The Rope Dancer (36 page)

Most of his mind was given to trying to remember a shop that might carry tools for woodworking, and he finally got what he thought might be needed. He paid far too much, but he did not care and hurried back to the cookshop. With the tools in hand, Deri was able to think, but after considering one excuse or lie after another, he realized that Carys would believe nothing but the truth.

Deri cursed himself roundly for having promised to tell her if he went away; but the promise had been given, and he was sure that she would have rushed off to Marston or into some other trouble if he simply disappeared. All he could think of was that he would have to knock her unconscious and tie her up if she insisted on accompanying him.

He found Carys in the yard of the cookshop on her knees with her arms raised, her eyes turned up to the moon, and tears streaming down her face. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“The Lady will not speak to me,” Carys sobbed. “I was so sure, but now…Oh, where is he, Deri? Is he already in Marston?”

“No, I think not.” Deri said, answering her last and most urgent question and scarcely aware of her strange first sentence because of his tearing need to be gone to get the tools to Telor. “Come, get up and help me saddle my horse,” he urged, “and try to be calm and believe that Telor is not in any immediate danger.”

“They are not fighting now?” she asked, jumping to her feet.

“No, nor will be tomorrow,” Deri answered, “because Lord William is leaving tomorrow morning, I think to gather men from Marston’s neighbors. He does not expect Telor to get into Marston until tomorrow, and Telor will need that night and perhaps the next to weaken the gate bars so they will burst at the first touch of the ram.”

Carys’s hand clutched Deri’s shoulder so hard that he drew in his breath and pulled her hand away. “Do not cripple me, girl,” he protested.

“You mean that he will not try to kill Orin before he works on the bars?” she asked, not seeming to have heard his complaint.

“I am sure he will try to keep his word to Lord William,” Deri told her.

She slumped back down to the ground as if her legs had gone weak, looked back up at the moon again, and whispered something Deri could not make out—not that he cared, except to hope she was not becoming moon-kissed under the load of fear.

“Carys!” he said sharply, pulling at her. “Help me saddle a horse.”

Now when her eyes turned to his they were sensible and calm. “Why?” she asked as she got to her feet again.

Deri repeated what Telor had promised to do for Lord William, and his own need—useless as he was sure it was—to carry tools to Telor. He then hurried on to assure her he would be back the next morning, hoping to stave off arguments about why she should carry the tools instead or go with him, but none came. Carys only cocked her head oddly, as if listening for a very faint sound, and then nodded.

“Get the saddle,” she said, and when he brought it and flung it onto the back of the horse he used, she caught it and straightened the straps for him and said, “How can Lord William be sure Telor will be able to get into Marston?”

So while he saddled the horse and went to change into the hauberk of the man-at-arms, he recounted his conversation with Lord William, forgetting in his hurry and anxiety to expunge the part that concerned his promise to Telor and his eagerness to be part of the taking of Marston until he heard Carys draw a sharp breath.

“I did not mean that, Carys,” he said. “I was only caught up in my own memories. Orin is nothing to me. I hardly knew Eurion.”

Carys shook her head. “No, no,” she said urgently, “you must be there. Listen, Deri, if you say that Telor will try to keep his word to Lord William and weaken the bars that hold the gate, there is a good chance that he will not try to kill Orin before the attack takes place. That means that there is at least a chance that you will be able to get inside Marston to help him. One man alone can be surrounded by three, but two, back to back, can make a strong defense. You have armor and a sword. The men-at-arms, Lord William’s and whatever other lord’s men are sent, the men from the town, all have friends and companions who will do what they can for each other. No one will know Telor or care whether he lives or dies. You must be there if you can.”

“But I promised Telor—”

“I do not need you, Deri,” Carys said, “Telor does. Never mind what he told you about a woman alone. I am no longer a filthy girl in a torn and faded dancing dress who would be driven from any town she tried to enter as a thief or a whore. I have good clothes and horses and money. I can be a merchant’s apprentice or a burgher’s widow or anything else I like until I find people with whom I can work. Do not fear for me. Besides, if you are with Telor, very likely you will both be safe. I feel that.”

Deri rubbed his forehead so hard the skin whitened under the pressure and then remained reddened. “I am torn apart,” he groaned. “Will you swear to me you will stay safe here?”

