Jared's Song

Jared’s Song

Mike Ginns

AuthorHouse™ UK Ltd.

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© 2012 Mike Ginns. All rights reserved.

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Published by AuthorHouse 4/17/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4678-7809-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4678-7810-4 (e)

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Dedicated to

Maud

The breeze weeps in joy through the trees

For you have arrived at the time of eternity

The spirit of the brook a free flower floats

Feelings sweet, silent, true

Maud we miss you still.

Jared was not happy as he trudged through the snow, which was, fortunately, quite thin up on these high meadows. Thin or not, after a day’s walking, his thick suede boots were still soaked and cold. His trews were thick wool and his shirt softer wool; his jerkin a sheep’s skin with the oiled wool turned inwards. He was a tall man, not a young man, his beard an iron grey that he kept shorn close, and his hair, now lank with grease hung around his collar. He’d started the day wearing his dark red woollen cloak, but had since taken it off and wrapped it around the bundle that he now carried across the back of his shoulders, his muscular scarred arms raised to hold it in position as he walked. The trouble with these high meadows was that there were few homesteads up there, and so few places to renew his dwindling food supplies, or warm stables to nest in. The sky was a clear bright blue and held the promise of spring, and the great rearing mountains now finally lay behind him.

The late winter’s sun was starting to set when he eventually found a dip in the land that would make a campsite. And he gratefully eased his bundle down, to stand and flex his shoulders, before scrabbling around, picking up deadwood for a fire. He’d be the first to admit he was no scout, and had always had great difficulty in starting fires and cooking. He squatted cursing and swearing, as he struck stone to steel, managing yet again to skin a knuckle and, at one point, to lose hold of the cursed stone and spend a frantic few minutes hunting in the dead leaves for it. Finally he nursed the tiny spark and was rewarded with the first wisps of sweet smelling smoke. When he looked in his pack for the remains of yesterday’s rabbit, he found it had bled onto his last remaining shirt, and so was happy to incinerate it in the arcane sacrifice known as cooking, and rammed a thin stick through it. He sat on half a log he’d dragged to his fire for that purpose, warming his hands and was just relaxing when he heard the clop of the hoofs approaching him. He sighed, shoulders drooping.

Ho, stranger! What brings you to these parts? Jared looked up seeing two horsemen still mounted at the edge of the trees. Oh, pastures new. He said, casually. He’d already seen the style of their baldrics, and so knew more about them than they thought he did which both eased and worried him. By chance, have you seen any armed men upon your journey, my friend? One asked him. Jared automatically distrusted being called ‘friend’ by anyone he did not know. None but you, my lords. He said. He turned his meat as they conferred, his brown eyes trying to see where the third man was hidden.

May we warm ourselves at your fire, my good man? Then we’ll be on our way. One called to him. Of course he couldn’t refuse, so he stood up, moving a step back to bow, You honour me, my lords. He said, in what he hoped was a servile way.

They dismounted, tying their horses to a bush and striding forwards, pulling off their leather and mail gloves. They stood facing him, hands stretched out to his fire. He casually backed off a little and they split, coming around the fire either side towards him, drawing their single-hand swords in a whisper of steel and grinning at him. He swore and within two steps was at his pack, seeing a black-shafted bolt strike it as he grasped the hilt of his sword, turning to slide it free of the scabbard. Still turning in a full circle, and getting his other hand to the long grip, he smacked the slim sword hard away from him from the man on the left, turning still to swing again in a circle, allowing his two-handed sword to rise high, its weight pulling him around. The man cried out, desperately arching back as the tip of Jared’s sword carved through the mail links of his chest. Jared ducked and jumped over the falling man, feeling the crossbow bolt hiss over his shoulder. Cursing, the second man jumped over the fire, his sword raised for a downward swing, only to be impaled upon the tip of Jared’s sword as it swept upwards, catching the man just beneath his ribs, and his mail burst apart. Jared almost fell over as that man fell backwards onto the fire, desperately jerking his larger sword out as he heard the crossbowman emerge from the bushes behind him. He turned, swinging the large sword to his right, and letting it go as he fell with a searing sting in his right thigh. He watched, as if in slow motion as his sword, turning sideways in circles flew true, to strike the crossbowman high in the chest. The man, his mouth open in a cry of shock, flew back, to be pinned to a large tree behind him, and twitch before hanging like a doll.

Jared knelt in the snow awkwardly; his right leg stretched out sideways and straight, now decorated with a tuft of black feathers midway up the thigh. He breathed in short harsh breaths, still staring wide-eyed at the impaled man, his hands shaking from the now un-needed adrenalin flowing through his body. Slowly he closed his eyes, and his head hung down as his shoulders drooped, and he fell onto his left hip with a grunt. He felt sick, but swallowed the saliva in his mouth and kept it down. Now his hands trembled as he explored the shaft in his leg, and found it had missed the bone. He managed to push himself up onto his feet, to limp a bit, turning around. He swore, and rolled the body off the cinders of the fire. Hearing a noise, he spun around in a crouch, and saw a child dressed in homespun staring at him from the edge of the trees. Jared relaxed and stood his empty hands loose at his sides.

