Black cattle lowed and lumbered across the meadow, alarmed by the riders, who brandished fern fronds to signal they came as friends. This was puzzling: Sterkarm riders would expect to be recognized.
One horseman was Sweet Milk—yet there was Sweet Milk, walking down from the bothies alongside Big Toorkild and Gobby. People pointed out other double-ganners. These riders were the Changeling Sterkarms. Kaitlin and Elfie-Joe had said they’d left them at the Elf-Gate, trying to find a way back through it. They had failed, it seemed.
The Changelings weren’t alone. “Grannams!” someone yelled. Andrea heard a name called: Joanie Grannam.
Young, slim, and supple, Joan Grannam rode astride like a man, wearing a man’s shirt, and breeches that showed her legs. Her long, fair hair blew about her head. She looked, Andrea thought, like an Amazon from a 21st-side fantasy comic.
Alongside Joan was a horse that carried a large blanket-wrapped bundle slung over its back. On seeing it, a sickening certainty settled around Andrea’s heart. Someone’s dead. Fear told her who it was.
Changeling Sweet Milk reined in and dismounted. As a boy was pushed forward to take his horse, the Changeling went to Toorkild, tugged off his helmet, and bowed his head. His double-ganner, Sterkarm Sweet Milk, stood at Toorkild’s side and looked on.
As other Changelings dismounted, a whisper spread through the crowd: “Per is dead.”
“Which Per?” Andrea asked, but no one seemed to hear. The people were moving back to the bothies, leading the horses. Andrea hesitated to follow, afraid of what she might learn.
A movement caught her eye. Lower down the meadow another group of riders were straggling in. Among them—she caught her breath and shaded her eyes, to be sure. Among them was Per. But which Per?
She started down the meadow at a walk, but soon she was running.
The horse carrying the body was led to the bothies and people gathered around as Changeling Sweet Milk unlashed the long bundle. Gobby and Toorkild came forward to help carry it to the furthest bothy. Joan Grannam, slipping from her horse, walked with them.
They laid the body on the earth and Joan knelt beside it. Before any of the men could prevent her, she pulled back the blanket to uncover the face.
Mistress Crosar pushed past the men. Seizing Joan by the arm, she tried to pull her away, and when Joan resisted, hissed, “In kindness, make no show of thasen! Come away! Master Sterkarm, I am sad for this.”
“Leave me with my husband!” Joan cried.
That made a silence. As Mistress Crosar drew back, Sandy Yonstone stepped from the crowd to stand beside her. “On ride, she began calling him ‘husband.’”
“He took me from the Yonstone Tower,” Joan said. “He was to be my husband.”
Mistress Crosar looked down on Joan’s head. This would be all through the shielings in another couple of heartbeats, and next it would be cried through all Carloel. Oh, Mother Mary, let her not be with child. She looked up to see Changeling Sweet Milk, with folded arms, shaking his head.
It didn’t matter, Mistress Crosar knew. Whether true or not, the rumor would ruin Joan.
The eyes of Mistress Crosar and Gobby met. “Masters Sterkarm,” said Mistress Crosar, “we have much need to talk.”
Per May craned to see Andrea in the meadow. The crowd thinned as people returned to the bothies and a huge smile came to his face as he spotted her. She was alive. She was well. He kicked his horse to a trot and his hounds leaped, racing toward her.
She was laughing when he reached her, long hair blowing around her face, the hounds dancing about her. He swung down from his horse, and they went to each other with wide open arms, colliding joyfully, trying to outdo each other with the tightness of their hugs, staggering, stumbling, and laughing while the hounds tore around them.
Andrea, kissing Per’s neck, was startled when he drew a sobbing, shuddering breath. Drawing back, she saw tears running down his face. “What matter?” Holding his head, she wiped away his tears with her thumbs. “I be well.” She hugged him tight again. “And oh, thank God, so be thee!”
Per clamped her to him, set his head against hers, and wept into her shoulder.
The last few riders clopped past them, the men calling out to Andrea that they were better, and bigger. Long after the last horseman had passed, they clung together. Cuddy and Swart, bored, lay down at their feet. “This night,” Per said. “This night, we wed.” He pulled back to see her face, saw her astonishment, and laughed.
