Chapter 11
The trip back to the village of Dared went quickly now that they knew the way. The goblins did not give them any more trouble, whether because of what they had done to the tribe that had waylaid them or out of simple luck none of them could say for sure. The same two guards guarded the bridge as had done when the company left. Joff stopped to talk the surly one.
“Don’t you ever get bored of this, master watchman?”
The guard regarded him for a moment before answering. “I don’t have to push a plough and I don’t starve if the harvest is bad. That’s better than I can say for my brother.”
“Well, I hope everyone appreciates you.” Joff looked back across the bridge. “There’s nasty things in those hills.”
“Nice of you to say,” the guard replied. He leaned forward conspiratorially “Listen here. The laird’s nephew is in town. They’re taking lads for the war.”
“Can we move on?” Eduard asked.
Joff shook his head at Eduard and turned back to the guard. “To fight the Rephaim?”
The guard nodded ominously.
“No offense, but why don’t they take you? You have weapons, you have training. Any farmer with a hayfork can watch this bridge.”
“That’s the thing, farmers with forks are a sil a score.” The guard leaned in closer until his rancid breath warmed Joff’s face. “They use them, see. The Rephaim charge even after they’re hurt. So the lairds, they keep the arrows flying while the peasants fight.”
“So they’re just there to slow down the Rephaim?”
The guard nodded ominously. “The Rephaim bleed out and die from the arrows. The farmers slow them down enough that they don’t get to the archers.”
“Well,” Joff said, reaching into the pouch on his belt. “If that’s not worth a sil, I don’t know what is.” He handed the coin to the guard, who thanked him and wished him well.
“What was that about?” Eduard asked irritably.
Joff explained that the laird’s nephew was conscripting men.
“We should skip the town,” Airk said. “If they find us, we might be taken.”
“They won’t take me,” Jain said. She nodded to Joff. “You, either.”
“A woman and a cripple alone,” Eduard said. “That’s asking for trouble. Besides, if what Joff says is true then his condition won’t save him.” Eduard looked at the walled village and thought. To bypass the village would mean crossing the grasslands on foot. Their food would not hold out. “We have to go into town. We need our horses and we need food. We’ll go straight to the inn and stay there until the soldiers move on.”
They reached the inn without any trouble. The innkeeper jumped as they walked in. “What do you want?” he whispered.
“A place to sleep and our horses back,” Eduard replied. “I would have thought that was obvious.”
The innkeeper winced. “Keep your voice down. Come away from that door! The soldiers were here. They took two of my customers. They took my boy.”
“I’m sorry for that,” Eduard said. “I’m sure you’ll see him again before the snow. We need a room and a meal. Can you do that?”
The innkeeper made a worried face. “You should stay in the stables. The hayloft is warm and dry.”
“What?” Airk asked. “What are we, vagrants?
“No, no. When they came, they searched the rooms. They didn’t look in the stable. You’ll be safe there. I’ll bring food. The best I have. Just go and go quietly.” He looked at the swords in Eduard’s belt, then to the one Airk carried, then to the ones carried by Jain and Joff. “I want no more trouble here than I’ve already had.”
The hayloft was warm and dry, as promised. The innkeeper brought blankets and a meal that was edible, if not particularly good. After they finished their meal the four companions sat around in silence for a while before Eduard declared that it was time to go to sleep. They all lay down on in the straw, the most comfortable bed any of them had seen in days. Joff fell asleep almost before he had finished lying down. Eduard was snoring soon after and Airk felt Jain’s breathing grow slow and shallow as she lay huddled against him.
Airk had barely slept during their time in the hills. Watch duty had disrupted his natural rhythms and even when Eduard or Jain had taken the watch, Airk had not slept. He had lain awake, his hand clutching the hilt of his sword, listening to the noises of the wild and longing for his bed back on the farm, where the only noises were the mice that lived in the thatched roof.
Sleep continued to evade Airk. He knew that the soldiers probably would not come in the night but he listened for them anyway. Was this to be his lot in life? Would he spend his days running from danger into danger? He and Jain would soon have enough to buy a farm, but Laird Tomkin’s reach was growing and even his enemies would be sympathetic to his grievance against Airk and Jain. They would have to go to Sorena. There the Adarans would watch them, wait for the slightest sign that they had not embraced Adara, and then burn them at the stake.
Airk gently disentangled himself from Jain and got up. There was no light in the hay loft but he remembered where Eduard and Joff had lay down and he was able to walk past without disturbing them. Airk crept down the ladder and out into the night.
In the morning the others woke to find Airk brushing their horses. “The laird’s men are leaving,” he said as he worked. “We can leave in a few hours.”
“Did you sleep, love?” Jain asked, concern heavy in her voice.
Airk shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll be home soon and I’ll get my rest then.”
Joff looked at Eduard. Eduard shrugged.
They set out later that day and began the trip across the plain. That night, around the campfire, they talked about their favorite foods. Eduard looked forward to the hearty stew Coursa always made. “It’s funny,” he said as he looked woefully at a piece of stale bread. “I don’t usually like that stew. But when I’ve been away for a while, I love it.”
“Does your mother make it, too?” Jain asked.
“She died a long time ago,” Eduard said. “She and dad tried to have an honest go of it as farmers. Dad didn’t want anything to do with Grandmother. We had a bad harvest. Everyone was hungry. So I shot a deer for the meat.”
“And got caught,” Jain said.
Eduard nodded. “Grandmother sent my uncle and my cousin to break me out, else I would have hung. Mother died that winter.”
“I’m sorry,” Jain said.
“What about you?” Eduard asked. “Is there some dish you’re missing?”
Jain nodded. “My mother used to make a mash in the spring. It was nothing special, just a bit of everything we had left before the first harvest. Bread, and vegetables, and a bit of meat all mixed up together. It wasn’t good exactly, it just tasted like . . . home.”
“Did you ever have that mash?” Eduard asked, looking at Airk.
Airk had not been paying attention, so Eduard had to repeat the question. “No. We always ate pretty well.” Airk stared into the fire as he spoke.
“What about you, master scribe,” Eduard said to Joff. “What feeds a mind like yours?”
“I usually eat well enough,” Joff said. “I think I could do with a bit of Coursa’s stew.”
“Is there nothing you made at home, or that your mother made for you that you long for?” Jain asked.
Joff shook his head. “I usually just ate bread, or went to the inn down the lane. It was nothing special. I went to the Academy when I was just a boy. I been home only once since, and not for long.”
“Why not?” Jain asked. “Surely it would do you good not to have to maintain a household, and I imagine your family could use some coin.”
“I send them coin when I can,” Joff replied. “I went home to live with them when I was done at the Academy. They did not understand the work I did and I could not help them with theirs. It was awkw
ard.” He smiled sadly. “There’s nothing to bore a farmer like a discussion of historical texts.”
“Joff,” Jain said softly. She wanted to say something comfort him. But how could she? Was there no end to this man’s suffering?
“It’s been nice at Coursa’s,” Joff continued. He started to say something else, but he shook his head.
Jain looked at Eduard. The question of Joff’s future in Coursa’s clan, and in her home hung between them. Eduard looked at the fire, avoiding her gaze. He had no answers. Only Coursa knew what she planned and she had apparently not seen fit to share it with her grandson.
