The Minstrel Boy

by Sharon Stewart

  “Oh . . . you! You know how I feel about you. You must. It’s written all over me. I love you. And you . . . you love me too. I know it!” Then, as the laughter left her eyes, he stammered, “I . . . I mean, I do know it, don’t I?”

  “Love you? Do I, then?” She looked at him levelly. It was a real question. Then she stepped forward to kiss him. Not a shy, girlish brush of the lips, but a long, slow considering kiss.

  He was so startled, he almost forgot to kiss back.

  At last, she pulled away. “Yes,” she said softly, answering her own question. “Yes, I think I do.”

  “Oh, Meri!” David put his arms about her, pinning her against the trunk of the tree. And this time he made the most of his opportunity.

  She pushed him away, at last, and they stood looking at each other, breathless. Then they turned back to the glade and sat down on a mossy log. He put his arm about her, thrilled to have her to himself at last, beside him. He didn’t even want any more . . . yet. Now that he knew there would be time for it all. Now that he knew she loved him.

  “Sing to me, David,” she said softly. “Just for me. I love to hear your voice. It was when you sang that I first thought I loved you.”

  “You sing with me,” he replied.

  He began, one of the love songs he had dreamed over for so many days. Meri picked up the harmony, her voice twining with his like ivy round holly. David thought his heart would burst with happiness. They sang and stopped to kiss, and kiss again, and touch. Then they sang on, the late afternoon sun gilding them with light. They never noticed a figure who, drawn to the edge of the glade by their voices, stood frozen, listening awhile, before disappearing back into the shadow of the trees.

  At last, as the sun touched the treetops, Meri sighed. “We must go back,” she said, looking about. “Now where’s my basket? I dropped it when I heard your crashing and shouting. At first I thought it was a Saxon coming after me! Branwyn will scold if I don’t bring her the herbs she asked for.”

  He helped her find the basket, then they set off. It was strange how clearly marked the path seemed now that they were together. He walked behind her through the trees, drinking in the grace of her, her lightness of foot. All too soon he could hear the sounds of the village ahead.

  Hungry for one last touch of her, he reached out and pulled her into his arms again. “Meri, I’m so glad! Everything’s going to be so different now. Why didn’t you let me know you cared for me so much? When you knew perfectly well how much I loved you.” He gave her a little shake.

  To his surprise, she drew away. In the twilight, her eyes looked enormous. “Why?” she asked. “Because I’d hoped to avoid what happened today. I’d hoped to spare you, cariad. And myself, too.”

  “Avoid! Meri, this is the happiest day of my life!”

  She reached out and pressed her hand against his cheek, in a gesture so tender it made him shiver. He turned the palm of her hand and kissed it.

  After a moment, she drew it away. “I’m glad I’ve given you that, at least,” she said. “Because it’s all I can give you. Ever.”

  “All? But you love me! You said you did!”

  She nodded, her eyes cast down. “I do. And it’s wicked bad of me. No one must ever know. For your sake as much as mine.”

  “Wrong? But why?”

  “Because I am to be wed to someone else. At the next Beltane festival.”

  “No!” he said. “I . . . I don’t believe you.”

  “Dear David, I’m so sorry.” She reached out as if to touch him again, then stopped. “Oh, I’ve tried not to show how I feel. Hoped you’d find out I wasn’t free, and understand. That Bear, Bedwyr—someone—would tell you! It’s been arranged between our families for ever so long, since we were babies, almost.”

  “You mean you’re still going to marry someone else now? When you know you love me? That’s crazy!”

  “You don’t understand our ways. I must. It’s a question of honour. Mine. His. Both our families’.”

  “Just tell me who it is. I’ll talk to him. Fight him if I have to. I’ll make him give you up!”

  “It can’t be.” She turned away.

  “Meri!” he shouted after her. “Who is it?”

  She stopped short. “It’s Cai,” she said in a choked voice. Without looking back, she walked on into the village.

  ELEVEN

  They’re coming! The war band from upriver!” A pack of children, Arianrod at their head, raced shrieking down the main street of the village. Dogs barked, and chickens and pigs clucked and squealed as they were shooed hastily out of the way.

