A Hero's Tale (39 page)

It took Maara so long to explain about all the armies and their factions--about Bru and the others who had once been Merin's prisoners, about Elen and her army, about the young king and his men, about the common folk and the mighty -- that I heard the faint tramp of feet before she got to the part about our alliance with the northern tribes and Vintel's defeat. Maara heard them too.

"We should go now," she said, "and prepare to greet the army."

Merin looked puzzled. "Is Vintel returning already?" she asked.

"Vintel and all the others," Maara replied. "I thought Sparrow sent a messenger with the news."

My mother put her arm around my shoulders and pulled me close against her side. "He told us they had found you both alive and that you would soon be coming home," she said. "Then he went on and on about armies and battles and alliances with folk we'd never heard of. He counted even the northern tribes among our allies, and then we knew he must be talking through his hat."

The tramp of feet grew louder. All of us stood up and turned to face the north, as the first ranks of the army came into view. They were too many to keep to the narrow trail. They flowed like a river through the hills, filling the clefts between, where the slopes were gentle, surging over the crests of the lowest hills and spilling down the hillsides.

"What the messenger told you was true," said Maara. "Every warrior you see, and many more to come, have pledged their loyalty to Tamras. Among them you will find three chieftains of the northern tribes with the warriors of their households, who have come to court the friendship of Merin's house."

Namet shaded her eyes and watched as more and more of my army revealed itself. She didn't seem surprised. She smiled a little secret smile, as if this was something her far-seeing eye had already witnessed.

Merin and my mother stared at the army in astonishment. Then my mother turned to me. On her face was an expression of surprise that quickly turned to pride.

Merin's expression had more amusement in it. "So," she said. "I see there is no question now of your adoption. If you have come to conquer, I will gladly offer you my sword."

Merin was teasing me, but her voice had a solemn note in it, and I believe she would have offered me her sword before the entire household, if I had asked for it.

"I always intended to return authority to you," I told her.

"Do you believe I will accept it?"

Merin still had a teasing twinkle in her eye, but behind her words I heard her wish that she could settle the burden of her authority on someone else's shoulders.

"You had better decide which one of you it will be," said Maara, "because very soon someone will have to take charge of them."

"You are my right hand," I told her. "You can take charge of them. You've done a splendid job of it so far."

"Then let us go to meet them," she said, taking charge of us as well. "You and Merin will welcome them together."

While we climbed the hill, Maara related the rest of the story. She hurried through it, because already the people of Merin's house, alerted by watchers on the ramparts, were gathering outside the earthworks to witness the arrival of the army. They had expected to see Vintel's warriors coming home. Instead they beheld an army twice the size of the one that had set out. Some stared in wonder, while others grew fearful that Vintel had been defeated and these were our enemies, come to conquer.

Everyone was so intent upon the sight of the approaching warriors that they didn't notice Maara and me until we had almost reached them. Then they surrounded us and assailed us with questions. Servants and elders, companions too young and inexperienced to accompany their warriors to the battlefield, even country people who had taken refuge in the fortress, demanded to hear the news. The Lady raised her arms to ask for silence. When they were quiet she addressed them.

"As you can see," she said, "our lost children have come home. There is a lot to tell you, but it will have to wait, because we have much to do. All I have time to say is this. My daughter Tamras has won the victory in the north, and to her we owe our great good fortune. Go now and prepare a welcome for our guests."

Reluctantly they obeyed her, though they lingered long enough to eye me with doubtful curiosity. The elders went back inside with the servants to oversee the preparations, all but Fet. She stood apart, her eyes searching for one among the multitudes. I went to stand beside her and pointed to the northerners.

"There," I said. "Do you see the warriors of the northern tribes?"

Fet nodded. "I see them."

"She walks beside their chieftains."

Fet knit her brows, then smiled when she found Fodla. Without another word to me, she started down the hill to meet her.

I had not yet seen my sister Tamar. I asked my mother if she was still in Merin's house.

"She must be inside," my mother replied. "She has been caring for old Gnith."