He would be the Sterkarm who married an Elf-May, and she would take his mother’s place, ladling ale from the tub at table, greeting their guests, bossing the kitchens. Oh, aye! She’d grow as fierce as Isobel—to everyone but him. They’d have half–Elf-Children, and every Sterkarm would boast of them. And when his fated day came and he rode the ghost road, his Elf-Children would remember him and tell his story.
“We’ll clasp hands before ’em all,” he said. “Tonight! Aye?” She’d left her own people for him and the Elf-Gate was closed against her. It was right and good he should wed her and make her safe.
Andrea laughed, but shook her head. The tower was wrecked, the people faced a winter in the shielings—
“Aye!” he said. “This night! We jump fire this night!”
“But, Per—”
“This night!” Grasping her hand, he took his horse’s reins in the other and walked up the meadow. A bothy wedding would be a poor one, and no woman wanted a poor wedding. “I’d wed thee in thine shift—or in nowt! That’d be a bonny sight! We’ll feast on oats and brambles and toast thee in stream water!”
“Per …” He looked back toward her but she, looking straight ahead, saw the people coming toward them from the bothies.
“I’ll be livelier for it when they bed us!” Per said. “This night, Entraya—I’ll no wait!”
Gobby strode ahead of everyone, waving his hand and shouting. “There be groom! There be lucky mannie.”
Per stopped. He looked from Andrea to Gobby, puzzled, but still smiling. Then Toorkild caught Gobby up and passed him.
Per dropped the reins and tugged Andrea toward Toorkild. “My wedding day, Daddy!”
Toorkild wrapped him in a hug. “Thy mammy’s seat will be empty.”
A boy took the reins Per had dropped, and children ran up and down, spreading the word, excited by a hope for honey and pancakes. “Per May weds!” The hounds yipped and ran with the children.
A woman’s voice rose, rough-edged, but true:
“I looked over my left shoulder
To see what I might see—”
More laughter, and men and women caught up the song:
“And there I saw my own true love
Long time I’d longed to see.”
Per disengaged himself from Toorkild and turned his big smile to Andrea, tears still running down his face. A thrill ran through her, as if the voices ringing in the wide air were fingers that stroked through her hair.
“I saw him there, my own love
And so gladly sang my heart.
For now we are together, love
We never more shall part.”
Per caught her hands, as if he was going to swing her in a dance, and sang to her, in his hoarse, smoke-roughened voice:
“For this green earth it shall wither
And Sun Herself delay—
Should I by any word or deed
My own true love betray.”
Andrea found herself laughing more freely than since she’d been a child. Hand in hand, smiling at each other, she and Per climbed from the meadow to the bothies.
They came among the heat and smoke of the fires and the people were quieter there. At the furthest fire, they saw Mistress Crosar standing with some of her Grannam men.
The singing and laughter faltered and died away. A space was created around Per and Andrea as people moved away
from them. Andrea remembered, guiltily, that many people there had little reason to laugh.
Per must have realized it, too. He called out, “I be sad for your troubles. We forgot ourselves. Be so kind, forgive us—on our wedding day!”
Toorkild sadly shook his head, which Andrea thought odd. It was Gobby who took Per by the arm and tugged him toward Mistress Crosar.
“Aye,” Gobby called out, meaning to be heard by all. “Thine wedding day. We wish Lady Joan and thee many long years and many bairnies!”
45
16th-Side A:
The Sterkarm Shieling
Andrea • Joan Grannam • Per May • The Changelings
Andrea’s hand loosed Per’s, and he looked over his shoulder at her as Gobby dragged him on toward Mistress Crosar. And there was Joan, peeking around her aunt’s shoulder.
Per pulled away from Gobby, reaching for Andrea. “My wife—”
Gobby stopped, gripped him hard by both shoulders and shook him. “Harken,” Gobby said as Cuddy and Swart came trotting to see what was happening. “There be more here than what thou wants.”
Through drifting smoke, Andrea glimpsed Toorkild’s face, set in an unhappy grimace.
