“Negotiate what?” she asked.
“Would Lew ap Ross, would you, be prepared to hold land under the High King, under the King’s Peace? A kingdom under Derwen, off near Tapit Point, where the fort of Dun Morr used to be?”
“Do you have authority to offer that?” Emer asked.
“Only from the land,” I said. “That land is empty and will take people. And as far as Urdo is concerned, if there are armies of Oriel and Lagin attacking in the north, then I think making a peace with you, a trustworthy ally, our Queen’s sister, in the south to free up the ala to fight in the north would be worth some loss of land. The land you have marched across is mostly empty, our farmers mostly live between here and Magor. That is Derwen land, and I am heir to Derwen. I can offer it, subject to the approval of my brother and my king. If Lew would take it and go there and build a settlement and begin to farm, under Derwen and under the High King, and swear to the King’s Peace, all will be well.”
I held my breath.
“I think he would accept that,” she said, at last, her eyes wide. “A kingdom to be had here without fighting.”
“It seems your value on the fidchel board has increased again,” said Fishface, neutrally.
“Oh indeed,” said Emer, not smiling at all. “If Lew is allied to Urdo.”
“Do you hate him so much?” asked Emlin.
“I do my duty,” she said, grimly. None of us could think of anything to say.
“I will form the ala up,” I said. “We may as well give Lew pause before he does something we will all regret. You can tell him you were doing a holy ritual and the land accepts you on those conditions. You must take them west, and I must speak to Morien and send word to Urdo.”
“I hate to be annoying,” said Fishface, “but what about me?”
“We drop you off a cliff on the way?” suggested Emlin. “Tell us your name, man, and we can work something out.”
We waited a moment, but he stayed silent. Emer looked away.
“The lady Emer ap Allel was alone,” I said at last. “She was always alone. We found her alone, and she made an alliance with us alone. You don’t exist. You’re a figment of anyone’s imagination who saw you. You can just sit here until we’re gone, and find your own way back to the Isarnagans a lot later and hope nobody notices. I can’t guest you or ask your friendship or ask any oath, because you are nameless, so you might just as well never have existed at all.”
He stood up, and I scrambled up after him. “Thank you,” he said, bleakly, bowed over my hand, and walked away. The nearest guard’s spear flashed a warning, and he kept on walking towards it.
“Let him go!” I called, and the guard stepped back. I turned to Emlin. “Get him his weapons back and see he gets out of camp safely,” I said. I turned back to Emer. She was watching him out of sight with a very strange expression on her face, as if she was not sure whether to smile or weep. She shook her head a little and looked at me.
“We’d better get on with it,” she said.
26
“Put no trust in a plan that works too easily.”
—Caius Dalitius, “On Military Life”
Emlin was probably the most organized tribuno I ever worked with. In hardly longer than it takes to rub down a horse he had broken camp and got everyone ready. I mounted Beauty and came forward. Some of the armigers were still blinking and rubbing sleep out of their eyes, but they were all mounted and in battle order.
“I’m not expecting to need to fight today,” I told them. “But keep alert and be ready, let’s give them a show.”
We rode over the hill in formation, pennon and ala banners catching the wind, and drew to a creditably sharp halt near the banks of the river. My own ala could hardly have done better.
The mass of the Isarnagans were gathered around the town gate. I gave a hand signal to Berth ap Panon and he gave a great blast on the trumpet. They spun around in a widening wave with a disorganized haste that was almost comical. I sent the heralds forward with branches. The Isarnagans fell back before them and a messenger came out on their side and led them through to their king. Emer came up beside me as we waited for them to return and sat in silence, looking very composed. She was riding a well-mannered dappled half horse that was one of the scouts’ spares. When the heralds signaled that I should come forward to meet their leader she rode forward at my side.
As we had agreed, Emlin stayed with the ala. I let him pick out one of the decurios to go forward with me. So three of us went forward, myself, Emer, and Garian ap Gaius. I think Emlin picked him for his lack of curiosity. The heralds had set up their branches at four corners of a square and stood beside them, two of Lew’s and two of mine.
