by Susan Price
She’d tried telling herself that she should be thinking of the poor men who’d been killed, and of the men with her, who were just as bruised and cold and scared, but she knew and loved Per better than any of those men, and every time she heard him retch or gasp, she wanted to take hold of him and help him, and couldn’t.
Bryce called a halt when he was sure no one had followed them into the valley. They’d called softly to each other until they were all gathered in the shelter of a great lump of rock as big as a house. Sitting on the rubble of smaller rocks beneath it, they huddled together, trying to share warmth, since it was a damp, chilly night, and most of them were in shirtsleeves and barefoot. Andrea had squeezed in between Per and Bryce, her bruises painful against the rock.
None of them were comfortable, but Per, with his arms wrenched behind him, had been unable to lean back or sit up straight or lie down—and they could hear him constantly munching at the gag, and retching and coughing.
“Please,” Andrea had said to Bryce, “couldn’t you untie him? He can’t get away with you all here, and the better we treat him, the better—”
“Okay!” Bryce had said. With the other men standing guard, he’d untied Per’s arms, and then tied his wrists together. His arms were still behind his back, but more comfortable.
“Thank you,” Andrea had said, and had let a few minutes pass before saying, “Could you take out his gag? I mean, he’s not going—”
“Do it,” Windsor said. “I’m sick of listening to that noise.”
Sighing, Bryce had roughly shoved down Per’s head, so he could reach the knot in the cord holding the gag. Unable to undo it in the dark, he’d wrenched the cord over Per’s head, tearing at his hair, and tugged a length of sodden sock from between Per’s teeth.
After first drawing a long deep breath, Per had coughed and worked his jaw. “Tahk.”
“What’s he say?”
“Thanks,” Andrea had said. “He says thanks.”
Bryce had been amused. “He’s polite, I’ll give him that. Tell him the minute he gives me any grief, I’ll ram this sock so far down his throat that—well, you get the idea.” He stuffed the sodden sock and lace into his pocket.
“Per, thu maun nigh tala.” Thou must not talk.
Per had refused to answer her then, as he was refusing now. In the faint light, where his head was merely a denser darkness against darkness, she could tell that his face was turned away from her. But her side was pressed against his, her thigh against his, and she could tell by the braced tension in his body that he was aware of her.
“Per, I be sad for what happened. Harken to me, be so kind. I got them to take gag away, did I no? Per—”
“What are you saying to him?” Bryce asked, from her other side.
“Nothing!”
“Shut up then. There’s nothing he needs to know.”
Andrea wanted to say: I need him to know that I didn’t lay a trap for him. Even if they never saw each other again after tonight—especially if they never saw each other again—she needed him to know that. But she couldn’t say that to Bryce. She couldn’t say it where Windsor might overhear.
Per worked a bit of wool from between his teeth and lip, and spat it out. His face ached from his jaws having been held open for so long by the gag, and the retching and coughing had left his throat so strained and sore that he didn’t think he’d be able to do more than whisper.
He hunched and relaxed his shoulders, trying to ease the ache in them. Trying to pull his hands apart only made the cord tighten around his wrists. The Elven knew about knots.
“Per?” It was Andrea’s voice, spoken hardly louder than a breath, close by his ear. The breath stirred his hair against his skin and he shivered. His throat closed, his eyes filled with tears.
I set my back against an oak,
Thinking it a strong and trusty tree,
But first it bent, and then it broke,
And so did my true love to me.
He’d been captured because he’d trusted that where she was, there could be no danger for him. Because of her, Cuddy was dead. Even when she’d kissed him, she’d been lying to him.
“Per.” They were touching, but only because all of them were crowded so close in the shelter of the rock. Her hand hovered in the dark—and then she determined to stop timidly begging him for some sign of being willing to listen to her. She put her hand on his knee and said, “Per, I did no plan this, I meant none of it to happen, I did no—”
He pulled away from her, twisting his upper body and jolting into Bryce, who was knocked into the man next to him, who bumped into others. There were groans and smothered protests as men were startled from uncomfortable, unhappy dozes.
