Cricket smiled. “Very. When I went to the Academy, and they came out here, I thought I was losing a piece of my soul.”
“I can tell how much they love you, too.” She blew a curl out of her eye and spread her blanket. “I don’t think I ever had friends who loved me that much.”
“Sure you do,” Cricket replied, lying down. “I’m one of them.”
“That’s sweet. But someday I’ll move on, and we may never see each other again.”
He reached over and touched her shoulder. “That doesn’t mean that we won’t be friends. I haven’t seen Asael and Leann in almost two years, and if we never see each other again, I will still hold them against my heart, and look forward to a time when we can be together again. And that’s what a friend does.”
Serca sighed and blew out the lantern. In the darkness, Cricket had just started to fall asleep when he thought he heard her say, “You are my only friend, Cricket.” He stared into the night, awake again, but she didn’t say anything else, and finally he closed his eyes again, willing himself to sleep.
Asael waited outside of the gates when they returned. “See anything interesting?” he asked.
“Just a lot of Leinathmen with stories and complaints,” he answered, feeling like he had just come home.
“Well, it’s a good thing you got back when you did,” Asael said. “Lord Elnsbruck is feeling an ache in his knee, which is a good sign that snow is on the way.”
“He predicts the weather, too?” Serca said, lifting her eyebrow.
“He’s more like a dun chieftain than a cantref lord,” Asael explained as they walked to the hall. “He likes to be a part of the land, he says, otherwise he doesn’t know how to make good choices.”
“He sounds like a wise man,” Cricket said. “What about the son, Patkirk?”
“He takes after the old man pretty well,” Asael replied. “More tactful, though, which helps. Lord Elnsbruck can be pretty plain spoken, but Patkirk gets along better with the other nobles; in fact, he and Maeve are spending the season at Salwick.”
Leann met them in the lower hall, where the commoners ate. Dyvan looked out from behind her skirt, thumb in mouth. Cricket knelt down and held out his arms to the little boy, but he turned bashful and hid his face. “He’ll warm up to you again,” Leann promised. She scooped the boy up and handed him to his father.
“I want to talk to Cricket for a minute,” she said to Serca. “Do you mind?”
“Take all the time you want,” the bard said, swinging around her harp case. “I’m just going to see if Dyvan is as musical as the rest of your family.”
Cricket followed Leann out of the hall and across the yard, wondering what she wanted to talk to him about. “Do you like Caer Coll?” she asked, leading him out of the gate.
“Very much,” he replied as they made their way across a bare field to a stone fence. She sat on the steps of a rough stile while Cricket looked out across the stubbled pastures, purple in the twilight. “It reminds me of home.”
“Where is home, Cricket?”
“I grew up in a little dun further south, in Cantref Olammy. But I know that’s not what you meant.” He shrugged. “I’m not sure where home really is.”
Leann didn’t say anything, but rested her chin on her hand and studied his face. He shifted under the scrutiny until she said, “I wanted to talk to you about Serca.”
“What about her?”
“She really likes you, Cricket.”
“I like her, too,” Cricket replied. “She’s the best friend I’ve found since you and Asael left.”
“I think she likes you as more than a friend,” Leann said.
“What?”
She laughed. “You look like someone kicked you in the stomach.”
“It would explain why it’s suddenly hard to breathe,” Cricket said. “Are you sure?”
“You really can’t tell, can you?” Leann shook her head. “How can you see everything else except that a woman is starting to care for you?”
He shrugged. “Just talented, I guess.” He looked out over the fields again, but all he saw was curly brown hair that kept slipping out of its braid.
“It’s pretty obvious. Everyone thinks that you’re lovers except for Asael and me. We know you better.”
“I never thought—I mean, I have thought of her like that, and I think she’s pretty, but I never expected—” He looked at Leann. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” she laughed.
Cricket looked away. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Follow your heart,” she suggested.
“That doesn’t really tell me anything.”
She touched his hand, drawing his eyes to hers. “I’m telling you this so that you can decide what you might do. You could do nothing; Serca seems like the type that might make her own advances towards you. But I thought you might want to have some warning.”
“Thank you.” He smiled wryly. “... I think.”
For the next month, as the snows came and buried the roads, the company played almost every night, and the people of Caer Coll responded enthusiastically. They danced and sang, and Lady Elnsbruck, who had never fully recovered from her illness, would clap along from the couch where she sat propped against a mass of pillows. Cricket felt a strong affinity for these people and the love that they had for one another; he had seen caers where the people were apathetic or sullen.
Because it was winter, and there was nowhere to travel, Cricket had a lot of time to think, but not much space to do it in. He wanted to be with his friends, but he also wanted to be alone with Serca; now that he began thinking of her as a possible lover, she haunted his dreams and made his days nerve wracking. Asael teased him, making faces behind her back, and Cricket wanted to laugh, recalling another time, and a certain red head who held feelings for a certain slave girl. Serca would raise her eyebrow and ask him what was so funny, and Cricket would blush and say nothing. Leann watched it all with a small smile that Serca began to share, and that made Cricket even more anxious.
