Leaping Wolf, page 32
part #2 of Caledon Saga Series
‘I don’t say that you need me.’ He paused awkwardly. ‘It is I who needs you. Let me be your father.’
Tegwen looked uncertain and Gawan took a breath and swallowed some more pride.
‘Please.’
The young woman looked at him uncertainly. Gawan couldn’t begin to guess at what must have been going through her mind but the confusion was clear on her face. Her eyes were dry but her brow was furrowed, and she opened and closed her hands a few times. For a moment it looked as if she might say yes but then she thought better of it and spun around without a word. Gawan followed before she’d gone two paces but he didn’t catch hold of her.
‘All I ask is a chance, Tegwen.’
She reached the door and did not turn around but paused briefly in the open frame.
‘As I said I am riding south. Perhaps we may talk again.’ Gawan took in a breath but she raised a hand, still not looking at him. ‘But not today.’
Gawan realised that trying to dissuade her would do no good and he tried to take comfort that at least he might try again on the ride. All the same when she walked out he felt a surge of grief inside him. He had not started this at all well and if he didn’t take care, he would lose his child for good.
*
It was only a short walk between his house and the longhall but Gawan was not walking quickly. His steps were slow and heavy across the rocky ground and the grey skies were mockingly reflective of his mood. He had handled his first talk with Tegwen badly, so badly he had risked there never being a second, and he wished that he could blame someone else for it. He wished he could blame Rylion for not speaking better of him, or Harlen for turning her mind against him in her youth, or even Tegwen herself for being so unreasonable. But he knew full well that he could only blame himself. Rylion had done his best, Harlen had been grieving for her sister, and Tegwen had every right to be angry with him.
He made towards the side door of the longhall, which was nearer, and tried hard to look on the bright side. She had at least suggested that they might speak again, and that was something. All you have to do is not bugger that up as well. He frowned at himself as he walked and decided to think on other things. They would be heading off tomorrow and he wanted to speak to both Hywel and Duran before they left. He knew that Gwydion and Pryder would be back as well and he should probably talk to them about his sudden departure after Moon ridge, though what exactly he would say he still wasn’t sure.
He reached the side door but found that it was barred and, after giving it a second shove for good measure, he began walking along the side of the hall towards the main doors. His mind wanted to wander back to Tegwen and how best to approach her but he put that aside for now. He had planning to do with the others and he needed a clear head. With a little good fortune Rhianwyn would sort out her difficulties without too much bother and would be ready to receive them by the time they reached Bryngarth. Both Taliesyn and Boryn would be willing to listen to her and combined with some subtle hints from Hywel they might just make this work and keep the Gorvicae from fracturing. Gawan was in no great hurry to see Rhianwyn again but he knew that bringing her into this was the right choice and besides, he could trust that she wouldn’t want to bring up what had happened any more than he did.
He reached the main doors, which were slightly ajar, and walked into Graigarw’s hall, still pondering. Given the hatred between Taliesyn and Karadoc, he wondered if it was worth asking the Wildcat to throw her support behind Boryn. He might not enjoy the great support that the other two did but neither was he actively disliked by anyone. If he were to be made chieftain there would be only a few objections and the various headmen would soon make their peace with it. If either one of the other two gained Baercban’s chair there was a chance the loser would be resentful enough to resort to force to try to seize it. Such conflicts were rare after a moot had made its choice but as Caserach and his father had shown on Niswyn, they were far from unheard of.
Gawan frowned slightly as he closed the heavy door behind him. Even if he were to suggest such a thing, Rhianwyn was hardly likely to listen to him. He remembered how she’d trained with Gwydion back when the legion was formed and that the two had seemed to get along quite well. Perhaps it would sound better coming from him? He at least had not tried to force a kiss on her. The memory sent a brief jolt of guilt through him but he battered the feeling down. This wasn’t the time.