“Per—”
Per was furious that she could be so shameless as to speak to him, and spat at her, “Guthrun!”
“Hey, hey,” Bryce said, and grabbed at the scruff of Per’s neck.
“Guthrun?” Andrea said. “I be Guthrun? Oh Per! Thou wert in hall. I thought tha’d stay there. How could I ken tha’d come haring—”
Too angry to keep a silent dignity any longer, Per said, “Tha told me to come!”
“I told thee?”
“Hey,” Bryce said. The other men could be heard moving, shuffling against the rock, disturbed by a fierce, whispered quarrel they couldn’t understand.
“I never told thee! I told thee to stay—”
Per leaned toward her, and was half choked by Bryce’s grip on his collar. “Tha told Nanse to tell me—”
“I never—”
“That thou wert in thy bower—in bed—” He broke off.
Andrea let a couple of breaths pass before she said, “I told her to say I had a head pain and had gone to sleep it off. I meant thee to stay in hall. Oh Per, tha’rt a bonehead.” An apt Sterkarm expression dropped into her mind. “Tha’ve a sheep’s head and a ram’s—”
He dragged against Bryce’s grip. “And tha’rt a cod-fish!”
Bryce shook him. “Hey, hey, hey. Less of it. I can gag him again.”
Andrea reached around Per to lay her hand on Bryce’s arm. “It’s all right. I’m only saying that I’m sorry about his dog.”
Windsor’s voice came from the darkness. “He doesn’t seem to be taking it very well.”
Andrea ignored him. “Per, be so kind, believe me, I never meant for thee to be caught.” She put her hand on his chest and, when he didn’t try to pull away or push her off, she put her hand to the back of his neck and prized Bryce’s threatening hand away. “I never meant for anybody else to be hurt, Per. I was trying to stop any more folk being hurt.”
That struck a true note with him. She was always worrying about folk being hurt, and trying hopelessly to think of ways to stop them being hurt. When she put her face close to his and kissed his cheek, he didn’t try to stop her, though he knew he should, if he didn’t want to be her fool.
“And Per, tha must believe me, be so kind, I never would have wanted Cuddy to be hurt—I loved Cuddy—be so kind, blame me not for that—”
“Oh, Entraya.” All he could do, with his hands tied behind his back, was to press his cheek against hers, and nuzzle in the hollow of her neck. When she started to shake and sob, tears filled his own eyes, and he knew he would have believed her even if he’d watched her take the dagger and stab Cuddy—he was that big a fool.
“I thought thou’d be in hall, and she’d be with thee, and you’d both be safe! I was only going to let Elven loose, and then I was coming back.” She wasn’t sure herself if this was true. Perhaps, at the last moment, she really would have turned back. Even if it was a lie, if Per found it comforting, it was a kind lie.
“Entraya …” She had her arms round his neck, and he turned his head within her embrace, trying to kiss her.
“But I’ve made such a mess of it all, and now I
be so scared—”
“Ssh, little one—”
“God!” Windsor said. “This is nauseating. Have we got to listen to it?” There was some murmured agreement from the other men. Cold, damp, hungry, battered and scared, they weren’t much in the mood for lovers.
“Leave them alone,” Bryce said. “So long as they’re quiet.”
“We will all be killed,” Andrea sobbed into Per’s neck. “I got Cuddy killed, and now I shall get all the rest of us killed! I be so sad for it all, Per. I never meant it.”
“Entraya, ssh!” He whispered in her ear, and kissed it, making the hair stand up all over her. “No one will hurt thee, no one.”
“But them,” she said. “They’ll be hurt. It be all my fault …”
“Ssh! Ssh!” He kissed her ear and her cheek, trying to find her mouth. He couldn’t comfort her by saying that the men around them would be unhurt, since if he had anything to do with it, every one of them would be cut into collops, in revenge for Cuddy alone. “Thu air sikka, Lam. Inyen skahl sawrer thu. Kews migh.” Thou’rt safe, Lamb. No one shall hurt thee. Kiss me.