The next day they came across a group of a few dozen men carrying axes, hayforks, scythes, and other tools. The men were all quite dirty and several wore bandages. Some of the men leaned on each other or on the tools they carried for support. All of their eyes drooped with exhaustion.
“Bandits?” Jain asked.
“Very unsuccessful ones if they are,” Eduard replied. “What news?” he called to the nearest of the travelers, a man with a hayfork in his hand and bloodstained bandage around his head.
“We’re coming back from the front. The Rephaim are defeated.”
“We saw men being taken from Dared for the war not two days ago,” Eduard replied.
The man with the hayfork spat. “That’s where we’re going. We traveled with the lads from Luis. We must have missed the others. Well, they’ll have a walk, but not near so bad as we’ve seen.”
“Congratulations on your victory, brave man,” Eduard said. “The Rephaim have long terrorized the land.”
“Victory,” the man scoffed. “Slaughter is what it was. Rephaim slaughtered us. Archers slaughtered Rephaim. His lairdship sat on his pony and watched. Didn’t do a thing.”
“Be quiet,” one of the other men said. “We don’t need trouble.”
“We heard nothing,” Joff said. “May fortune smile on you, for now and forever.”
“Well, it’s good that’s over,” Jain said as they rode away. “Tomkin could have done something about the Rephaim sooner instead of fighting other lairds.”
Eduard favored her with a grim smile. “The day a laird thinks of his people before his own gain will be the day when all men are equal. You might as well ask the sun to shine blue as ask a laird to consider his peasants.”
They reached Coursa’s cottage the following afternoon. The place always lay in some amount of shadow because of its position among the trees. In the heat of the afternoon it looked liked a pleasantly cool spot to rest.
“If that’s not an inviting sight, I don’t know what is,” Joff said. He smiled and his tone was cheerful, but Jain saw the apprehension in his eyes. The cottage door opened and Grima walked out with his weird, shuffling walk. “That is not quite so inviting,” Joff said just loudly enough for his companions to hear.
“Did you get it?” Grima asked urgently.
“Nice to see you too, cousin,” Eduard replied. He jumped down from his horse and patted one of the saddlebags. “Tell grandmother that we got it and we’ll bring it in as soon as we’ve dealt with the horses.”
As they fed and brushed their horses Jain noticed that Joff’s eyes did not focus on what he was doing and his breath came a little harder than usual. She rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. Their eyes met. “It’ll be okay,” Jain said. Joff nodded and turned back to his horse.
In the cottage they found steaming bowls of stew and cups of tea waiting for them. Coursa stood by the fireplace in a dress that hugged her waste a little more tightly than most of her outfits did. Her hair was also different. Instead of the usual headscarf and ponytail, she had her hair loose, cascading in luxurious silver and white curls over her shoulders, down her back, and even across her face. For the second time Jain felt jealous of Coursa. Hair like that of any color would be enough to make an Adaran shepherd forget his vows, Jain thought.
Eduard set the sword in the middle of the table and stepped back, looking very pleased with himself. Coursa’s gaze did not falter from Joff. Neither of them moved. Jain understood then that the wait had been as agonizing for Coursa as for Joff. How could she know if he truly loved her or if he had only feigned affection out of fear? Neither of them had needed to worry. Joff took a faltering step toward her and she answered with a much more certain one. They met and embraced.
“I think we, uh, should let them have some time to themselves,” Airk observed.
Grima scoffed, Eduard blushed, and Jain grinned. The four of them filed out of the cottage. When they got outside, Jain took Airk’s hand. “Maybe we could have some time to ourselves, husband.” She led him off in the direction of their cottage.
Eduard and Grima stood outside Coursa’s cottage for a few awkward moments. “We’re her grandchildren,” Eduard finally complained. “How come we’re the only ones . . .”
“Don’t you have some firewood to collect or something?” Grima hissed.
Eduard shook his head as he walked into the woods. His life seemed split between evading death and collecting firewood, between intense terror and agonizing boredom. He decided then that he would find himself a wife, a good strong lass who could mind a farm on her own while he was off on his errands. Then he could come home to “time to themselves.” He smirked at the thought.
Later, inside the cottage, Coursa looked at the sword and then back at Joff. “You didn’t draw it.”
“No.” Joff tried to look her in the eye and could not. His gaze settled on her chin.
She stepped forward so that their eyes met, her huge, brown eyes to his squinty blue ones. “Why?”
Joff cleared his throat. “I am familiar with some of the legends about the sword, but I do not have a detailed . . .”
“Why didn’t you draw the sword, Joff?” Her tone betrayed no irritation, or at least not very much of it.
“I didn’t know what it would do. It could have made me younger or it . . .”
“Joff.”
Joff sighed. Dealing with Coursa and her relatives meant dealing with his intellectual equals. This had its good points. It also meant that he could not easily mince words or bury the facts in an avalanche of irrelevance. “I don’t know how the sword works, Coursa. If I used it to heal myself, then there might be no power left to make you young again. Or it might only help me.”
She took another step closer and put her hand on his chest. His heart, his disease weakened heart, beat rapidly. “That’s part of what it’s for, Joff: to make you well.”
He sniffed. “I know.”
She looked intently into his eyes and shook her head slightly. “So?”
A tear streaked down his cheek. “Coursa, I don’t want to get well just to watch you die. That would be . . .”
“Life,” she said firmly, but kindly. “Everyone ages and everyone dies, Joff. It’s only the very lucky ones who get to die of old age.”
“Coursa,” Joff said, tears now streaming down his cheeks. She hugged him tightly. After a few moments, Joff composed himself. “Let me study the sword. When we know what it will do we can make a more informed decision.”
Coursa let him go and looked into his eyes again. She nodded and walked to the window. Opening one of the shutters, she called, “Grima. We need you dear.”
Grima came shuffling in a few minutes later, followed by Eduard with an armload of firewood. A satchel hung from a peg on the wall. Grima pulled a book out of the satchel and set it on the table, next to the sword. The book had an Adaran wheel over a drawn sword painted on the cover. “It’s in High Perimain,” Grima explained. “I can’t read it. Can you, master scribe?”
“I can do that,” Joff said. “It would be easier if I had a translation book here. It’s been a while since I’ve worked with the Perimain language.”
Grima rolled his eyes and shuffled back to the satchel. He pulled another book out and set it on the table on top of the first.
Joff opened it. “This will do.”
Coursa put her arm around Joff and rested her head on his shoulder. “Take all the time you need, love.” After a moment she turned to Eduard and said. “Please go and fetch Jain and Airk for dinner. I’ll warm up our stew.”
Over dinner Eduard told Coursa about their quest, about the books and other artifacts they had found, and about Joff’s magnificent, if somewhat brief performance against the goblins. Joff looked at his stew at this last part. Coursa looked at him. “I didn’t know you were such a warrior,” she said approvingly.
“Yeah,” he replied nervously. “Me neither. I’ve read quite a bit about fencing and it was required at the Academy. Truthfully, I think a lot of it is the sword. I use a smaller blade than most. It wouldn’t do much against armor, but it’s light and quick.”
