Rascard knew he should have expected this. But Alaric was young; he himself had lived out a long life. Alaric could marry, rebuild the clan and kingdom. He answered after only a moment.
Agreed. But only if he lives; if he dies in your hands, I will burn Storn around your ears with clingfire.
Father, no! Not at that price! It was Alaric's voice crying out, I cannot live so long-nor will I have you die
for me. Rascard felt the voice strike through his son's weak defenses, felt the bursting blood as if in his own veins, then Alaric was gone, dropped from the rapport-dead or unconscious-he could not tell.
There was no sound in the conservatory but Erminie's quiet sobbing, and another outburst of rage from the Lord of Storn.
Ah, you have cheated me of my revenge, Rascard, old enemy! It was not I who dealt him death. If you wish to change your life for his body, I shall honor the bargain-
Honor? How dare you speak that word, Storn?
Because I am not a Hammerfell! Now get out! Do not presume to come into Storn again-even in spirit! Ardrin flung at him. Go! Get out!
Erminie threw herself to the rug and wept like the child she was still. Rascard of Hammerfell bowed his head. He was numb, empty, shattered. Had the feud ended, then, at this price?
2
The forty days of mourning wound slowly to an end. On the forty-first day, a caravan of strangers wound its way slowly up the winding rocky track toward Hammerfell Castle and when welcomed proved to be a relative of the duke's late wife along with his retinue. Duke Rascard, more uncomfortable than he cared to admit in the presence of this sophisticated, finely dressed city-dweller, received him in his Great Hall, calling for wine and refreshments.
"My apologies for the insufficiency of this entertainment," he remarked, ushering him to a seat near the carved mantle which bore the crest of Hammerfell, "but until yesterday this was a house of mourning, and we have not returned to our normal state."
"I did not come for cakes and wine, kinsman," said Renato Leynier, a lowland cousin from the Hastur countries to the south. "Your mourning is all our family's mourning as well; Alaric was my kinsman,
too. But there is a purpose to our visit-I have come to reclaim my kinsman's daughter, the leronis Erminie."
Renato looked at the duke. If he had expected-as was the case--to see an old, broken man, ready to collapse at the death of his son and see Hammerfell fall into the hands of strangers, he was cheated. If anything, this man seemed to have grown stronger through his rage and pride; a vital man, still in command of those armies of Hammerfell through which he had marched for many days. Power spoke in the man's every small gesture and word; Rascard of Hammerfell was not young, but far from broken.
"But why do you seek to reclaim Erminie now?" Rascard asked, feeling the question like a stab of pain. "She is well in my household. This is her home. She is the last living link with my son. I would prefer to keep her as a daughter to my family."
"That is not possible," said Renato. "She is no longer a child, but a marriageable woman nearing twenty, and you are not so old as all that." (Until this very moment he had indeed thought of Rascard of Hammerfell as old enough to need no chaperone where a young woman was concerned.) "It is scandalous for you two to live alone together."
"Surely there is nothing so evil as the mind of a virtuous man, unless it is the mind of a virtuous woman," said Rascard indignantly, his face flushing with anger. In all truth this interpretation had never occurred to him. "Almost from infancy she was my son's playmate, and in all the years she has lived here, there has been no dearth of chaperones and duennas and companions and governesses. They will tell you that not twice in all these years have we been so much as alone in a room together, save when she
brought me news of my son's tragic death; and then, believe me, we both had other things on our minds."
"I doubt it not," Renato said smoothly, "but even so, Erminie is of an age to be married, and while she dwells beneath your roof, however innocently, she cannot be properly married to any man of her station; or do you design to degrade her by marrying her to some lowborn paxman or servant?"
"No such thing," the old duke retorted, "I had designed to wed her to my own son, had he-but lived long enough."
An awkward, and for Rascard, sad silence followed. But Renato would not back down.
"Would that it might have been so! But with due respect to your son, she cannot marry with the dead, more's the pity," Renato said, "and so she must return to her own kinfolk."