I felt the icy breath of fear. "Is Gnith unwell?"

"A touch of winter sickness. Only a touch, but at her age, a touch of anything is dangerous."

Maara was already consulting with Merin about where the army would establish its encampment. I told her I was going into the house, to find my sister and to pay my respects to Gnith.

I found Gnith alone, sleeping soundly on the hearthstone in the kitchen. I sat down beside her. The silence of the empty kitchen was a relief after the commotion out of doors. I leaned back against the oven, still warm from the morning's baking. I closed my eyes.

At once Gnith joined me, as if we had both stepped through the veil of sleep into the same dream.
It's never what you expect,
she whispered into my ear.

She touched my brow, and I was in the dark. Deeper than the dark of the cave of running animals where I joined the hunters of the forest people, deeper than the dark of Elen's dungeon where I gazed into the abyss where love is powerless, deep in the dark there is a secret.

"Worn out, poor thing," said Gnith.

Someone touched my arm. I opened my eyes and saw my sister and several of the kitchen servants hovering over me. Gnith was wide awake and sitting up.

"Get her a bite to eat," said Gnith, and Tamar went at once to bring me a bowl of barley soup. When I took it from her hands, I saw the question in her eyes, as well as her reluctance to ask it.

"You will find Sparrow with Vintel," I said. "They will be the last to arrive."

Tamar still looked uneasy.

"She's fine," I said. "Everyone is fine."

"Are you fine too?"

"Fine as frog's hair," I told her.

She laughed, remembering, and sat down to watch me eat.

While I ate, Gnith looked me over. She plucked at my strange clothing, my deerskin trousers and Elen's fine linen shirt.

"Been gone far away," she murmured. "We went too."

The kitchen began to fill with busy people. Gnith lay back down, to take another nice long nap, she said. Tamar went outside to welcome Sparrow, and I went with her, because with Sparrow would come Vintel.

The army, accustomed to living in the field, had set about establishing an encampment outside the earthworks. Merin's captains, who could have sought the comfort of their own quarters indoors, remained with our guests, to see that they were well cared for, and no doubt to impress upon Maara their fitness for leadership. Though they had acclaimed me, it was Maara they looked to for direction, as they had once looked to Merin's right hand, Vintel.

The Lady, with my mother beside her, was overseeing the activity from a vantage point just outside the earthworks. She still looked frail. She leaned on my mother's arm, as much for support as from affection, yet she looked happier than I had ever seen her, with color in her cheeks and a smile for all who approached her. My mother too had changed -- strong as ever, cheerful as ever, but not as restless, content to stand still right where she was, as if she had settled at last into a deep contentment.

While my eyes were on Merin and my mother, Tamar's eyes had been searching Vintel's army.

"I see Vintel," she said. "Sparrow isn't with her."

Vintel's warriors, surrounded by Bru's men, waited at the foot of the hill. Bru was standing in Vintel's way, his hand on his sword's hilt, his feet firmly planted, while Vintel berated him and gestured in our general direction. Though neither spoke the other's language, they understood each other perfectly.

Maara saw them too and started down the hill.

"What's he doing?" Tamar asked me. "What's going on?"

"Vintel is leaving," I told her.

"When?"

"Today."

"What for?"

"Vintel is no longer welcome here," I said. "Didn't Sparrow tell you? It was Vintel who drove me out of Merin's house."

Tamar looked puzzled. "Do you mean to tell me that Vintel agreed to go just because you came home?"

"She agreed to go because I defeated her," I said.

Tamar laughed.

I had no time to explain. I watched as Maara approached Vintel. She spoke a few quiet words to Bru, then gestured to Vintel to come with her, and together they started up the hill.

I wanted no more to do with Vintel. Another confrontation would accomplish nothing and might prove dangerous. I took Tamar's arm and drew her aside, so that we were a little distance from the footpath and hidden by the crowd. I kept my eyes on Vintel, to see if she would speak to anyone in passing, but she walked quietly beside Maara until they stood before the Lady.