Mistress Crosar spoke, her hands clasped before her skirt. “Sterkarm. Master Sterkarm. Shall we have some respect for dead?” She nodded toward the turf bench outside the nearest hut. The wrapped corpse lay on it. “Let us withdraw a little way and talk where not every shepherd and pot scourer hears our business.”
Mistress Crosar moved away from the fires, followed by Joan and Toorkild. Per let Gobby pull him along after them, though he looked back for Andrea.
“Elf-May can bide by fires,” Gobby said. “Or away back to Elf-Land if she be minded.”
Per stretched out his hand to her, so Andrea took it, if only to spite Gobby. With Cuddy and Swart following, they rounded the last of the turf bothies, leaving the heat and smoke of the fires behind. The others waited for them on a green path that led through the bright gorse to the moors. No one could come close enough to hear them without being seen.
Per pulled free of Gobby and halted at a distance. He put his arm around Andrea’s shoulders. “If Davy Grannam may hear our talk, then so may my wife.” His hounds lay down at his feet.
Davy Grannam, standing behind his mistress, folded his arms, and turned his back, as if pretending he was not there.
“Your wife?” Mistress Crosar said. Joan Grannam stood beside her, still wearing the stained, ill-fitting men’s clothes. “When went you to kirk, Master Sterkarm?”
“It be no kirk makes wedlock,” Per said. “We made our vows, each to other, and we be wed.”
Andrea could almost feel Joan’s eyes on her, the girl stared so hard.
“Who were witnesses?” Mistress Crosar asked. “I think it will no stand in law.” Per opened his mouth, and she raised her voice. “Before too much be said of vows, hear what your father and his brother have to say.”
Per turned to his father, but Toorkild waved a hand, as if to brush them all away.
Gobby stepped close to Per, setting his hands on his shoulders. “Per, we mun be canny, aye?” He shook Per a little. “Lad, tha’ve never had many worries. That’s been thine daddy’s work and mine. But time be coming when worrying will be all tha does.” Gobby glanced at Andrea. “Not honey and roses and kisses under hedge—but how much be in store and how many calves and how to mend walls.”
Per gripped Andrea’s hand and looked from his uncle to his father.
“This be twice Elven have come against us,” Gobby said. “They dinged down tower and housen, they burned fields and stores, they killed cattle—and aye, Elf-Gate be closed now, they tell me. But tha closed it before and they opened it again. What if they come back this way?”
Mistress Crosar said, “Master Per, you asked us to stand with you against Elven.”
Per squeezed Andrea’s fingers painfully tight. “Aye, I asked that. And, for my trouble, was cried a cock crowing on a midden.”
“Master Per.” Mistress Crosar drew a breath. “I ask your pardon for those words. I spoke foolishly, that I admit. But your father’s brother speaks wisely. We mun try, you and I, to be as wise. Let us come together and help each other now. Let us prepare against Elven’s return—though God save us and protect us from them.”
Andrea felt the wariness in Per’s body. “We be gladdened by your counsel, Mistress. What has it to do with my wedding?”
Andrea felt someone grip her wrist and pull her staggering backward, away from Per. At the same time, Per was shoved forward toward Gobby. Gobby’s son, Wat, had Andrea by the wrist. His oldest son, Little Toorkild, now shoved Per forward again.
“Per,” Gobby said, “tha ken what being Sterkarm means. Thine daddy and me, when needs be, we’ve ridden and fought for this family. We fought for our cattle and our crofts—as our fathers did. And aye, I ken well tha’ve done it, too, and bravely.”
Per wasn’t caught by these sweet words. He pointed at Joan Grannam. “Tha wants me to wed that murdering cat!”
Joan Grannam raised her head. Her face was scratched and dirty, smeared with tears and stuck with strands of her wild hair, but her wide blue eyes flashed in the light. She looked, Andrea thought, astonishingly beautiful. And scary.
“Tha’ll gladly wed a kinless, whoring Elf!” Joan cried. “A traitor to her own kind—she’ll betray thy bed for sure!”
Per’s face reddened and his lips drew back. He started forward, as if he would barge past his father and uncle to reach Joan. Gobby’s hands on his chest blocked him, and shoved him backward into Little Toorkild. “Now, now.”
“She tried to kill Entraya!” Per said.