“Especially when you wield it,” Jain said. “You should have been there, Coursa. Those goblins were fierce but Joff cut through them like they were nothing. They’re probably singing songs about him in those hills now.”
Joff’s cheeks and ears flared red.
“It was a reckless thing for you to do,” Coursa said. “You couldn’t have known they would get free.”
Joff managed a smile, but did not say anything.
Jain set her spoon down as she thought. “I called you a coward once, Joff. I’m sorry for that.”
Joff waved dismissively. “Killing startled goblins isn’t that big of a deal. You’re the one who took their leader. And in impressive fashion, I might add. And speaking of impressive, Grima, where did you get those books?”
Grima sighed. “They belong to the Academy library. If you could be done with them before they are missed, I would be most grateful.”
“So you have a bit of the rogue in you, too,” Joff said.
Grima looked across the table at him. “I am a grandson of Coursa. How could I be otherwise?”
Jain raised her cup. “To the house of Coursa. May it see all the houses of the lairds buried.” They all drank cheerfully to that.
Joff began the next day, sitting at the table to work out a translation of the book about Adara’s sword. The text was the work of a devout Adaran and included long, rambling tracts about her greatness and glory that Joff found neither relevant nor very interesting. He had no particular religion of his own so he was neither inspired nor offended by the accounts of Adara’s glorious triumphs over the followers of the old gods. He did wish her followers had been succinct about it, though.
Grima hovered about the table, looking over Joff’s shoulder and asking questions that Joff answered as monosyllabically as possible. After about an hour of this Coursa asked Grima to go and bless her garden and to bless the home of Jain and Airk. That bought Joff about a few hours of time to work uninterrupted.
Coursa set a cup of hot tea down beside him as he scribbled. “How’s it going?”
“Ask your grandson,” Joff replied with a grin. “It’s going well. The writer is a little too religious. I can’t tell where the sword draws it power.” He turned back a few pages. “Here it says that Adara crafted the blade to channel her will, which indicates that the sword draws its strength from the one who wields it. That would explain why Adara could not heal herself. It would also make the sword useless to us unless we could find someone willing to give his life to take a few years off yours.” He held up the index finger of his right hand while he flipped through the book with his left. “But, here it says that when Adara died, the sword glowed, so perhaps it absorbed something from her, or maybe it has a power . . .”
“Joff,” Coursa said with a patient smile.
He put his hand down.
“I know you’ll find the answer if it’s there to be found. If it’s not . . .” she put her arm around him, “Are things so bad as they are?”
He looked into her eyes. “It’s hard to imagine they could be better my . . .”
She smiled. “Say it.”
“My love.”
Coursa went to help Jain in the garden that Grima was now blessing. Joff could only sigh when the cottage door opened and Grima entered. “What have you found?” Grima asked urgently as he scuttled up to the table.
Airk walked in after Grima and gave Joff a sympathetic look. “Master augur, might I have a moment of your time?”
“What is it?” Grima asked irritably.
“It’s a private matter,” Airk replied. “Let’s discuss it outside.”
“Fine,” Grima whined. “Just be quick about it.”
Joff shook his head as they went back out of the cottage. Airk could not hope to buy him more than a few minutes and it would probably cost Airk a lifelong grudge from Grima.
Airk led Grima to the side of the cottage. There wasn’t much there, just a few stumps where trees had been cut down to prevent their limbs from brushing the roof.
“What is it?” Grima asked, following on Airk’s heels. “What do you . . .” He trailed off as Airk turned suddenly and drove his sword into Grima’s stomach.
Joff heard a thump from outside. He looked at the door. It was probably nothing. Just . . . something about the size of a man falling against the side of the cottage with the force of a person dropping dead. Joff shook his head. The adventure in the Goblin Hills had obviously made him jumpy. He had just taken up his quill when he heard a groan from outside. “Bugger.” Joff’s sword belt hung on one of the wall pegs. He wished Coursa was there, but she and Jain were at Jain’s cottage, working in the garden. The thought made Joff a little ashamed. Even someone in his condition should not long for the protection of an old woman.
Joff walked outside and around the cottage just in time to see Airk raise his sword for the killing blow. “No!” Joff yelled, but the sword was already descending. Airk had meant to decapitate Grima, but the sword only went about halfway through the Augur’s neck.
“What’s all this?” Joff asked in horror.
“Nothing to concern yourself with,” Airk said calmly. “Now please don’t make this difficult. I’ll take no joy in it, I promise.”
Joff drew his sword. Airk raised his. “How long can you stand like that?” Airk asked. “A minute? Two?”
“Bugger my life,” Joff muttered, mostly to himself. Airk was not as skilled with a sword as Joff but Airk knew his man and how to exploit his weaknesses. Joff came on in a rush. He was careful to maintain his balance as he attacked high then low, left then right, straight then curving, hack then stab. Each attack was different, predictable only in their unpredictability.
Airk blocked, sidestepped, and backpedaled in the face of the dazzling display of swordsmanship before him. To counterattack would be suicide. He could only hope to keep his blade between himself and the whirling murder that was Joff’s sword, and that was all he tried to do.
Joff’s arm shook and sweat soaked his clothes and ran into his eyes. Eventually, one of his attacks would get through. Airk could not keep it up forever. But Joff did not have eventually, he had about a minute. If only Airk would attack, Joff knew that he could give Airk a wound that would make the most hardened warrior weep. But Airk did not attack. Joff switched the sword to his left hand and came in with an uncharacteristic lunge, hoping to catch Airk off guard. Airk side stepped and struck hard, knocking the sword from Joff’s hand. Joff collapsed, helpless and hopeless. He wanted to ask Airk why, but his breath came too quickly for him to talk.
“Airk?” Jain said. She was flushed from running. “I heard the noise. What’s going on?”
Airk frowned. “I’m sorry. I made a deal with Tomkin, or rather with his nephew. It was when we were in Dared. I will be forgiven and given back my old farm, rent and tax free, for turning in Coursa’s band. Tomkin is very keen to be rid of Coursa and he’s willing to let bygones be bygones.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Jain asked as she approached. “Don’t I get a say in what we do, who we betray?” r />
“No,” Airk replied soberly. “You see, my love, you are one of Coursa’s band. Don’t make it difficult. Tomkin already knows where this place is. He’ll be here with soldiers soon. He wanted the augur dead so there would be no magic against him. You he wanted alive. I’m sorry Jain, but we can’t have a decent home and you have given me no children. This is my chance at a better life.”
Jain reached for her sword, and realized that it was back at her cottage.
“Don’t make it difficult,” Airk repeated. “I’ll tell him you attacked me. That will save you whatever he had in mind to do before he killed you.”
Jain cast about desperately. Even if she did have her sword, Airk was too strong for her. She wished Eduard was there, or Coursa. She could not believe that Airk would betray her, Airk who had been her husband for nearly a year. The world spun and Jain felt terribly sick. She put her hand on her stomach and looked down, preparing to vomit. A glint caught her eye. Joff’s sword lay on the ground. A light, swift weapon, he had said.