Rascard felt his eyes flooding with the tears he had been too proud to shed. He looked up at the dark coat of arms above the hearth and could no longer hide his bitter sorrow. "Now I am indeed alone, for I have no other kinsman; those folk of Storn have had their triumph, for there is no living man or woman of the blood of Hammerfell besides myself anywhere in the Hundred Kingdoms."
"You are not yet an old man," Renato said, responding to the terrible loneliness in Rascard's voice. "You could yet marry again and raise up a dozen heirs."
And Rascard knew that what Renato said was true; yet his heart sank; to take a stranger into his home, and wait, wait for the birth of children, wait for them to grow to manhood, just to risk seeing this blood feud wipe them out again . . . no, he might
not be all that old, but he was definitely too old for that.
Yet what was the alternative? To let the Storns' have their triumph, to know that when they followed the murder of his son with his own murder, there would be none to avenge him ... to know that Hammerfell itself would be in Storn hands, and no trace of the Morays of Hammerfell would remain anywhere in the Hundred Kingdoms.
"I will marry, then," he said in a moment of brazen desperation. "What bride-price do you ask for Erminie?"
Renato was shocked to his Core.
"I did not mean to suggest that, my lord. She is not of your station, she has been a common leronis in your household. It is not suitable."
"If I intended to marry her to my own son, how could I possibly claim she was not suitable for me? If I scorned her, I would never have thought of such a marriage," Rascard insisted.
"My lord-"
"She is of an age to bear children, and I have no reason to believe her other than virtuous. Once I married hoping for the great alliances a noble bride would bring; where are they, now that my son lies dead? At this point I wish only for a healthy young woman, and I am accustomed to her as my son's playmate. She will do well, better than most; and I will not need to accommodate myself to the ways of a stranger. Name her bride-price: I will give her parents whatever is customary and reasonable."
Lord Renato looked at him in dismay. He knew that he could not summarily refuse this marriage without making a formidable enemy. Hammerfell
was a small realm, but Renato was realizing how powerful it was; the Dukes of Hammerfell had reigned long in this part of the world.
He could only temporize and hope that the old duke would think better of this latest whim while the opurely practical difficulties and delays were being dealt with.
"Well," he said slowly, at last, "if that is your wish, my lord, I will send a message to her guardians asking their permission for their ward to marry you. There may be difficulties; she may have been hand-fasted elsewhere as a child, or something of that sort."
"Her guardians? Why not her parents?"
"She has none, sir, that is why, when your late wife, my cousin Ellendara, wished for a companion of her own blood for Alaric when he was but a child, Erminie was sent here since she was in need of a home. As you surely remember, my lord, Ellendara was a trained leronis from Arilinn, and she wished, since she had no daughter, to train Erminie in those skills."
"I do not see the difficulty, then, since no loving parents await her," the duke remarked. "Is there a mystery or scandal about her parentage?"
"None whatever; my own sister
Lorna was her mother, and her father was my paxman and a Hastur guardman, Darran Tyall. The girl was born outside the catenas, it is true; they had been handfasted when they were but twelve years old, and when Darran was killed on the border, my sister was wild with grief. All too soon we knew she was carrying Tyall's child. Erminie was born in my own wife's arms, and
we loved her well; that is why Ellendara so gladly welcomed her to this household."
"So she is your niece," said Rascard. "Is her mother living?"
"No, Lorna outlived her promised husband by less than a year."
"Then it seems you are her closest kinsman and her guardian too, and this talk of permission from 'others' is nothing but a device to delay my suit," Rascard said, angrily rising from his chair. "What objection have you to my marrying Erminie, when I was good enough for your cousin, my wife?"