We dismounted. Emer slid down with a little difficulty. She managed to land on her feet, but it looked as if it were a close thing. Garian steadied her. I suppose she was used to much smaller horses, because it does not usually take two hands to dismount. Beauty nipped at the dappled mare’s hindquarters and she gave him an indignant look over her shoulder. I couldn’t help smiling, even as I reminded Beauty of his manners, and so I was smiling as the Isarnagans came hurrying up.
Lew ap Ross was not an impressive-looking man. He was thickset and grey-haired and had grown his moustache longer than his beard in the old-fashioned Isarnagan style. He brought two counselors with him, one a warrior and the other a much older man in a long shawl. Lew’s mouth fell open a little when he saw his wife, which allowed Emer to get in the first word, with no time for thought or introductions.
“Good news, my husband,” she said. She went towards him and bowed as best she could. “The gods smile on us this day.”
“What is this?” asked the older Isarnagan. He sounded a little indignant, as if anything to do with the gods should have come to him first. I suddenly realized with a shock that he must be an oracle-priest of the old tradition. They had been in many of my old nurse’s stories. To meet one in broad light of day was like finding a relic out of the barbarous past. The Vincans had outlawed the strange practices and education needed to train them more than four hundred years ago. There had been occasional naturally born oracles since, like Morwen, but nobody deliberately set out to become one in Tir Tanagiri. I looked at him with curiosity and apprehension. There was nothing strange about him except the shawl. He did not have an eagle’s beak instead of a nose nor cat’s ears. Nor did he not immediately put his hand on anyone’s belly and begin prophesying their death conditions. I caught myself before I descended further into childish superstitions. This was a learned man and one of Lew’s trusted counselors. I wondered if he really knew the names of all the parts of all the trees.
“Greetings, ap Fial,” she said, turning to him. “Will you hear me?”
“We will hear you,” said Lew, frowning and gesturing to the others for silence. “How came you here in this company?”
“I woke before the dawn with a strong will moving me to go deep into the woods and commune with the gods of this land. As I am a queen and the daughter of kings, I followed this will and departed, and there deep among the trees I was found by the armigers of this mighty warlord Sulien ap Gwien.” She gestured to me, and I bowed blandly. “I was wounded in fighting with them, but they took me to their camp and healed me. There ap Gwien and I spoke long together. There I found that the spirits of the land had spoken to her and moved her. Understanding why we had come out of Tir Isarnagiri, under their guidance she was determined to offer land freely to Lew ap Ross and the people of Anlar. We have come to you to debate if you will take this offer, blessed in the sight of the gods, or if nothing will content you but the blood of those who would be our brothers.”
The most amazing thing about this speech was that although it left out several things, there was not a word of a lie in it. Lew ap Ross rubbed his eyes. I looked at him as cheerfully as I could manage. His counselors were clearly stricken speechless. I decided to take advantage of this state of affairs to be specific.
“The land I would o
ffer you lies to the west of here, around the old city of Dun Morr, and it has lain for the most part empty for many years. If you would take it you must hold it in obedience to my brother Morien, who is lord of all Derwen, and the land will still be part of Derwen. But you can rule your people as you would, within the High King’s law. You must also swear to keep faith with the High King Urdo.”
“You are offering an alliance?” asked Lew, tugging his moustache.
I wished for Raul or someone who was good at explaining complicated political situations. “Sweyn of Tevin was defeated by Urdo at Foreth,” I said, “and now all the Jarnish lands acknowledge Urdo as High King. The whole Island of Tir Tanagiri is one kingdom, with many kings under the High King. What I am offering is that your kingdom become part of Derwen, which is part of the High Kingdom. You shall rule your own people as you will under your own laws and traditions, but you will have the Lord of Derwen and the High King over you.”