One afternoon, he escaped to the granary, sitting on top of the dusty grain, playing his flute and thinking. He let his mind just wander after a while, eyes half open but not seeing.
A touch on his shoulder made him jump, stirring up a cloud of dust. Serca laughed at the expression on his face, a combination of shock, outrage, and trying to hold in a sneeze. The sneeze won.
“Do you always sneak up on people when they want to be alone?” he demanded when he recovered.
“I’m sorry,” she said, stifling her laughter. “If you want me to leave, I will.”
“No, I... no.” He ignored the beating of his heart. “I’m sorry; I was angry because you scared me. But you can stay, if you’d like.”
“But you said you wanted to be alone.”
“Really, it’s okay,” he said. “In fact, I’d enjoy it if you would keep me company.”
“Alright.” She sat down on the grain beside him. He had been cold before, but with her hip touching his, he began to feel uncomfortably warm. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
“No.”
“You look flushed. Do you have a fever?” She put the back of her hand on his forehead.
He shivered at the touch. “That’s cold.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling her hand back. “Will you play some more?”
Not knowing what else to do, he put the flute to lips again, piping a simple but elegant tune.
“That’s nice,” she said, leaning her head on his shoulder.
He finished the song and looked down at her; her eyes were closed, and her lips slightly parted. Without thinking, he bent his head and kissed her.
Her eyes popped open and she sat up. Whatever he thought she might say, it wasn’t: “Well, it’s about time.”
“What?” he said intelligently.
“I’ve been waiting for you to do that for a while now,” she said.
“You have?”
She c
ocked her eyebrow at him. “You seem a bit tongue tied. I know a way of fixing that.” She put her arms around him and pulled him into a long kiss, her cold hands sending less shivers through him than her warm lips.
“Wow,” he said when he could breathe again.
She regarded him with a smile like a cat. “Is that all you can say?”
“I think so.” He ran a finger along her chin and then twined his hand with hers. “That was incredible. You’re incredible. I never... I should shut up, shouldn’t I?”
She nodded and pulled him into another kiss. The dust from the grain rose up and made them cough, spoiling the moment but not the feelings. They laughed and coughed some more before fleeing outside.
As they walked across the frozen yard, hand in hand, Cricket asked, “Does this happen often?”
“I understand that it happens to people fairly regularly.”
“Not that. I mean in a company, like you and me.”
Serca shrugged. “Yes and no. Branwen will barely talk to a bard, much less develop feelings for him, unless he’s an ollave, but she thinks that’s how to succeed; she’s also the type who likes sleeping with noblemen. But in general, I think that whenever people work together as closely as we do, relationships are bound to develop. But it’s not encouraged, if that’s what you mean.”
Cricket raised her hand to his lips and gently and kissed the back of it. “I don’t know what I mean. I just didn’t expect all of this.”
“All what?”
“The travel, mostly. Being a cerddorion, and having to judge. Meeting you. Little things, really.”
She hit him on the shoulder. “I better not be a little thing.”
He grinned. “Would you rather I called you a big fat thing?”
“Not if you like to live.”
Cricket’s smile quickly faded. “It’s just that things are happening so fast now. Two years ago I was training to be a crossain, and wondering if I would always be alone. Now I’m a bard, traveling the length and breadth of Glencairck with a beautiful and talented companion that has taken hold of my heart with just a finger.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder. “You’re very sweet, my love. Confused, but sweet.”
He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her nose, and her lips. “You make the winter feel warm,” he whispered.
“Thank you,” she said. “I might say something similar, but I can’t feel much of anything. I think it’s all frozen.”
He laughed and led her inside.
Asael and Leann knew immediately that the relationship had changed. They didn’t say anything, but Cricket could tell that they were happy for him, and that they accepted Serca without reservation. What surprised him was the way the rest of the company acted; again, nothing was said, but the company played many love songs that night, and Sean raised a glass in their direction every time, a twinkle in his eye. Serca pretended that nothing unusual was happening, but Cricket blushed often.
Caer Coll celebrated mid-winter soon afterwards. Lord Elnsbruck gave each of the cerddorion a silver brooch in the shape of a leaf, and he gave the ollave a gold arm band that looked like a braided vine. The company gave gifts of song in return, creating lays that praised the cantref and its lord. Asael and Leann gave Cricket a tunic in the cantref colors, and he gave them a silver goblet and a toy harp for Dyvan. Late in the night, snuggled together in the hay, Cricket gave Serca a gold ring, and she gave him a cloak pin shaped in a lover’s knot.
The warm winds returned two and a half months later, and despite the cold spring rains, Sean made preparations to leave. Cricket hugged Asael and Leann, not wanting to let go, and Dyvan started crying. The young bard put his hand on Leann’s growing belly, feeling the kicks of her unborn child with wonder.
“I wish I could stay and see this one, too,” he said with a sigh.
“You’ll come back,” Asael said. “And you’d better make it soon, too.”
“You know I’ll do my best,” Cricket responded.
