Anything happen while I was gone?’
‘Naught. And how was Elrydd?’
‘As well as it needed to be.’
Garedd shot him a look of honest sympathy. They took their tankards and sat down at a table far from the crowd around the game.
‘And your sister?’ Garedd said.
‘That’s the cursed worst thing of all. By the hells, I was minded to beat her black-and-blue. First she has to go and get herself a bastard, and now she’s given it up.’
‘She what?’
‘Gave the babe up. To her rotten cat-eyed man. He rides in and wants the little lass – because she’ll be only a burden on our Dewigga, or so he says, and so she up and lets him take her away.’ Cinvan slammed the tankard down on the table. ‘And Da was too cursed drunk to know or care. Ah, horseshit!’
‘Now here, maybe it’s for the best. Your sister’s got a chance at a decent marriage someday now.’
‘Ah, that’s what she said, blast her! But the shame of it, my own niece, one of my blood kin, riding with the Westfolk! What’s her Da going to do, I says to Dewigga, teach her to steal? And she’s got the gall to slap me across the face and tell me to hold my tongue! Women!’
Garedd nodded in silent sympathy. Cinvan drew his dagger and began fiddling with it, just for comfort. On the hilt was graved his personal mark, the striking falcon that had earned him his nickname in the warband. He ran a heavily calloused thumb over the mark and had thoughts of slitting this Gaverenteriel’s throat for him one sweet day.
‘And you know what else Dewigga had the gall to say? She’s always known her man was going to take the babe when she was old enough. You’re cursed lucky you didn’t let me know, says I. Why do you think I held my tongue? says she. Cursed good thing, says I, and she slaps me again.’
‘Why didn’t you beat her black-and-blue?’ Garedd said.
Cinvan shrugged, laying the dagger down on the table and picking up his tankard. The truth was too bitter to tell: he’d seen too much of that already, with his father beating his mother half to death every time she looked at the old man wrong. Her sobs still echoed through his dreams.
‘Ah, wouldn’t be worth the trouble,’ Cinvan said. ‘I just tell her that if she has another bastard, don’t come running to me for coin for the midwife this time, and she flounces out of the room like a high-born lady with her nose in the air.’
‘Good for you. Women need to be kept in their place.’
‘Cursed right.’
They finished their ale in silence. At the far table, Edyl’s howl of rage – he always was a rotten loser – announced that Peddyc had won the game. Amid laughter and jests, coin changed hands all around the warband.
‘And here’s our falcon back,’ Ynryc called out, pocketing a silver piece from the defeated side. ‘Come on, Cinvan – give Peddyc here a game. You’ve got a good hand with the stones.’
‘Maybe I will, if he’ll take me on.’
‘Oh, I’m always game,’ Peddyc said, grinning. ‘Let’s see if I can keep my winnings.’
Edyl rose from his place at the board.
‘Welcome back, falcon. And has your sister given you a nephew yet? But with proper ears this time?’
The world went red. Cinvan stepped forward, hit Edyl hard in the stomach with his right and swung up to clip his jaw with his left. Edyl went down like a sack of grain as the hall exploded in shouting. Cinvan felt men grabbing his arms, heard Garedd yelling at him to calm down. Abruptly the red fog cleared. Cinvan knelt to his lord in a cold-shaking sweat.
‘And what’s all this? By the hells, you haven’t been back for one wretched hour, Cinvan.’
Cinvan nodded in dumb agreement. He was so sure that he was in for a flogging that he could already feel the whip on his back. Young Dovyn caught his father’s arm and whispered something to him.
‘Oh.’ Melaudd turned to Peddyc. ‘Did Edyl make remarks about Cinvan’s sister?’
‘He did, my lord.’
‘Well, then, he’s got what he deserved. Tell him I said so when you bring him round. But here, Cinvan, try to keep peace in my hall, will you? If you’d only ignore these stupid foul jests, they’d stop making them after a while.’
‘True spoken, my lord, and my apologies.’
Later that day, when Melaudd and Waldyn’s wives and their serving women came down from the women’s hall to sit with the noble lords at the table of honour, Dovyn came to drink with his father’s warband. Cinvan wondered if he felt more at home with the men, now that his brother had an infant son, another heir between him and Cernmeton.
‘Good to see you back, falcon.’
‘My thanks, my lord. For a lot of things.’
‘Most welcome, truly. I’ve got somewhat to ask you. I’ll be riding down to Aberwyn soon. My father’s given me leave to take some of his men along for an escort. I was thinking of you, Garedd, Peddyc, and Tauryn. Are you game for a wet ride?’
‘Gladly, my lord. Your father’s a generous man with his ale, but time hangs heavy in winter.’
‘Just that.’ Dovyn gave him a grin. ‘We might have a bit of sport in the spring though. Here, I’ll tell you the news. I’m riding to Aberwyn to lay claim to some of that empty land up by the Peddroloc. If I can gather the farmers and suchlike, by the gods, why shouldn’t I have land and a dun of my own?’
‘Why not?’ Cinvan pledged him with his tankard. ‘Good for you, my lord. I take it your father’s sponsoring you.’
‘Just that.’ Dovyn’s smile was full of boyish hopes and pride. ‘He says he’ll back me with the warband if any of the cursed Westfolk try to argue about it, too. I can fancy myself spreading the Bear clan’s name a little further west.’
‘And your clan’s glory.’ Cinvan had a swallow of ale. ‘May the Bear roam where he will.’
Two days later, when the storm eased, Lord Dovyn and his escort set out for Aberwyn. All along the way, Melaudd’s personal vassals and allies gave them a roof over their heads and ale to drink, which was all that mattered to Cinvan. Dovyn was full of his plans, chattering about them in a most unlordly manner. Since the Old Ones had already fled this part of the country, his new demesne would have to be tilled by free farmers, but there were plenty of younger sons among the Eldidd freemen. Among the commoners, a freeman could divide his property up among his heirs when he died, but who would settle for some part of a farm when he could win a whole one? With a noble lord and his warband to protect them against the Westfolk, they would be glad to move and break new land, which would become theirs in freehold in return for dues. (Back in the Homeland, the noble-born had always divided their property, too, but here in the new and hostile country, with empty land all around them, they preferred to keep holdings strong by passing them intact to one heir.) Lord Dovyn would be a poor lord at first, but his wealthy father
