, he might have taken what profit he could and at the same time rid himself of people who would hate him.”

“No,” Deri said, coming around and laying his hand on Telor’s arm. “I cannot believe that Eurion would have been sold. The servants, yes. But who would buy a minstrel? And Eurion was too old for any buyer to believe he could get much work out of him. Whoever this man is, he can have done no worse than put Eurion out.”

Although Telor made no direct reply to that, the fixity of his expression relaxed a little as he said, “I hope so. I do not believe a local man can have done this. Everyone in this neighborhood knew there was nothing here worth fighting over, and I cannot think of one person who was on bad terms with Sir Richard or who was so desperate for land as to seize Marston. An outlander would not know of Eurion’s loyalty to Sir Richard and would, as you said, merely put him out, and any of the lords hereabout would give him shelter.”

“In that case,” Carys put in, looking up from where she was squatting on the ground near the wall, unrolling her blanket to see if any of the garments inside were dry, “should we not leave here as soon as the storm eases and start seeking Eurion at the nearest neighboring manor? Although all seems quiet here, I do not feel easy.”

“Nor do I,” Deri muttered. “I cannot say why. The men back there are content enough. Perhaps it is because the bailiff in Creklade told us of a captain of mercenaries who had attacked the town and been thrown back. Might he not have stumbled over Marston in his retreat and taken it before Sir Richard could get help? It is not unlikely. Marston is next along the river going east, and the bailiff said this Orin styled himself lord.”

The first shock of finding Marston in new hands being over, Telor paused to consider what Carys and Deri had said as he removed Teithiwr’s saddle. Then, with a gesture that bade them wait, he went to get straw with which to rub down all the animals. They heard him asking what to take, receiving a reply, and then going on to ask casually whether there had been a minstrel in the keep when it was taken. Carys, who had got to her feet with her good tunic and braies, which were dry, in her hand, dropped them when she saw how grim Deri’s face had become and that his hand had pulled the sling from his belt and picked a pebble from the pouch. She held her breath, her own hand poised near the hilt of her hidden right-hand knife. But no angry or suspicious counterquestions challenged Telor.

One man said gruffly that they knew nothing of the taking of the place and had seen no minstrel. Another said they had been brought from Cockswell, near Faringdon, and had been glad to come, since the king’s army had driven them out of their homes and was grazing their horses on the half-grown crops. A third agreed that Marston had been as it now was when they arrived.

“You heard?” Telor asked Carys and Deri when he came back, his arms piled with straw. He dumped his load where the animals could reach it, and Deri quickly kicked it into three rough piles as he tucked away pebble and sling. Telor pulled a handful of straw from one pile and began to wipe down his horse.

“Yes, I did,” Deri replied sharply before he started work on Surefoot, “although it is a miracle I could hear anything with my heart banging so hard in my ears. I was sure they would all run off screeching you were a spy the minute you said the place had been taken. How were you supposed to know that?”

“The way I
did
know it,” Telor answered, frowning. “By being a minstrel who had been here before.”

“And would a new lord think of your noticing that? More likely he would think it safest to be rid of you,” Deri snapped.

“The barons are not so bad as that,” Telor protested.

“If they are noble born and are doing what is right, most are not,” Deri agreed. “But a renegade captain lifting himself up to landowner by a conquest not approved by his betters might not be so reasonable. It would cost him nothing to hang you.”

Telor shrugged. “You might be right. I had better not ask any questions of the men-at-arms. I hoped to avoid coming face to face with the man. I liked Sir Richard and would as soon not sing for his conqueror—but I must discover what has happened to Eurion.”

“Eurion would not have stayed with a man like Orin—” Deri began.

“Not willingly,” Telor interrupted before Deri could go on to add that it would be more sensible to search for the old minstrel outside Marston. “But I cannot take the chance that he is being held here against his will to amuse the new lord or was just thrown into the pot with the other servants if they were sold.” He hesitated and then went on slowly, “You know, Deri, there might be an innocent reason for the new servants. Eurion might still be here. As soon as the rain eases, I will go to the great hall—“

“There is no need for that,” Deri put in hastily. “
I
can ask questions of anyone. All I need do is put on my motley and mumble and mouth and cut a few capers. No one will believe a fool to be a spy.”

“No one will answer the questions either,” Telor said, smiling his thanks. “No, Deri.” He held up a hand to forestall further argument. “Even if you found the answers, I do not think I could avoid meeting the new lord. The men-at-arms would not let us go without his leave. I am certain someone went to tell the lord that one who said he was ‘Telor the minstrel’ had craved shelter. Since he gave permission, it is likely that he wants entertainment. All I need do is sing a few songs.”