He walked into the room and found it practically deserted. He had hoped to find Hywel here, giving out some blessings before the ride tomorrow, but beyond a single figure on one of the benches the hall was completely empty. Gawan recognised that it was Boryn though and decided he ought to have a word with him too. If he was going to force the poor man to be their chieftain the least he could do was to talk to him about it. He raised a hand in greeting but saw that the old man was asleep, huddled over a mug of ale that he held in his lap. Gawan was ten paces away when the cold feeling hit his stomach. Another pace and he saw that Boryn’s chest did not rise and fall.
The First Man broke into a run and he reached him in moments but it was obvious that he was too late. Boryn’s skin was still warm but there was no breath from his lips and no sound from his heart. There was foam on his grey moustache and his face looked peaceful, as though sleeping, but Gawan knew death when he saw it. The Gadarim ground his teeth together, anger and confusion rushing through him, followed quickly by a heavy sense of sadness. Boryn was gone, and with him went all hope of an easy answer for the Gorvicae’s troubles.
Chapter 27. Casting Stones
Caserach flicked the pebble with his thumb and missed the cup by a finger’s width. Had they been playing in earnest he might have been more annoyed by it but none of the captives were carrying much in the way of coin, and they were only playing the game to eat up time. After countless days of sitting in this cramped hole with the same ugly faces, Caserach was glad of more or less anything that could break the monotony. Idwal went next, squatting across from his chieftain, and his own pebble clipped the edge of the cup but still tumbled to the dirt instead of falling in. The scarred man grimaced but otherwise barely reacted, sitting back on his haunches with a sigh.
Caserach drummed his fingers on his thigh, trying hard to keep his impatience under control. He’d managed to speak to a few of the Caderyn and had demanded to speak with their principle headman. Alraig had apparently agreed to see him but the bastard was probably enjoying making him wait. The Darin drummed his fingers that much harder at the thought. He would pay for his lack of respect soon enough. They all would.
Broad Kellas flicked a pebble and it rattled as it struck the inside of the cup. The giant smiled only a little as he gathered up the tiny handful of copper coins. They had all been around them a dozen times by now and Caserach thought they might as well have been playing for sand for all the difference it made. But then winning was winning, and despite everything he resented having lost. Idwal collected up the stones and tossed them back to their owners.
‘You think Edryd ever got back to his chief?’
He addressed the question to no-one in particular but Caserach knew it was mainly meant for him. Broad Kellas was not much of a one for chatter.
‘He struck me as a man who was good at wriggling his way out of things.’
Idwal smirked and sat back down again.
‘A shame we didn’t have a few more useless sneaks captured with us. Taking care of that guard was a nice distraction.’
Caserach snorted out a breath as he remembered.
‘I don’t doubt it.’
His loyal henchman had leaped on the Caderyn fool standing outside and had barely stopped shy of killing him. Idwal could sometimes get carried away. The three men placed coins before them and the scarred man idly flicked his pebble again, missing his intended target by a hairsbreadth.
‘What do you think he really wants out of all this?’
Caserach shrugged as he cast his own stone. It fell just short and clacked from the base of the cup.
‘Whatever it is it will mean no good to the Caderyn; that is all that matters.’
Caserach’s guess was that the man Edryd served was a chief of some kind, and he would use Rhianwyn’s disgrace to undermine the Caledon and make himself High Chieftain of the Gorvicae. Caserach made a note in his head that if things went according to plan, whoever took Baercban’s chair would be a man to keep an eye on. Idwal nodded as once again Broad Kellas cast his stone into the cup.
‘I suppose. Though if he supports the Caledon we will need to deal with him.’
Caserach hid his annoyance as the big man collected his winnings.
‘I doubt if he will. From his actions I’d say he is a man who understands things better than that.’
Broad Kellas gave him a sideways look and Caserach remembered that his giant bodyguard might be fearsome, but he was not exactly a shrewd man. The Darin spoke slowly.