Airk raised his sword and Jain dove. Airk’s sword fell, and struck the wall of the cottage with enough force to leave an inch deep notch in one of the logs. Jain took up Joff’s sword and leapt into Airk, sword leading. The short sword seemed light as a cooking knife and impossibly fast. It went into the right side of Airk’s abdomen and came out the left side of his back in one fluid stab.
Airk’s mouth hung open in shock. He looked down at the sword hilt that now stapled his reddening shirt to his body. A thought occurred to him them and he told it to Jain. “I had just healed from where the goblin stabbed me.” He fell to a sitting position and dropped his sword.
“Why, Airk?” Jain asked. “Did I not love you enough? Did we not make a fine enough home together?”
He looked up at her. “Family farm.”
“This is about your stupid farm?” Jain asked. She kicked him but he did not seem to feel it. “You never had a farm, idiot. It was always Tomkin’s. He just let you use it so you could feed him.”
Joff pulled himself to a sitting position and took a few deep breaths. Jain turned her attention away from her dying husband and offered Joff her hand. When he took it she pulled, and nearly pulled him into her. It was easy to forget how little he weighed. Joff put his other hand on her shoulder to balance himself and took a few more breaths before he stood on his own.
“Are you going to be alright?” Jain asked. “You look . . . awful.”
Joff put a hand on his fluttering heart. “I’ll be alright.”
Jain looked down at Airk. “I wouldn’t have thought he could beat you.”
“He knew I could only fight a few minutes. He waited for me to tire. He didn’t even try to hit me.”
Jain managed a smile. “I guess we know all your tricks.” She wiped her eyes, and Joff was gone.
“Not all my tricks,” a voice from behind her said.
Jain turned and saw Joff sitting on one of the stumps. “How did you . . . ?”
Joff rose. “I read a lot. I learn tricks here and there. I got half my swordplay from books.”
Coursa walked around the corner of the house. “Grima!” she screamed. She rushed to her fallen grandson and began to weep. Joff knelt next to her and hugged her as tightly as he could. She leaned against him, nearly bowling him over, and sob shook her entire body. It was the first time Jain had ever seen Coursa look the part of the frail old woman.
“Airk betrayed us,” Jain said. “He said Tomkin is coming with soldiers.”
Coursa stilled her sobs and wiped her eyes. She disentangled herself from Joff and snapped to her feet with such speed that Jain took a step back. The frailty of a moment before had gone. Coursa’s face was still wet, but her eyes were clear, bright, and fierce. Jain would have sworn that Coursa looked a few years younger than she had an hour before, when they worked in the garden together. Coursa’s left hand snaked out and grabbed the front of Jain’s shirt. A knife appeared in Coursa’s right hand. She did not draw the weapon. It was just there, pressed against Jains throat. “Did you know about this?”
The knife was so close against Jain’s neck that she found it difficult to speak. “No,” she managed. “He tried to kill me, too.”
“She’s telling the truth,” Joff said. He took another deep breath and wiped the sweat of his forehead. “Airk nearly killed me. Jain took up my sword.”
Coursa looked over her shoulder at Joff. “How do I know you weren’t in on it?”
Every muscle in his face tensed at the accusation.
“I’m sorry,” Coursa said as she let Jain go and lowered her suddenly empty hand. She turned to Joff and wrapped him in a hug. “I’m so sorry I doubted you.”
Jain rubbed her neck where the knife had been. It may have been wrong for Coursa to doubt Joff, but he was not the one she had just threatened. Jain decided that she had better get over it. Carrying a grudge against Coursa would be unproductive at best and suicidal at worst.
When the embrace ended, Coursa turned to Jain and took her hand. “I am so sorry, dear. It is terrible that Airk did this, and that his actions put my suspicion on you. I hope you’ll understand and forgive me.”
Jain’s awe of Coursa grew, to whatever extent that was possible. “If you were a man I’d marry you.”
Joff cleared his throat. “That is possibly the most awkward thing you could have said just then.” They all laughed at that. Joff reached down and grabbed the hilt of his sword. He tugged. Airk groaned. “Bugger,” said Joff.
“He’s alive?” Jain gasped as her eyes began to tear up. Coursa put her arm around Jain and nodded to Joff. He took a two hand grip on the sword and heaved. Airk groaned louder and Jain began to openly weep.
“By all the gods, Joff do something,” Coursa said sharply.
Joff gestured helplessly. He looked around and saw Airk’s sword lying on the ground. The weapon weighed too much for Joff to handle it in battle but he might be able to lift it for one good swing. He picked the sword up with both hands. “I’m going to come straight down on his neck. Quick and clean. He won’t feel it.” Joff raised the sword and held it aloft for an awkward moment before the blade descended. It struck Airk just above his eyebrows and cleaved off most of the top of his head. Jain shrieked.
“Come on, dear,” Coursa said soothingly to Jain. “We’ll go inside. We haven’t much time. Joff, would you find Eduard and let him know what’s going on?”
Joff took a deep, steadying breath. “I can do that. I’ll be along with him in a minute.” When the two women had gone in, Joff looked at the bodies. “If that’s not a mess, I don’t know what is.” He tried to pull his sword out of Airk and the blade still would not budge, no matter how he heaved and twisted. The other sword was still there. Joff could cut the sword out of Airk. Somehow, the thought of butchering his former companion did not appeal to Joff. He wandered off in search of Eduard.
Eduard was fishing in a creek a short walk from the cottage. The birdsong and babbling of the water had kept him from hearing the sounds of the fight. Joff filled him in on their situation. “Sorry I missed it,” Eduard said when Joff had finished. He wrapped up his fishing line and set the pole on his shoulder and picked up the basket with the two fish he had caught. “We better get back.”
They returned to the cottage and Joff showed Airk where the fight had happened. Eduard set his basket and fishing pole down and knelt next to Airk’s body. “I always knew Jain had spunk. Pity about this. She thought he would make her happy. He seemed so loyal and all.”
“He was loyal,” Joff replied, taking a seat on a stump. “He was just more loyal to the laird than to her.”
Eduard tugged on the sword, which still did not move. “That’s stupid. Tomkin was going to take his land.”
“He was a peasant,” Joff replied, his tone speaking volumes about his views of the peasantry. “Scholars and rogues know w
ho their friends are. Peasants just serve lairds.”
Eduard looked up and half smiled at that. “Thank all the gods I’m a rogue then.” He turned back to the sword. “I can’t get this out. There’s a fillet knife in the basket. Grab it for me.”
Joff found the knife and handed it to Eduard. Eduard started sawing through the flesh of the corpse to loosen its hold on the blade. “I would have been a terrible butcher,” Eduard said. He continued to saw on Airk’s stomach and put his free hand on the sword, tugging as he cut. The sword eventually came free. Eduard cleaned it on Airk’s trouser leg and returned to Joff.
They went into Coursa’s cottage. Jain sat at the table, sobbing into Coursa’s shoulder. “Joff, please put the kettle on. Eduard, I need you to go to Jason and see if he has any crossbows finished. If he does then bring them all here, along with the original. If not, just bring the original.”
Joff picked up the kettle and swished it around to make sure it had water. He hung it by the fireplace and went to get the tea and mugs. Eduard strapped on his sword belt and left without a word.