“Do not make me promise that,” Carys pleaded. “I beg you to trust me not to make trouble. I will gladly swear that I will not try to force my way or sneak my way into Marston alone. Will that content you?”

It did not content him, yet his fear that he was only looking for excuses to leave Telor to die was so strong that he could not speak. He snatched up the sword and belt and turned away. Carys ran after him.

“Have a care for yourself, Deri,” she whispered, bending to kiss his cheek. “You are my friend, my only friend. I need you too.”

The moon was full and gave sufficient light to ride at a decent pace, but Deri dared not drive the animal faster than a trot. He was not accustomed to riding so large a mount and feared that if it stumbled, he would be thrown.

The village was all dark when Deri reached Marston, but he drew his sword and leaned from his horse’s back to hammer on the door of what he judged to be the largest and most central hut. He thought he saw a flicker of light through a chink in the shutter; probably someone was examining him. He could only hope that one man on horseback would not be considered a threat, but he had to appear bad-tempered too, so he pounded on the door again. He heard the bar shift and sighed with relief when a tousled man peered out fearfully.

“Fetch Michael the woodcarver,” Deri snarled.

“We have no woodcarver here,” the man at the door quavered.

“Do not lie to me,” Deri growled, lifting the sword suggestively. “I know he came to Marston village this very day with some other—”

“Them!” There was relief in the man’s voice now. “They are there—” He pointed at a house that now showed a very faint line of light beneath its ill-fitting door.

Deri turned his horse at once, as if he did not care whether the man watched, but he was relieved to hear the door close. He used his sword hilt on the other door, and this one opened promptly, and the man, whose manner was very different from that of the fearful serf, whispered, “From my lord?”

“I want Michael the woodcarver,” Deri said loudly as he nodded his head.

“He is not here,” Lord William’s man replied. “He went up to the manor with us, but we were sent down to lodge in the village. I do not know what became of him.”

Deri swallowed hard and bent down to speak softly. “I am no man-at-arms,” he confessed. “I am the woodcarver’s servant. Do you know if he carried tools with him? The lord asked me, and I did not know, so I was bidden to bring these.” He handed over the packet.

“I will do my best to get them to him. Do you want to stay the night here?”

“No,” Deri replied, fearing that if one word of a dwarf in the village drifted back to the manor, it would spark an instant search for Telor. He did not think that either man he had spoken to suspected he was a dwarf, for it was dark and they had no particular reason to look hard at his legs. But aside from keeping that secret, his purpose was lost. He turned his horse automatically back toward Lechlade, but as soon as he was out of sight of the village, he stopped.

Common sense bade him go back, either to stay with Carys or present himself to Lord William, but an enormous bitterness filled him, and he could not. If he had been a normal man, he could have been with Telor now. Because he was a monster that anyone could recognize in one glance, he was worse than useless. Deri started the horse moving again, and again stopped. He could not go back; he simply could not. Thinking over what Lord William’s man had said, he was reasonably sure that Telor had not been recognized and taken prisoner. That, he was certain, would have caused enough of an uproar to be noticed by a man alert to anything he could see and hear in an enemy’s territory, which Lord William’s man must be.

The assurance brought Deri no relief, since he knew the minstrel might be caught at any moment working at the gate bars and he would have no way of knowing. But once Telor was known, Deri’s presence could no longer betray him! Doubtless discovering Telor and taking him prisoner would cause enough excitement day or night that Deri would notice something amiss if he watched the keep. And he knew just from where to watch. With that decision, a weight of a thousand pounds rolled off Deri’s heart and he turned the animal back to look for the little track on which he and the others had come the night of their escape to join the road to Creklade. He could hide his horse in the abandoned farm they had passed and watch the keep from the top of any large tree in the little wood between the farm and the manor. He would watch this night, the next day, and the following night. The third dawn he would have to leave to seek out Lord William, but if Telor had not been discovered by then, there was a good chance that he would be safe until the attack started, unless he tried to kill Orin. But even then, if Telor were not killed at once, Lord William’s assault might start before Telor’s punishment was begun.

Deri had not the faintest idea what he would do or could do if a furor indicated Telor had been captured. He had no hope of saving the minstrel if Orin ordered him killed immediately. All he could do then was avenge his friend when he came in with Lord William’s men. But Telor’s swift death was not what dried Deri’s mouth with fear and roiled his stomach. Orin seemed to have a taste for torture, and Deri was determined to spare Telor that kind of death—or die himself in the attempt, and be free of the knowledge of it.

