The next day we stopped early in the afternoon.
"How long will Vintel stay in Merin's house?" Sparrow asked Maara.
"No longer than can be helped," Maara replied. "She will be given time to take her leave of Merin. Then I want her gone. It will be difficult enough to keep the peace between Merin's people and the northerners."
Sparrow looked a little sad, but she understood. Nothing would suit Vintel better than a breaking of the fragile peace.
"If you want to spend tonight in Vintel's encampment," I said, "I understand."
Sparrow shook her head. "I'll walk with her tomorrow."
Then she leaned toward me and whispered something in my ear.
Later that night Maara asked me what Sparrow had said.
"It's a secret," I told her. "You'll find out in the morning."
Maara had me up before first light.
"We're going on ahead," she said. "Just you and me."
I wasn't unwilling, but I wanted to know why.
"So that you can have a few quiet moments with Merin and your mother."
Now that we were within the boundaries of Merin's land, Maara was willing to leave my guard behind. The night before, she had left instructions for them to stay with Laris and Taia, who would lead the army in my absence. We had a start of half an hour, and anticipation lightened my step. We could hope for at least an hour of peace and quiet before we had to deal with their arrival.
The rising sun revealed the beauty of Merin's land in springtime. After the darkness of the forest and the drab shades of the wilderness, the tender green of leaf and grass, the sparkle of sunlight on the river, the open sky, the blooming earth, made this place the loveliest of any I had ever seen. This was home.
I had taken for granted that I would always find a welcome here until my exile taught me otherwise. It made my homecoming all the sweeter, to have back again what I had lost. I wondered how I could have been so willing to remain with the forest people or to join Bru's household. This was the place I belonged to, as it belonged to me.
By midmorning we were within sight of Merin's house. The countryside was deserted. On such a beautiful spring day, people should have been out of doors, working on the practice ground or bathing in the river.
"Where is everyone?" I asked Maara.
"Behind us. Every able body would have gone with Vintel's army."
Then I caught sight of someone on the trail. A moment later she caught sight of us, and she lifted the long skirt of her gown as she hurried toward us. I wouldn't have known who it was if not for what Sparrow had told me the night before, but Maara knew her right away.
"It's Namet," she said, and before I could reply, she ran to meet her.
I dawdled a little, to give them a few moments alone together. When I reached them, Namet let go of Maara long enough to embrace me.
"Your mother is beside herself," Namet told me. "She refused to believe the worst had happened, but I know she was as terrified as I was. Even if you were living, we didn't know if we would ever see either of you again."
Namet wiped a few tears from her eyes with her sleeve.
"Is this Sparrow's surprise?" Maara asked me, while Namet composed herself.
"Yes," I said. "She told me last night that when she sent the messenger, she told him to be sure Namet was sent for, so that she would be here in time to welcome her daughter home."
"That was kind of her," said Maara.
"Yes," murmured Namet. "Very kind."
Namet knit her brows, as if she found it difficult to credit Sparrow with such an act of kindness. I hoped she might now be willing to reconsider her opinion of someone she had misjudged.
But Namet had no time to think of Sparrow. She was busy looking Maara over.
"How did you survive the winter?" she asked. "Were you hungry? Were you cold?"
Maara assured her that we had been comfortable and well fed. She answered Namet's doubtful look with the revelation that we had spent the winter among the forest people.
Both Namet and I let out exclamations of surprise.
Maara looked at me. "I think we can trust Namet with this news," she said. "Don't you?"
"Of course," I said.
"And Merin and your mother."
I smiled at her. "I'm glad to hear you say so. I've never been able to keep a secret from my mother."
"I can hardly wait to hear this wonderful tale," Namet said, "but first we must bring Tamras home."
Where the trail was wide enough, Namet walked between us, and where it narrowed, she gestured to Maara to go ahead, so that she wouldn't lose sight of her. From time to time I saw her reach out and touch Maara's arm, as if to reassure herself that she was real, and not a wraith conjured by grief and wishful thinking.
When we grew near to Merin's house, I saw that the place wasn't quite deserted. Two young women were sunning themselves in a meadow by the river. As lovers do, they saw nothing but each other. One was sitting up, gazing down upon her beloved, who lay with her head in her lover's lap. The sight of the two of them together, content in the warmth of springtime and in each other's company, made me long for the time when I was as innocent as they.
When I would have turned aside onto the path that led up the hill to Merin's house, Namet stopped me.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"To find my mother," I replied.
"Do you not see her there, waiting for you?"
I looked up, thinking she might be keeping watch from atop the embankments.
"Not there," said Namet. "There." And she pointed to the two young lovers. They were both sitting up now. It was Merin and my mother.
This time Maara and Namet stayed behind while I ran on ahead. By the time I reached them, they were both on their feet. My mother seized me and held me at arm's length and scowled at me, as if she suspected that I might be an imposter. Then she drew me into an embrace that nearly squeezed the life out of me. When she finally let go, I gasped for breath.
Merin had hung back while my mother greeted me. Now my mother drew her into our embrace, a gentler one this time, and we stood like that, with our arms around each other, until Maara and Namet joined us.