“And what troops must we provide?” asked the warrior, as if he has discovered a hidden catch. I stared at him. That definitely wasn’t a question for me to answer. No doubt Urdo would be glad of some Isarnagan levies, but I could not say how many.
“That, and the matter of taxes, will have to be agreed by my brother the High King and by Morien ap Gwien,” Emer said, smoothly. “Those are but details, my husband. We should consider the principle. We already have ties of blood with Urdo’s people.”
“In principle, well, in principle,” sputtered Lew, folding his hands behind his back. “What do you say?” he asked his advisors.
The warrior shrugged. In marked contrast to his king he had stood still as we had been speaking, paying close attention to Garian and to me. “I say we fight, we could have it all instead of a part, and we need the stores to get through the winter. Also there is our alliance with Black Darag.”
The old priest frowned at Emer and spoke slowly. “I say we take it. It would be spurning your queen and the gods themselves to do otherwise. Rarely do they speak so clearly, even to a queen and the daughter of kings.”
“I hear you, ap Ranien. I hear you, ap Fial,” said Lew, formally, then hesitated. “Perhaps I should speak to the whole council about this?”
“Speak to them for as long as you like after you have decided, my husband,” said Emer. “I think ap Ranien’s point about supplies is good. Can we get through the winter without them?”
“If we can fish, yes,” said Lew, sounding definite for the first time. “It is seed for next year we will need, if we do not raid.”
“Will you give us seed?” Emer asked me.
“I do not know if we can spare it,” I said, honestly. “The harvest is not yet gathered, as you know.” Emer glanced at me, and I said no more, she at least understood that the ala could prevent them from gaining access to the crops. “Again we must ask my brother Morien, the Lord of Derwen.”
“Then let us ask him,” said ap Fial, looking right at me for the first time. His eyes were very sharp.
“Are we agreed,” Emer asked, putting her hand on Lew’s arm.
“If they will give us seed crops for next spring and the empty land, yes,” he said.
“Then take your troops back away from the town to your camp where the wagons are,” I said, “And I shall go into the town and speak to my brother, and he will speak to you.”
“It is fair,” said ap Ranien. He made a strange half bow to Lew and went off toward the troops, shouting. Amazingly they obeyed him and headed off in their haphazard milling way towards the trees to the west.
When they had moved what I judged to be out of slingshot, I remounted and rode toward the town gates. I worried for a moment, but they opened at once to my hail.
The last time I had come home to Derwen my mother’s steward had mistaken me for a stranger. This time the people shouted my name in the street and cheered. Beauty put his head up and lifted his feet very precisely as he always did for cheering crowds. The people made way for me. Hardly any of the faces were familiar. I recognized Garah’s father and the old farmer who had scolded Angas for taking her turnips. Beside her was one of the girls who had been serving in the hall the last time I was home. Now she was wearing armor and holding a spear. She must have joined the ala.
As I came near the house the steward Daldaf ap Wyn came out and stood by the steps down to the forecourt, looking flustered. Close behind him came my mother, Veniva. When had she got old? She moved slowly like an old woman, though she could hardly be more than fifty She leaned on a cane and her face was lined and she had dark shadows under her eyes. Seeing her I realized that much as I missed my father, however much I wanted to talk to him and hear his thoughts, it must be much worse for her.
I slid down to the ground and handed Beauty’s reins to a groom I recognized. “Keep him ready for me,” I said. Then I went up the three steps and embraced Veniva formally. She was so thin it felt like embracing a bird; I was afraid her bones would crack. I had mistaken Aurien for Veniva, but I would not do it now I had seen her again. I stepped back a little. “Well met, Mother. Where is Morien?” I asked.