‘The world belongs to the strong. Alliances come and go as needed but this Caledon nonsense,’ he spat on the dirt in front of him, ‘it makes them weaker, not stronger.’
Broad Kellas nodded but did not say anything, settling for adding more copper coins to his little pile and then throwing the pebbles back to their owners. Caserach bit back his impatience with him and was spared from having to explain further by Idwal’s voice from beside him.
‘What do you think they will do with her?’
He was smirking as he spoke and Caserach wished he could muster as much relish.
‘They are a soft people. Likely they will merely banish her.’ He held his stone ready to cast but then paused, thinking. ‘That said, they still kill the worst of their criminals. They may yet cut her pretty throat.’
Idwal snorted.
‘If a Darin chief did what she did we’d have gutted the bastard on the spot and hurled him from Whitespray Rock.’ He turned to face Broad Kellas. ‘What would the Breiryn do to a chief who led an enemy through your lands?’
The Gadarim met his eyes for a moment and spoke simply.
‘Drowned.’
He didn’t seem keen to elaborate and turned his attention back to the cup. His stone came close to sinking again but it clattered from the rim at the last moment. About time. Caserach spoke as Idwal cast his own pebble. It fell wide again.
‘As I say, they are weak.’ He smiled wolfishly at them as a pleasing thought came to him. ‘You know what my mother’s people do to chiefs who betray their tribe?’
Predictably, Idwal leaned forwards eagerly while Broad Kellas sat still and listened. Caserach didn’t let his indifference bother him; he was enjoying this. His mother’s tribe were a truly savage breed, a vicious race from beyond the Black Mountains whose practices had to be seen to be believed. Even the Gaians had been wary of fighting them.
‘The Seiriae would cut his tongue from his head for his deceit, and then force him to eat it whole. They would bind him like a pig for slaughter and then bleed him like one. Then the whole tribe would drink the blood to take a part of the traitor’s soul.’ The chieftain’s smile widened. ‘By the time he reached the Otherworld even his ghost would be a shadow of itself, and he would wander the afterlife forever, formless and silent.’
Caserach found himself imagining how it would feel to do that to Rhianwyn. She would try to defy him, try to fight back, and that would make the whole thing that much sweeter. Inexplicably he found himself actually stirring at the thought, though he did nothing to discourage the reaction. Why not? It’s no worse than the stuck-up Gaian bitch has been asking for!
Idwal was smiling too, but before he could say anything the door to their house was flung open. None of them stood as a Caderyn warrior stepped in, closely followed by the chief called Alraig and a youth so like him that he must have been his son. Caserach held back a grin. He had come.
The chieftain of the Dariniae stood up slowly, ignoring the ache in his legs, and faced the stern-faced Caderyn. Idwal and Broad Kellas followed his lead, but if Alraig was intimidated by any of them, he hid it perfectly. His expression was completely impassive. No, not impassive; contemptuous.
‘Well, what do you want?’
Caserach felt his temper rise and he let a sliver of it show through.
‘I am High Chieftain of the Dariniae, Caderyn. Does your tribe know no courtesy?’
The youngster seemed a little cowed but Alraig simply raised an eyebrow.
‘Forgive me, I ought to have been courteous enough to invade your lands and kill your people before speaking in such a manner. Alas I am not an expert on Dariniae manners.’
His voice was perfectly flat, as if bored, and if anything it made the mockery sting that much more. Caserach held himself back with an effort. He had a plan to focus on.
‘I am not an unreasonable man. But as a chieftain I am entitled to better than this.’
He gestured to his miserable lodgings. Alraig’s mouth twitched into a sneer.
‘You are a man who murdered his own kin. You will take what you are given and be grateful for it.’
Caserach fought back the urge to clench his fists. Idwal was already looking surly but he had to keep his own anger under control. He put on a face intended to depict restrained passion.