"I will tell you truthfully," Renato said somewhat abashed. "This feud with Storn has grown from a smoke signal to a forest fire; it displeased me then, but it displeases me far more now. I would no longer willingly marry any kinswoman of mine into a clan so riddled with blood feud." He saw Rascard's jaw clamp down sternly and said, "I know your ways in the mountains; it saddened me that Ellendara came to be part of such a feud, I would not wish to entangle any more of my family in it. While Erminie was no more than a guest in your household, I told myself it was none of my concern; but marriage is another thing. And more than this; the girl is too young for you. I would not care to see any girl so young married to a man of an age to be her father, or more. . . . But let the girl herself decide, if she has no objection, I'll make none. Though I'd still rather see her married into a house less encumbered with blood feud."
"Send for her, then, and ask her," said Duke Rascard.
"But not in your presence," Renato insisted. "She
might hesitate to say before her friend and benefactor that she wishes to leave him."
"As you will," said the duke, and summoned a servant.
"Kindly request the damisela to attend her kinsman Renato in the conservatory." His eyes were icy, and Renato, as he walked down the dark hall behind the servant, found it difficult to imagine that any young woman could wish to marry this elderly and irascible man. He felt secure in the belief that his young kinswoman would welcome the news that he had come to take her away.
Rascard watched as Erminie went down the corridor toward the conservatory to confront her kinsman. He looked at her with considerable tenderness and for the first time he could see her as a desirable woman instead of the child who had been his son's companion and playmate. He had been thinking of marriage as a desperate necessity; now for the first time he realized it might have some compensations.
After a time they reentered the Great Hall. Renato was scowling angrily, while by Erminie's blush and the faint smile she gave Rascard behind her kinsman's back, the duke realized with a warmth in his heart that she must have looked kindly on his proposal.
He asked with great tenderness, "Are you willing, then, to be my wife, Erminie?"
"The girl's a fool," Renato growled. "I told her I'd find her a husband who'd be better suited to her."
Erminie smiled and said, "Why do you think you could find anyone who would suit me better, kinsman?" She smiled sweetly at Rascard, and the duke, for the first time since he had seen his dead son's
face through the starstone, felt light break through the dark shroud of his frozen misery.
He took her hand and said softly, "If you will be my wife, chiya, I will try to make you happy."
"I know," said the young woman, gently returning the pressure of his fingers.
"Erminie," Renato said, struggling to recapture his calm, "you can do better than this. Do you truly want to marry this old man? He's older than your father ever lived to be; he's older than I am. Is this what you want? Think, girl!" he demanded. "You are being offered freedom as few young women are given choice! No one has demanded that you must marry into Hammerfell."
Erminie took the duke's hand. She said, "Uncle Renato, this is my family, too, and my home; I have been here since I was a little girl, and I have no wish to return and live off the charity of .kinsmen who are now strangers to me."
"You are a fool, Erminie," said Renato. "Do you wish to see your children wiped out in this mad feud, too?"
At this she looked sober. "I confess I would rather live at peace, but which of us would not, if given the choice?" she said.
And the duke, seized by something for a moment stronger than pride, said, "If you ask it of me, Erminie, I will even sue for peace with Lord Storn."
She looked gravely at the backs of her upturned , hands and said, "It is true I long for peace. But it was Lord Storn who refused even to return the body of your son; I would not see you humbled before him, my promised husband, nor you going to him humbly as a suppliant to sue for peace on his terms."
"A compromise, then," Rascard said. "I will send him an embassy politely asking him for the return of my son's body for a decent burial, and if he does so, we will have an honorable peace; if he refuses, it is ' war between us forever."
"Forever?" Erminie asked, sobered, and then sighed. "So be it; we will abide his answer."
Renato scowled. "I realize now you are both hopeless fools," he said. "If you truly wished for peace you would somehow overcome this pride which threatens to wipe out both Storn and Hammerfell, and make both your castles into deserted eyries where ravens cry and bandits lurk!"
Rascard shivered, for there was a tone of prophecy in Renato's words, and for a moment as he gazed up into the cavernous beamed ceiling of the Hall it seemed he could indeed see the crag and deserted ruin which once had been the proud keep of Hammerfell. But when Renato went on to ask, "Can't you conquer that damned pride of yours?" he bristled, and Erminie drew herself up with a touch of arrogance.