While my mother wiped her tears away, Merin turned to Maara and embraced her with a warmth I would not have thought her capable of. I didn't know whether Maara or I was more surprised.
Then Merin turned to Namet. "You were right, Mother," she said. "I should have trusted your far-seeing eye."
"It was not my far-seeing eye that gave me hope," Namet replied. "I have always been unwilling to believe bad news." She turned to me. "And Tamras promised that she would bring my daughter back to me. I've never known her not to keep her word." She stood beaming at me until I felt myself blush.
"Perhaps we should sit down here a while," Maara said, "so that we can tell you what has happened."
There was a moment of confusion, while our mothers decided whether they would rather sit beside us so that they could hold on to us, or across from us so that they could get a good look at us. They finally did a bit of both. We sat down in a circle. Merin and my mother settled me between them, and my mother invited Maara to sit at her other side. Namet took the place between Maara and Merin.
I looked across the circle at Maara, hoping she would begin. I had told the story so often I was tired of it, but every time she told it, I heard something new.
Maara began with the night Vintel took her captive. Most of it they knew already, because Sparrow had held nothing back from them. They knew that I had killed one of Vintel's warriors and that Vintel's warriors claimed they had killed us.
"I never believed it," Namet said. "It could have been Vintel's lie, to cause us to lose hope. Or it could have been her warriors' lie. They would have said anything to keep on the right side of Vintel." She turned to Maara and took her hand. "I was afraid, because I knew you were in danger, but I never believed you dead. By a sense I can't explain, I felt the world still held you in it. I felt you in this world alive."
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Something in her voice made me wonder if she had felt Eramet leave this world, even before word reached us.
Our mothers were anxious to learn how we had survived the winter. Maara made it into an amusing tale. They listened, enchanted, to our stories of the forest people. Namet asked question after question, wanting to know everything about them, and I suspected she would have liked to make a second journey beyond the wilderness, to see them for herself.
Maara said nothing of my illness that winter. There was enough in the story of our adventures to alarm them without relating troubles they didn't need to know about. As she told of our capture by the northerners, our dealings with Elen, the gathering of the armies and their encounter on the battlefield, they all grew very quiet. No one interrupted or exclaimed out loud. They held their breaths as they held their tongues, so that Maara would leave nothing out.
It took Maara so long to explain about all the armies and their factions--about Bru and the others who had once been Merin's prisoners, about Elen and her army, about the young king and his men, about the common folk and the mighty -- that I heard the faint tramp of feet before she got to the part about our alliance with the northern tribes and Vintel's defeat. Maara heard them too.
"We should go now," she said, "and prepare to greet the army."
Merin looked puzzled. "Is Vintel returning already?" she asked.
"Vintel and all the others," Maara replied. "I thought Sparrow sent a messenger with the news."
My mother put her arm around my shoulders and pulled me close against her side. "He told us they had found you both alive and that you would soon be coming home," she said. "Then he went on and on about armies and battles and alliances with folk we'd never heard of. He counted even the northern tribes among our allies, and then we knew he must be talking through his hat."
The tramp of feet grew louder. All of us stood up and turned to face the north, as the first ranks of the army came into view. They were too many to keep to the narrow trail. They flowed like a river through the hills, filling the clefts between, where the slopes were gentle, surging over the crests of the lowest hills and spilling down the hillsides.
"What the messenger told you was true," said Maara. "Every warrior you see, and many more to come, have pledged their loyalty to Tamras. Among them you will find three chieftains of the northern tribes with the warriors of their households, who have come to court the friendship of Merin's house."
Namet shaded her eyes and watched as more and more of my army revealed itself. She didn't seem surprised. She smiled a little secret smile, as if this was something her far-seeing eye had already witnessed.
Merin and my mother stared at the army in astonishment. Then my mother turned to me. On her face was an expression of surprise that quickly turned to pride.
Merin's expression had more amusement in it. "So," she said. "I see there is no question now of your adoption. If you have come to conquer, I will gladly offer you my sword."
Merin was teasing me, but her voice had a solemn note in it, and I believe she would have offered me her sword before the entire household, if I had asked for it.
"I always intended to return authority to you," I told her.
"Do you believe I will accept it?"
Merin still had a teasing twinkle in her eye, but behind her words I heard her wish that she could settle the burden of her authority on someone else's shoulders.
"You had better decide which one of you it will be," said Maara, "because very soon someone will have to take charge of them."
"You are my right hand," I told her. "You can take charge of them. You've done a splendid job of it so far."
"Then let us go to meet them," she said, taking charge of us as well. "You and Merin will welcome them together."
97. The Battle of the Wilderness
While we climbed the hill, Maara related the rest of the story. She hurried through it, because already the people of Merin's house, alerted by watchers on the ramparts, were gathering outside the earthworks to witness the arrival of the army. They had expected to see Vintel's warriors coming home. Instead they beheld an army twice the size of the one that had set out. Some stared in wonder, while others grew fearful that Vintel had been defeated and these were our enemies, come to conquer.
