Daughter of the Wolf (36 page)

The bear-leader's face was flushed above his beard, his eyes bright. Ingeld gave the purse a shake, and Elfrun could hear the thin silver discs chinking faintly. The dainty leather bag was evidently well stocked. It occurred to Elfrun as she gazed around her that those pennies had been creamed from the hard labour of these people. Her people, slave and free. The strips and patches of land belonging to the abbot and those which appertained to the lord were so entangled that nearly everyone owed goods and work and coin to both minster and hall. Their back-breaking hours in the fields and the ditches, at the looms and the fish-traps and the hives, had made the profit which now sang that faint, seductive song from inside its fine kidskin.

And much they cared.

If their silver would buy their pride again, then it was well spent.

They had cheered Hirel on, they had laughed and been abashed by their own laughter when it looked as though the bear was trying to mount him. They had been silenced and shamed by his defeat. Now here was their abbot giving them another chance. Donmouth, down to the last man, woman, and child jigging eagerly from foot to foot, wanted this fight.

‘Let me see the dogs first,' the bear-leader said.

Ingeld was nodding but, ‘
Coward
,' Athulf shouted, and the insult was echoed a few times from faces hidden in the crowd. Ingeld raised his hand for silence. The sun had been coming and going through the patches of drifting mist, and it was a good omen that it shone now, flashing on the fine silver wire on the cuff of his tunic and the massive gold of his abbatial ring. The folk quietened a little. Elfrun watched her uncle thoughtfully. He had folded his arms easily across his chest, and he was standing with his weight on one foot, looking around the crowd. That stray patch of sunlight was also picking out the silver in his brown hair where a lock fell over his forehead, and glinting on the fine stubble on his chin and upper lip. He had a little smile on his face that creased the skin around his eyes and deepened the lines that ran from his nose to the corners of his mouth. The fingers of one hand were tapping on his other arm, and she suddenly had the thought that he was looking for someone. He lifted his head suddenly, his eyes narrowed and the smile grew warmer. Elfrun looked across at Luda and Saethryth and Heahred, but she couldn't see whom he had been smiling at. She wondered suddenly why Saethryth hadn't gone to look after her wounded husband.

‘Uncle?'

‘Mm?' He turned and looked down at her, brown eyes under arched, insouciant brows, still smiling.

She had nothing to say; she wasn't even sure why she had spoken. ‘I – Look, here's Widia and the dogs.'

Widia and the dog-boy, still nameless as when he had arrived. The hounds were leashed together, and as ever Elfrun was amazed that such a scrawny green-stick of a boy could hold those three powerful animals in check. He and the bear-leader would have had a lot to say to each other about their mastery of beasts, if only the boy could use his tongue.

Ingeld put an arm round Widia's neck and a hand on the boy's shoulder, bringing them and their charges forward into the makeshift arena. ‘Here they are. What do you say?'

The bear-leader took his time, sucking his teeth, eyeing the dogs with their bearded, wedge-shaped heads and shaggy coats, storm-cloud-grey, and creamy-red, and ashy-black. ‘Fine hounds.' He turned his head and spat in the dust. ‘Had them long?'

Ingeld shrugged. ‘A matter of weeks.' He brightened. ‘But I've had them out against deer, and you're right. They are fine hounds.'

‘And the silver is for my bear fighting? I get that anyway, whether I win or I lose?'

Ingeld nodded.

‘Then, master, what's in it for you?'

Ingeld's lips curved in that smile which was never very far away. He gave a shrug. ‘Pleasure. We've seen your bear's power, how it sent the strongest man in Donmouth home to lick his wounds. It would please me greatly if my hounds can beat the bear.'

‘I see your bulging purse.' The bear-leader closed his eyes and cupped a hand behind his ear. ‘I can hear the silver inside it calling to me.' He snorted a deep breath in through his nose. ‘Aye, I can smell it, even. But the thing is' – he opened his eyes and suddenly all the jesting, all the whining, had vanished from his voice and face – ‘the thing is, my bear can mince your hounds. And now that I've seen what valuable creatures they are, and how you love them, I'm thinking that if I leave one or more of them wounded – dead, even – I don't value the chances of me and my people leaving Donmouth hale and well.' He made a little bow. ‘With all respect, master.'

