by L. A. Kelly
“I’ll explain this to him myself. Let him go. He came looking for a job, and that is exactly what he’ll get from us.”
The guard frowned. “How can you trust him?”
“I know him,” Tahn answered without hesitation. Lorne was telling the truth, he knew it beyond doubt.
“But he is a killer! We must consult Lord—”
Tahn looked at him with impatience. “Then go tell him now! I’ll bring the young man to him as soon as he is ready for us.”
As one guard hurried away from them, Tahn pulled the knife from his belt and cut the prisoner’s bonds himself. Lorne looked at him as though he could scarcely believe it. He rubbed his right wrist.
“You’re all right?” Tahn asked him.
“Yes, thank you.”
Tahn looked around them at the guards who still watched. “They have a zeal for Benn Trilett,” he explained. “It is a thing to admire.”
“I understand.”
“You’re on your own?”
“Yes.”
“What do you know of Samis now?”
“Nothing. And I hope it stays that way. I rode off when we were waiting at Jura. About ten of us left him, I think.”
Tahn smiled. “Our second report of such good news. Marcus said he is sick.”
“I hope it’s true. He chases me in my dreams.”
“You’re not alone in that. Do you have a large family?”
“Yes. Six sisters and four brothers. Most of them younger. My grandmother and a widowed aunt are with them too.”
“They have nothing?”
“Almost nothing. My father can’t work. He can’t even walk anymore. The others try, but—”
Tahn held up his hand. “I’ll ask an advance in pay for you. If Lord Trilett agrees, you can take it to your family to ease their burden. Stay with them a while, and come back when you are ready.”
“But I haven’t earned—”
“You’ve earned a bit of peace, don’t you think?”
“No. I haven’t earned it.”
“Then count it a gift from God. I have a wagonload for them, no matter what Benn says about the pay. You’ll take it in the morning, won’t you?”
Lorne closed his eyes against the moistness in them. “Are you sure he’ll let me go?”
“I trust it, Lorne. He understands now what sort of army we were. It can’t erase the hurt, but he won’t be able to hate you.”
Bennamin met with Tahn and Lorne, and the three of them went walking around the pond. In the kitchen of the house, Jarel looked out at them from the window. “Another rough sort,” he said with a sigh.
Hildy looked up from her cutting board and saw his displeasure. “The world is full of those, Jarel. God help them.”
“Does my uncle have to entertain them so close to the house? He trusts Mr. Dorn too much, being alone with them like that! Something could happen too fast for a response.”
“He trusts him, all right. But he trusts God more.”
Jarel bowed his head. “God does not always prevent tragedy, Hildy. We know that plenty well.”
The cook looked at him, searching for whatever words he might need.
Jarel left the window and picked up a large spoon. “Mind if I stir the pot?”
“No. You know I’ve always loved your tinkering. Go on. Spice it up if you want.”
“I don’t understand it, you know, Hildy—how he could accept Dorn so easily. I heard what he’s been through, but the man was a murderer. I know people can change. I know God has reached him in some capacity. But I’m just not sure this is wise.”
Hildy nodded with compassion. “You remember the prodigal son, don’t you?”
“Yes, Hildy. But that’s different. He really was a son. He wasn’t going into a home where he’d never been a part.”
“Jarel, what do you think of that little boy, the youngest one, Duncan?”
“I don’t know, Hildy.”
“Would you put him out because he wasn’t born a Trilett?”
“No. I guess I couldn’t. Not in his circumstances.”
“Benn has seen another side of life, Jarel. You may not be able to stop him from reaching his hand to every poor child or rough sort he finds.”
“There are too many of them. More than we realized.”
“It’s time you realized. I used to tell Benn about the poor. He gave to his church, he said. Well and good that was—the church has been a blessing to Onath. It is a truly blessed town to have the Trilett money and favor. But go elsewhere and you see the drunken men, and the children in the streets. It’s time you looked further.”
He stared at her a moment in silence. “Then that is the good in our tragedy? That he extends his hand to the hopeless?”
She saw the pain in his eyes and immediately moved to hug him. “You may never understand the reason for it, Jarel. But we find good where we can.”
“Like Tahn Dorn? What do you think of him?”
“I’ve hardly spoken to him. He’ll barely let me feed him!”
“I know you, Hildy. You don’t have to do either to have an opinion.”
“Right now he seems a lot like you.”
Jarel bristled. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that you’re both trying to sort through what’s happened and find the best way to face the future.”
“Oh, Hildy. Everyone does that.”
“Not with the same intensity, Jarel. Or self-doubt.”
“Self-doubt? That makes no sense. Dorn’s already started telling the guards what to do. He acts like he knows better than we do what’s best for us. As for me—” He stopped.
Hildy looked at him kindly. “Yes?”
“I’m the same as I ever was, except that I don’t have my … mother or father or—” He stopped again, his eyes filling with tears. He turned abruptly away.
“You’ve got to cry, Jarel,” Hildy told him. “Don’t try to stop it.”
“What good will it do?”