  Brooding alone in Emrys’s hut, David ignored the uproar until Bear poked his head in and said, “Come on, Longface. This is a sight you shouldn’t miss.”

  David shrugged and set Beauty down. With Emrys still away, there was no one to say no. As he stepped outside, Bear added, “It’s not every year the High King summons a war hosting. That’s something to thank the Saxons for, I suppose!”

  The square of pounded earth outside Lord Rhodri’s hall was packed with men and horses, and wagons were still rolling in. The warriors from upriver were mingling with Rhodri’s band, greeting and chaffing each other. The sun blazed off polished helms and spear points. Glints of light danced on the silver and gilt embroidery of bridles and pennons, and the crimson, gold, and blue of the warriors’ tall shields glowed.

  Rhodri, ready to mount, was bidding goodbye to Lady Eluned. Cai stood beside his mother, a black scowl on his face. David’s eyes flew at once to Meri, standing just behind them. Then he looked away.

  Bedwyr grinned as Bear and David came up. “Look at Cai,” he said, jerking a thumb at him. “Couldn’t believe his father would leave him at home this time. He’ll have be content with training battles for another year.”

  “Like the rest of us,” said Bear. His brown eyes looked wistful.

  “You’re crazy, all of you!” said David sharply. “Why be in such a hurry to get yourselves killed? It’s war they’re going to, not a party!”

  “What, bardling, after all the stirring battle songs you and Emrys have been singing us?” teased Bear. “We’d have to be made of stone not to yearn to test our swords against the foe!”

  “That’s different. That’s . . . poetry,” said David. Noble deeds did seem different when they were set to stirring music. But to actually ride out looking for wounds and maybe death? No thanks. This bloodthirstiness was something he’d never understand about these people.

  “It’s not so much that we enjoy killing,” said Bear, as if reading his mind. “Though we enjoy a good fight. Or a good cattle-raid. But now it’s a question of protecting British people in the Land of Summer from cold-blooded murder. That’s what the High King is trying to do. That’s why he’s calling up all his warriors.”

  “Murder? Really?” David raised his eyebrows disbelievingly.

  “Yes. You can’t imagine how bad the fighting is in the east and south.” Bear met his eyes gravely. “Don’t forget, I’ve seen it.” He turned away and said nothing more. David and Bedwyr exchanged glances. Bear rarely referred to his past before Emrys brought him to the village.

  Rhodri swung into the saddle. Raising a gauntleted hand, he signalled the riders to move off. As he passed the group around Bear, he called, “Your turn next year, lads. I promise. Meanwhile you and Cai are trusted to keep the village safe.”

  Bear nodded, raising his hand in farewell.

  They watched until the last wagon had jolted off in its cloud of dust. Then a voice said behind them, “We’ll do more than that. Who’s for hunting the black boar?”

  It was Cai, with his hangers-on behind him. Cheers and shouts greeted his words.

  “You heard your father,” Bear said. “This is no time to go hunting.”

  “And wait weeks until the war band returns? And then have them hunt the boar and get all the glory for that too?” Cai spat in the dirt. “Well, foster-brother, if you’re not brave enough, stay behind. You can t
ake care of the children and old folks. Not that they need it. With British war hosts on the move everywhere there won’t be an enemy within a hundred miles of here.”

  A murmur of agreement greeted his words. Bear glanced at Bedwyr, who shrugged.

  Seeing him hesitate, Cai tried a different tack. “Ah, come on, Bear. You know that boar has been doing damage on the high farms. My father himself said it had to be hunted down. So come. It won’t be the same without you and Bedwyr,” he wheedled. “If we leave early tomorrow, we needn’t even be gone overnight. What d’you say?”

  “Well . . .” Bear looked at Bedwyr again. Suddenly, they both grinned, and Bear turned quickly back to Cai. “If it’s less than a day. And if you swear we’ll turn back if the beast runs too far from the village . . .”

  “Good man!” Cai clapped him on the shoulder. He spun around and raised his arms. “Sharpen your spears, lads,” he shouted, to the others. “It’ll be roast boar for dinner tomorrow and a fine tale to tell the war band when they return.”

  Whooping gleefully, the young warriors made for their huts.

