Ravenheart (33 page)

“Aye, well, it’s fitting, then, that you should have behaved like one.”

“You think it was foolish to leave?”

Grymauch laughed. “You need no answer to that, Kaelin. Wounded and tired, you walk off into a ferocious storm with no real knowledge of the countryside. I’d say that was foolish.
You should have told her that you loved her, that she was the most precious creature in all the world, and that you could not imagine life without her.”

“I wish I had.”

“It’s not too late. We’re only a few miles from the gates.”

Kaelin shook his head. “No. I am going back to the farm. If she wants me, she can find me there.”

“What if she doesn’t come, boy?”

“Then she doesn’t love me, Grymauch.”

Grymauch replaced his head scarf. “Perhaps that’s what she’ll think when she finds you left without, as you say, a word of good-bye. If you want to win the girl, you’ll need to swallow your pride and say what needs to be said.”

Kaelin thought about it, then shook his head and smiled. “Why is it, Grymauch, that you have never swallowed
your
pride and told Aunt Maev you love her?”

“I’m not good enough for her,” Jaim said sadly. “Maev is a woman of fire and iron. I’m just a whoring drunkard—and an ugly one to boot. No, ’tis enough for me to be close to her and help her where I can.”

“She’s not too good for you, Grymauch. Maybe you should just ask her to wed you.”

“Now it’s you giving advice, is it? Maybe one day I will, boy. When the time is right.” Replacing his headband, he gave a great sigh. “I have to say I’d be the proudest man who ever lived if she
were
to walk the tree with me. I love her so much, I feel that my heart will burst from it.”

“That is how I feel about Chara. I feel we are meant to be together.”

“My, but it is a good feeling, isn’t it?” said Jaim. “Now, which direction should we head?”

“Back to the farm,” said Kaelin. “I made the decision to leave, and I’ll not look weak by creeping back to the great house.”

“Well, I’ve said my piece, so I’ll just walk with you.”

Jaim climbed down from the rock and gathered his cloak.
From behind a rock he lifted his massive broadsword and hung it between his shoulders. He saw Kaelin looking at him.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“I’m thinking that you’ll never ask Maev to marry you. It makes me sad.”

“It shouldn’t. There is nothing in the world so great as love, Kaelin. I feel privileged just to have felt it. My wife was a good woman, and though I didn’t love her as I love Maev, we were content. Two bairns and a little farm. When she died and the Beetlebacks drowned my boys, I was filled with hate. The rebellion was in full flow, and I cut and killed my way from Eldacre to Three Bridges and beyond. I butchered Beetlebacks wherever I found them. After the rebellion was lost, I crossed the sea and fought in several wars. But the hate never left me, Kaelin. It burned like fire on the soul. When I came back, Maev healed me. Not just my eye but my heart. Love does that, boy. So you should understand that my life was made infinitely richer just by
knowing
Maev. I get more pleasure from seeing her smile than I have ever had from rutting with Parsha Willets or anyone else. She is the love of my life and the life of my soul. I don’t need to be wed to her. I don’t even need that love returned. It is enough that I am close to her and can protect her.”

Kaelin saw the sorrow in the big man’s face and knew Jaim was not telling the whole truth. He
did
need that love returned. Who wouldn’t? thought Kaelin. The silence now was uncomfortable, and the youngster knew he needed to find something to say to restore their normal friendly banter. He stepped forward and lifted his borrowed cloak from the rock where Jaim had laid it to dry. “So,” he said at last, “how is Parsha Willets?”

Jaim laughed. “Fat and willing and wonderful company. I’ve never regretted a single daen I’ve paid her.”

“Judging by the amount you’ve given her, she must be one of the richest women in the highlands by now,” said Kaelin.

“Och, it’s not
that
much.” Jaim thought about it. He
grinned broadly. “Maybe it is. Maybe I should marry Parsha Willets and live a life of luxury.”

The mood restored, they set off toward the east.

Kaelin glanced back once, hoping to see Chara coming to find him.

But the land was empty.

12

J
AIM STAYED AT
the farm for less than a month. Kaelin knew he was anxious to return to Maev and made no attempt to delay him, though he dearly wanted to. The big man’s presence at the farm changed the atmosphere. He laughed and joked with Finbarr and his brothers, which in turn drew Kaelin closer to the group. By the time he left, Kaelin felt more at ease with the northerners and they were more friendly toward him.

At least part of the change was due to the duel with Bael. Word of it had spread, and Kaelin’s standing among the folk of Black Mountain had risen as a result. But it was mainly the easygoing presence of Jaim Grymauch that made the difference. He worked as hard as any man, repairing fences, digging ditches, clearing blocked water inlets. At night he would produce a jug or two and regale the laborers with songs or his own bawdy poems. They also witnessed at first hand Jaim’s remarkable bull-charming talents. An old bull with a huge sweep of horn had become trapped on a mud bank by the river. The more he struggled, the deeper he sank. When Kaelin, Finbarr, and Senlic tried to reach him, laying long planks across the bank, the bull dipped his head and lunged at them. Jaim sat close by, drinking from a flagon of Uisge and laughing at their efforts.

Then he placed the empty flagon on the ground, looped a coil of rope over his shoulder, and walked out to stand some ten feet from the panicked animal. When he spoke, his voice was low and easy:

The bull dipped its head and shivered. Jaim placed a loop over its horns, then directed Kaelin and the others to continue placing long planks around the beast. When they had done so, Jaim spoke to the animal.