Joff stood by the fire, wondering if he should sit down. He wanted to ask Coursa what they were going to do but Jain was still bawling on Coursa’s shoulder. “I guess I’ll go and dig a grave for Airk and Grima then,” Joff finally muttered.
“You’ll do no such thing,” Coursa replied sharply. “I’ll have one of my grandchildren do it. We have to get ready when the soldiers come. That is to say: we have to be elsewhere.” Coursa gently pushed Jain away. “Dear, I know you’re terribly upset, but we need your help now.” Jain nodded and wiped her eyes.
“Where will we go?” Joff asked.
“Not far,” Coursa answered firmly.
Someone rapped at the door and Coursa rose to answer it. She opened the door to find a portly, red haired young on the threshold. “Mum,” he said respectfully.
“Dudley?” Jain said in disbelief. He was the son of one of the farmers from Jain’s village, one of the men she had been grateful that Daniel had not affianced her to. Now he did not seem so bad.
He smiled at her. “Hello. Good to see you.” His expression grew serious when he noticed the redness around her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Another time,” Coursa said. “What news have you?”
“Dad said to tell you the he saw the laird and some of his men riding around the plain. He said it looks like they mean to pass the village without stopping.”
Coursa nodded. “Trying to sneak up on us. Well, there’s a good lad. Now off you go.” She handed him a sil and he took his leave. “My grandson,” she explained. “A little too fond of honeyed cake, but a very good boy.” She walked into the store and rummaged around. Jain looked questioningly at Joff, who only shrugged. When Coursa gave a man her heart, her secrets did not come with it.
Coursa came back a moment later carrying a pot with symmetrical holes in the lid and a chain coming out of the top. Jain was about to ask what it was when Joff said, “Why do we need an incense burner?”
“If a laird is paying this house a visit then I want it to smell nice. Close the shutters, would you?”
Jain and Joff closed the shutters while Coursa hung the incense burner over the fireplace. “Time to go,” Coursa said.
When they got outside Eduard was coming down the track with a crossbow in each hand and a pouch of bolts in his belt. “Jason only had one made,” Eduard said. One of the crossbows was significantly larger than the other and this was the one Eduard handed to Coursa. “He made some improvements. That stirrup is so you can set it on the ground and put your foot in to draw back the string rather than putting it against your chest.”
Coursa smiled with familial pride. “Such a clever boy.” She looked around. “Come on.”
They walked behind the nearest stand of trees to a spot where they could see the front of the cottage but could not easily be seen. Coursa and Eduard readied their crossbows. Jain was sent to retrieve her sword, which she did quickly, expecting the laird and his men to arrive at any minute.
“So it’s just us then, is it?” Joff asked after Jain got back.
“We’ll bring some of them down with these,” Coursa explained, Holding up her crossbow. “You two will take them head on while we continue to shoot from cover.”
“How many are we expecting?” Joff asked.
“They mean to surprise us,” Eduard replied. “So no more than a dozen.”
“Oh, good,” Joff said. “I was afraid we’d be outnumbered.”
They waited. The shadows lengthened as the afternoon progressed. As evening settled in and Joff’s stomach began to grumble, they heard movement from up the track.
A dozen horses carrying riders trotted into the clearing in front of the cottage. Laird Tomkin still rode the same champion stallion that Jain and Airk had decided not to steal from him nearly a year earlier. To Tomkin’s right rode a lad of about sixteen. He had Tomkin’s straight posture and haughty demeanor. To Tomkin’s left rode a stout, surly man with shrewd eyes. They stopped in front of the cottage. The rest were common soldiers in helmets and chainmail. Each had a sword and dagger in his belt and a shield slung from his saddle.
“Danig, take these two and search the house,” the stout man said. “Bradson, you take two and search around behind the house. The rest stay here. Come back here at the first sign of trouble.”
The soldiers nodded. All of them dismounted and tethered their horses. The ones who had been given assignments went about them while the others stood silently and waited for orders.
Joff looked at Coursa. She smiled at him and put a finger to her lips. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword and leaned against the tree between himself and the laird, wishing that he could disappear into it. Coursa and Eduard both had their crossbows loaded and ready but neither of them moved to shoot or even take aim.
The laird, the youth, and the surly man talked among themselves while they waited. The surly man was the steward of all of Tomkin’s lands, the caretaker who made Luishire work. The lad was Tomkin’s son and heir. He had been brought along to see how his father dealt with unruly peasants. Joff feared that one of them would see the group hiding in the trees. The soldiers were not attentive. They were mostly just bored.
“What if they are not here?” Tomkin’s son asked.
“We will burn the witch’s cottage,” Tomkin said. He pointed. “This track looks well used. I expect we can find some of their associates in these woods.”
“There’s no reason for peasants to wander here,” the steward said. “Any we find are subject to my lord’s judgment.”
Tomkin smiled at that. “You see, Thomas, what you have to remember about holding power is that you need not worry overmuch about how you wield it. The important thing is to make sure people know you have it and will use it.”
Joff sighed at the exchange. He wondered what the people of Luishire had ever done to deserve such a boar for a laird. Coursa noticed and nodded sympathetically. “It’s time,” she whispered to Eduard.
They both raised their crossbows. One of the soldiers perked up at the movement. “Now,” Coursa whispered.
Tomkin reeled back a few steps and collapsed, a crossbow bolt through his heart. Thomas dropped to his knees and looked down at the bolt sticking out of his stomach. “Men!” the steward yelled as he drew his sword.
“Go,” said Coursa.
Joff gulped. He and Jain both drew their swords and stepped out of the trees to face the three soldiers who now advanced on them. The steward was apparently content to supervise. One of the soldiers swung at Joff. He sidestepped and swung his sword in an arcing blow that connected solidly with the soldier’s chest. The soldier took a step back and glanced down. The stroke had rent his tabard and broken a few of the links of his chainmail, but it had not broken the skin. “Bugger,” said Joff.
Jain saw this and fought defensively, blo
cking and dodging as she waited for the soldier who pressed her to make a misstep that would give her the chance to swing hard enough to get through his armor. The soldier launched swing after swing, his balance remaining perfect, his blade snapping back to a guard position after each stroke. He fought like a clockwork man, every motion precise and automatic.
Thunk! went a crossbow bolt, into the arm of the other soldier pressing Joff. Thunk! went another into the ribs of the one Jain fought. She took the chance to throw a haymaker of a sword swing that made the soldier’s helmet ring and sent him to the ground. The other wounded soldier managed to retreat as Joff pressed the one with the rent tabard. Joff thrust his sword at the soldier’s face, forcing his opponent’s guard high, then Joff stepped in and swung low to open a wicked cut on the soldier’s unarmored thigh. As the soldier winced and struggled to find his balance Joff swung backhand and bashed the soldier’s face with the pommel of his sword. The other soldier backed away from Joff, ignoring Jain. She took the chance to swing overhand and land a blow on the top of his shoulder that forced him to his knees, though it did not break his chainmail.
“Stab!” Joff yelled.
Jain thrust her sword into the soldier. The point found a gap between links and separated them before piercing his body. “How did you know that would work?” Jain asked as she pulled her sword free.
Joff took a deep breath. “How do you think? I read about it in a book.”