  Cai turned back, his eyes narrowed. “And what about you, milksop?” he said viciously to David. “Are you going to come along and prove yourself a man? Or are you going to stay home with the womenfolk?”

  “Oh, leave David alone,” snapped Bedwyr. “What’s it to you whether he goes or stays? Let him do as he pleases.”

  Cai hooked his thumbs in his sword belt and grinned. “Just wanted to see what he’s made of, now that Rufus and Emrys aren’t around to protect him,” he sneered. “I’ve always thought he was lily-livered. Now we’ll all know.”

  “Stop it!” Meri bounded forward to tug on Cai’s arm. “Don’t do this,” she said, gazing up at him. “It’s hateful. There’s no need, Cai!”

  No need! Sudden unreasoning rage boiled up inside David. Cai with his swaggering and boasting was what Meri thought was man enough to marry. It made him sick to think of them together. “I’ll go,” he said in a choked voice.

  “Oh-ho!” crowed Cai, shaking off Meri’s hand. “Our little singing cockerel has some fight in him, after all! Won’t he just frighten that nasty big, bad boar!” He swaggered off, laughing.

  Meri turned to David. “Don’t be a fool,” she said. “Don’t let him goad you into it.” She stared at him beseechingly for a moment, then walked swiftly away.

  “She’s right,” said Bear. “Boar hunts are always dangerous. The beasts are so unpredictable. And you’re no expert with a spear. No one will think the worse of you if you don’t go.”

  “I said I’d go, and I’m going,” said David tightly. “I know you all think I’m a coward. I’ll show you!”

  Bedwyr put his hand on David’s shoulder. “Nay, David. None of us who knows you thinks that. We know your ways are not ours.”

  Angrily, David shook off his hand. Bedwyr gave a low whistle of surprise. “Touchy, aren’t you?” he asked. “What’s the matter? You’ve been acting like a gored ox for days.”

  David shrugged. As he turned away, Bear’s words followed him.

  “I’m beginning to have a shrewd suspicion about what’s wrong,” he said to Bedwyr. “Anyway, let’s just do our best to make sure nothing happens to him tomorrow.”

  David cursed under his breath. Now they thought they had to baby-sit him!

  In the grey light of early morning, he woke to the echoing of horns and the deep baying of boarhounds. Grimly, he stuck a long dagger in his belt and picked up two casting spears. He found Bear and Bedwyr with the rest of the young warriors at the edge of the village. Their glances of concern as they greeted him made his stomach feel even more queasy with fear than it had been already. He nodded to them, saying nothing.

  “The boar was last seen up near Owain’s field,” Cai bellowed above the hubbub. “We should be able to pick up the trail there.”

  They set off, the hounds straining at their leashes. They followed the river path for a while, then cut through the woods to come up on higher ground, where Lord Rhodri’s folk cultivated a few fields. There they spread out in groups, each one casting about along the forest edge, hoping to pick up the boar’s trail.

  After a quarter of an hour, voices shouted and a pack of hounds began to yelp.

  “They’ve found it!” Bear’s voice was tense with excitement. “Come on! Hurry!”

  Cai was already examining the trail. “The dung is fresh,” he said, grinning up at them. “No older than last night. I’ll wager he’s lying up in a thicket somewhere,” he added, gesturing toward the densest part of the forest. “Let the hounds loose.”

  Slipping their leads, the hounds raced, baying, under the dark eaves of the forest. Scrambling, cursing, stumbling, the hunters struggled through the bracken to keep up with them.

  The sun stood high in the sky by now, and though the forest leaves shaded them, the air was clinging and damp under the trees. After a brave start, the hounds lost the scent and cast about from side to side trying to pick it up again.

  “It’s the accursed heat and damp,” said Bear. “The beast must have been using this part of the wood for weeks. Now even the old trails are giving off scent. It’s enough to put the dogs off.”

  Fine by me, thought David, panting and wiping his forehead on his sleeve.

  The hours wore on as they quartered the thickest patch of woodland, stopping only to swallow a mouthful of bread and a swig of water from the flasks they carried. Then the hounds gave tongue and they were off again. David found himself left behind in a small glade with the main body of the hunt well ahead of him.

  Who cares? he thought angrily, looking about. Let them go chasing all over this blasted wood. I’m better alone.

