Since such had been my own feeling I did as she said and kept silent. After all, there was no need to hunt out other work. The keep was completed, the cottages all put into good repair. Meive’s bees worked long and hard gathering nectar, and one of Levas’s men, Criten by name, was a fair hunter. He brought in game ranging from deer to the small fat hill-hens. These we ate, but much of the spare meat was also smoked or cured by the women. Vari had taken over the keep kitchen and most evenings we all ate there together, talking of the next day’s work.
It was closing to Fall one evening when one of the children had news which startled us. It had been Meive’s idea to use the children—even the little girls—as watchers and to my surprise it had worked well. Meive made sweets, candying stalks of angelica and rose petals, and these were given to any child on watch-duty who could bring us interesting news or information. It had become a source of pride to the children to do so—and the sweets had only added to that. There was little that did not happen now on which some pair of sharp eyes did not alight, and a small mouth announce it, in sometimes embarrassing detail, during a shared meal.
It had been Isa’s turn to watch the road into Honeycoombe from the hiding place. She was about seven, a serious, responsible child who remembered the flight from her home and the bandits’ actions at the shelter. Because of those memories she watched carefully, although she would accept the sweets as her due once she reported.
“I saw a man today.”
Meive sat up. “A man? Where? What was he doing?”
“He was riding about like he was looking for something.” None of us liked the sound of that. Further questioning revealed that the man had ridden leaning over his mount’s shoulder, studying the ground as if he sought something lost. He rode a good mount, Isa was all admiration for it.
“A gelding, Lord Lorcan. The most beautiful horse I ever saw. All glossy black with one white hoof.”
Meive looked hard at the child. “Isa, why didn’t you tell the sentry when this happened?”
“The man never came near. Then he rode away, a long long way, until I couldn’t see him any more.”
I kept silent, but made resolve that the children must be told to report any man at once, no matter if he seemed harmless or departed again. Sensing she had mayhap done the wrong thing, Isa looked anxiously at Meive, who reassured her.
“You watched very well, Isa. Three stalks of angelica for you tonight. Tell us more about the man. What did you think when you saw him? Did you make up a story about what he was doing?” From the relieved child’s prattle we gained much more. Meive and I gathered Levas with a glance and the three of us drew aside to talk in lowered voices. I had information to impart first.
“I know who that likely was.”
Meive was swift. “One of Devol’s men, one of the two who went to find a ransom.”
“So I think. Belo had a horse like that. He was a man who counted a good horse above most else. He boasted he’d had the beast from an old man and paid him with steel coin. He said the horse was too good to waste on some old fool. Belo and the horse Isa saw would fit what description she could give.”
“If he’s a good hunter he’d find the path to Honeycoombe,” Levas commented.
“I think he had been a farmer, yet he was good enough at tracking. Nor would he be out here studying the land for no reason. Perhaps he seeks for Devol and his comrades?”
Meive nodded thoughtfully. “He is one man. Yet bandits are like rats. Where you see one there is like to be another ten you have not seen.”
I stood. “I had not thought to leave for another week, but if one scouts, better I be swift gone, swift to return. When we passed the cross-roads on the way here I bespoke Keris Innkeeper. He was to sound out those who might be willing to come here. He has had time to find some few and we have need of them. Levas, let me take Criten and another. We shall take two horses apiece. If we waste no time and those who would come can also ride hard, we could be back here in a ten-day.”
Meive looked up. “Nay, Lorcan. If they bring livestock and families they will not be able to ride hard, nor wish to. Better I go with Levas and Criten. My warriors will fly guard and scout for me. Nor will they slow our journey. We can make good time to the cross-roads with two mounts apiece. After that, if we must be slower, then at least you shall be here to defend Honeycoombe knowing we bring reinforcements.”