"Why must it be my husband who conquers pride?" asked Erminie with a flare of anger. "Why should it not be Storn, since he has had the triumph of all but wiping out my husband's clan? Is it not for the victor to be magnanimous?"
"You may be right," Renato said, "but it is not right that will end this feud. One of you must sacrifice your pride."
"Perhaps," Rascard said, "but why must it be I?"
Renato shrugged and walked to the window. He said with a resigned gesture, "Erminie, you have made your bed; for what it is worth, you have my permission to lie in it. Take her, kinsman; you de-
serve one another, and much good may it do you both."
Rascard said with a dry smile, "May I take that for a blessing?"
"Take it as a blessing, a curse, any damned thing you please," Renato said angrily, and gathering his belongings, unceremoniously exited the room.
Rascard put his arm around Erminie and laughed.
"He was so angry he forgot to ask a bride-price," he said. "I fear you have alienated your kinsfolk when you marry me, Erminie."
She smiled up at him and said, "Such kinsfolk as that are better alienated than friendly; at least we will be spared many unpleasant family visits on that account."
"So that he stays long enough to play a kinsman's part at our wedding, he may go where he chooses-to hell, if Zandru will take him in, and may the devil take more pleasure in his company than we do," Rascard agreed.
3
At Midsummer, the marriage of Duke Rascard and Erminie Leynier was held. The wedding was a small one for mountain nobility, for the bride's kinsfolk refused to come, except for less than a dozen of Lord Renato's paxmen, to signify that Erminie was being married into Hammerfell by consent of her kin. Anything less would have been scandalous, but it was obvious that Renato grudged this duty, and there were few bride-gifts from her kin for the newly- ' made Duchess of Hammerfell. As if to compensate for this miserly show, the elderly duke endowed his young wife with all of the fabled jewels of the duchy. The few distant allies of Ham
merfell who attended the ceremony were grim and disgruntled, for they had hoped, in the absence of an heir or any close kin, that one of them might inherit the title and lands of the-duke; this new marriage to a young
woman who might reasonably be expected to bear children put a stop to all of their hopes.
"Cheer up," said one of the duke's compatriots to another. "It may not mean anything. Rascard is not young; this marriage may well be childless."
"No such luck," replied the other, cynically, "Rascard looks older than he is since the death of his son; but he is in the fullness of his strength, no more than five-and-forty; and even if it were not so, you mind the old saying: 'A husband of forty may not become a father; a husband of fifty years is sure to do so.' " He sniggered and said, "It's a pity for the girl, though; she's young and hearty and deserves a better husband. I'd be tempted to seek a post here, to comfort her in the long winter nights."
"I doubt you'd have much luck," said the first, "She seems a modest girl, and truly fond of the old fellow."
"As a father-I doubt it not," replied the second, "but as a husband?"
This was typical of the conversation; and Erminie, who was a strong telepath, and whose barriers were not accustomed to the company of so many people, had to hear all this without betraying that she heard. It was all she could do not to show her outrage- and on her wedding day! When the time came for the women to take her away to the bridal chamber- they were mostly her serving-women, for none of her aunts or cousins had bothered to make the long journey-she was all but in tears, and had no heart for the typical game of protesting and struggling as they led her out of the room, though she knew she .could be accused of being less than a properly modest bride.
Though it was midsummer, the chamber felt chill and drafty as Erminie was stripped to the revealing bedgown traditional for a bedding-ceremony (by old custom, so that the bride might be seen to be healthy and free of hidden deformity or defect); she waited, shivering and trying to keep back her tears-she did not wish Rascard to think her unwilling. Stern as he seemed, she knew well that he had a gentler side; she felt that this was a good marriage for her, whatever her kinsfolk said; being Duchess of Hammerfell was nothing to be despised. She would have had to marry sooner or later, and better an elderly man she knew would at least be kind to her, than to be given over to some complete stranger, however young and handsome he might be. Many a bride had been left alone in the arms of a man she had never met-she was desperately glad this was not to be her fate.
The Heirs Of Hammerfe Page 2