The three soldiers who had gone to the back of the house returned just then with their swords drawn. A crossbow bolt glanced off the sword of the first one, nicking the blade. Another bolt struck him in the face and he fell to the ground.
“Men!” the steward shouted, looking at the door of the cottage. When no answer came, he ran to the door and tugged it open. A grey mist billowed out and he stepped back, sniffing. “Mortleaf.”
The two remaining soldiers rushed at Jain and Joff. Jain tried to stab her oncoming foe but he knocked her sword aside and countered with a swing that she barely managed to dodge. Joff tried to sidestep the soldier who came at him, but the soldier moved with him and knocked the sword out of his hand. Joff lunged and punched out with all of his might. The blow connected with the soldier’s chin. The soldier blinked and backhanded Joff with a mailed fist that took him off his feet.
Eduard leaped out of the trees, sword and dagger in hand. He struck quickly and wildly. The soldier raised his sword to block a high swing and Eduard drove the dagger into the soldier’s armpit, one of the places the chainmail did not protect. The soldier’s eyes widened in terror as blood rushed out of the wound. As the soldier collapsed, Eduard felt steel against his throat.
“Drop your weapons,” the steward said. “I swear I’ll open your throat if you don’t.” Eduard dropped his weapons. The steward looked at Jain. “You too, pretty.”
Jain glanced over and saw Eduard’s predicament. She had not come close to hitting the soldier she fought with anyway, so she tossed her sword to the ground.
“Now,” the steward said. “I know there’s one more of you with a crossbow. If that one doesn’t come out then this boy gets his throat cut.”
Coursa stepped out from the tree line and set the crossbow on the ground.
“Devlin,” the steward said. “Keep the prisoners together. We just captured Coursa.”
Devlin shoved Jain roughly in Joff’s direction. Joff’s eyes were open, but he breathed hard and Jain doubted if he could get up or if he would be able to fight when he did. The steward gave Eduard a rough shove.
“Sit!” Devlin ordered. Eduard and Jain sat.
The steward walked toward Coursa and smiled a gloating smile. “So this is Coursa, queen of the bandits.” He rested the blade of his sword on his shoulder as he walked a circle around her. “I expected a hag but you’re pretty.”
Coursa stared into the middle distance, saying nothing, focusing on nothing. She would not rise to any bait this man offered.
The steward stopped in front of her. “I was going to have my way with the girl over there.” He nodded toward Jain. “Now I think I must just let Devlin have her. What do you think, Devlin?”
Devlin ran the tip of his sword down Jain’s chest. “Well, this is a fine catch, sir. But I wonder if an older woman who knows what she’s doing might not be more fun for a tumble.”
The steward stepped closer to Coursa, so close that she could feel his breath on her face. “What do think, love? Do you want to show Devlin a good time? If you and your friend treat us right, why we might just let you live . . . for a while.” He looked at Devlin and they shared a laugh. Coursa’s hand shot out and buried a knife to the hilt in the steward’s throat.
“How does she do that?” Jain asked. Coursa had not been holding the knife a moment before and had not drawn it from anywhere that Jain could see.
“Bloody hell!” Devlin yelped.
Jain gritted her teeth. She wanted to attack Devlin while he was distracted but she had no weapon with which to do so. Then something she had once seen Coursa do came to mind. Jain reached under the soldier’s chainmail shirt. He turned to look at her as she grabbed the front of his trousers with the strength of a lifetime of peasant labor. Devlin’s eyes bulged as he looked at her. He clenched his teeth and raised his sword. Eduard tackled him from the side and they grappled furiously in the dirt. Jain took a dagger from the body of a dead soldier and plunged it into the back of Devlin’s thigh. He threw his head back and moaned as blood gushed from the wound. Eduard clamped his hands around Devlin’s throat and squeezed. Devlin struggled, but he was losing blood and his efforts grew more and more puny until they finally ceased.
“Is everyone alright?” Coursa asked. A lot of grumbling came in reply. “Good. Jain, would you mind if we all stayed at your cottage tonight? It’ll take a few hours for the mortleaf to disperse.”
“What’s mortleaf?” Jain asked.
“A common weed that is very poisonous when burned,” Joff said and he pushed himself to his knees. “It’s why the three soldiers who went into the cottage did not come out.”
“You can all stay with me tonight,” Jain replied. “But first we see to my husband, and Grima.”
“There’s a cemetery on the other side of the hill,” Coursa said. “We’ll bury Grima there. Since Airk loved the laird so much, they can share a pyre. It’s too late to do any of that now. We’ll put the bodies in the barn and deal with them tomorrow.”
Jain thought about it. Airk’s family had plots back in their village. He would have wanted to lie next to his ancestors. Then again, he had tried to sell her out to Tomkin. Cremation would do for him. “These two are still alive,” Jain said, indicating the soldier Joff had hit with his sword pommel and the one Jain herself had hit in the head.
“I’m not interested in prisoners,” Coursa replied, her tone conveying her meaning. Jain nodded, and set about carrying out the meaning. It seemed like she should feel something about what we she was doing, but she did not. Maybe it was the loss of her husband and his betrayal, or maybe she just could not think of Tomkin’s lackeys as human anymore.
Joff clambered to his feet but his knees wobbled and he quickly sat back down. His face contorted in pain and he put his hand on his chest. “Joff?” said Coursa as she rushed to him.
Joff’s expression eased, because he forced it to. “A little too much excitement today. I . . . need a bed.” He slumped back onto the ground and closed his eyes.
“Is he . . .” Eduard hesitated before he said, “going to be alright.”
“He’s breathing,” Coursa replied. “His heart is beating but it’s faster than it should be.” She looked back at her cottage and cursed. “If I only I could get in there. Well, nothing for it. The dead will wait. Let’s get Joff to Jain’s cottage.”
Eduard picked Joff up and put him over his shoulder. Jain offered to help, but Eduard shook his head. Joff weighed so little that Edu
ard barely strained, though Eduard was not an especially big or strong man. Jain ran ahead to get things ready at her cottage. She made sure the bed was ready, put a few logs on the coals in the fireplace, put the kettle on, and started the stew pot. Eduard set Joff down in the bed and they pulled the rough blanket over him. Eduard and Jain went back to Coursa’s to build a pyre for the laird and his servants, including Airk. Coursa stayed with Joff, though there was little she could do but sit and wait
After a few hours Joff stirred. “Mfbrdrrbm.”
“What?” Coursa asked.
“I don’t know.” Joff rubbed his eyes and groaned. “I feel like I was trampled by a horse.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Actually, I think I could do with a trip to the privy.” He sat up and looked around. “Where am I?”
“Jain’s cottage. Try not to move around a lot. Your heart was beating strangely earlier. I’ll go and get you a bucket”
“I’m fine. I’ll just go out back.” He swung his legs off the bed and pushed himself up.
Coursa stepped in front of him and put a hand on his shoulder. “You need to stay in bed.”
“I’m fine,” he repeated emphatically. Her grip tightened and she pushed down. Joff shook his head. He was not a strong man, but he could certainly overpower an old woman. He pushed against her hand, but fell back to a seated position. “If you could just not tell anyone about that, I would really appreciate it.”