Everyone was so intent upon the sight of the approaching warriors that they didn't notice Maara and me until we had almost reached them. Then they surrounded us and assailed us with questions. Servants and elders, companions too young and inexperienced to accompany their warriors to the battlefield, even country people who had taken refuge in the fortress, demanded to hear the news. The Lady raised her arms to ask for silence. When they were quiet she addressed them.
"As you can see," she said, "our lost children have come home. There is a lot to tell you, but it will have to wait, because we have much to do. All I have time to say is this. My daughter Tamras has won the victory in the north, and to her we owe our great good fortune. Go now and prepare a welcome for our guests."
Reluctantly they obeyed her, though they lingered long enough to eye me with doubtful curiosity. The elders went back inside with the servants to oversee the preparations, all but Fet. She stood apart, her eyes searching for one among the multitudes. I went to stand beside her and pointed to the northerners.
"There," I said. "Do you see the warriors of the northern tribes?"
Fet nodded. "I see them."
"She walks beside their chieftains."
Fet knit her brows, then smiled when she found Fodla. Without another word to me, she started down the hill to meet her.
I had not yet seen my sister Tamar. I asked my mother if she was still in Merin's house.
"She must be inside," my mother replied. "She has been caring for old Gnith."
I felt the icy breath of fear. "Is Gnith unwell?"
"A touch of winter sickness. Only a touch, but at her age, a touch of anything is dangerous."
Maara was already consulting with Merin about where the army would establish its encampment. I told her I was going into the house, to find my sister and to pay my respects to Gnith.
I found Gnith alone, sleeping soundly on the hearthstone in the kitchen. I sat down beside her. The silence of the empty kitchen was a relief after the commotion out of doors. I leaned back against the oven, still warm from the morning's baking. I closed my eyes.
At once Gnith joined me, as if we had both stepped through the veil of sleep into the same dream. It's never what you expect, she whispered into my ear.
She touched my brow, and I was in the dark. Deeper than the dark of the cave of running animals where I joined the hunters of the forest people, deeper than the dark of Elen's dungeon where I gazed into the abyss where love is powerless, deep in the dark there is a secret.
"Worn out, poor thing," said Gnith.
Someone touched my arm. I opened my eyes and saw my sister and several of the kitchen servants hovering over me. Gnith was wide awake and sitting up.
"Get her a bite to eat," said Gnith, and Tamar went at once to bring me a bowl of barley soup. When I took it from her hands, I saw the question in her eyes, as well as her reluctance to ask it.
"You will find Sparrow with Vintel," I said. "They will be the last to arrive."
Tamar still looked uneasy.
"She's fine," I said. "Everyone is fine."
"Are you fine too?"
"Fine as frog's hair," I told her.
She laughed, remembering, and sat down to watch me eat.
While I ate, Gnith looked me over. She plucked at my strange clothing, my deerskin trousers and Elen's fine linen shirt.
"Been gone far away," she murmured. "We went too."
The kitchen began to fill with busy people. Gnith lay back down, to take another nice long nap, she said. Tamar went outside to welcome Sparrow, and I went with her, because with Sparrow would come Vintel.
The army, accustomed to living in the field, had set about establishing an encampment outside the
earthworks. Merin's captains, who could have sought the comfort of their own quarters indoors, remained with our guests, to see that they were well cared for, and no doubt to impress upon Maara their fitness for leadership. Though they had acclaimed me, it was Maara they looked to for direction, as they had once looked to Merin's right hand, Vintel.
The Lady, with my mother beside her, was overseeing the activity from a vantage point just outside the earthworks. She still looked frail. She leaned on my mother's arm, as much for support as from affection, yet she looked happier than I had ever seen her, with color in her cheeks and a smile for all who approached her. My mother too had changed -- strong as ever, cheerful as ever, but not as restless, content to stand still right where she was, as if she had settled at last into a deep contentment.
While my eyes were on Merin and my mother, Tamar's eyes had been searching Vintel's army.
"I see Vintel," she said. "Sparrow isn't with her."
Vintel's warriors, surrounded by Bru's men, waited at the foot of the hill. Bru was standing in Vintel's way, his hand on his sword's hilt, his feet firmly planted, while Vintel berated him and gestured in our general direction. Though neither spoke the other's language, they understood each other perfectly.
Maara saw them too and started down the hill.
"What's he doing?" Tamar asked me. "What's going on?"
"Vintel is leaving," I told her.
"When?"
"Today."
"What for?"
"Vintel is no longer welcome here," I said. "Didn't Sparrow tell you? It was Vintel who drove me out of Merin's house."
Tamar looked puzzled. "Do you mean to tell me that Vintel agreed to go just because you came home?"
"She agreed to go because I defeated her," I said.
Tamar laughed.
I had no time to explain. I watched as Maara approached Vintel. She spoke a few quiet words to Bru, then gestured to Vintel to come with her, and together they started up the hill.
I wanted no more to do with Vintel. Another confrontation would accomplish nothing and might prove dangerous. I took Tamar's arm and drew her aside, so that we were a little distance from the footpath and hidden by the crowd. I kept my eyes on Vintel, to see if she would speak to anyone in passing, but she walked quietly beside Maara until they stood before the Lady.