Go home. He said. There was a brief movement, and the child disappeared.

Jared collected the various weaponry and wrapped it in a cloak taken from a body. He stripped the bodies down to their under-things, and dragged them together at the edge of the trees. He found food and bread in one saddlebag and ate it, and water in a skin, and drank it. Then he inspected the three horses, calming them, talking to them, and making friends with them. He took the saddles off all of them, hobbled them, and rubbed them down. Then started another fire and saw to the bolt in his leg. He carefully trimmed around the point until he could snap it off, and then drew it back out. He took out his little waterproof metal box that some old soldier had given him years ago. He opened it and sorted through the tiny bottles inside, finding the one he wanted and flipping the top open with his thumbnail. He dripped a few drips into each hole in his leg and breathed a little harshly. Then he plugged both holes with clean wadding and bound strips of linen around his thigh, pulling his trews up again. He’d get it looked at as soon as he could. He wrapped his cloak around himself and sat before the fire, his head full of memories as he cleaned and saw to his sword. He capped the tiny bottle and put it back, securely packing the box again. He was never sure what was in those tiny bottles, but they kept him and his horses going. With the sigils incised on each bottle, any alchemist or pharmacist could refill them, even if some would occasionally chuckle while doing so.

Early the next morning, he saddled the horses, loading two with the equipment, and rode the third – much easier than walking. He wasn’t worried about any more coming after him. In fact, he’d been surprised that those three had followed him over the mountains. Then he stopped, seeing a thin wisp of smoke, and turned the horse towards it.

The house was built low and wide, from logs interlaced at the corners. The windows covered by shut shutters and a simple fence marked off the immediate surrounds. There were no people in view, though Jared sensed them watching him. He climbed off the horse, almost falling, and unsheathed his large sword, to leave it vertical in the turf as he limped forwards, his hands held out until he stood at the gate of the fence, to turn slowly around so they could see he was unarmed. What you want? came the shout from the house. He chuckled, Water and feed for the horses. I got no gold. I can pay in arms or a horse. You are trouble and a killer! Go away! Jared sighed, nodded, and rode away. He thought it must be nice to live in a place that you can turn fighters away.

After getting more or less, the same answer from the next few farms Jared gave up and just rode up over a low shoulder of old worn mountains. Spring was beginning and the snow began to thin with little tiny bright flowers scattered in the bright mossy grass. The horses were fine, drinking from the many small pools of melt-water and nibbling at fresh grass. He got to talking to them, calling them after long lost friends of his. There was Malek, the axe-man, though not as bald now as when he fell at the Thunder Falls. Silas the halberdier, friskier now than when he died under a hail of the long barbed Varden arrows. Finally Elestina, the ebony-skinned beauty that was death with her curved silver-steel daggers – yet still as graceful now as when she’d fallen from the ramparts of the Hearts Blood Bridge. Jared himself wasn’t doing so well, his leg hurt, hot and swollen, painful to walk on. Then, one morning, when Elestina stumbled, he fell from her back. She had stopped and nuzzled him, and he, barely knowing what he was doing, had wound his right hand through the stirrup, and she, like the good friend she always had been, had walked on, pulling him across the smooth fresh grass.

He lay, looking up at the so-bright blue sky, with a young girl looking down at him. He smiled, or tried to, and knew it was that time. He tried to speak, but was just too dry. She disappeared, then returned with his water-skin, and knelt, lifting his head to wet his mouth. My thanks he said, Take it all and just leave me here. Just use it, don’t waste it. He said, and slipped into darkness again.

He woke, to find himself lying on a pallet against a rough wall, covered by a wool blanket. The room was large, lit by an oil lamp he couldn’t see. His right leg throbbed and ached, and he groaned. Suddenly there was movement close to him and a woman stood who had been sitting beside him. Are you aware? She asked. He nodded, licking his lips. She held a cup to his mouth, her free hand behind her head as he sipped cool, sweet water. Better? She asked.Yes, thank you. He managed to answer. She smiled. At a movement, he looked to see the young girl he remembered. He smiled to her, and she turned and fled. The woman laughed, She is shy. He chuckled, I remember her. She found me. I may have frightened her then, my apologies. The woman looked at him, I thought you too far gone to remember that. You surprise me. He smiled, shaking his head, No, I thought it was my time, and so I had to say something important. It is what one learns in my occupation – or what was once my occupation. He said, and then his eyes began to close. Rest you are healing. She said.

