Blood in Snow (5 page)

“Yeah!”

“Then we, as good family members, help them,” Edmund replied. “We take care of each other. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

“But if somebody doesn’t work—”

“Say someone’s missing a hand or something—”

“They still can do something to help the town,” one of the guards said. “Why, I once knew a guy who was missing both of his legs, and he still had a trade.”

“But what if they are old and feeble?” asked a woman in the front row, voice pleading. “What if—”

At once, the room exploded with a hundred different arguments.

“We’ll always find ways to help each other,” Edmund yelled over the growing debate.

But nobody was listening; they were all arguing about what would happen if someone couldn’t help out in the community. Nobody said a thing about magic users.

“Listen!” he cried. “Listen to me!”

Hendrick stood again and hollered.

Everybody looked at Edmund.

“I didn’t mean to cause a heated discussion,” he said. “I just wanted to say: first, everybody is welcome here, no matter what their situation, no matter who they are, or if they’re different from everybody else.”

Nobody objected.

“Second, everybody helps each other.”

The debate started up again, but Edmund quickly cut it off.

“
Everybody
can do something,” he said. “Even if it’s as simple as watering the horses, or keeping watch at the gate, or picking up garbage in the streets. We all belong in Rood, no matter who we are. We all belong here, no matter if we are different.”

One of the men raised a dirty hand. Edmund pointed at him.

“Can we have our beer now?” the man asked.

Well, that went better than you thought. They don’t even care.

They didn’t think you meant that you’d let magic users into the town. Not in a million years would they even dream of that. They just thought you meant people wrongfully accused of witchcraft. They’d still kill you if they knew what you could do.

Edmund nodded. “Absolutely!” He stepped off the table. “Enjoy your beer!”

Chapter Five

Edmund left The Buxom Barmaid as soon as he’d had something to eat. Most of the townsfolk remained, laughing and singing as usual for that time of the night, though more than a few were still debating what should happen to people who couldn’t work and didn’t have family to take care of them. Edmund didn’t want to be sucked into their discussions. He’d planted the seed about accepting everybody, including those accused of witchcraft, and hinted that people shouldn’t believe any rumors they might hear about him. That’s all he wanted to do. Now he wanted time alone to think. So he and Becky strolled along the empty streets of Rood, being careful not to trip on scraps of wood and building materials left lying about.

He sniffed the cool autumn air with pleasure, smelling the dry leaves and the trees and the River Bygwen just west of town. Stars were already out, and it was only seven o’clock. Winter was coming.

He surveyed the town’s various buildings.

The third barracks was finished, as were several latrines, the smithy, and a small smokehouse. A mill was half-built, and a storehouse for food would likely be completed in a few days.

He shook his head, amazed by how quickly a group of motivated men could work.

Still, the town sat mostly empty, and Edmund mulled over the possible construction of a new inn, something bigger and more attractive than The Buxom Barmaid. Then he weighed it against the need to increase the height of the wall surrounding the town.

He decided he’d think about it later.

Strolling along, Edmund stared up at the northern stars. Why was he feeling so anxious? Everything seemed to be going well. Yet something nagged at the back of his mind, as though he’d forgotten something important. Becky took a quick couple of steps toward the west gates, ears perking up. Guards on the wall’s walkway were gazing southward, watching something.

“Finally!” Edmund said.

I’ll bet you anything they’re married. That’s why Abby wanted to go with him so badly.

Then wish them well.

Edmund’s anxiety twisted around his heart and squeezed as he approached the gates
.

At a guard’s call, the gates opened and several riders trotted in, followed by a line of wagons. Some were ones they’d sent south, now laden with supplies; others were pulled by oxen, driven by people Edmund didn’t recognize.

Bain rode up as Edmund searched the line of carts and people plodding in.

“Where’s Pond?” Edmund asked as the guard dismounted. “And Abby? Where are they?”

More people came through the gates.

“Now, first off, sir,”—Bain raised his hands to placate him—“I just want to say: I had nothing to do with it. I tried to talk them out of it, but you know how they are. Nobody can talk Ms. Abby out of anything once she gets it into her pretty head.”

Edmund’s heart fell through the ground.