Coursa relaxed her hand and moved it to caress his cheek. “Save your strength love. I have better uses for it. Now stay there while I get you a bucket.”
“You’re going to tell people, aren’t you?”
Coursa shook her head. “No.” Her expression turn pensive. “Maybe. I’ll get you a bucket.”
While Joff did his business, Coursa got him a bowl of stew and a cup of tea. He ate a few bites of the stew and drank a few sips of tea before he set the bowl and cup on the table next to the bed. Fatigue tugged at the back of his eyes. “I’m so tired.”
Coursa leaned over him and pulled back the blanket. She began to push his shirt up. When she saw his expression, she said, “Relax. I’m just going to check your heart again.” She put her ear to his chest and listened.
He smiled at the feel of her hair spreading across him. “How does it sound?”
Coursa listened. The thumps came quickly but with no discernible rhythm. His heart beat like a drowning man, flailing, spasming, moving erratically in a desperate attempt to stay afloat. She sat up and pulled his shirt back down. “It sounds good.”
“Is that why you’re crying?”
Coursa looked away and wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“It’s okay,” Joff said. “I got sick ten years ago. I’ve had ten years more than was meant to be. I’ve had a better life than many, and I got meet you.”
“The sword,” Coursa said. “The sword might heal you.”
Joff shook his head. “We don’t know that.”
“It wouldn’t hurt you to draw it. It might make you better.”
The words came to Joff as if from far away. Sleep was taking him. “I got the sword for you.”
She started to answer, but he had fallen asleep. Coursa lay her head on his chest and wept. Jain and Eduard returned later, exhausted and dirty from building the pyre. They had burned the bodies that would be burned and moved Grima’s body into the barn where it would not be ravaged by scavengers.
They paused for a moment and looked at Coursa, draped over Joff.
“Should we wake her?” Eduard asked. “She should probably eat.”
“Let her rest,” Jain replied. She shook her head. “It’s so sad.”
Eduard got himself a bowl of stew and put the kettle on. He sat down in one of the cottage’s two chairs. “Get some food. You need to eat.”
Jain continued to look at Joff and Coursa. “I’m not hungry.”
“Eat,” Eduard said emphatically.
Jain did not feel like eating, but she felt like arguing less. She took a bowl and filled it with the slightly burnt stew. It felt good to sit down. Jain had no appetite but she took a bite to keep Eduard from complaining. Then she took another and another.
“Not hungry?” Eduard said.
Jain stood up to get another bowl. “I’m ravenous.”
Eduard nodded. “Something grandmother taught me. When big things happen you sometimes don’t feel like eating. Once you do you usually fall face first into it, you’re so hungry.”
Coursa awoke with a start when the kettle began to whistle. Eduard jumped up and took it away from the fire. “Sorry,” he said meekly.
“It’s fine,” Coursa said. She stroked Joff’s face. He was pale but his breath came evenly. Coursa pulled the blankets up over his narrow shoulders. Eduard filled his bowl with stew and gave it Coursa. She took it gratefully and began to eat.
“How is he?” Jain asked.
“He’s dying,” Coursa said. “There’s medicine in my cottage that will help him . . . if he makes it through the night.”
“So we’ll take him in the morning?” Jain said.
“He’s too weak to be moved.” Coursa put her hand over his heart. “So weak.”
Jain walked to the bed and looked down at Joff. He looked thin, pale, and feeble, just like always. “He’s always weak.” The look Coursa gave her made Jain take a step back.
Coursa quickly relaxed and even smiled. “You weren’t here when he was awake. He wanted to get up. He tried to get up and I stopped him with one hand.”
“What is he dying of?” Eduard asked.
“It’s his heart,” Coursa replied. “The disease that made him so weak is the wasting. It weakens all the muscles. He has a weak heart and all the excitement of the fighting and the discovery . . . I never should have sent him after the sword. I should have kept him out of the fight.”
“We would have failed at both without him,” Eduard said. “He’s brilliant.”
“What do we do now?” Jain asked.
Coursa sighed. “Rest. The mortleaf smoke in my cottage will have settled by tomorrow. We’ll get medicine and bring it to him.”
“What about the sword?” Eduard asked.
Coursa nodded. “Yeah. We’ll bring that, too.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Joff said, startling all of them. “We don’t even know for sure what it would do.”
“Joff, my love,” Coursa said. Her hand slipped under the blanket as she leaned in close to him.
“Uh,” said Joff.
She leaned over him and whispered in his ear. “How exactly are you going to stop us?”
“Well,” Joff said slowly. “I can look at you real mean.”
Coursa smiled. She shook her head at Joff and turned to Eduard and Jain. “Is there anywhere else to sleep?”
“No,” said Jain. “Just the one bed. We never had a need for another.”
“We’ll take shifts,” Coursa said wearily. “We should post a watch in case any of the laird’s men come looking for him. One will sleep in the bed with Joff while the other two keep watch. It’s better we watch by twos since we’re all so tired.”
“I’ll just sleep on the floor,” Eduard said.
“We have to bury your cousin tomorrow and try to heal Joff and deal with the three dead soldiers in my house and clean the mortleaf resin off of everything,” Coursa said irritably. “You need rest.”
“I’ll sleep fine on the floor,” Eduard insisted.
“You’ll sleep in the bed,” Coursa snapped. “And because you’re being difficult about it, you get the first shift in the bed. Careful. He tends to cuddle in his sleep.”
“I didn’t need to know that,” Eduard said levelly. He sat on the edge of the bed and took his boots off. “I’m not getting under the blanket with him.”
“We’ll take the chairs outside,” Coursa said to Jain. “We don’t want t
o disturb these fellows’ alone time.”
Eduard cursed under his breath as he lay down.
Stars peeked out from between the clouds and provided enough light for Jain and Coursa to see the shapes of the forest but not much detail. They sat in the chairs on either side of the door and sipped tea. “Can I ask you something?” Jain said.
“You already have.”
Jain could not make out Coursa’s expression, she could only see the starlight reflected from her hair and the steam rising from her cup. “What is it about Joff? He’s not that handsome, he’s not strong, he can’t do anything besides read.”
“That’s worth a lot,” Coursa said. “This may come as a shock, dear, but I’ve had quite a few men. I’ve had brave men and handsome men and clever men. I’ve never had a man like him, though. He’s smart and kind. And he doesn’t mind a woman who’s in charge of herself.”
“And everyone else,” Jain added.
Jain did not see Coursa’s grin so much as she sensed it. “Yes,” Coursa said. “That, too.”
They sat for a while without speaking. They did not sit in silence because there was no silence in the forest at night. Owls hooted, wind rustled in the leaves, and any number of nocturnal animals went about their business.
“I should have gone with Eduard,” Jain said suddenly. She looked at Coursa but if the old woman’s face betrayed any reaction, Jain could not see it. “I went with Airk because I thought he was the better man. Eduard would have been the better choice.”
“You couldn’t have known that. You could say that I shouldn’t have gotten close to Joff, but I couldn’t have known how this would turn out. We do the best we can.”
“I just wish I hadn’t chosen Airk,” Jain said.
“I think we all wish that,” Coursa said. “Including Airk. This life wasn’t for him.”
