Chapter X
Wren
Sedlyn’s keep was impressive on its own; however, in contrast to the ruined keep of Iselyn it was clear that Iselyn had been the greater fortress in its glory. To enter, we passed under a great archway, twice the height of a grown man, supported by stone walls twice my width. The great hall, the center of all keep activity opened up before us. Heavy wooden beams, black with soot and age, crisscrossed above us while fresh rushes sweetened with herbs crunched beneath our feet. I scanned the empty tables shoved against the walls and tried to estimate the number of men and women that usual sat at them. I had counted seven tables that could easily seat twenty when loud male voices interrupted me and drew my attention to the dais where the high table still stood and three men and two women were gathered.
“I tell you that I saw eight points,” a well-dressed, slender man declared loudly.
“It was hardly four. You must be seeing double,” a gruff man built like a bear replied. His shaggy beard and worn clothing would have normally indicated a woodsman of serf status, but the casual manner in which he punched the slender man’s shoulder signaled something more.
“Just because you can claim the best prize, the twelve pointer, doesn’t mean that the rest of us were less impressive, Warwick. That eight pointed buck led me on a merry chase, and I feel quite accomplished in bringing in the meat.”
The burly man whom I assumed was Warwick Pendraco opened his mouth to speak, but was stalled by the wispy woman at his side. She pulled hard on his arm. “Leave him be. You have your prize. Let him enjoy his.”
The man sighed. “But if I let him, he will be saying he brought down a ten pointer by nightfall and challenging my dozen by morning. With each telling his buck’s rack grows.”
“It is his last excursion of the fall, Warwick. You will have plenty of opportunities this winter to prove your prowess.” The speaker rose to his feet, his face coming into view for the first time. His square face was partially covered with a thick brown beard, trimmed and well-kept. “We all know Hiller will not challenge you and I know of no other hunter in our midst that is your equal.”
“Ah, but there you are wrong, My lord,” our escort responded. “May I present Mistress Wren Romany of Braedoch, a huntress of men.”
I felt Kat stiffen beside me. She hadn’t known I was a bounty hunter. All eyes turned to look at us. I could hardly explain my past to her now.
“Eron, you have forgotten to introduce her companion.” The man I had tentatively identified as Lord Eryant stepped forward from between his brothers. “Lady Mynth, we are honored to have you visit us after so many years.” Taking Kat’s hand, he bowed deeply over it.
“Kat?” Warwick exclaimed, suddenly intent on examining Kat’s face. “Not the same girl who used to tag along behind us with skinned knees, frizzy pig tails, and black fingernails.” He looked her up and down. “I can’t believe it.”
Kat blushed to the roots of her hair. “Yes, that sounds about right.”
“You forgot to mention the bare feet,” the third man, the one bragging about bringing down an eight point buck, added. “I distinctly remember some very filthy bare feet.
“I have left those habits behind me,” Kat replied. “Though I dwell on those days as distant happy memories I shall cherish always.”
“We cherish them too,” the third man replied.
“Where is our manners?” Lord Eyrant exclaimed. “We have been sadly remiss. I believe introductions are needed all around. Mistress Romany, I am Philo Pendraco, Lord Eyrant and theses knaves are my brothers: Warwick,” he gestured to the rugged looking one in hunting clothes, “and Iscarus.” The slender, well-dressed man bowed slightly. “The woman attempting to keep Warwick from teasing Iscarus too much is his wife, Lorena. And, this vision,” he turned to extend a hand to the other woman, “is my wife, Annalyse.”
“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Mynth,” Annalyse added immediately. “All of my husband’s brothers and Philo have told me stories of their fostering years with your family. I have longed to meet you and your brother.”
“How is old Tourth these days?” Warwick asked. “Surely he has returned to Iselyn by now.”
Kat’s features lost the glow of joy as she turned to glance at me. I could see her hesitancy to speak. Despite the fact she was among old friends, they were friends of childhood. She did not know these grown men as she had known them as boys. I stepped in to her rescue.
“That is why we have come.”
Lord Eyrant immediately regarded me with a measuring look. He glanced toward Kat and then focused all of his attention on me.
I answered his scrutiny. “I do not know how aware you are of the events that have occurred in Iselyn, but Lord Mynth’s position is precarious at best at the moment. He and…” I stumbled over Kat’s title, and Lord Eryant raised a hand to stop me.