Carys, having finished squeezing as much of the wet from Doralys as she could, had moved over to do Surefoot’s head and back, which Deri could not reach without something to climb on. She was afraid. All she wanted was to get out of this place as soon as possible, but she remembered how quick and hot Telor’s temper could be and she connected that with Deri’s efforts to prevent a meeting between Telor and the new master of Marston. If they were all there, she dancing on her rope and Deri acting the fool, they might divert the lord from any hot words Telor might speak about what had happened to Eurion.

Swallowing the lump of fear in her throat, Carys said, “I think we should all go together. I know you do not like to be associated with common players, but if this man is of the common folk, he would be better pleased with my work and Deri’s than with yours.”

“But I do not want him to be pleased.” Telor looked at Carys with a puzzled frown. “God forbid. If he is pleased, he might keep us here for weeks. Whatever made you say such a silly thing?”

“She is afraid,” Deri said, knowing that Telor would never deliberately take him or Carys into a place where they might be endangered no matter how ingenious an excuse Carys found. “She is afraid that you will let your temper loose if you hear that ill has befallen Eurion. She thinks that if we are with you, you will think of the harm that can befall us and be more careful.”

“Whatever has happened to Eurion, I could do him no good by being made captive or getting myself killed,” Telor pointed out. “I am not altogether a fool. I will be careful.”

“That is not what I was thinking,” Carys protested most untruthfully, for Deri had actually struck the heart of the target. However, she was not much reassured by what Telor said. There was a grimness about him that froze her soul. Steadying her voice, she added, “I guessed you would not try to fit your songs to this man’s liking and…and I was afraid you might go too far and make him angry.”

“Very well,” Telor said coldly, “I will be careful of that too. Now let me see if I can find something dry to wear, and while I am gone spread out the wet clothes to dry.”

The finality of his tone silenced both Carys and Deri. Both realized Telor would not take them with him no matter what they said, and to irritate him would only make matters worse. For a time all devoted themselves to unpacking, finding dry, or nearly dry, clothes, and changing into them. Next, Telor inspected each of his instruments with care while Carys and Deri tried to wring out and spread the tent cloths. All the instruments except one were quite dry in their wrappings of oiled cloth and cases of greased leather. The damp one, the old harp in which Telor’s profits from the wedding at Castle Combe were hidden, he dried and set aside quite casually as a man-at-arms came in, limping badly, and spoke to the group of men who pointed in their direction.

“The cap—lord wants to see the minstrel,” he said.

Telor rose and slung his lute over his shoulder. “I am the minstrel.”

“Is that your fool?” the man-at-arms asked, looking at Deri rather eagerly.

“No, only my servant,” Telor replied, praying that Deri’s motley was hidden.

“Deri Longarms, at your service,” Deri said, bowing correctly, without the flourishes or twistings of the face he used when acting the fool. “I am sorry that I am not a fool and never learned to act like one,” he added. “Mayhap my life would have been easier that way.”

“Two servants?” the man-at-arms asked, looking at Carys and then suddenly looking away.

“My apprentice, Caron,” Telor explained. “He is not very good yet, so—”

“You need not bring him,” the man agreed, his glance flickering to Carys and away again. “He and the dwarf can get dinner from the cook shed. The lord will tell you where to eat.”

When Telor and the man-at-arms were gone, partly to allay his anxiety with talk about something besides what might happen between Telor and the lord, Deri asked Carys what she had done to make the man-at-arms turn away from her so fast. She promptly put on her ugly face, even smiling with it when Deri shuddered, which horrified him even more.

Torn between shock and laughter, Deri exclaimed, “That man will think Telor is insane to—” Carys gestured urgently, and he lowered his voice, finishing, “—to take an apprentice who looks like that.”

Carys shrugged. “I do not like men-at-arms,” she said softly. “There are too many men-at-arms here, and everything that has been said between you and Telor reminds me of that place where Ulric was killed. The men are not so wild here, I see that, but still…”

***

Inside the great hall where the man-at-arms led him and then left him, Telor could have echoed Carys’s words. There was no disorder. Menservants were setting up tables for dinner, and there were even some women-servants about; none of the servants seemed to be hurt or afraid—but not one had a familiar face, and there was a tension in the hall, a feeling of suspicion and unease. That, Telor thought, might well emanate from the man sitting in the chair of state, which was drawn to a comfortable distance from the fire burning low in the central hearth. From the set of his clothes, Telor guessed there were bandages on his thigh and arm and possibly around his chest, but that was hard to tell. So he had not taken Marston without cost, Telor thought, and then corrected himself because he might have been wounded in the attack on Creklade…if this was the same man.