They leaned to each other, opening their mouths—and drawing back as the first touch sent darts of pain through their split lips. They both smiled, which hurt more, and moved together again. Andrea licked at Per’s mouth, where it was hurt, and he licked back, and the bruises, the cold and the hard rock under them stopped mattering so much. Andrea refused to care about the other men, so close around them, listening. This might be the last she ever had of Per.
There was a sound of scrambling as Windsor struggled up from the huddle of men and stumbled his way to them. “I’ve had enough of this.” He took Per by a handful of hair and tried to drag him away from Andrea—but she clung to Per, and their mouths clung together.
“Leave ’em!” Bryce said.
But some of the other men, as angry as Windsor, got hold of Andrea and dragged her away from Per, their fingers biting hard into her arms. She struck out at them, as angry as she was scared.
“What about snogging us?” one of the men asked, and Windsor said, “You make me sick!”
Bryce was on his feet. She could see him, dimly, standing taller than the other stooping figures. “Leave her alone! Leave her! Sit down—now!” Someone was clouted. In the darkness, she couldn’t see who, but hoped it wasn’t Per.
And then everyone settled down again, though they muttered. Her heart was thumping. And she wasn’t sitting by Per any longer.
Per, his head aching worse than ever because of Windsor’s hauling on his hair, settled himself to wait. Morning would come, and when it did, he would get his chance.
Bedes Water was a brown water running fast over many rocks with a constant purling and gushing. It caught what little light there was, making a milky twilight about its banks that, within a few feet, faded to darkness. At the ford, the only place in the whole valley’s length where the water could be safely crossed, the Sterkarms waited. The little horses, loose, wandered here and there or stood still, dozing. The men crouched on the ground, wrapped in cloaks, grimly waiting out the night.
Isobel and her foot army came tramping across the springy turf of the valley and joined them. Women, children and men huddled together, sharing cloaks and warmth, breathing in the cold smell of the water.
Throughout the long night, at intervals, riders came in from patrolling the waterside, the horses treading gently. Other men rose as these dismounted, whistled to their horses, mounted and rode off.
Some passed the time sleeping, others in kissing, or telling stories or singing songs, until the darkness over the valley paled, as if water had been added to ink. Joe watched as a patrol rode in, looming startlingly clear from the dawn twilight, the metallic chink of their weapons and harness ringing in the new day’s fresh, cold air.
A woman’s voice rose, hoarse but tuneful:
“Now Yanny’s good yew bow is broke,
And his good gazehounds are slain,
And he sleeps in deep greenwood,
With all his hunting done, done,
With all his hunting done.”
24
16th Side: Back to the Tube
The rocks and trees of the valley showed gray against gray, and the trickling of the small stream seemed to grow louder, the smell of earth and leaves stronger. Birds began to chitter. Bryce said, “Let’s make a move, before we freeze solid.”
Getting up wasn’t easy. They were all cramped, and their bruises had stiffened. Andrea saw Per, his hands still tied behind him, hauled to his feet by Bryce. In the early gray light his face, as he looked around for her, was merely a pale smudge, obscured by the mud dried on it.
On tender, sore feet, they limped down the narrow valley, clambering over and around the many boulders, which were at least easier to see in the growing light. Andrea’s blisters hurt at every step. She tried not to look at the men around her, who still glowered at her. Ahead of her, Per stumbled as Bryce pulled him along by his belt, and as Windsor shoved him from behind. The gag was still in Bryce’s pocket; that was one good thing.
The light strengthened, bringing delicate color into the hills above them. Green thornbushes and ferns emerged from the morning dusk, and the birds shrilled louder.
At the spot where the ravine opened into Bedesdale, they stopped to catch breath. It was nearly full light and the valley before them was shining green. Distantly came the sound of the river. Andrea shivered as she looked. It was very beautiful, and cold. She turned and saw Per standing beside Bryce. Per was staring at her, waiting to catch her eye, his pale-blue eyes bright in his mask of dirt. He mouthed at her, “Thu air sikka.” Thou art safe.