“Tourth and Kat are old friends of ours. If they have taken you into their confidence to the point that you are on a given name basis, then consider us the same. May we call you Wren?”
I nodded.
“Continue.”
“Tourth and Kat have been living in hiding along with some of Tourth’s sword-mates from his time spent fighting. They have been living thus since his return a bit over a year ago.” I looked to Kat for confirmation. She nodded without meeting my gaze. “During this time an enforcer has been ruling the valley.”
“A regular…” Warwick swore colorfully. His wife tugged on his arm with a reproachful look.
“Though I don’t agree with my brother’s choice of words,” Lord Eryant shot Warwick a look, “I completely concur with the sentiment. You will find no friends of that Enforcer here, Wren.”
“He poaches our game,” Warwick explained.
“His men frequently harass my patrols.” Iscarus frowned.
Annalyse put a hand through her husband’s arm. “They also come into the border villages and homesteads to assault our women.”
“As I said,” Lord Eryant concluded, “he is a terrible neighbor.”
“That is not actually what you said, Philo,” Iscarus interjected.
“This is hardly the time,” Warwick told Iscarus.
I saw that this could easily get off course so I interrupted. “Kat and I are requesting help for Tourth as he makes a claim on his title. It sounds as though helping him would be in your best interest.”
Lord Eyrant studied me for a moment. “Is this request from Tourth himself?”
Kat answered him before I could, pulling his attention to her. “He refuses to ask for help, but we desperately need it. The Enforcer has been demanding labor from the people Five days out of every seven they are required to work on constructing his castle on the opposite end of the valley from us.”
Lord Eyrant nodded. “I know of it.”
Kat continued to explain. “Because of these restrictions, many of the households in the valley are going to starve this winter. There have not been enough men or women to work the fields. The crops have not been harvested or were never planted. We have tried to help where we can, but there is too much need.”
“And you? How do you stand for supplies?”
Kat glanced my way. “We will be well. Wren has promised to assist in exchange for bed and board.”
“Then you should be in plenty of game,” Warwick commented.
“It is not just that,” Kat said, ignoring Warwick’s comment. “Now the Enforcer is instituting press gangs to pick up any male they encounter and put them to work. Tourth, Arthus, Dardon, and Svhen are all endanger of discovery. And should they be discovered, the Enforcer would have no reason to not murder them.”
“He has killed before?”
Kat nodded as my gut tightened. “He killed my parents. He was seen descending the stairs from their solar with a bloody knife.” Her hands were clenched so that the knuckles shown white against her skin. Suddenly she turned to me. “Please don’t tell Tourth, Wren. If he knew…” Her voice trailed off.
I had a feeling that I knew what would happen should Tourth find out. Beneath the calm exterior and the precisely logical decisions raged and anger that had not been confronted. Its existence was what kept all of his friends at bay. Despite their apparent willingness to confront Tourth over his plans, his fellow warriors were not willing to press to the point of breaching that fury. Yet someone must. If it remained as it was, buried deep beneath the surface, burning low and hot, it would consume him. I fully intended to chip away at that anger, but I wasn’t foolhardy enough to tell him this tragic news and confront it head on.
“I won’t tell him until he is ready to hear it,” I assured her.
“But…” She opened her mouth to try to explain further, but Iscarus interrupted her.
“I think we have reason enough to help them, don’t you Philo?”
Kat and I both looked to Lord Eryant, his sharp gaze flickered over all our faces, lingering for a moment on Kat’s tear stained countenance. “Aye, Iscarus, I do think we have reason.” He turned to his brothers. “Where are Hiller and the troops at the moment?”
“The eastern border,” Iscarus replied.
Annalyse stepped forward, collecting Kat’s hand from the folds of her skirt. “Come. Let us leave them to their planning. We should see to your accommodations and organize the supplies their will need.”
Lorena stepped to Kat’s other side as they walked away. “Please tell me more about Warwick as a boy. Unlike Philo, he is very reluctant to talk about those times.”
“If you tell her anything about you know what,” Warwick called after them, “I’ll…”
“Ignore him,” Lorena told Kat loud enough for her husband to here. “He is all bluster and no bite.”