Ingeld shrugged, a little, careless movement. ‘That's a risk you'll have to take.'

In all the excitement Elfrun had completely forgotten about the dancing-boy, and the man with the drum, and the pretty girl in her kale-green pinafore strung with amber beads who had passed the bowl around, begging for contributions. Now that she thought to look, she saw them standing in a little huddle behind her and to her right. And the bear-leader probably had the truth of it. He and his were there to amuse. If things turned sour, the travelling entertainers would be overwhelmed, and she didn't know whether she had the authority to quell an angry mob in the way Radmer undoubtedly would have.

But it came to her of a sudden that she could command them now.

No one but Hirel was angry, not yet. She could keep these strangers safe on her land, if she wanted to. A sudden tug on her sleeve and she looked down to find the dog-boy at her side. When he opened his mouth nothing but a shapeless moan emerged, but she knew exactly what he meant. He was pointing at the bear with his free hand, and shaking his head from side to side with a jerk. Elfrun looked at the dogs. They were excited; she guessed they were disturbed by the alien, smoky smell, and they were straining towards it. One of them, Braith with the red and cream mixed in the brindle of his fur, was whining softly.

‘They're not my dogs,' she said to him in a low voice. ‘I can't tell my uncle what to do.' She swallowed. ‘I'm sorry. I can't stop the fight, but I can try and keep the people safe.' He stared at her, the sun bringing out the green lights in his eyes. Elfrun wondered if he had understood a single word.

She stepped forward, bracing her shoulders and lifting her chin, to be met by a rustle of whispers then a hush. She faced the bear-leader squarely. He was standing by his bear, which was still curled into a ball, paws over its nose. She wondered distractedly whether it had gone to sleep. ‘It is your decision,' she said, and she was surprised by how her voice carried. ‘But if you choose to pit your bear against my uncle's hounds, I speak for the people of Donmouth when I promise that no matter the outcome all of you will be allowed to leave in peace.' She set her face hard, and stared right and left, not allowing her eye to meet anyone else's, defying contradiction. ‘No one is to touch the bear, or his master, or the dancing-boy, or the girl with the flute. Any of them. They are all under my hand.' Not so much as a whisper now. Her jaws were aching, she had been gritting her teeth so hard. The mist was drifting back again, sucking the warmth from the day and turning the sun into a little disc of pewter. She could hear the hisses and mutters, but no one had defied her, and she had to hope that no one would. She let the silence hold for a long moment, then gave a little nod, and turned.

And there, next to the rope-walking boy and the girl in green, was Finn the pedlar, standing easily, his wicker pack down in the dust by his feet. Gazing straight into her eyes, he lifted an eyebrow, half-greeting, half-enquiry, and his face broke into a smile.

Carefully expressionless, Elfrun walked steadily back to her place at her uncle's side. The blood was roaring in her ears, and her mouth had gone suddenly dry. In the long half-year and more since she had last seen him she had forgotten the lines and planes of his face, his easy stance, the way his smile seemed to have been created expressly for her delight. Where on earth had he appeared from? Was he with the bear and the dancing-boy and the flute-girl? Chapmen did often take up with other wanderers of the road. Could she have been so fascinated by the bear that she had failed to notice Finn this last hour and more?

‘A' right,' the bear-leader said. ‘Someone drive a stake in for me.'

Ingeld was fondling each of the dogs in turn, scratching their heads and tugging gently on their ears. ‘Gethyn, Bleddyn, good boys. Braith, come here.' He was slipping the leads from the collars. ‘Don't do that,' he said to the bear-leader.

‘Should I not stake the bear, master?'

‘Where's the fun in that? Give the poor beast a chance.' The boy's hands were full, gripping the collars of two of the dogs. Ingeld beckoned. ‘Elfrun, hold Gethyn for me?'

Her head still buzzing, she slipped her hand through the stiff leather band. She could feel the dog's warmth through the wiry coat, and his strength. Gethyn wasn't pulling to get free, but she could sense how strong he was. Were he to spot a hare or some other small creature, she would have to let go, or be dragged willy-nilly in his wake.

Gethyn twisted his head sideways and licked her wrist and she smiled. He grinned back at her, panting, the long pink tongue flopping between the terrible serrated teeth, and she wondered suddenly about the true state of the bear-leader's confidence. These hounds were no mean opponents.