I did not like it but she was right. Keris knew her as my younger brother, yet, if she must reveal herself as she was, then a woman and moreover one clearly of some power would reassure those planning to join us, and, though I said it not, I would she was out of the dale if bandits attacked. So I agreed. Early the next morning she rode out with Levas and Criten. With them went three spare mounts. It would take five days riding to make the inn. Their return must needs be slower as Meive had argued. I watched her depart. For such time as it took to see her again I would be anxious.
With the three gone I gathered our people. I explained where my lady went and why. Then I called Isa to tell them of the man she had seen. She told her story proudly, speaking well and remembering small details new to us. I told them who I believed that man to be and why we should be very wary now. The children who watched must report anything at all which might be a man, even a great distance from us, or if they thought they saw danger of any kind. Better to have reported and be wrong, than be right and to have failed to warn us. The sentry must be alert always.
As for myself and our guards, three remained. The four of us would patrol the hills, coming together at arranged intervals to discuss anything we had seen. As Meive had said, bandits were like rats. Where you spy one there could be many. I thought one other at least might lurk somewhere about nearby, Todon had been with Belo when they rode away. If one lived and was in the area, the other might be. I thought they hunted for Devol despite the time they had been gone.
Though that time puzzled me. It had been early Spring when Devol laid hands on me, almost Summer when Meive freed me. We had not set out at once. Then, since we were moving North, the weather had been less harsh. We had not been in great haste. I wished to take time, to allow Meive time to trust me. Thus we had ridden the length of the dales over many weeks. It had been Spring again when we reached Tildale. Now it was almost Fall. Belo and his comrade had set out seeking one to pay my ransom nigh on eighteen months gone.
I had thought nothing that they were gone until late Summer. Likely they had ridden first to my own dale to check what I said, that the invaders had destroyed all. After that, as Devol had ordered, they would have sought out Paltendale. They’d have got nothing from there … My thoughts crashed to a halt. No! They’d have got no ransom. But what if they met Hogeth? What if they told or he wrung from them all they knew—together with my name. Might he not then have taken them into his own service until such time as they could be sent here seeking me?
We had believed Hogeth still to have no knowledge of me save that I had ridden South. But if Devol’s men had talked with my enemy, if they had been able to tell him only that a year gone I had been prisoner in their hands, then where else would he seek me and my captors but hereabouts ? I had none to counsel me. But perhaps if I did as Belo had done, if I rode as he had ridden … I called Isa and placed her in the hiding place to watch me closely.
Then, with Vari as a link between us, I rode Tas about the hill. Leaning over Tas’s shoulder I peered at the ground as Belo had done. Isa, young though she was, had watched well. Vari called the child’s instructions at intervals as I moved about the hill. It was a tiring morning, yet at length I thought I knew what the man had sought—and found.
“Isa says to go further West.”
I obeyed. Tas snorted irritably. He disliked all this confusion, I should make up my mind.
“Isa says a little more to the South now.”
I reined Tas that way slowly, moving a few feet at a time, and there was a sudden shriek from Vari.
“Isa says that was just where the man
stopped and was leaning over.”
“What did he do then?” I shouted back.
“She says he stepped down, touching the ground, then he sort of nodded before he mounted and just rode away. To the North. He didn’t stop. She could see him out of sight.”
I stared down. I’d wager he had. He’d found what he was looking for and unless I was a witless hill-hen, he was on the road back in haste to report. To whom I knew not for certain, though I believed I could guess and be right. What he would report, of that I was sure. At Tas’s hooves lay a broad hardened track. Hidden in the heather but carven deep into the stony hillside was the track made, when with horse-team and stone-boat, we moved the squared building stones from Merrowdale to Honeycoombe. The track would be erased by the coming Winter, or disguised by water along the hills at thaw, but at the moment it was very evident.
Belo might not know who had made it but he would know such a deep mark bespoke a settlement of some kind at one end of the path or both. The question which disturbed me was, how far had the man to ride before he could make his report. If it was to Paltendale then we need not look for Hogeth or any attack until next Spring. It was several weeks riding straight to that dale, and a lone man had to ride carefully even now that the war was done. But if Hogeth was closer? I bethought me of a query that might tell us and called for Isa. She came with Vari.