Kat replied, but her voice was lost to the distance.
“Warwick, please focus on the task at hand,” Iscarus prodded. “It isn’t like anything Kat would say would change Lorena’s opinion of you.”
Lord Eyrant’s face brightened with amusement. “Ah, but you are forgetting about that time…”
“Okay, how many men do you think we should send?” Warwick asked loudly over riding his brother’s voice as he turned back to us. Lord Eyrant and Iscarus shared a smile when their brother wasn’t looking and the discussion began in earnest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wren Romany - © 2009 Rachel Rossano
Sedlyn’s keep was impressive on its own; however, in contrast to the ruined keep of Iselyn it was clear that Iselyn had been the greater fortress in its glory. To enter, we passed under a great archway, twice the height of a grown man, supported by stone walls twice my width. The great hall, the center of all keep activity opened up before us. Heavy wooden beams, black with soot and age, crisscrossed above us while fresh rushes sweetened with herbs crunched beneath our feet. I scanned the empty tables shoved against the walls and tried to estimate the number of men and women that usual sat at them. I had counted seven tables that could easily seat twenty when loud male voices interrupted me and drew my attention to the dais where the high table still stood and three men and two women were gathered.
“I tell you that I saw eight points,” a well-dressed, slender man declared loudly.
“It was hardly four. You must be seeing double,” a gruff man built like a bear replied. His shaggy beard and worn clothing would have normally indicated a woodsman of serf status, but the casual manner in which he punched the slender man’s shoulder signaled something more.
“Just because you can claim the best prize, the twelve pointer, doesn’t mean that the rest of us were less impressive, Warwick. That eight pointed buck led me on a merry chase, and I feel quite accomplished in bringing in the meat.”
The burly man whom I assumed was Warwick Pendraco opened his mouth to speak, but was stalled by the wispy woman at his side. She pulled hard on his arm. “Leave him be. You have your prize. Let him enjoy his.”
The man sighed. “But if I let him, he will be saying he brought down a ten pointer by nightfall and challenging my dozen by morning. With each telling his buck’s rack grows.”
“It is his last excursion of the fall, Warwick. You will have plenty of opportunities this winter to prove your prowess.” The speaker rose to his feet, his face coming into view for the first time. His square face was partially covered with a thick brown beard, trimmed and well-kept. “We all know Hiller will not challenge you and I know of no other hunter in our midst that is your equal.”
“Ah, but there you are wrong, My lord,” our escort responded. “May I present Mistress Wren Romany of Braedoch, a huntress of men.”
I felt Kat stiffen beside me. She hadn’t known I was a bounty hunter. All eyes turned to look at us. I could hardly explain my past to her now.
“Eron, you have forgotten to introduce her companion.” The man I had tentatively identified as Lord Eryant stepped forward from between his brothers. “Lady Mynth, we are honored to have you visit us after so many years.” Taking Kat’s hand, he bowed deeply over it.
“Kat?” Warwick exclaimed, suddenly intent on examining Kat’s face. “Not the same girl who used to tag along behind us with skinned knees, frizzy pig tails, and black fingernails.” He looked her up and down. “I can’t believe it.”
Kat blushed to the roots of her hair. “Yes, that sounds about right.”
“You forgot to mention the bare feet,” the third man, the one bragging about bringing down an eight point buck, added. “I distinctly remember some very filthy bare feet.
“I have left those habits behind me,” Kat replied. “Though I dwell on those days as distant happy memories I shall cherish always.”
“We cherish them too,” the third man replied.
“Where is our manners?” Lord Eyrant exclaimed. “We have been sadly remiss. I believe introductions are needed all around. Mistress Romany, I am Philo Pendraco, Lord Eyrant and theses knaves are my brothers: Warwick,” he gestured to the rugged looking one in hunting clothes, “and Iscarus.” The slender, well-dressed man bowed slightly. “The woman attempting to keep Warwick from teasing Iscarus too much is his wife, Lorena. And, this vision,” he turned to extend a hand to the other woman, “is my wife, Annalyse.”
“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Mynth,” Annalyse added immediately. “All of my husband’s brothers and Philo have told me stories of their fostering years with your family. I have longed to meet you and your brother.”