***

Carys lay down quietly in all her clothes to wait for the night to pass. She had felt such relief when Deri rode off, however, that it was no surprise to find, when she wakened suddenly, that she had fallen asleep. At first she had no idea what had wakened her, but when she turned her head, a ray of moonlight touched one eye. Instantly alert, Carys heard a faint scrabbling sound, and she leapt up to pull aside the shutter that closed the opening into the loft. She was sure it was Deri, and her heart pounded, one moment hoping Deri had Telor with him and the next fearing he had not waited to join Lord William because Telor was dead. But when she flung the shutter aside, there was no one on the ladder, and she realized the sound was coming from the cookshop below.

A mighty hand seemed to grasp her chest and squeeze as a dreadful knowledge overwhelmed all hope. Deri was below, afraid to come up and tell her Telor was gone from them forever. So all her belief that the Lady had singled her out was no more than a child’s clinging to a silly dream to ward off fear. Tears rose in her eyes and trickled down her face, and she had to cling to the frame of the opening to steady herself, but as soon as she could, she climbed down the ladder. This truth could not be hidden from oneself, and it would grow no less bitter for delay.

Carys opened the door of the cookshop and called softly to Deri, but the word was answered by a thin squeak of terror. Nothing could bring such a sound out of Deri—not that he was above fear, but he was built wrong to squeak. A thief, then! In the burst of joy that washed over her, Carys was predisposed to forgive anyone anything.

“Come out,” Carys called softly. “I will do you no harm and I will let you go, but you must not steal anything large.” There was no answer, and Carys sharpened her tone, although she still spoke softly. “If you do not come out at once, I will shout for help. My friend and I must pay for any loss in this shop, and I do not—”

“Do not call out,” a trembling whisper pleaded. “It is Ann.”

Carys was struck dumb. Finally she brought out, “Ann?” in a strangled, disbelieving gasp.

A small figure detached itself from a pile of sacks and oddments and came out into the dim light provided by the open door. “Where is he?” Ann asked bitterly. “Above? In your bed?”

Although she still could hardly believe her eyes, Carys responded to the agony in the questions and put out her hand as she said, “Deri is gone to help Telor.” But then amazement overtook her again and she asked, “What are you doing here at this time of night?”

There was a silence, and then Ann said defiantly, “I came to lie with Deri, to feel a man’s arms around me for once in my life, to—” Her voice broke on a sob.

“Oh, Ann,” Carys whispered, “he would not. You heard him tell your father he would not despoil you.”

“You mean he thinks I am a monster too?”

“Ann!” Carys gasped. She had been about to urge the girl to hurry home before anyone knew she was missing, but she could not. “Come up to the loft with me,” she said.

Carys was sorry she asked a moment later, wondering if Ann would be able to climb the ladder, but she did not object and went up it with effort but no real trouble. When they were in, Carys lit two candles from the tiny rushlight left burning as a night-light. Then she turned to tell Ann to sit on the sleeping pallet with her and stopped with her mouth open. There was no longer any dichotomy between woman’s face and child’s body. Over a yellow tunic, Ann wore a brilliant red bliaut laced tight to her figure, which was even better developed than Carys had expected.

“By the Lady,” she got out, “I think Deri would have kept his word to your father, but it would have been no easy task. You are
lovely
, Ann. I think your father is mad. I think any man who saw you as you are now would be glad to have you and would be as doting and fond a husband as any woman could want.”

“Until I bore him a monster child,” Ann said.

To that, Carys had no answer. She knew that the dwarf women among the players sometimes bore dwarf children and had heard rumors that worse than dwarves were born too. But sometimes the children were no different from others. Among players it made little difference. A dwarf child was very welcome. To a burgher, that could not be true.

“I will never marry,” Ann went on. “Is it so wrong of me to want to know a man? And Deri is not like most of…us that I have seen. He is clever. He is kind. And his face…I will never forget him, never. My father will kill me if he learns what I have done. Above all, he dreads a monster grandchild that will mark our family as cursed for all time. But I do not care. When will Deri come back?” Then she came forward and grasped Carys’s hand. “He will come back, will he not?”