“Aye,” Gobby said. “But we need no listen to a lassie’s squalling. Bide awhile now, Per. Let thy temper cool. Be a wee bit canny here. One day, tha’ll be The Sterkarm. Art fit for it? Canst think clearly, and see what be best for all, and not only for thee?”
Per shook his head. “Tha canst no ask me—”
“I do ask thee.” Per became very still, and he and Gobby stared at each other. “I’m no asking thee to put Elf-May aside. I’m no asking thee to love Grannam lass. I’m but asking thee to wed her.”
Andrea watched Per shake his head fiercely but thought she could see how this would end. Already, she’d been separated from him. It was Per’s wedding day, but he wouldn’t be wedding her.
She was stuck here, 16th side, and she was going to be alone.
She fell back a few paces from the little crowd gathered around Per. She reminded herself that Joe had remained alone 16th side, and had made himself a happy life, so why couldn’t she? Well, came the answer: The Sterkarms had always seen Joe as one of their own. Lost in Elf-Land for a while but now returned. And Joe wasn’t in love with Per May.
In this world, she was an outsider, an Elf, tolerated because Per loved her, but still one of the enemy. She would be an Elf, a witch, a trow woman blamed for everything that went wrong. Bad weather, poor harvest, sick children would all be her fault. She feared that without Per, without his warmth and strength, she would have a hard life.
Gobby said to Per, “It’s no enough to have a sterk arm. Tha mun have a sterk head. Be crafty and spy how to make best bargain. And here be a good bargain. We give lassie a husband to keep her in credit, and they feed us this winter and fight with us against Elven.”
“And if Elven never come again?” Per said. “No such a good bargain then!”
“Tell that to folk with no food left and no harvest to come. And if Elven never come back but Sterkarms and Grannams ride together? There’ll be no family as strong from here to Dunholme. Tha sees that, bonny lad? Whatever we lacked, we could take!”
Per turned his head, looking for Andrea. His expression was of pain. She went to him, shoving aside the men in her way, and hugged him. He wrapped her in his arm
s, resting his head against hers.
“Ach, lad!” Gobby said. “We’re no asking thee to wed Mistress Crosar!”
“Thanks shall you have,” the Mistress murmured.
Andrea called out, “If Sterkarms and Grannams must be allied, marry Toorkild to Mistress Crosar.”
There was a shocked silence. Toorkild stood with his mouth open. Davy Grannam turned to look at them. Even Per pulled away from her to stare.
“Mistress Elf,” said Mistress Crosar. “You be neither Grannam nor Sterkarm. What do you do here? To answer you, I am no my brother’s heir, and such a marriage would forge but a weak link. Besides, I am a widow, and think to die one. Before you spoke, you might have remembered that Master Sterkarm is a new widower.”
Andrea felt as small as one of the tiny flowers in the grass. She hadn’t been so comprehensively put down since she’d left 21st side.
Gobby said to Per. “Wed Grannam lass. For good of us all.”
Per’s arms remained around Andrea, and he did not answer. The silence became awkwardly long.
Sandy Yonstone broke it, stepping forward and kneeling respectfully before Mistress Crosar. “Mistress, you ken I come of good family.” His slight emphasis reminded them that the Yonstones were far better born and bred than the Sterkarms. “Wed your brother’s daughter to me. My name will cover all she has done.” He looked at Joan, sure she must be won by his generosity, no, nobility.
Joan turned her beautiful face toward him in a long stare, and Sandy’s hopes rose as dizzily high as a skylark.
Joan lowered her head, looking at her clasped hands. “I shall obey my aunt’s wishes. I shall wed Per Sterkarm.”
“Daddy!” Per said. “Grannams!”
“Ach, Per,” Gobby said. “We’ve always fought Grannams, aye. They’ve killed us and we’ve killed them. But when old path tha followed last year leads thee into a bog this year, dost still follow it? Or gan by another way? Think, lad! What shall we do this coming winter?”
“Master Per,” said Mistress Crosar. “We found you on hillside, dying. You begged me for help, and I gave it. You begged me to save Elf-May, and I did. She would no have lived but for my care.”
A Sterkarm Tryst Page 39