  But he was not alone.

  Even before he whirled about, he knew it surely. At first, he only sensed the danger. Then a monstrous black shape broke from cover to rush straight for him. He froze, unable to cast his spear or to leap aside. For a moment he felt outside himself, as if he were watching a freeze-frame from a movie. The boar. Himself. The inevitable line of collision. This is what death looks like, he thought.

  Then a spear whizzed past from behind him, so close that he could feel the breath of its passing on his cheek.

  The boar squealed hideously and veered off toward the undergrowth, a spear trailing from its shoulder. So quickly had it all happened that David still stood rooted to the spot. Then, hearing Bear’s voice cursing richly and explicitly behind him, he began to shake.

  “Wounded! That makes him more dangerous than ever,” said Bear. And then he swore again. “I couldn’t get a killing throw at him for fear of hitting you, you great daft booby,” he scolded David. “What were trying to do, stare him down?” He picked up his spear, which lay where the boar had plunged into the bracken and inspected the bloodied blade. Then he added, “Well there’ll be no difficulty tracking him now, for certes. He’ll leave a well-marked trail enough!”

  “Bad work, Bear. The beast should be dead,” said Cai, who had raced up with Bedwyr and the others. “Oh, I know it’s not your fault. It’s his,” he added, turning a hostile stare on David. “I’d be willing to bet he was too scared to move. Had to be rescued. Yes?”

  Then, as David and Bear stood silent, he shouted to the others, “Get the hounds on the trail. We’ll get him now. But be careful—he’s wounded and twice-dangerous!”

  Sick at heart, David followed the others. The bloody trail led through the wood to a heavily-thicketed dell. Baying wildly, the hounds surrounded it, making short dashes into the brush before backing out again.

  “Let me finish him, if I can,” said Bear grimly. “It was I who wounded him, so the risk must be mine.”

  Cai opened his mouth as if to protest, then closed it with a snap. “Right. Fan out, everyone. Stay alert. We don’t know where he’ll break cover. He’ll be maddened with pain, and reckless with it.”

  They encircled the thicket, Bear taking up his position where the trail of blood disappeared into the bushe
s.

  “Hai, hai!” The warriors began to whoop and chant, clashing their heavy spears against their shields as they moved slowly toward the thicket. Somebody hurled a rock into the bushes. The baying of the hounds was background to the awful din.

  For a few moments, nothing happened. Then the boar charged out, his black bulk spewing blood. He hurled himself straight at Bear, flakes of foam spraying from his jaws. Bear stood where he was. No one sprang to help him. Horrified, David raised his spear and started forward.

  Bear must have seen him out of the corner of his eye, for he shouted, “Stay back, you fool!”

  The boar saw David too, and veered for a moment in its charge. Bear flung himself sideways to compensate. The point of his spear, plunging into the boar’s throat, seemed to sink in forever, driven by the force of the beast’s charge. Bear went down on one knee, bracing himself. The impaled boar screamed in agony and thrashed wildly, trying to reach its tormentor.

  Bear, thrown off balance, fell, just as the boar’s tusks slashed sideways. The other hunters rushed forward, hurling their spears into the animal’s body. It gave a convulsive shudder and died. A great shout of triumph went up, making the rooks caw and flap away through the trees.

  David stood over Bear. He lay white-faced, clutching his left leg, which was deeply gashed.

  “Bear! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” gasped David, dropping to his knees beside him. “I thought you’d be killed! I wanted to help you, but I only made it worse. I’ve let you down again.”

  Bear spoke through gritted teeth. “Never . . . mind.”

  Nothing has changed, David told himself bitterly. I always fail everyone. Always.

  Cai shoved David aside and, slashing a strip of cloth off his tunic, began to bandage Bear’s leg. His big hands were oddly gentle. But there was nothing gentle about the look he gave David. “I should have known. You had to come, didn’t you? Because I dared you,” he said scornfully. “But not to take care of yourself, to bear a man’s part, oh no. Just to show off. You leave it to others to save your precious skin. So Bear wounded the boar saving you, and in honour he had to risk his life to bring it down. Then you blundered in and turned the boar’s charge. I hope you’re satisfied.”