“But it’s probably not what you’re thinking,” Bain added quickly. “Mr. Pond and Ms. Abby are fine. They rode farther south to Hillshire or some such place. Thought they could get more supplies there. They told me to tell you not to worry, and that they’d be back in a week or so.”

“They rode off … together,” Edmund said, more to himself than to Bain.

“Yes, sir.”

“Alone?”

“Yes, sir. Now, I tried to send somebody with them. Honest. But neither Mr. Pond nor Ms. Abby would hear of it. She kept insisting she didn’t need an escort, and she could protect herself. You know how she is.”

I do indeed.

You should be happy for them. They deserve each other.

What about me? Don’t I deserve somebody?

Realizing Bain still stood next to him, now silent and waiting, Edmund shrugged. He forced himself to pay attention to the wagons and people who’d just entered the town.

“Did you get everything we need?” he asked halfheartedly.

“We bought every blanket and coat and pair of boots we could find, just like you asked,” Bain said, evidently happier to discuss their mission rather than Pond and Abby. “Paid an incredible price for them, but you’d said price was no object. So we got everything we could.”

“How many coats did you buy?”

“Maybe twenty-five, but they aren’t as thick and heavy as what you’d described.”

“Twenty-five,” Edmund muttered. “That’s not going to help much.”

“Are the winters really that bad up this way? Or were you exaggerating to prepare people?”

“They’re really that bad,” Edmund said. He tried not to think about Pond and Abby. “If we don’t get more warm clothing, people will freeze to death.”

“Well, if it helps, we also obtained a good amount of raw wool, including ten sheep.”

Ten sheep. The wool from them won’t make more than a few hats and scarves.

Half the town will be dead this winter if you don’t figure out a way to keep everybody warm.

“What else did you get?”

Bain began mentally ticking off items. “A couple crates of nails, a bunch of tools—hammers, saws, drills, axes, shovels. Let’s see … six horses. Five good oxen.”

“Five?” Edmund said. “There’s more than that here.”

“Some of them are with the new arrivals.”

“Anybody in-interesting?”

Bain didn’t appear to notice the hitch in Edmund’s voice. “Yes, absolutely.” He pointed through the crowd. “That family there—the man, the woman, that older woman, and the two kids—they’re tanners.”

“Tanners,” repeated Edmund, attempting to sound upbeat.

“Yeah. When we told them what we were doing with the town and all, they wanted to join us. Having them here will be easier than buying and transporting their goods, if you know what I’m saying.”

Edmund nodded.

“And we have a few new laborers, a family of sheep ranchers—again, having the wool here will be better than sending for it—and one of the men is a carpenter. I figured we could always use …”

Edmund was still nodding, staring blankly at where the bleating sheep once stood.

“Sir?”

Edmund tried to smile.

“There are a few young women in this group,” Bain said optimistically. “A couple are very attractive.”

Edmund wiped his eye, pretending some of the black woodsmoke from the barracks had gotten into it. “I’m sure they are. Make sure the men treat them well. I won’t tolerate any bad behavior.”

“Yes, sir.”

For a moment, they both stood in the middle of the road, watching people unload the wagons and put livestock into pens. Then Edmund asked what his heart wanted to know.

“Were they … that is to say … I mean, were Pond and Abby, were they … you know? Were the two of them …”

“May I speak freely, sir?”

“Please.” Though he wasn’t so sure he wanted to hear what Bain had to say.

“I know that both you and Mr. Pond have an interest in Ms. Abby,” Bain said. “But I think I can tell you with some certainty: she doesn’t seem interested in him.”

Edmund’s heart lifted, yet something lingered in the guard’s expression, something Bain perhaps felt obligated to say.

“But?” Edmund prodded.

“Well,” Bain hedged. “You see, if you don’t mind my saying so, it’s like this: Mr. Pond gave Ms. Abby a lot of attention.”

“But?”

“But she didn’t seem to return it. Least ways, not in the way he’d want it, if you get me.”

Edmund waited, sensing something wasn’t good.

“She seemed to prefer the company of one of my men.” Bain grimaced. “I think that’s why Mr. Pond wanted to go to Hillshire. He wanted to be alone with her, if you see what I’m getting at.”