The next time he woke, he saw sunlight spilling in through the opened door. The air was a little chilly, more refreshing though. He peered under the blanket and saw he was wearing just his leather underthing, and then spied his trews on a wooden box at the foot of his bed. He rose, and swiftly climbed into them, noting the patches sewn neatly. He looked about, saw his twisted thong belt, and used that to hold his trews up, and then spied his long straight dagger in its rusty old sheath and eased that through the belt. Now he felt dressed! He walked, favouring his right leg, to the opened door, and looked out into what was for him, almost paradise. They were up high on a sloping hillside, the slope running down from the house. On the right ran a steep iron-grey slab of rock that rose up high. To the left the hill rounded away and he could look across a shallow high valley. He breathed in a lungful of good clear air, stretching his arms and shoulders. Out of habit, he started to bend, then realised his leg hurt, so he didn’t do that part. He turned to his left and saw that beside the house was a well-built outbuilding with a smaller fenced area. He smiled, and limped towards this, careful to fasten the gate behind him. He saw that the big double doors had been opened, and within stood the three horses. As he limped forwards, one of them raised its head, ears forwards to him, whickering to him in greeting. He laughed softly, and greeted the horse, rubbing the soft muzzle and talking softly to it. Then, more timidly, the other two came to him, and he made a fuss of them too. He saw they looked well cared for, and their stable was clean with feed and water. After a while, he left them, looking around until he saw what he wanted.

Jared now had the rhythm of it, his weight on his left leg, using his right leg as support if needed. The double-headed axe was sharp and rust-free, a long haft and a good weight. His only trouble was getting the lumps of timber up onto the big old block in the first place, until he used the axe for that too. Then one swing to bury the head deep into the wood, then lift both back and up, around and down, and split timber flew apart. At first his back and shoulders ached, but now, his body got into the rhythm too. At first, he barely saw the child as she stood in the shadows watching him. He smiled, and continued, then said, as if to himself Well, soon I’ll have cut all the logs of this stack and have to look for more.

She hesitated and then she began to bring two logs, placing them behind him, not too near. As he cut, so she brought, until there was a small pile behind him. Finally, he put the last of his pile on the block, and that flew apart.

Now to get more he said, giving her time to run to the shadows. He turned, and stared at the new pile. Bless me! There must be a mountain spirit who likes to see me split logs! he said, looking all around, but not towards her as she held her hands over her mouth, laughing. He limped to stand so he was best placed for block and logs and began again. He saw her move and didn’t turn, then when she’d gone back to the shadows; he did turn, and smiled to see a clay pot of water. He buried the axe in the block, and bent to pick the pot up with both hands. He faced the distant tall snow-capped mountain, holding the pot up to it, By your blessing, Old One. He said, and drank the water. My father used to say that. She said from behind him.

Without turning, Jared said, It’s an old custom, little one. We, who live off the land, ask blessing from the land. He turned slowly and she looked at him, tensed as if to run. He dipped his head, Milady. He said, I believe I owe you thanks for rescuing me. She shook her head, and he smiled, You gave me water. Now, please, do you have some grease that you use for leather? he asked.

She nodded, and quick as a deer she turned and ran into the outbuilding. He drank some more water, and then poured a little over his head. She returned at a run, slowing to stop, reaching her hand out to him. He exchanged the pot for the cloth bundle, and scooped a little of the animal grease out, putting the bundle down at his feet. He then began to work the grease into his dry cracked palms. She tilted her head to one side watching him. Skin is leather. When working with something like an axe, it sucks the oils from the skin. If I don’t do this, soon the skin will crack and bleed. He explained, and she nodded. He didn’t ask where her father was, for he had seen no sign of a man. If I stay and do more of this, I will bind leather to the haft. I am more used to that. Now, here, you take the grease back, and I will continue to work for my supper. He gave her the grease, and returned to the axe.

Finally, all the wood was split, and he put the axe in the block, to pick the split wood up. She showed him where it was kept, and so he began to walk back and forth. Then he stood with his arms ready while she stacked the split wood into his arms, which was much easier. When that was all stacked away, he found the stone and sat on the block and re-sharpened the axe, and hung it back up in the back of the building. He turned to her, looking down to her. Well, lady, what next?

She led him outside to where the snows had taken down some of the fencing, and she brought him a hammer and a bag of rough forged nails. At first, he had to inspect part of the fence to see how it was put together. I have never done this before, little lady. So I have to look to see how it is put together. He explained. Once he’d worked it out, he carefully began to repair it. Only once did she point out a mistake, so he carefully prized out the nail, hammering it straight then put the mistake right.

He was just nailing the last section up, when her mother walked around the outbuilding to find them. So, this is where you are. She said, her arms folded and a smile on her face. Her daughter ran to her, to stand close to her side. He stood up, I was just repairing the fence, milady, earning my supper. Your daughter can tell you that I have not slacked since I rose. However, someone forgot to rouse me this morning. He said, smiling.