“Isa. You watched the man ride out of sight. Was that far?”
She nodded seriously. “Yes, Lord. He was climbing towards the track along the upper hills. Once he was there he was high up an’ I could see him for a long way.”
“How did he ride? Was he in a hurry to reach the trail, did he ride faster or slower once he reached it?” I could see her thinking about it.
“He climbed up to the trail real slow. An’ I don’t think he rode faster when he got there. Maybe if you did it?”
I walked Tas up the hill to where the old high trail meandered along the upper slopes. It was one of the pack-pony trails traders had used before the war, though Meive said none had used it since she remembered and it was almost overgrown. It continued from the northern dales through Southern High Hallack past the Fen of Sorn and thence I knew not. Once Tas set foot upon it I rode North at a steady walk. I continued about a mile before I turned him to return. Back with Vari and the child, again, I saw Isa was clapping her hands.
“Lord, it was just like that.”
Vari looked up at me. “You walked Tas?” I nodded agreement. “Then likely he’d some distance to ride.”
I nodded. No bandit, no matter how proud of his horse, would walk the beast when he might run. Only a man who had a far distance to ride and but one mount. A man who’d had it impressed upon him he must take no risks. Or a man who thought better payment lay at the end of a slow-taken trail so he’d be fit to ride back with his comrades.
I returned in silence, Vari riding on ahead. Gods, what a careless fool I had been those years ago, to mistakenly fling gold instead of the intended silver coin in Hogar’s face. Of course he would have spoken of it to his son, in outrage at what he would have seen as my ingratitude if for no other reason. Hogeth would care nothing for my reasons though. It would be the gold on which he fastened. He would remember the story in his own House, of how my great-grandfather had come riding to Paltendale, paid blood-price in gold for Pletten.
From there it was a small step in reasoning which was half hope. My dale had once paid a great blood-price. I had owned gold to fling in the face of one who angered me. Therefore the blood-price had not exhausted all my dale had. But my dale was ruined. I could not return to live there. If I had coin why should I not set forth to find another dale I could settle? And in the South where the war had mostly not come, or had come and gone quickly, was a good place to seek a dale of my own again. Thus would Hogeth reason and he was right.
In one way I was between the arrow and the sling. If I used my coin to hire more guards for Honeycoombe then I shouted to all I had coin to spare. If I hired no more men, then might Hogeth come in force with men from Paltendale. I mulled over the problem all the way home. Isa must have known I thought deeply and wished to do so undisturbed. She said nothing as we rode, but settled herself into the crook of my arm, leaned against my shoulder, and appeared to drowse. It was a pleasant feeling. A child’s trust is a precious thing and mayhap it helped me think.
By the time I set her down at Elesha’s cottage I had come to a decision. I should not hire more guards. But most dalesmen can fight, and many of the women are adept with light bows. I sat to write, then I sought for and found Dogas, one of Levas’s men.
“You know the Inn at the Cross-Roads where go Levas and my lady?” He nodded. “Take two horses and ride there in haste. I would warn them.” He was a steady man. I told him something of events that he might know where and of whom to be watchful. As he swung to the saddle he nodded again.
“I’ll ride wary. If I look to be taken I’ll destroy the message.”
“Do so—in secret. Let them not know there is information to be had lest they attempt to wrest it from you.” It was unnecessary to tell him that, yet I wished him to know I had a care for his life.
He should reach Meive almost as she arrived at the inn. I had writ of all I knew and much I thought. She would understand the dangers. I could trust her to choose good people for Honeycoombe. There were almost thirty cottages here. Vari and Levas had their cottage but had also taken rooms within the keep, as had his four men. Elesha had taken a large cot, one which had belonged to the dale’s baker. She and Vari’s daughters Aria and Manan baked for us now. The four children dwelled with them.