My mother had vanished. I looked around for her, but she was nowhere to be seen.

"Where did she go?" I murmured.

Though I spoke more to myself than to my sister, Tamar knew who I meant and answered me anyway.

"Our mother won't have Vintel near her," she said. "Whenever Vintel speaks with the Lady, our mother keeps her distance."

I was glad to hear it. I thought I understood why Merin had stayed under the same roof with Vintel. This was her house, after all. And I couldn't fault my mother for staying with her, but it reassured me that my mother and Vintel hadn't been on speaking terms.

"She'll say the right thing," said Maara, who appeared at my side so suddenly that I gave a start.

"Who?" I asked her. "The Lady or Vintel?"

"The Lady," Maara replied. "She's very angry with Vintel, but she knows better than to squander an alliance."

"Will someone explain to me what's going on?" said Tamar.

Maara turned to her. "Your sister has given Vintel leave to go to any other house that will accept her. She intends to return to her sister's house, and it would be a shame if Merin were to lose that alliance."

"My sister gave her leave?"

Maara smiled.

Vintel spoke to the Lady for quite a while. I couldn't tell whether she was making an excuse or an apology, but Vintel did all the talking, while Merin listened with distance in her eyes.

Maara stayed with us and watched. Though she was often interrupted by people asking for instructions, in between her other conversations she told Tamar that I had defeated Vintel's army and that every warrior who would remain in Merin's house had sworn loyalty to me.

Tamar, ordinarily so full of questions, was rendered speechless.

At last Vintel had said all she had to say. She stood silent before the Lady and waited. Merin gazed at Vintel for so long that I knew something unexpected was about to happen. Then Merin placed her hands on Vintel's shoulders, leaned toward her, and kissed her cheek.

"What in the world?" I whispered.

"What indeed?" Maara replied. "Unless. . ."

"Unless what?"

"When Vintel claimed she would never betray her oath to Merin, I think she meant it."

"But Vintel did betray her."

"Let's think about it," Maara said. "Merin and Vintel have known each other almost all their lives. When Merin was a young woman, Vintel was a child here, a child who showed great promise. After her mother died, who would she have looked to for protection, even for love."

I slipped back through time and saw Merin and Vintel as they must have been after the war with the northern tribes. Each had suffered an unbearable loss. Their shared experience explained so much -- their mistrust of strangers, their attitude toward Namet, the way they kept her at a distance, because she had suffered so little from what she had helped to bring about. Merin and Vintel had many things in common then, and each had needed someone. Merin's need was to be needed, but Vintel had needed so much more, and a mother most of all.

Now I understood. When Merin chose me to be her heir, Vintel had been disinherited, but it was never Merin's power that she wanted.

Vintel took Merin's hand and kissed it. Then she turned away and started back down the hill. On her face I saw the pain of that parting, and my heart ached with what she must be feeling -- the humiliation of defeat, the loneliness of exile, and the loss of everything she loved. So keenly did I feel it that I was tempted to offer her a place with me.

Maara stepped between me and Vintel and took me firmly by the shoulders. "Don't let her see a look like that," she said.

I nodded, but I couldn't speak. Maara stayed where she was until I no longer needed a shield between myself and Vintel's pain. Then she stood aside, and we watched as Vintel made her way down the hill alone.

Vintel's warriors were impatient to continue their journey. Their companions had been taken into Merin's house, to gather up all their belongings, and Maara had offered a cart to carry them, along with supplies enough to last for several days. After that they would have to rely on the hospitality of others.

Many of Merin's warriors went down to see them off, and Vintel spoke a few words with each of them before she took her place at the head of the column. The companions shouldered their packs, and the warriors took up their shields. Before Vintel took up her shield, she turned to take a last look back. At once her eyes found what she was looking for, a lone figure standing on a knoll halfway down the hill. Beside me Tamar made a soft sound, a catch of breath, as if she feared that Sparrow would answer the invitation in Vintel's eyes. But Sparrow stayed where she was, and at last Vintel turned away and led her warriors down the river road.