The woman chuckled, stroking her daughter’s hair. Actually, Sir, you are supposed to be in bed, healing from your war wound. She said. Jared looked shamed, Oh, that. Your skills as a healer are so fine that I have miraculously healed overnight, it seems. He said with a smile. The woman laughed, Oh no, Sir. You have been here a week, at least! Jared blinked, A week? he asked, and the woman nodded, grinning. Come into the house, sir. I fear I must look at your wound again. Hopefully you have not broken it open. She turned with her daughter and Jared sighed and limped after her, making a small detour to put the hammer and nails in the outbuilding.

As he got close to the door of the house, he slowed as he heard the woman ask, What, all of it? And the fence too? he smiled and limped inside. She was sat at the table, but stood as he entered. Come to the pallet. She said, brushing her apron. He did so, somehow feeling like a boy again. He stood by it and she pulled a thin linen curtain around it.

Lower your trews. She said. Jared hesitated and she looked at him, eye to eye. Oh, for the seven bells of… she began. I am sorry, lady, I just feel a certain awkwardness. Jared said. Sir! When we first dragged you in here, who do you think stripped you naked to wash your clothing and doctor you? You have absolutely no reason to feel awkward, about anything. She said, and blushed.

Jared unfastened his belt, wincing as his dagger banged onto the floor, and lowered his trews. She squeezed past him and bent down, her fingertips warm and soft against his thigh as she examined his wound. This wound is sound. If anything, it looks even better than last night. Now let me see the inner wound. At this Jared found he had to think of things vastly unrelated to his present situation, as her fingers and soft warm breath on his inner thigh was causing him sensations that would only complicate matters. She stood up rather quickly, looking a little flushed herself. Yes, well, that all looks well and good. Unless you do something stupid, I don’t think I need to worry too much about your wounds any more, Sir. Please dress yourself. She swept through the curtain as if thrown.

As he swept the curtain back, the girl stood there solemnly holding his clean shirt. He thanked her and slipped it on over his head. He limped to stand at the table. The woman was standing at the hearth with her back to him, and her daughter sat at the table looking up at him. I will need to go to a market to sell some things before I can pay for the healing, milady. He said.

She just shook her head, No need to bother about that. She said as though angry with him. He frowned, Um… he began. Sit down, supper will be soon. She said. He sat, and looked at the child, who shrugged. Jared sighed, and looked at the roughly carved wooden platter before him.

After dinner, he sat glumly on the narrow bench outside the door, looking up at the sky full of stars. He did like this place, but as usual, people didn’t seem to like him. The only people he seemed to get on with were mercenaries and the warriors that always hung around the huge armies that he always was part of. The door opened and the child stepped out, a shawl around her narrow shoulders. Mother says you should go in, it’s cold out here. She said her small hand half held out to him.

He smiled to her, Its okay, little lady. I think it’s no less warm for me inside. I might just go and sleep with the other animals tonight. She half smiled to him and went inside again. He sat for a while longer, and without thinking, he began to softly sing a song that someone used to sing to him years ago:

Do not weep for me, my love,

For I have to go on ahead.

To scout to tracks that lead away

Up through the crystal valleys of night.

Do not mourn for me, my love,

Do not hate they who took me from you.

Sit around the fire at night,

And talk of me still.

Do not cry for me, my love,

I am by your side.

Lay down your head and sleep, my love,

And we’ll dance in dreaming glades.

He sat up so suddenly when the door opened, he nearly fell off the bench. She closed the door, a woollen blanket around her shoulders and up on her head. She held her hand out to him, Walk with me a while. She said quietly. He stood, and limped beside her.

After they were away from the house, without looking at him, she asked softly, Who are you? he smiled, Jared HarKesten. He replied. She shook her head, No, who are you? He frowned, I am… was a warrior, not of this country. A widower, not a father, a fool with out-dated morals aching to find peace and a place that I can begin again. She nodded. The horses carry weapons and armour. She said. He nodded, Yes, that of three men. Three men that tracked me over a mountain pass in winter. Those three will not be missed, sad as that may sound to you, but more importantly, no one will come seeking vengeance for their demise. The horses, arms and armour are not marked and cannot be traced, but will fetch gold or can be traded for sound goods. I would suggest keeping two horses. He stopped, turning to her, Lady, I’ve wasted enough of your time. Keep it all; let me ride from here on one horse and with my bundle. It’s obvious that you do not like me, so let’s end this. She stopped, her head dipped, and shook, and she turned to him, looking up at him. I am Alisha Barash. My daughter is Druna. My husband died when raiders came upon him six years ago when he was returning from market. I found him before he died. Jared, I fear the raiders will come again, and I need a warrior to protect Druna, and myself, but mainly Druna. She paused, as though gathering herself, and then said, I have lived too long by myself, perhaps, I’m not used to adult company, and I’m not good at begging. Please, Jared, stay and protect us? Jared stared at her, and then smiled at her. Most certainly milady but if I am to be your warrior, it will have to be done properly. Tomorrow, I think, before work gets started. Now, let’s get you inside, milady, its cold out here. He took her hand, escorting her back to the house.