“What do I do? I had my whole life with him planned. We were going to have a farm and children.” Jain laughed. “We were going to tell the children stories about our days with Coursa the Queen of Rogues.”
“You can still have a farm and children. You can still tell them stories.”
“I’m not a maiden, Coursa. Who’s going to want me?”
Coursa leaned back in her chair and looked up at the stars. Jain thought she had fallen asleep when Coursa spoke. “I was older than you are when my Ralph died. We had children. I didn’t know what to do.”
“What did you do?” Jain asked, leaning closer. She very much wanted to see Coursa’s face at that moment. Was the old woman remembering grief, hope, fear?
“I was already a rogue then. My children were rogues. What else could I raise them to be? My oldest, Gerald, he spent some time in the laird’s army. He sent all his money home. When he came home from the last Goblin War he told me about a treasure stash. We went and got it and brought it back. Some of my children started farms and some became traders, and they all worked for me. They found trinkets. They learned where valuable things were kept. They found out when things were being moved I arranged the thefts, with children who didn’t live near them, didn’t look like them.”
Jain laughed wryly. “I don’t have an army of children to rob the lairds blind for me.”
Jain could not see Coursa’s face, just her white teeth reflected in the starlight. Jain prayed to every god she could think of, even Adara, that Coursa was smiling. “You have a young, strong body and a good mind. You’ll find someone, if that’s your wish. Until then, you have the cottage and the garden, the coin you’ve earned, and a share of the best score ever coming to you.”
Jain felt tears start again, but she choked them back. Tears would flow at Grima’s funeral and she knew she would cry if Joff died. But Airk would get no more tears from her. It occurred to Jain that Coursa had cried for at least one lover and that she did not deserve to cry for another. “Is Joff going to live?”
Coursa looked down and did not answer.
In the morning Eduard and Coursa went back to Coursa’s cottage. Jain wanted to go but Coursa insisted that she, Coursa, had to go had to be sure to get the right medicines. An error would cost Joff time and might cost him his life. Eduard was better with a sword than Jain and he knew how to use the crossbow. He needed to be there in case they ran into any more of Tomkin’s soldiers. Someone had to stay with Joff.
Grandmother and grandson left at a trot. Jain watched them go sadly. Eduard had taken her to shelter when she was in danger. Coursa had taken her in when she was homeless. Now, as Coursa watched her lover die and Eduard watched his grandmother suffer, Jain wished she could do more.
A groan from the bed told Jain that she had work to do. Joff had stirred. His fair hair had fallen across his face. Jain brushed it aside to reveal the pale skin and blue eyes. She knew that many people treasured looks like his. The fair hair and blue eyes attested to descent from the northern warrior peoples. The pale skin spoke of a life spent mostly indoors, away from the hard labor of the fields. To Jain, Joff looked ill. Daniel, Jain’s father, had always taken pride in his ruddy tan. Eduard’s black hair added to his rogue’s charm. And Coursa’s enormous brown eyes attested to her vitality even more than her thick hair and shapely hips.
Joff blinked a few times and smiled at Jain. “I’m sorry.”
Jain tilted her head. “For what?”
“Your husband. You’re too nice to have to deal with all of that.”
The faces of the men Jain had dispatched on Coursa’s order appeared in Jain’s mind. “I’m not that nice.”
One of Joff’s shoulders rose in a feeble attempt at a shrug. “Relatively speaking.”
“What can I do for you?” Jain asked with a smile.
“I think I’m due for a trip to the privies. No need to bother yourself.”
“Coursa said ‘No.’ I’ll get you a bucket.”
Joff rolled his eyes. “What, are you going to restrain me?”
“Shouldn’t be too hard. Coursa said she did it with one hand and she’s three or four times as old as I am.”
Joff looked away. “Bugger.”
“I’ll get the bucket. I promise I won’t peek.”
After Joff relieved himself and Jain disposed of it, she made tea and pulled a chair up to the bed so that they could drink together. She had planned to talk to him, but realized that she had nothing to talk about. She could not read, was not really interested in reading, and did not want to discuss her late husband or the battles of the previous day.
“Where’s Coursa?” Joff asked with forced casualness.
“She went to get medicine for you. She’ll be along soon.” Joff nodded and sipped his tea. Jain looked into the fireplace. After a few minutes she turned back to Joff. “Coursa loves you. You have to live.”
“I would consider that the desirable outcome in any case,” Joff answered with a weak smile.
“I mean it. She deserves love. She loves you. You can’t leave her now.”
Joff gestured helplessly. “Where am I going? You won’t even let me go to the privy.”
“I’m getting us breakfast,” Jain said.
Joff pointed to her. “You get us breakfast. I will attempt to not die.”
The smell of cooking porridge filled the cottage. Coursa and Eduard returned just as Jain was getting ready to serve up breakfast. Eduard carried the sword of Adara in its decorated scabbard. Coursa had cloth sack about the size one might use to bundle a coat in. “Give me his porridge,” Coursa said.
Jain ladled some of the porridge into a bowl and handed it to Coursa. Coursa set her bag on the table and pulled out a much smaller bag tied with a string. She undid the string and took a pinch of something dry and yellow that might have once been leafy and green. The dried substance dissolved quickly into the porridge and Coursa carried it to Joff.
“Corman leaf,” Coursa said to Joff’s questioning look.
“I’ve read about it.”
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sp; A smile blossomed across Coursa’s face. “Of course you have. But did you know where to get it?”
“No idea,” Joff admitted as he took the bowl. “I’ve wanted to try it since I read about it.”
“What’s Corman?” Jain asked.
“It’s a plant that grows in only a few places,” Joff said. “The leaves are extremely poisonous when fresh. When dried they are very good for the muscles. It is said that . . .”
“Joff,” Coursa said gently. “Eat your breakfast.”
Joff ate.
“We will bury Grima this afternoon,” Coursa said. “Some of my grandchildren are going to the cemetery now to dig the grave.”
“Can I go and help?” Joff asked.
Coursa looked at him without expression.
“I’ll just eat my porridge then, shall I?” asked Joff as he tried to recede into the bed.
Jain turned away to hide her smile. The smile faded as she thought about the coming funeral. “I’ll stay with Joff. Airk was here because of me, so I bear some of the guilt.”
A gentle hand came to rest on Jain’s shoulder and she turned to look at Coursa. “No, dear. Airk’s actions were his own. One of my daughters in law is coming to look after Joff. You must go to show that you’re one of us now.”
It made sense. If Jain did not show up for the funeral then she would never be able to show her face among Coursa’s descendants again. Better to go and give anyone who wished to blame her, insult her, or accuse her the chance to do so and get it out of the way. Jain nodded.
“Is there a place we can hide the sword?” Coursa asked. “I am afraid to leave it in my cottage. I don’t know who else Airk or Tomkin might have told.”
Jain pointed to the top of one of the walls where the thatching hung down in an impractical way. Eduard reached up and shoved the errant roofing aside. A shelf had been carved into the topmost log. A bag of coins and a few trinkets sat there. Eduard put the sword on the shelf and pulled the thatching back into place.
The porridge bowl clinked on the table when Joff set it down. “I’ll guard it with my life.” He rolled onto his side and went to sleep.