“Benn told me, dear one, about the nights you spent under that church, staring at the wall and not shedding a tear. I know you’re a man. And a Trilett, at that. But your two brothers, Jarel. Your aunt Ariole and both her boys. Your parents. Gone in a night! Jarel, dear, I’ve seen Benn and Netta cry, both of them, more than once. But you’re the one who worries me.” She left her work and went to put her arm around him again. He let himself be drawn into her hug, still fighting off the tears.
“Hildy, I know the children had nothing. I can see that they need us. But I don’t like having so many in our house. It’s no substitute. It just makes it harder.”
“They aren’t here to replace our loved ones,” she said softly. “No one could do that.”
He seemed pale, and he was quiet a long time before he could speak again in a voice low and earnest. “I miss Mother the most, Hildy. Can you imagine, for all we fought?” He leaned his head into her shoulder.
She felt the shudder run through him and held him tightly. Finally, Jarel was crying.
Out the window behind him, the blond stranger was on his knees by the pond. His weeping was obvious, even at the distance. Bennamin appeared to be praying with him. And Mr. Dorn stood leaning on his staff against the reddening sky with his head bowed low.
Tahn stayed the night with Lorne under the stars while the Triletts entertained the Wittleys in the house. Lorne was ready to go at the first hint of light, and Tahn helped him with the wagon goods so he would not have to disturb Ham or any of the others. They parted with an embrace and a prayer at the front gate, and then Tahn turned to the house. It suddenly occurred to him that he should find Vari before everyone was stirring. He didn’t expect the Wittleys to stay long, but it would be best to use this chance to speak to Vari anyway.
He walked back, his eyes on the big old house, when he thought he saw the flutter of a skirt and long flowing hair disappear over the hill beyond the east porch. It could only be Leah. Netta’s hair was lighter with a hint of red. Le
ah might be going to the stable, but why?
The wounds of his leg and back still prevented him from moving very quickly. He went for the stable, and as he got close, he began to hear giggling. He knew what he’d find before he went in, but he went in anyway, without warning.
Vari and Leah were in the hay. She jumped to her feet at the sight of him.
“Good morning, Miss,” Tahn told her. “Your father’ll be rising early. You’d best be in the house when he stirs.”
“Yes, sir.” She gave Vari a quick glance and then ran out the door.
Vari lay in the hay, completely unfrazzled. “Good morning,” he told Tahn.
“Vari, you’re too young for that.”
“I’m older than my years. You should know that.”
“About you, perhaps. But not your friend. She’s a child. You should not fail to treat her like one.”
“She’d be insulted. I can’t do that.”
“You will, or you will not see her again.”
“Tahn!” He sat up, clearly surprised by his friend’s reaction. “You have the honor of Christ and the House of Trilett to uphold. Let the girl become a woman first and then court her with the proper restraint.”
Vari’s look was close to defiant. “You’re being my father?”
“You need one, don’t you think?”
“Benn Trilett may be the one, for all his talk of adoption.”
“Go ask him about my words, then.”
Vari smiled and shook his head. “That’s all right. I’ll hear it from you. I can see her, though?”
“If you can control yourself. Keep her brother along.”
Vari laughed. “Didn’t you ever have a girl affect you like that?”
“No.”
Vari looked at him in surprise. “Really?”
“When was I ever around girls who were not afraid of me?” Tahn answered with some impatience. “I never left Valhal without an order. And I can’t imagine that anyone would have wanted my company.”
“That was then,” Vari maintained. “But the lady’s not afraid of you. She doesn’t seem to mind your company, either.”
Tahn suddenly paled in front of him.
Vari grinned. “You really do love her, don’t you?”
He shook his head, but he knew he couldn’t deny it. “Don’t tell her, Vari, please.”
“I think I already did.”
“No.” His heart pounded.
“It’s okay,” Vari told him. “I don’t think it’s bothering her any.”
“When did you tell her?” Tahn asked, wondering how he could possibly face her now. This kind of thing would not be fair to her. He would surely have to leave—for her comfort’s sake. “Was it today, Vari? Yesterday?”
“No.” Vari couldn’t help but smile to see the Dorn so nervous over this subject. “It was back at the cave when you disappeared.”
His brow furrowed in disbelief. “And she agreed to come after me anyway?”
“Yeah,” Vari nodded. “She did.”
“She loves all of you,” Tahn decided. “There’s no doubt. She would have to help you.”
“She couldn’t let a good man die, Tahn. She’s a good lady, and she’s an adult too. You’ll court her, won’t you?”
“No, Vari.” His sadness was obvious.
“Tahn! Why not?”
“You and Leah are both innocent children with a love for the land. The lady and I have nothing in common.”
“Yes, you do! You’ve got us. And Jesus.”
He started to turn away. “Just remember what I told you about Leah. Or if you question me, ask her father’s opinion.”
“Tahn, you can’t ignore your heart!”
“That’s enough of that. Get back to the house and get your brothers around. See that your rooms are straightened before breakfast. We don’t want to make work for anyone.”
“Are you going to come in?”
Tahn just shook his head and walked away.
Benn and Netta exchanged glances when everyone was seated for breakfast and it was clear that Tahn wasn’t coming.
“Perhaps he’s still with the young man he helped to draw toward God last night,” Benn suggested.