He rose before anyone else the next morning, even before the sun. He crept out of the house and to the outbuilding. Once there he stripped off and washed, after breaking the thin ice. Oh, he knew many men he’d known would laugh at him now, but he had the distinct satisfaction of one simple fact, he was still alive and they were not. He dried himself and dressed in the things he’d stripped from the corpses of his enemies with a certain sense of satisfaction. To him it was an ancient thing, when man fought the great lions and then, dressed in their bloody skins to stand and roar their own defiance at their enemies. Anyway, these things were of better quality than his were, and it had been so long since he’d worn such finery. Of course, the men had been younger than he was, and he had to struggle into the mail coat, swearing under his breath until it finally wrapped tight around him. He took the extra length up using a piece of twine, and hid the rust-coloured ragged tear behind the dark baldric. He fastened the studded belt and hung his great sword from it, its heavy weight comforting; his feet liking these thick leather boots. He led his favourite roan out of the stable and set about equipping her, as she stood stoic and patient. He pulled on his mail covered leather gauntlets and led the horse to the chopping block, not trusting his leg so he could mount her. She walked in stately grace out to stand facing the house as he jammed the helmet on his head, finally twisting it around so he could see past the nasal guard and trying not to stare at it – he never did like this style of helm for that very reason. His hands on the high pommel, he sat to put his mind at peace, and wait.

He pretended not to notice the door open and shut quickly. Then it opened again, and Alisha walked out, holding a frightened Druna by the hand as she tried to hide behind her mother’s skirts. Alisha stopped some feet before him, silent. Jared dismounted, trying not to limp as he walked forwards, dropping the heavy cloth reins, to slowly kneel on his right knee before the ladies. He slowly unsheathed his sword, and held it out, hilt first to the wide-eyed Druna, his head lowered, I offer my humble self to champion your cause, Milady. May I do so until your banner flies above your enemies or that I might perish in the attempt. Druna made a sort of little strangled squeak, and reached her hand out to light upon the polished brass pommel of his sword like a butterfly for but an instant. He pulled the sword back to press it against his helm, So the seal is made. He said, and then, shamefully, had to use his sword to help him stand. He smiled to the two of them. There, the official business is finished. He stuck the sword in the turf, and wrenched the helm off and shook his head, Oh, I hate those helms! he said, and Druna giggled and ran into the house. He looked to Alisha and saw she was looking at him with bright hazel eyes. Did you mean what you said to her? She asked. Of course! It’s legally binding down on the plains, a contract between knight and landowner. He said. He pulled his mailed gauntlets off. I will also have to visit the local smith and adjust this armour so it fits me better. Now, let me remove this and if I may have a crust of bread to start the day? he asked.

After he broke his fast with two slices of salted pork lightly fried in egg and a thick slice of bread with honey, he went outside, turning back only to ask, What is to be done? Milady Alisha? She looked up from wiping the table, Wait while I give Druna her chores. So he walked aside from the door to exercise, finding his leg a little less sore today. She came out to him, I was wondering Jared, do you still have the arrow that pierced you? Bolt, it was from a crossbow, but no, I don’t. Ah! However, I do have the rest of them. She smiled, lifting her skirt hem to walk beside him to the outbuilding. He took down the quiver from where he’d hung it, and she took one out, holding it by the feathered tip. She sniffed it and jerked her head back, Oh, that is foul! she said. He took it from her and sniffed cautiously, his eyes almost watering from the stench. That is an awful thing to do! she said, rubbing her nose, but he shrugged, I think they wanted me dead. He said, dropping the bolt back in the quiver. No wonder you were so sick, I thought you poisoned. In a way, you were. She said, then looked at him, Did you hold rank, Jared? he shrugged, I did, Milady. It seemed that in doing so, I upset someone enough for them to have me and my party ambushed. I alone escaped, though I was hunted. He explained. She looked at him, frowning. So, milady. What tasks do you have for me this day? he asked to distract her train of thought. What? Oh, um, well, the roof of this building needs to be looked at after the winter, perhaps the house too. He made a small bow, and when he has straightened, she was walking away, but he noticed her ears were sort of red.