“How is old Tourth these days?” Warwick asked. “Surely he has returned to Iselyn by now.”
Kat’s features lost the glow of joy as she turned to glance at me. I could see her hesitancy to speak. Despite the fact she was among old friends, they were friends of childhood. She did not know these grown men as she had known them as boys. I stepped in to her rescue.
“That is why we have come.”
Lord Eyrant immediately regarded me with a measuring look. He glanced toward Kat and then focused all of his attention on me.
I answered his scrutiny. “I do not know how aware you are of the events that have occurred in Iselyn, but Lord Mynth’s position is precarious at best at the moment. He and…” I stumbled over Kat’s title, and Lord Eryant raised a hand to stop me.
“Tourth and Kat are old friends of ours. If they have taken you into their confidence to the point that you are on a given name basis, then consider us the same. May we call you Wren?”
I nodded.
“Continue.”
“Tourth and Kat have been living in hiding along with some of Tourth’s sword-mates from his time spent fighting. They have been living thus since his return a bit over a year ago.” I looked to Kat for confirmation. She nodded without meeting my gaze. “During this time an enforcer has been ruling the valley.”
“A regular…” Warwick swore colorfully. His wife tugged on his arm with a reproachful look.
“Though I don’t agree with my brother’s choice of words,” Lord Eryant shot Warwick a look, “I completely concur with the sentiment. You will find no friends of that Enforcer here, Wren.”
“He poaches our game,” Warwick explained.
“His men frequently harass my patrols.” Iscarus frowned.
Annalyse put a hand through her husband’s arm. “They also come into the border villages and homesteads to assault our women.”
“As I said,” Lord Eryant concluded, “he is a terrible neighbor.”
“That is not actually what you said, Philo,” Iscarus interjected.
“This is hardly the time,” Warwick told Iscarus.
I saw that this could easily get off course so I interrupted. “Kat and I are requesting help for Tourth as he makes a claim on his title. It sounds as though helping him would be in your best interest.”
Lord Eyrant studied me for a moment. “Is this request from Tourth himself?”
Kat answered him before I could, pulling his attention to her. “He refuses to ask for help, but we desperately need it. The Enforcer has been demanding labor from the people Five days out of every seven they are required to work on constructing his castle on the opposite end of the valley from us.”
Lord Eyrant nodded. “I know of it.”
Kat continued to explain. “Because of these restrictions, many of the households in the valley are going to starve this winter. There have not been enough men or women to work the fields. The crops have not been harvested or were never planted. We have tried to help where we can, but there is too much need.”
“And you? How do you stand for supplies?”
Kat glanced my way. “We will be well. Wren has promised to assist in exchange for bed and board.”
“Then you should be in plenty of game,” Warwick commented.
“It is not just that,” Kat said, ignoring Warwick’s comment. “Now the Enforcer is instituting press gangs to pick up any male they encounter and put them to work. Tourth, Arthus, Dardon, and Svhen are all endanger of discovery. And should they be discovered, the Enforcer would have no reason to not murder them.”
“He has killed before?”
Kat nodded as my gut tightened. “He killed my parents. He was seen descending the stairs from their solar with a bloody knife.” Her hands were clenched so that the knuckles shown white against her skin. Suddenly she turned to me. “Please don’t tell Tourth, Wren. If he knew…” Her voice trailed off.
I had a feeling that I knew what would happen should Tourth find out. Beneath the calm exterior and the precisely logical decisions raged and anger that had not been confronted. Its existence was what kept all of his friends at bay. Despite their apparent willingness to confront Tourth over his plans, his fellow warriors were not willing to press to the point of breaching that fury. Yet someone must. If it remained as it was, buried deep beneath the surface, burning low and hot, it would consume him. I fully intended to chip away at that anger, but I wasn’t foolhardy enough to tell him this tragic news and confront it head on.
“I won’t tell him until he is ready to hear it,” I assured her.
“But…” She opened her mouth to try to explain further, but Iscarus interrupted her.
“I think we have reason enough to help them, don’t you Philo?”
Kat and I both looked to Lord Eryant, his sharp gaze flickered over all our faces, lingering for a moment on Kat’s tear stained countenance. “Aye, Iscarus, I do think we have reason.” He turned to his brothers. “Where are Hiller and the troops at the moment?”