She doubted it. In the clear light she could see three mounted men riding by the river, each carrying a long lance. As they watched, one of the men raised his lance high in the air, signaling to someone, and then used the lance to point to them.
Per smiled. The scouts had seen them, and had told the main party where they were. He looked again at Andrea.
“The Sterkarms are at the ford,” she said, for Bryce to hear. The low land near the river was hidden from them by folds of ground.
Bryce, squinting, looked around, wondering if there was somewhere else they could cross, and almost grinned as he realized it made no difference. He must be too tired to think straight. Even if they could afford to walk miles to find another ford, the Sterkarms were mounted. Wherever they went, the Sterkarms would overtake them.
“Well, we’ve got Sunny Jim here.” Bryce pulled his sleeve over his hand, spat on it and, gripping Per by the hair with his other hand, scrubbed the wetted sleeve over his face. When Per turned his face aside, Bryce pulled his head around again. “Not used to washing, eh? But we want you spruced up and looking your best.”
Andrea thought Bryce was making a mistake. As the dirt was wiped away, the marks on Per’s face showed more clearly. His nose was reddened and slightly swollen out of shape. There was a cut on his left eyebrow, and the eye below it was swelling, darkening and closing. His lower lip was noticeably puffed up, and at the corners of his mouth were grazes made by the cord that had held the gag. Toorkild’s people teased Per about his girl’s face, but they were proud of his looks too. They would see this spoiling of them as a vandalism of their property.
Still grasping a handful of Per’s hair, Bryce studied him. Per stared back, his face blank.
“He’s got some bottle,” Bryce said. “I’ll give him that.”
Andrea thought that it couldn’t hurt, even now, to try and build a bridge between the two sides. “He says thou’rt brave,” she told Per.
Per glanced at her, and then gave Bryce a sidelong look that held all the contempt a Sterkarm could have for the opinion of anyone not a Sterkarm.
From his pocket, Bryce took the sock and bootlace. Per, who’d been silent and obedient for so long, stepped sharply bac
k, colliding with the men behind him. “Nigh! Yi skal nigh snakka. Min urd, yi lerfta.” No! I shall not speak. My word, I promise.
“Sorry, Sunshine,” Bryce said. The men behind Per took his arms and held him. Windsor came up, ready to help.
Andrea nodded toward the horsemen who still sat, at a distance, watching. “Are you going to do this in front of them?”
Bryce ignored her.
Per had reckoned on a little while yet before they tried to silence him. He leaned back against the men who held him, craning his neck, trying to see the horsemen. He filled his lungs and tried to yell, but his hoarse, strained throat pinched out the sound even before a hand came over his mouth.
Andrea said, “Per, don’t make it harder—”
But Per had suffered the gag once, and that was more than enough. If he could break free, he could run toward the horsemen, and they would ride hard toward him, leveling their lances …
He banged his head into the nose and mouth of the man behind him, sending considerable pain reverberating through his own head. An arm came around his neck and he set his teeth in it. Bryce was in front of him, with the gag, and Per kicked at him, catching him on the hip with the heel of his boot. Bryce staggered and sat down with a grunt of pain. Per was using his heels on the bare feet and legs of those behind him.
Andrea hopped about at the edge of the struggle, feeling scared and useless. “Per! Don’t! Oh, don’t hurt him!” She looked over her shoulder and saw the horsemen picking their way closer, as if to get a better look. “They’re coming!”
Per’s feet were kicked from under him; he was pressed to the ground, held down; and the gag was forced into his mouth for all he could do. And then, when he was pulled to sit upright in the grass, he was so breathless from the fight that the gag stifled him—and there were several among the men surrounding him who wanted to punch him.
Bryce, crouching beside him, fended them off. “Nobody touches—get back! See them three on horses over there? Nobody touches him.” Bryce pulled most of the sock out of Per’s mouth, to let him get his breath back “But if we didn’t need you alive, you little—”