“One of your men?” Edmund repeated. “Who?”

“Merek.” Seeing the puzzlement in Edmund’s face, Bain subtly nodded toward one of the riders coming through the gates.

Merek was a foot and a half taller than Edmund and nearly twice as broad with long blond hair that flowed freely over his square, young shoulders. The type of man artists would use as a model for sculptures and paintings.

Edmund groaned. “Damn it.”

He watched Merek herd some livestock into the holding pens.

“I’m sorry, sir,” said Bain.

“Let me ask you …” Edmund cleared his throat and tried to sound only mildly curious. “Let me ask you, did, did … did … Merek …? Well, that is, did he
like
Abby?”

Bain shrugged, watching men unload the crates of winter supplies. “She’s a beautiful woman. What’s not to like?”

What indeed …

Alone … I’m always going to be alone …

“May I speak freely again, sir?”

“You may always speak freely, Bain. You don’t have to ask.”

“Very good, sir.” But Bain wavered as if he’d changed his mind.

“Go on,” Edmund coaxed. “Say what you want to say. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

“Well, sir. I’m no expert about anything but fighting, and when it comes to women, I don’t have a clue.”

That makes two of us.

“However, Ms. Abby strikes me as a woman men don’t pick.”

Edmund looked at him sharply.

“What I mean to say, sir, is that, well … I think Abby will pick her man, not the other way around.”

Edmund wanted to laugh, but he was still fighting off tears.

“I think … I think you know more about women than you realize.”

“Perhaps, sir. Even so, they still scare the crap out of me.”

Most of the wagons had been unloaded, and the whinnying horses were now being led away to be fed and watered.

“How did …?” Edmund faltered. “That is, how did Abby take to your man, Merek? How did she act?”

Upon hearing his name, the muscular guard saluted them as he strolled by.

Bain waited for Merek to enter The Buxom Barmaid.

“I think, sir, that she enjoyed his efforts. But she only gave him her attention, if you get me.”

“Yes,” Edmund muttered. “I get you.”

Becky nudged Edmund’s hand.

“Sir?” Bain said. “If winters are as bad as you’re saying, what’re we going to do when it comes? I mean, with hardly any warm clothes and all?”

“I don’t know.” Edmund stroked Becky’s head absentmindedly. “I don’t know.”

Chapter Six

For a couple of days, Edmund kept out of sight, having told people he was trying to solve their winter clothing problem; but in truth, he simply had no energy to face anybody, and he didn’t want them to see he’d been crying. He was acting foolish, he knew. Abby was beautiful and intelligent and spirited—and young. Even though she was a few years older than when most women married, she was still nearly half his age. She’d never be interested in him the way he wanted. And Merek was gorgeous; even Edmund could see that. Of course, she’d rather be with Merek. What woman wouldn’t? He knew all of this. Yet his heart ached for her—ached and crumbled.

Before long, Vin dragged an unshaven Edmund out of his room, saying he’d found the perfect place to grow hops for his beer and wanted to know if he could buy the land once the village got going. So, avoiding those who might bother Edmund with questions, they hiked to a range of forested hills overlooking one of a hundred lakes that dotted the rolling countryside.

Becky lay next to them, chewing on a stick, while Edmund surveyed the view from an outcropping high above the colorful valley. Being out of his room and breathing in the cold, fresh air lifted his depression slightly. So did seeing the Highlands’ beauty. Even under a grey, overcast sky, the lofty hills and pristine lakes were a sight to behold.

“I’ve always loved this place.” The autumn breeze brushed against Edmund’s face. “I don’t know how many times I came to this very spot to sit and think.”

“It is a wonder, isn’t it?” Vin said next to him.

He blew out his breath in a long trail of vapor. Fall was all but over. Winter was creeping south. Within a few weeks, it would be on Rood with full force, and the townsfolk still didn’t have what they needed to survive.

“I thought I could build a cabin or something right here,” Vin went on. “The stone has good bones, as they say.” He stomped his fur-lined boots on the outcropping with a solid
thap-thap
that disturbed the stillness around them. “The vines could grow up the hillside. Plenty of light from the south. And the soil will drain well.”