Despite the cold start of the day, once he was up on the roof, it grew quite warm, so he stripped off his shirt. He found several of the thin sheets of wood askew, and so spent several minutes gently prying a sound one up to see how it had been fixed. He was quite amazed to see that instead of nails, thin fire-hardened sticks of wood were used to peg it down. He also found dry earth beneath it. He stood up, looking around the almost flat roof with a new idea in his head. Both house and outbuilding backed against a slope, and he climbed up upon it, finding a great tangled mass of old timber amongst craggy shards of ragged rock. He didn’t dare go further into that mess and risk breaking his legs. He walked back onto the roof, and started to fix it, happily singing under his breath and he hammered away, or talking to the horses below. Then, in what seemed like only an hour, shy Druna called him for lunch.

He washed the sweat from his upper torso by dunking himself to the waist in the horse trough, and drying himself with his shirt. Druna sat outside in the sun with her platter balanced on her knees and he stood gazing down into the valley below. Alisha came out and gave him his platter, then returned indoors, finally coming out with hers. May I ask if your husband built this house, or was it already here? Alisha looked at him, shading her eyes with her hand, We came upon it empty. We repaired it. She said. He nodded, And you found the roofs covered in soil and grass, and cleared them? She nodded, eating. He smiled, eating now. Why do you ask? She asked. He smiled to her, Although you made the buildings nice to look at, you removed a vital area of protection when you cleared the soil away. She looked worried, No, please, you knew no different. It took me a while to see it, for I did not expect to see it here. A foot of earth on the roof, apart from holding the heat in, in winter, and out, in summer, will also protect you from fire arrows. He said. She frowned in thought, and then slowly nodded. I think I understand, but it will be hard work to replace. He chuckled and nodded. But, won’t it hold water so that it drips into the house? She asked. Jared frowned, and nodded. Then we will not do that until we discover the secret. He said.

He saw to the house roof, and then sorted out a daily patrol for himself one that took in not just every approach to the house, but also around the buildings as well. Alisha could look after her own house; it was his job to look after the outside. He saw the split wood was getting low and made a mental note. Then saw the trough, and wondered as to its filling. The chickens went crazy at his approach and he decided that they were Druna’s domain. He found two large pigs in a pen between outbuilding and house and leaned on their wall to chat to them, the big boar grunting softly and nodding. Seeing that he had only about an hour of daylight left, Jared got his big old sword out and composed himself beside the stable. Moving slowly he began to go through the most elementary of lessons, watching his back swing, as in his mind, old one-armed Banehoff roared at him again, ‘Are you witless boy? I said to swing, not scratch your knee!’ He smiled at the memory and started into the double-handed side slash leading to the deep over-head back protect and therefore to the long controlled forward down cut. Again and again, until he was satisfied with it and always in his head ‘Right leg straight! You are not bowing to your god-damned lady love, sire!’ and finally he got it right! He stood up and turned to see Druna standing staring at him. He turned to his left, and swung the sword up, letting it go so it rose up spinning end over end to clear the shadow of the house and sparkle in the red light of the setting sun. As it came down he caught the hilt, turned and saluted her. She laughed and clapped her hands in joy and finally, for the briefest of moments, a dazzling smile upon her face. Alisha came up behind her and held her daughter’s shoulders. Really sir, how can I teach her not to run with a knife if you show her tricks like that? she asked. Jared’s face fell, and he looked down into the big deep liquid brown eyes of the child, Never run with a knife, Milady. I cannot protect you from that. She nodded, her hands clenched against her chest. And when you grow big enough to swing this big old sword, there will be a whole crowd of Princes at your side to protect you. He said with twinkling eyes. Oh hush. Alisha said, Druna, go and lay the table, please. Druna turned and ran her skirts and long dark hair flying.

Alisha smiled to him as he sheathed the sword. You are kind to her, thank you. She said. He smiled, I am a thrice a lucky man. I am pledged to the most beautiful lady of the kingdom, the Lady Druna. I work for the second most beautiful lady of the kingdom, her mother, the Lady Alisha, and I have the singular honour of seeing you as you are now, and as you must have been as a child, in your daughter. He made a bow. He rose, and found, to his confusion that she was flushed and angry. Will you put your shirt on! Dinner is getting cold! She turned on her heel and stomped away.

Jared stared at her, replaying what he just said in his mind to see if he made an unintended insult, then raised his arms staring up into the darkening sky in total confusion. He walked back to the stables and found his shirt, putting up his sword and slipping his dagger into his belt. He never understood women, ever! Children yes, horses yes, dogs even, but women never! He could even talk to barbarians once the heat of battle had left their brains. He muttered to himself as he walked to the house and entered as if it were some enemy bailey. Druna sat at the table and turned to look at him with her big brown eyes, and held a finger to her lips and he nodded. He tiptoed across the floor and sat opposite from her, hearing her mother muttering low to herself and banging pots about. He winced at one loud bang, and Alisha appeared and put a platter of stew down before her daughter, and gave him a hard look. He sighed as Alisha disappeared again, and sat with his hands in his lap and his shoulders hunched. Suddenly a platter of stew was banged down in front of him, making him jump. I think you should sleep in the stables tonight. Alisha said, and swept out again. He looked at the stew, and pushed the platter back. He looked at Druna and said softly, I will not leave you. He rose, and quietly left the house.