“Take care of yourself,” Leann said, kissing his cheek. Turning to Serca, who stood nearby uncomfortably, she took her hand and said, “Make sure he does.”
Serca shrugged. “He’s too bull-headed to do much with.”
Asael laughed. “We’ve seen that side of him more than once.”
Cricket punched him playfully, then looked around again. “I want to come back here for a while some day,” he said. “There’s a happiness here that has deep roots.”
“You are welcome any time, you know that,” Asael said.
From across the courtyard, Sean yelled, “We’re waiting on you two!”
Cricket hugged them all around again. Serca had already mounted, and he swung into his saddle reluctantly. Riding out of the gate, he looked back once and raised his hand in farewell, then faced the road and his responsibilities. A smile from Serca helped banish his sadness.
Chapter 15: Aillel
The spring weather, though unpredictable, filled the countryside with a joy that soon filled Cricket’s heart. He was a bard, traveling with the woman he loved more each day, and he could not stay sad for long.
The company spent Beltain in Cantref Brochan, and then moved on to Caer Mwaloch in Cantref Olammy. When it came time to split up, Cricket quickly volunteered to travel south; Serca cocked her eyebrow, but Sean said yes.
They traveled through a country all but forgotten by the rest of Glencairck, filled with self sufficient duns and rough, independent crofters. The few towns they found acted as trading centers, with lively markets full of colorful tents. The people welcomed them, sometimes cheerfully, sometimes suspiciously, but always with respect.
One afternoon, Cricket led her south along a seldom traveled road, looking at the land around them closely. “You almost act like you have a specific destination in mind,” Serca teased.
“I almost do,” Cricket replied. “The hard part is finding it.” He turned down a lane choked with weeds.
“Are you sure this is the way?” Serca asked skeptically.
“Pretty sure.”
“What is it that we’re looking for, exactly?” she asked.
Cricket shrugged. “Nothing important. Just the dun where I was born.”
“I didn’t know you were from Leinath.”
“I didn’t either for a long time. It’s a pretty remote place.” He sighed coming over a rise. “And there it is.”
Nothing had changed; the same stone walls surrounded the same fields, with the rocky hills just behind it. The gate stood open, with dogs and children running around in the yard. He stopped, his heart pounding, suddenly scared of going any further.
“What’s the matter?” Serca asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I think I’m having second thoughts.”
“You’re being silly.”
“Probably.” He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax and start moving forward again. “It looks smaller than I remember.”
“Childhood memories have a way of magnifying things,” Serca said. “Although in your case, that doesn’t explain much; after all, you’re not much bigger than a child.”
“That makes you pretty sick, what with the way you kiss me and all,” he replied. “See if you can get me to return your affections later.”
“Oh, I don’t think I’ll have much of a problem,” she said. “After all, you men—at any age—are such weak willed creatures.”
“I love you,” he said, “but you’re terrible.”
“I think you love me because I’m terrible.”
“You might be right.” The banter had taken them up the hill to the gate, and Cricket could see into the yard. Was that Agnes carrying a bucket of slop out to the pigs? Could the man with the gray hair really be Lechan the cooper? He slid off his horse and swung Linnaia to the front, playing a little dance tune that made his heart ache. All eyes turned towards him in hopeful surprise.
Moments later, he found himself surrounded by smiling faces and friendly hands. He a
ccepted the praise with a smile and a laugh, trying to answer the questions that fell thick around him. Finally he managed to get one of his own in. “Where’s Aillel?” he asked.
The crowd quieted and only Agnes would meet his eyes. “He’s not doing well, lad,” she said. “He’s been in bed since Samhain, and I’m thinking he won’t leave it again.”
“A lot of things have changed since you left,” Golias added. “This is not the same dun you remember.”
“I see.” He glanced at Serca, who had quietly joined him. “Well, we have to talk to him anyway. May we have permission to enter?”
“Of course,” Golias said. “And welcome.”
The people of the dun, though excited to see him, quickly went back to their chores; they knew that they would hear Cricket play soon enough, and they had the patience of the earth. The two bards made their way across the yard alone except for the stares, and Cricket found his way to Aillel’s door.
A young woman, with straight dark hair and a voluptuous figure, answered the door and glared at them suspiciously. “What do you want?” she asked.
“We are cerddorion,” Cricket said, trying to cover his surprise. “We would like to ask the master of the dun for permission to play.”
“He’s not feeling well,” the woman said. “You’ll have to ask me instead, and I’m not sure I want a couple of decadent musicians around.”
Serca lifted her eyebrow. “You would deny bards? You are either very brave or very stupid.”
Cricket laid a hand on his companion’s arm. “I think the important issue here is: who are you, and why do you speak for Aillel?”
The woman smirked. “I am Fairlin, his wife.”
Cricket and Serca finally talked Fairlin into letting them stay, although she forbade them from playing in the hall. So the farmers and artisans snuck into the barn where they were staying, and the bards softly played and told stories late into the night, keeping a preternatural ear open for a certain woman. Fairlin did not come near the barn, however, and finally Cricket talked Agnes into telling them the story.
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