‘I wept to slay my uncle, but he was leading us into disaster. I…’
But this Caderyn was no Asrec and he held up a gloved hand.
‘Spare me your lies. If this is all you brought me here for then go back to your gaming, I have work to do.’
He began to turn away and every fibre in Caserach’s body wanted to lunge for him and smash his head into the wall. He managed to settle for a swift pace forwards as the headman and his silent son made for the door.
‘Whatever else you may think I am still chieftain of my tribe. There is no other claimant and no other kin to Ierryn.’
Alraig half-turned his head.
‘There will be challenges in time, Kyran will see to that. Your Gadarim despise you and your people stay their hands only through fear. You will be judged, defeated, and if your tribe has any sense of honour they will throw you from the nearest clifftop with a stone about your neck.’
The younger man seemed to find his voice and he added it to his father’s.
‘Rhianwyn should have killed you at Moon Ridge.’
Alraig seemed irritated by the remark, presumably his boy was here to learn, not to talk. Caserach wanted to laugh at him for suggesting the weakling bitch could have come anywhere close to harming him, but instead he seized upon the lad’s words.
‘Since she did not kill me, are you not obliged to honour a prisoner of my station?’
Alraig looked like a man trying to chew on a nettle but he didn’t slap the question down.
‘Within reason.’
Caserach almost smiled. He had him. From what he’d heard this man loved the law more than most men loved their wives, and with just a little manipulation he could be made into his tool. The Darin kept his voice reasonable.
‘Then I should appreciate a better house, and the return of my sword.’ Alraig looked ready to object but Caserach continued before he could. ‘I may not be Gadarim but such a courtesy would traditionally be extended to a chieftain, would it not?’
Once again the Caderyn looked sour but he nodded his head.
‘I shall consider your request.’
Caserach let him turn back to the door before he spoke again.
‘My uncle declared our tribe a part of the Caledon, did he not?’
Alraig turned back to him very slowly.
‘He did.’
The Caderyn’s eyes were fixed hard onto the Darin’s but Caserach kept his voice casual.
‘And Rhianwyn stated that great tribal affairs were to be discussed by all tribes of the Caledon, in the interests of unity?’
Alraig must have known how fake the curiosity in his tone was but Caserach didn’t care. He was beginning to enjoy himself.
‘She did.’
Caserach took in a breath, savouring the moment and trying to ignore the stale smell of the house.
‘So, would the trial of a High Chieftain not be a perfect example of so great an affair? And should the other chieftains not be involved in such a trial? After all, until Rhianwyn’s trial is completed and my own people make their peace, we are both High Chieftains of the Caledon.’
Alraig finally displayed some emotion as his face twisted in distaste.
‘You are just as much a criminal as she is, Darin!’
Caserach took a step forwards and beside him Broad Kellas did the same. Alraig was not a small man but he was shorter than the chieftain and a dwarf beside the Breiryn. Caserach had to admit he was puzzled that the headman wasn’t leaping on the chance for another voice against Rhianwyn, but then perhaps he hated the Dariniae even more than he hated her. It didn’t really matter anyway; he had won this, he was sure.
Not that Alraig was going to comply easily. He glared up at Broad Kellas with obvious distain before turning back to face Caserach.
‘Your guard dog does not impress me, Caserach. And threats are rarely the best way to argue one’s innocence.’
The Darin held up an open hand and forced a friendly note into his voice.
‘I make no threats, I merely offer you facts. If we are to stand by the law as it is then each tribe of this alliance should have a voice in this trial, and I will be heard in this.’
Alraig looked torn but his answer was inevitable. He would stick by the law, rigid as old oak. The Caderyn headman took a slow breath before looking into Caserach’s eyes again.
‘You shall be heard.’
From the sound of them, Caserach would have thought the words had been dragged from his mouth with hot pincers, but they’d been said and that was what counted. His smile became almost genuine and he nodded his head in mock respect.
‘My thanks, Chief Alraig.’