He gathered the cloaks inspecting them, then the clothing, finding a nice thick woollen undershirt which he put on. He wrapped linen about his feet and pulled on a pair of the thicker leather boots, then set about one pair of mailed gauntlets, carefully cutting them down and splitting the mail evenly around until he had a decent pair of gloves. The moon was up now and he looked out, seeing no light in the house. He put his jerkin on and then the thick woollen cloak, the hem almost to the ground. For this duty, he chose one of the slimmer one-handed swords. They were all of good quality, and a matching dagger which was better than his was. He spent an hour sharpening both to his satisfaction. Then he carried the two other cloaks and laid them on the stone doorstep that lay flush to the ground, and drawing his sword, he lay down with his back to the door, his cloak pulled around him. It wasn’t the first time he’d slept thus, and probably would not be the last.

The opening door woke him, and the foot that slipped against his back told who it was as he half-rolled, the naked sword flashing up vertical, the point held steady inches from Alisha’s stomach. Her eyes widened as she gasped. This is not some game I play, lady, to amuse your daughter. I swore an oath that binds me unto my death or my victory. Her eyes moved from the sword point to his eyes. He lowered the sword and rolled away from her, up onto his feet, and sheathed the slim sword. He bent to pick up his makeshift bed and walked to the outbuilding. He stopped as he heard her footsteps behind him, and turned to her. She carried a pitcher and a bowl that steamed. You slept against the door all night? she asked in a small voice. I did. He said. He walked on, stopping when she said, Slow down! He sighed and stopped. Why did you do that? She asked. He turned again, Because the stable was too far away from Druna. Raiders could have kicked the door in and killed you both before I could have been halfway there! Though, quite honestly, I very much doubt if killing you would be their plan. Sleeping at the door, I could stop the first instantly and be ready for the second. It is common sense! he said. She lowered her eyes. She followed him into the outbuilding and had him sit to give him his meal of oats and milk. She sat to watch him eat, her hands twisting in her lap.

I can understand that you may feel uncomfortable with me in your house. I accept that. He said. I can make a comfortable nest in here, and the horses are used to my voice. But I will walk guard at night until I can build some sort of defence that eases my mind. Also I would like to make sure your shutters and door is sound. Have you… I apologise! She said suddenly, interrupting him, and he sat staring in confusion at her. For what, milady? he asked. She stared at her twisting hands, For being rude to you last night, and for throwing you out of the house. Druna cried herself to sleep. I – I just lay thinking. She confessed. I – I don’t know what to say, milady. As I said, I understand your feeling uncomfortable with me in your house. You do not know me, and there is no one in this kingdom that I can call upon to vouchsafe my character. You did what you thought was right. He said, and she began to weep, which alarmed him. He put his bowl down, and fell to his knees before her, awkwardly holding her hands, Milady, please! I will face any foe you care to name, but a weeping woman terrifies me. I know not what to do! She gathered up her apron and held it to her face, her slim shoulders shaking. He stood, Oh hell! he said, he turned to the horses, but they couldn’t help. He stood at her side, awkwardly stroking her back, it sometimes worked for children, but with children you could pick them up and hug them, and he knew you couldn’t do that to women without all hell breaking loose. I’m sorry if I upset you Alisha. I’m just not used to the company of women, and I say the wrong things. It’s so much easier with barbarians, you just shout at them, and then everyone drinks until you all fall over. Maybe I could go and find Druna. She shook her head, wiping her eyes. She raised her head, No, no, don’t upset her. I’ll be fine in a minute. He leapt across the floor to pick up the pitcher, and brought it back to her. Sip some milk, milady, it will calm you. She shook her head, Forgive me, I must return to see to Druna. She rose, and swiftly left. He stood totally bewildered.

As it was still early, he removed his heavier clothing, keeping only the fine new dagger and the thicker boots and gloves, and took down the axe. He walked outside to look around, seeing which trees he felt were a little too near the house. He chose one, a fine tall slim tree, and removed his shirt, feeling the still cold air nip at him as he took the first swing. This he knew well, for there was always a call for wood, for palisades or stakes, beams for the big stone throwers or just to keep from freezing in the winter. Knowing just how curious Druna was, he constantly kept an eye open for her, especially before he let it fall. Then, starting at the stop, he trimmed the branches, working back down the trunk. He stacked the branches to one side, then went to get one of the horses and rope, and dragged the tree back to the yard. Then he roped the branches together and dragged that big bundle back too. He tied the horse out to pasture and returned, picking up any smaller twigs that looked promising, using a cloth to carry them back. Then he started to cut the trunk into smaller pieces. He had a use for a section of a certain size, and marked that off, carefully cutting that and rolling it aside. He then inspected the chopping block and found the holes he’d expected, filled with chips that he dug out. He went into the building and rooted around, finding the stakes and the saw. The stakes he put in the block, and the trestle at the other end held a log, and wedges against the stakes held the log firm so he could saw it in two. Halfway through the tree, and his back and shoulders were aching, but he ignored it, as there was no one else to take over from him. Finally he squared off the ends of his chosen piece, then put his tools away and sharpened and oiled the axe. He was slower stacking the cut logs under the outside shelter, and had to rest before tackling the branches, trying to work his knotted shoulders and back.