Thus there was ample room for any new incomers, yet we must be cautious. If we took too large a group from any one place they could turn against us. There can only be one voice to command. Meive was lady here and I would see none deprive her of her rights. Yet Meive was no fool. She would have the same chance in mind and would choose carefully. Levas was a man well able to judge those who came seeking a new home. He would not wish the order overthrown we had established. I should put such things from my mind. There was other work to do.
Indeed there was. I drilled our people, walked the dale to see all was well-kept, listed who should be sentry and watcher, and oversaw all that was done within our lands. At night I fell into my bed and slept as though struck down. Twice I went with the horse-team and a stone-boat to plunder Merrowdale further. Elesha came with me both times, her knowledge and advice most valuable. We had fed the sheep from stored hay and grain so that now they came running when they saw us.
“Best we catch soon the ones you wish to have for ourselves,” Elesha advised the second time. “We can pen them in the inner vale with the cattle. If none who spy on us can see them they may believe us poorer than we are. That is always safer.” It was good advice and I took it. We made a day of the hunt, luring the beasts into Merrowdale with the grain then blocking the path by which they came and went.
We ended up with two rams, one older, one a yearling. Of the ewes we caught eleven, all of them black or brown and all I thought to be in lamb. With them we took a further half-dozen healthy yearling ewes, too young as yet to bear their own lambs but with good fleeces. After that I heeded Elesha and took a number of the yearling rams. Those could be kept apart and slain over Winter if necessary, whenever the hunting was poor and we were hungry for meat. We should also continue to eat the surplus goats, although some of those we had taken to Merrowdale and left to breed for the benefit of Salas and his people.
The inner vale of Honeycoombe was rich pasture since it was well irrigated by the water which streamed down the cliff sides when it rained. Yet with the horse-team, the sheep, Cream and her herd, and all the mounts Meive had taken from the bandits, the pasture there was becoming hard pressed. There were also our two mules, together with mounts and pack-ponies which belonged to none in particular but which had come with us. I left the mules and Elesha’s goats to pasture openly within the dale. With them I allowed
another eight horses, the poorest in appearance, to roam.
To any who spied it would look reasonable, as if the beasts were all we had. Tas and Drustan I kept in the keep stables. It was useful to have beasts that could be saddled swiftly in an emergency and needed not to be coaxed to hand. I left, too, the stone-boats, stacked under a pole roof behind one of the barns. Let any who came believe we had used our own beasts to drag them. The stone-boats, as the team hauled them up the trail from Merrowdale, would have torn out the hoof-prints so none should guess at our team.
“Lord, my Lord! Riders and walkers come, I think it is the lady who leads them.” I ran, as eager as the child to see. It was as she had said, Meive led a small weary group of travelers towards Honeycoombe. She halted her mount when I came riding. I saw swift pleasure in her eyes as she saw me so that I forgot myself and swept her up in my arms. I hugged her hard. She freed herself gently, her cheeks pink, her eyes smiling.
“Such a welcome. I should leave more often.” Her voice was teasing so that I knew she had taken no offense.
I spoke lower. “You need not leave for that.”
She blushed. “I received your message. I purchased supplies here and there so none should remark. But I have five good bows and all the arrows I could buy. I have also three good swords. We should also send Levas out to buy elsewhere before Winter comes. It would be well for him to rid us of a string of our horses. There are too many for the land. Let you come now and meet those I chose for Honeycoombe. The winged-ones approve them all.”
She turned to introduce me to those who came forward at her call. It was a mixed group. I could see that four there were of one family. A half-grown boy, his younger sister, a smaller boy, and with them a man. His right arm was injured so that he used only the left. His deftness one-handed spoke of long practice, so I judged it to be an old wound. Of the others I found we had a sister and brother, a middle-aged man who had to ride, since he was lame, and two women, also of middle age. I grinned wryly at Meive as I drew her apart.