“The eastern border,” Iscarus replied.
Annalyse stepped forward, collecting Kat’s hand from the folds of her skirt. “Come. Let us leave them to their planning. We should see to your accommodations and organize the supplies their will need.”
Lorena stepped to Kat’s other side as they walked away. “Please tell me more about Warwick as a boy. Unlike Philo, he is very reluctant to talk about those times.”
“If you tell her anything about you know what,” Warwick called after them, “I’ll…”
“Ignore him,” Lorena told Kat loud enough for her husband to here. “He is all bluster and no bite.”
Kat replied, but her voice was lost to the distance.
“Warwick, please focus on the task at hand,” Iscarus prodded. “It isn’t like anything Kat would say would change Lorena’s opinion of you.”
Lord Eyrant’s face brightened with amusement. “Ah, but you are forgetting about that time…”
“Okay, how many men do you think we should send?” Warwick asked loudly over riding his brother’s voice as he turned back to us. Lord Eyrant and Iscarus shared a smile when their brother wasn’t looking and the discussion began in earnest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wren Romany - © 2009 Rachel Rossano
posted by Rachel Rossano at 10:39 AM
5 Comments:
Quite simply:
"Thank you."
This short chapter was excellent. Everytime I read your stories, I feel like you had a strong set of brothers in your family. You capture that camraderie in such a way as to give pleasure to your readers. Actually, it makes me think of my three boy-cousins, now grown men who still love to give each other a hard time. I empathize with Kat and her relationship to the Eryant brothers. :-)
I also like how there was no question that Wren would stay behind and talk business with the men. No question of her right to be there. It was wholly natural.
I love Wren's perspective on Tourth as revealed in this chapter. I also got a glimmering of what may be coming down the road in their future. She is definitely the even-keeled one. You know, I was going to make a comment about Wren and Tourth's relationship when I realized: they aren't in one. I can't wait to see how you bring that about. *quivering in my chair in expectation*
Again, thank you.
You're welcome, Michelle. :) I am delighted that you enjoyed this chapter. I was a bit nervous about it.
I had one "little" brother when I was growing up, but I always wanted a big brother. Then when I got married, I accummulated three "big" brothers. Our first meeting opened my eyes to how brotherly affection is usually demonstrated by ribbing, wrestling, putting cedar chips down each other's back, and chasing around a playground. I was amazed at how grown men could act like children. I also found I loved it. Ever since I have endeavored to capture some of that on the page with my male characters. Of course, I can't completely understand it, being a female, but I can appreciate it.
Yes, Tourth and Wren's relationship doesn't really seem like a relationship does it, but at the same time it does. Wren isn't like any of my other characters. She is direct, fearless, and so reserved. In many ways, she is how I wish I could be. On the other hand, she is a woman who does what is necessary. She sees that Tourth needs help so she goes out and gets it. She knows that she is stepping on his toes and that he isn't going to like it, but she doesn't care. Somehow I am sure Tourth is going to care a great deal. :) I am half afraid of that confrontation. My friend Charissa observed that my characters hardly ever fight while hers are yelling at each other ever other page. I am excited and nervous to see how Tourth and Wren work it out. :)
I liked this chapter, although I expected Lord Eryant to refuse Wren's request for the safety of his people or something like that. You did a great job writing. I like the rough, boyish friendship between the brothers!
"I had a feeling that I knew what would happen should Tourth find out. Beneath the calm exterior and the precisely logical decisions raged and anger that had not been confronted. Its existence was what kept all of his friends at bay. Despite their apparent willingness to confront Tourth over his plans, his fellow warriors were not willing to press to the point of breaching that fury. Yet someone must. If it remained as it was, buried deep beneath the surface, burning low and hot, it would consume him. I fully intended to chip away at that anger, but I wasn’t foolhardy enough to tell him this tragic news and confront it head on."
There is so much I want to say about that paragraph alone... and when it comes down to it, all I can say is...
Read the above paragraph. If that doesn't send chills down your spine when you think about it, I don't know what will. I don't know who to be more scared for: Tourth, when Wren really starts into the "chip away" phase, or Wren, when Tourth finally reaches the breaking point.
Help me! The anticipation is killing me!
Nice, Rachel! I like the family very much :).
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