Finally he was called to lunch and remembered to put his shirt on, and hobbled to the house, wincing as he sat down. Is your wound hurting you? Alisha asked, concerned. No milady. He said, with a smile. She looked at him, Well something is. She said, then said, Sit up straight. He pushed against his thighs and grunted, feeling his back creaking in protest. She nodded, and muttered something about men. We’ll deal with that after food. She said. Druna wasn’t at the table and he looked around for her. Is milady Druna ill? he asked, concerned. Alisha sighed, She is sleeping. She hardly slept at all last night. He nodded, My apologies for disrupting your household. He said. She put a platter of salted pork before him with two slices of bread and honey, and sat opposite him, clear water in small cups already on the table. Let’s not get into that again. She said with a slight smile. She used a small sharp knife to eat with, and he used his dagger. So, what did you do before this ambush? She said, glancing up at him. He smiled, Oh, some people I knew wanted me to manage a village of theirs. It was quite interesting, and I learned many new things. Several of which I was not good at, like diplomacy. She chuckled. Well, I really cannot see the point of being all polite and smiling to someone that you dislike and you know dislikes you. And why not feed the poor when they are hungry instead of keeping the money in case you might need it next year? I fear I shouted a lot. He sighed and shook his head. All they would say is, ‘but it’s always been done this way’. She smiled, So, what did you do? she asked. I just took some of the finery from my quarters and sold it and brought food for the poor. And when they complained about selling treasures, I took my own money and did the same. In the end the ambush came and rescued me from terminal boredom. She laughed.

He sat on the chopping block, his shirt off, his elbows on his thighs as she worked upon his shoulders and back. He sniffed, That unguent has an uncommon odour, milady. He remarked. She made a sort of snorting sound, Well, the cow and pigs have never complained. She said. He hung his head and nodded, I see. He said. Secretly he found her hands rubbing and pressing at his knotted muscles to be quite soothing in more ways than one. So, Master Jared, have you never had a woman of your own? She asked. He stared at a small bright green flower at his feet. Once, milady when I was younger. We were wed one early spring day by a local woodland Priest. I thought my life was complete and my breath lost each time I held her. We only had eyes for each other, and would spend our days walking or riding the woodland trails. It was a summer I will never forget. Autumn was full of gold and in the chill we discovered the joys of sitting before the hearth on furs, talking of dreams and how many children we would have. Then winter came in deep snow and icy winds, and we would ride along those woodland trails, dressed in our winter finery; her in a long hooded white cloak, trimmed with white fur. Then one day her horse slipped and fell, rolling over her. I knelt holding her as she smiled up to me, whispering her love to me as I watched her white gown turn red at her hips, and her small sweet face turn slowly white as the snow. He sighed and felt her hands squeezing his shoulders, I am so sorry, Jared. She whispered. He wiped his face and raised his head, It is strange, but I have only told one other person of that, because he had just lost his wife, and somehow I sought to comfort him somehow. It is long gone, milady, lost in the mists of time. He rolled his shoulders, finding movement easier now. There, you have healing hands, milady. He stood up, stretching and turned to her to see her wiping her cheek. What – what was her name? She asked softly. He smiled gently, Erin. Lady Erin Et Varchant. She tilted her head slightly to one side to look at him, Master Jared, it seems to me that you have known many of high rank. He chuckled, Then, Lady Alisha, perhaps, a long time ago, I came from such a station. He said. She smiled, shaking her head, You Sire, are a man of mystery still, and, to answer your question, yes, I feel I can take you at your word, and trust you. You will sleep in the house, hence forth.

He sorted the branches, trimming the straighter ones to put them to one side, and then selecting others that would nicely replace the crossbow bolts. From the smaller twigs, he again selected ones that could be dried and fire-hardened for makeshift nails, liking that idea. The rest he put in a barrel and smashed up for kindling. He swept the yard, saw to the horse and put it back with the others, and refilled their water and feed, doing the same to the pigs and the cow. Druna was up at this time and she smiled when he told her she could see to the chickens, as they thought him a bear. He took the cloaks into the house for spare blankets, and had Alisha try on the pair of small thick leather boots, which almost fitted her, and he showed her how to wrap her feet in strips of linen until they did.