“He was on the wall,” Veniva said, “He will be here shortly.” Her voice was thinner, and she sounded weary. Though I had spoken in Tanagan, because I had been speaking it with the Isarnagans, she answered me in beautiful precise Vincan, as always. I looked as she spoke and caught sight of my brother galloping up the street towards us. I have never in my life, before or since, been so glad to see Morien. I had been in fear for him since the land had spoken to me. Just beside him rode a young woman. He was wearing fighting armor, and she was wearing riding leathers. After a moment I placed her as the girl Morien had been dancing with when I was there last, Kerys ap Uthbad, poor Enid’s sister, whom he had married two years ago. As he swung down, I stepped towards Morien with my heart full of joy that he yet lived and embraced him sincerely. He was still a hand shorter than I was. He stepped aside after he had given me greeting and presented me to his wife.
“Now, what news?” said Morien, impatiently. “Those barbarian bastards have given way without battle. How did you compel them?”
“Have we time for refreshment as we talk?” asked Kerys, smiling hopefully. She was a very pretty girl when she smiled, and I remembered that Enid had been thought pretty, too, before the battle where she lost her arm and got her face scarred.
I shook my head regretfully at her and looked at the others. Morien was waiting for my answer with unconcealed impatience, Veniva just looked tired, and Daldaf was standing by, too close and too eager. He should have gone away, not stayed beside Veniva as if he were one of the family. Maybe we should go inside somewhere private? But there wasn’t time. I frowned. It wasn’t really any of my business, if they didn’t mind it. It didn’t really matter. He was my mother’s steward, and we were not speaking secrets. “This should not take long.” I said. “I have arranged a peace with the Isarnagans. Briefly, they will withdraw westward to farm the empty land around Dun Morr and acknowledge your lordship, and Urdo’s.”
Morien’s eyebrows lowered, and his face darkened. His lower lip protruded. He looked exactly as he had when he had been eight years old and following us around the woods until Darien and I climbed a tree that was too high for him and pelted him with sweet chestnuts. “What right have you to give away my land?” he asked.
“I am not giving it away, but giving you inhabitants for it,” I said, a little sharply. “Would you rather they took the town?”
“You have a whole ala out there, you could have pushed them back to the sea if you wanted to,” Morien snapped.
“With five thousand of them and me with one tired ala?” I countered, suddenly angry. “I think not. I could have waited and done that with help, but they have landed elsewhere, too, in Wenlad and Demedia.”
“And that’s more important than Derwen, is it?” asked Morien, stepping forward and pushing his face up into mine. “They’ve been killing our people and threatening our walls, I don’t want to take them in
friendship.”
I stepped back a little and almost fell down the steps behind me. I was completely unprepared for his reaction, but of course I had not been under siege. Morien stepped forward again. “Why didn’t you ask me? Taking it on yourself. You may be special with Urdo, but you are not the head of this family and you do not have charge—”
“I am asking you! I’m asking you now!”
“That’s enough,” snapped Veniva. Even though her voice was thin it held a commanding edge. Morien swung around to her, his expression the same as when he had complained to her of me when he was twelve and I was sixteen and Darien and I wouldn’t let him into the stables because he had pulled Banner’s tail. She spoke exactly in the same tone she had used then. “Morien, Sulien could hardly consult you in the middle of a siege. Sulien, Morien’s right, the land is not yours to give away.”
“I know that,” I said, more quietly. I had almost been shouting. Daldaf looked as if he were biting back some strong emotion. “That’s why I have come as soon as I can, as soon as they have agreed in principle and moved back from the walls of the town, so that Morien can come and speak to their king.”
“They have a king with them?” asked Kerys, wide-eyed.
“He is Lew ap Ross, of Anlar,” I said. “His wife is the sister of Urdo’s queen. They are substantial people, not raiders. They were brought here in boats belonging to Black Darag of Oriel, who has himself gone north to invade Wenlad or Demedia; they can’t leave. We really would have to kill them all, or kill the greater part and enslave the rest, if we would. We can’t do that with one ala and local levies.” I looked at Morien to make sure he understood. He was frowning and staring at his boots.
“They were shouting Lew’s name,” Kerys said, biting her lip.
“They will accept peaceful settlement and Morien’s lordship?” Veniva asked. Morien made a rude noise under his breath.
“They agreed in principle, my lady mother,” I said.