“I—I do not know,” Carys said. “He will come back if he can, but—”

“What do you mean, if he can?” Ann cried. “Do you think you are being kind to me to hide that he could not bear to look at me and fled?”

“Now you are being silly,” Carys said angrily. “You think too much about yourself. You are not the center of the world. Deri has more important things to think about than a girl.” Suddenly Carys remembered her earlier terror, and her chin trembled. “Deri and my Telor are going into great danger. They may not come out of it alive—and all you can think of are your hurt feelings.”

“I did not know,” Ann breathed. “Oh, yes, you said Telor was on an errand to Lord William, but…Can we do nothing to help them?”

Carys stared down at Ann, dumbstruck for a moment. The question was the very last she would have expected. A cry of grief, a promise to pray, to light candles…but a desire to help? What kind of help did Ann think she could give? Carys spoke that question aloud.

“How can I tell until I know what the danger is?” Ann replied. “I am not very strong, but no one notices a child running an errand or idling about, a little girl nursing her rag baby in a corner. And I know the evil herbs. Get me to the kitchen, and I can make anyone believe I belong there—and then lay a whole keep low, perhaps kill many.”

A flicker of pleasure on her face when she said that made Carys shiver inside, but it passed swiftly. A plan was forming in Carys’s mind, forming so perfectly and so quickly that she glanced over her shoulder involuntarily. The moon had moved, and the whole opening of the loft was silver with moonlight. But one question needed answering before the plan was possible.

“Telor and Deri are not in Lechlade, Ann,” Carys said. “To help, you would have to come away with me. I am sure you will be punished dreadfully for that. You must think carefully—”

Ann shuddered and then laughed. “I do not need to think. Papa can only beat me and lock me up and starve me for a while, and I will have seen more than the inside of this cookshop and done more than stir a pot. Yes, I will come, but where are they?”

Drawing Ann to the pallets so they could sit, Carys told her everything she knew. Toward the end of the tale, there was the sound of tramping feet and a groan of wagon wheels. Carys flew to the front of the loft and peered out through the air vent under the roof. By twisting her neck she could see a small slice of the corner where their lane met the main road. A troop of men-at-arms was marching toward the western gate of the town.

“If you are still willing to come,” Carys said, “we must hurry. Troops are marching out, and I am sure there will be those who follow for one reason or another. I will put packs on two of the horses, and I think the gate guards will pass us without question.”

“Yes,” Ann agreed. “It is not their business to stop any from leaving, unless there is a cry of thievery or other evil in the town. But I cannot ride, and—and I do not think I could keep up with you afoot. I will follow as fast as I can—”

Carys was touched by the desperate determination and pressed Ann’s hand. “You will sit behind me and hold tight, and I will tie you to the saddle so that you cannot fall, even if your arms should grow tired. It will be frightening…I was frightened to death when Telor first took me on his horse, but there cannot be any real danger. Nor, I hope, will there be any danger to you in the plan I have made, but come, let us make up the packs for the horses—if you are still sure you wish to come and face your father’s wrath thereafter. You know you can run home now and no one will be the wiser, and I will not think ill of you, I swear.”

Ann did not answer, only got to her feet and pulled the blankets free of the pallets. Carys used one to wrap Telor’s old harp, wondering what had happened to his lute. Then the clothing, the hauberk Telor had worn with sword and belt and helmet, everything they could find was bundled into a second blanket, except several of the strips of cloth from Carys’s dancing dress. Only when she was about to fasten the blankets into packs did she stop and say, “Ann! You cannot go riding about the countryside dressed like that. Heavens, what can you wear?”

“I have an old gown in the kitchen,” Ann said, “in case something should spill on me. Help me undress.”

She climbed down the ladder in her shift while Carys added her tunic and bliaut to the pack of clothing and found it difficult to close the blanket. With a soft oath she snatched out the two thickest articles—Deri’s and Telor’s cloaks—and then looked uneasily over her shoulder at the moonlit opening again. Now she realized the cloaks would be needed, but she had not known when she pulled them out, and she felt the Lady’s hand strongly. By the time Carys had closed and lowered the packs to the ground with her rope, Ann was waiting, shivering a little in the chilly night air, but still she hugged Deri’s cloak close and sniffed it for his scent before she drew it around her.