Ingeld was unfastening the straps where the purse looped over his belt. He threw it up in the air and caught it again, one-handed. The purse itself was a fine thing, with its soft red leather and its silver fittings. Elfrun saw the naked longing on the bear-leader's face, and felt sick. Ingeld raised those arched eyebrows that gave his face such a guileless look.

‘Here – catch!'

He lobbed it at the bear-leader, who made a wild grab, but it fell short and the man had to go down on his knees in the dirt. A roar of laughter.

Athulf was grinning, inviting her to share in his evident pleasure at the bear-leader's discomfiture, but Elfrun couldn't meet his eye.

‘Sorry,' Ingeld said. ‘I was off balance.' He was still smiling, and Elfrun found herself wondering against her will whether he could possibly have thrown short on purpose.

The bear-leader shrugged. He was occupied with stuffing the purse down the neck of his tunic, but when he looked up he said, ‘Oh, you'd marvel at what silver has made me do in my time, master. Back when I was young and pretty.' He paused, and looked at Ingeld sideways for a long moment, a knowing stare that made Elfrun hot and itchy. ‘Then again, maybe you wouldn't, master. Maybe you wouldn't be surprised at all.' Without waiting for a reply he turned and extended his arms. ‘All right, one and all. Let's make us some room.' He walked forward, and the crowd shuffled away. When he had made a full circuit, gesturing all the while as he went, a wide space of dry, rutted earth some fifty paces across was left empty. He made his little clucking noise and the bear rose to its feet and shambled over. The bear-leader jerked his head. ‘Bring them on.'

The dog-boy released the collars and pushed the dogs forward. Elfrun just stared, until an angry hiss from her uncle brought her to her senses, and she pulled her reluctant fingers away from Gethyn's neck.

The dogs were a confident and coordinated pack. They hurtled forward and began circling the bear at a distance, yapping in strange, high-pitched tones. The bear shuffled round and round on the spot, trying and failing to keep track of all three at once. Two of them – with a lump in her throat Elfrun recognized Gethyn as one – stopped together and barked sharply, and as the bear lunged towards them the hound with red and cream lights to its coat darted in and nipped sharply at the bear's heels.

‘Braith!' Ingeld was shouting and whooping. ‘That's my true Braith!'

The bear spun in response to the repeated snapping, and now it was dark-coated Gethyn's turn to dart in and away. The dogs bounded back and forth, and the bear lolloped sideways, trying to escape and to attack at the same time. It snarled suddenly and lunged, and the people nearest in the crowd hurled themselves backwards, with gasps and screams of excitement.

The dogs regrouped, panting, and began their harrying again. The bear seemed much angrier, snapping and growling continuously at these little pests – and they did look small, against its bulk. Surely, one blow with a lethal paw...

Suddenly, as though of one united mind, all three dogs hurled themselves towards the bear, yipping hysterically. The bear tumbled sideways with the impact and they became a ferocious blur of dark and brindled fur, the bear rolling over and over as though repeating the tricks with which its master had started their show. One of the dogs – Bleddyn, Elfrun thought – had fastened its jaws around the bear's nose, and Braith was underneath, snapping wildly at the creature's throat. She had her hands to her face, fingers pressed to her cheekbones ready to shield her eyes, unable to bear it and yet powerless to tear her gaze away.

‘Those are some fine hounds you have there,' a voice said in her ear.

She jumped and turned to find Finn the pedlar standing next to her. Somewhere, she registered that Finn's lilting accent was much the same as the bear-leader's. Perhaps they were kin or countrymen at least, travelling together. It would make sense. A lone pedlar was so vulnerable, but any thief would think twice about attacking a party which had that shaggy monster, even bridled and toothless, as escort. She tried to keep her mind on these practical questions, but Finn was so close, she could feel the hairs rising on her arms, the palms of her hands tingling, her breath tight; much the same effect the bear had had on her: and yet she was not afraid.

A whoop went up from the crowd. In the brief moment during which she had withdrawn her attention, the bear had collapsed. Bleddyn was still hanging on to its nose, and the great beast seemed maddened with pain. It swung its head, and Bleddyn was torn free and flung across the arena. He scrambled back to his feet, but it was clear that he was limping. The bear's muzzle was torn and bloody. Once more the dogs fell back.