“His friend’s already gone, Uncle,” Jarel told him. “I saw them. Mr. Dorn seems to prefer to be a loner.”
“I hope he’s not offended at me,” Kert Wittley said. “I meant to come and repair any such thing between us.”
“I’m sure it isn’t that,” Netta explained. “He’s only eaten with us once, and that was in the courtyard. We were just hoping, because Father invited him again last night.”
“He’s a loner,” Jarel repeated.
“Well, if we don’t see him before we leave, Vari, son, do tell him how well his horse is mending. Meant to say something about that yesterday. We’ll bring you the animal, lest you plan to visit.”
“I’ll visit,” Vari volunteered.
Leah looked at him across the table with a gleaming smile, but Vari ducked his head.
Netta looked at the food and sighed. “I’ll take him a tray as soon as we finish.”
“No,” Jarel told her. “Let me.”
Netta and Benn both looked at him with some surprise, but Benn nodded.
“He’s by the pond again,” Vari told them. He was looking at Netta. She was nearly as pale as Tahn had been.
27
Tahn was in the woods, sitting with his back to a tree, when Jarel found him.
“It’s a quiet place,” Jarel interjected. “Good for praying.”
“Yes, it is,” Tahn said without looking up.
“I brought you some breakfast.”
“Not very hungry right now, but thank you.”
Jarel laughed. “When are you ever hungry? It’s no wonder you’re small.”
Tahn sighed. “Some habits are hard to change, I guess.”
“Not eating is a habit? You do come from a strange world.” He set the tray down beside the tree. “Still, that’s a better habit than some to keep, I’m sure.”
Tahn looked up at him. “I’ll return the tray myself in a while.”
It was a dismissal of sorts, but Jarel ignored it. “If you’re not going to eat anyway, would you want to go riding?”
Tahn studied him a moment. Such an invitation was the last thing he expected from Jarel just then.
The young Trilett smiled. “You don’t trust me? Come on! What would I do? Try to lose you someplace?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You think you could take the saddle very well yet?”
“I would manage.”
“Well, then, do you want to come with me to the stable or shall I bring you a fine beast where you sit?”
“You don’t want to ride with me. What do you really want?”
Jarel laughed again. “I used to ride with my brothers, my cousins, my friends. Why wouldn’t I ride with you? Just last night Hildy asked me why I haven’t been riding. Maybe I don’t want to go alone.”
“The boys would be delighted for the opportunity. Stuva or Doogan, in particular.”
“I’m not looking for the company of boys right now.”
Tahn knew there was more to his message. He pulled himself to his feet. “All right, sir. But I should greet the Wittleys again before they go.”
“I’ll meet you in the stable then.”
After Tahn had seen the Wittleys off with their wagon newly laden with gifts, he and Jarel rode into the wooded hills beyond the springhouse estate. Jarel stayed ahead until they were more than a mile out. Then he turned his horse and stopped. “Did you ever know your parents?”
Tahn walked his animal closer. “I don’t know. One man I remember slightly, but I don’t know if he was kin.”
“Was he good to you?”
“I don’t remember. I only know it was upsetting to see him hanged.”
“He must have meant something to you, then.”
“Evidently.”
“I lost my
parents to your mercenary brothers,” Jarel said.
“I know, sir.”
“Let’s go.” Jarel stirred his horse to a run again, and Tahn followed.
It was a long while before Jarel stopped, and the surroundings were beginning to be unfamiliar to Tahn. “Are you sure you should be so far out from your soldiers, sir?” he asked. “And only one man with you?”
“I’m not the important one,” Jarel answered. “Benn is.”
“I don’t think he would agree with that.”
“Of course he would. He knows he’s important.”
Jarel was dismounting, and Tahn did not even try to answer.
“Need some help, Mr. Dorn?”
Tahn swung his leg over and lowered himself to the ground. Oh, Lord, how it hurt! This was harder than he’d thought.
“You’d better sit a minute.”
Tahn didn’t hesitate. He lowered himself carefully against a tree.
“You’ll manage?” Jarel asked.
“Yes, sir. Just a moment, and I’ll be ready to get you back home.”
“I’m not ready. Not yet. Who would trouble us? The baron’s men are bound to peace, and the mercenaries seem to be your friends.”
Tahn looked up at him, knowing there was a challenge in his words. “We can’t put confidence in either of those ideas.”
“Can I put confidence in the Dorn’s protection, then? My uncle seems to think so.”
Tahn sighed. “I appreciate his trust. But I am not as able right now as I hope to be.”
“And what do you hope for, when you’re fit and able? You’ve made a lot of progress. You get around pretty well now.”
“Jarel, why did you ask me here?”
“Answer my question, will you? What do you hope for?”
Tahn bowed his head. He was not welcome in Jarel’s eyes. Netta’s cousin would like nothing better than to have him gone.
“Well?” the young Trilett pressed.
“I don’t know, sir. I haven’t thought much further than safety for the children and for your family.”
“You expect me to believe that’s all that occupies your mind? What interest do you have in my safety? I think not! I think your interest is my cousin.”
“We need to go.” Tahn started to get up, but Jarel shoved him down again.