“Come, my friend,” he said. “This is no place for you. Your ladies are waiting. Let’s have a little effort now.” So saying, he leaned back into the rope. The bull’s shoulders heaved. He managed to get his front legs on the nearest of the planks. Kaelin, Finbarr, and Senlic moved in behind him, pushing hard. With an angry bellow the bull powered himself clear. Kaelin fell face first into the mud, and Senlic hauled him up. The old man was laughing fit to burst, and then Finbarr began to chuckle. The sound was so infectious that Kaelin found himself laughing with them.

Jaim was lifting the rope clear of the bull’s horns. “Are you lads finished with your playing now?” he called. Kaelin scooped a handful of mud and hurled it at him.

Incidents like that meant Jaim’s departure was greeted with general dismay.

“A man like you is wasted in the south,” said old Senlic Carpenter as Jaim climbed to the wagon.

“I have to be there,” said Jaim. “They need to be reminded of what a
real
Rigante looks like.”

He glanced down at Kaelin. “You remember what I told you,” he said.

Kaelin nodded glumly. “Give my love to Aunt Maev, and next time you come bring Banny with you. He’d like the trip, and I miss him.”

“I’ll do that.”

As the wagon rumbled away toward the south, Kaelin stood with Senlic and Finbarr, staring after it. “What the hell is in the south that holds him?” asked Senlic.

“He’s in love,” Kaelin said before he could stop himself.

“Ah,” muttered Finbarr Ustal. “That explains it. Why doesn’t he walk the tree with her and bring her north?”

“Maybe he will,” said Kaelin.

“No, he won’t,” observed Senlic. “She doesn’t love him.”

“That’s a shame,” put in Finbarr. “Obviously a stupid woman.” With that he strolled away.

Senlic remained. He glanced at Kaelin. “There’s only one woman I’ve heard Grymauch talk about. And that’s your Aunt Maev. I’ve met her, and she has a mind as sharp as a dagger. Handsome woman, too, by heaven.”

Kaelin was uncomfortable with the conversation. “I should not have spoken of it,” he said. “I ask you to put it from your mind when next he visits. So will you need my help marking the cattle?” he asked, clumsily changing the subject.

“No. The lads and I can tackle that. My bones tell me it’s going to be a hard winter, and I reckon we should halve the herds. We’ll lose many when the ice comes. Beef prices are high now. Good time to make the decision.”

“I agree,” said Kaelin. “Mark out half and bring me the count. Will you take charge of herding them south?”

“Not this time. I’m getting old. Finbarr can hire the men and lead them. It’s time he learned a little responsibility.”

“Good enough,” said Kaelin.

Back at the house he made himself a second breakfast, frying several thin steaks. As he ate, he thought of the advice Jaim had given him that morning: “Don’t leave it too long, boy. You don’t want her marrying someone else.”

Kaelin had heard nothing from Chara Jace in the last
month, and it hurt him deeply. Did she think so lightly of him? Had he been wrong to think she loved him?

“Go to her,” Jaim had advised.

But pride prevented such a move. It was she who had first walked away without a word of farewell. It was she who should make the first move toward reconciliation.

What if she doesn’t?

The thought was chilling. Every night as he went to his bed he thought of her. Every morning as he woke it was her face that leapt to his mind. Throughout the working days he would find himself remembering their conversations, picturing the sun on her hair, the brightness of her smile.

Perhaps she will come when the tribute is due in three days, he thought.

Holding to that hope, he ate the last of the steaks, cleaned both plate and pan, and walked out to the old barn. The supply wagon was waiting, the four horses harnessed. Finbarr’s youngest brother, Killon, was waiting there.

“You want company for the trip?” asked the young man.

“That would be good,” said Kaelin, knowing that Killon was wooing a Black Mountain girl, the daughter of a widow who ran a small laundry in the center of town.

With Killon beside him, Kaelin eased off the foot brake and slapped the reins to the backs of the horses. They pushed into the traces, and the empty wagon rolled forward on the long road to Black Mountain settlement.

“Be careful if you plan to tackle Grassman,” Killon warned as they got onto the open road. “You don’t want to be shooting any Varlish.” He grinned as he said it.

“I didn’t bring my pistols,” said Kaelin.

“It’ll do no good to report him to the Beetlebacks. A crook the man may be, but he has friends in high places. Captain Ranaud, for one. He’s a cold, hard man.”

“I’ll just speak to the man,” said Kaelin. “I’m sure he’ll see the error of his ways.”

The problem had begun several weeks earlier, when Kaelin
had checked out the sacks on the supply wagon and found that the supplies did not tally with the checklist. It was Finbarr who had brought them in. “It is always the same,” Finbarr told him. “The trader, Grassman, is a thief. His weights are crooked, and he does not allow anyone to stand by and count the sacks as they are loaded. He will say that no highlander can enter his yard. We’re all thieves, apparently. When the wagon is brought out, it is always one or two sacks short. But what can we do? The last highlander to complain to the Beetlebacks found that Grassman refused to sell him supplies. There is no other dealer in salt, white sugar, and dried fruit in Black Mountain. One man tried to set up a business, but he was thrashed by friends of Grassman and quit the town.”

“I’ll go in for the next supplies,” said Kaelin.