The Horsemasters (47 page)

“Even if that man himself worships the Goddess?” Siguna asked.

Arika’s reddish brown eyes glowed in the light of the stone lamp. “Even if that man were the son of the Mistress herself.” A beat of silence. “Even if that man were Ronan.”

Arika’s finger continued to caress the ivory pendant upon which was drawn the great-bellied shape of a woman about to give birth. “I am not young any longer,” she said, “and I have lost both my daughter and Nel. At night I lie awake and wonder who is to succeed me.”

“You have a son,” Siguna said softly. “It is in my heart that Nel would come back if Ronan could come with her.”

Arika shook her head. “Ronan is a man whose nature demands that he take the lead.” She smiled a little bitterly and admitted, “He is too much like me. If Nel became the Mistress, Ronan would rule the tribe. And I do not want that.”

Siguna was watching the ivory pendant that lay against Arika’s breast, “is there no other woman of your blood you can call upon, Mistress?”

Arika laced her fingers together and regarded them thoughtfully. “I have been thinking of late that the next Mistress does not necessarily have to be of my blood,” she said. “Years ago, when Alin, the Chosen One, was seduced away from us by the chief of the Horse, the Mistress chose a girl of different blood to rule after her. That girl was Elen, who was my mother.”

Arika paused, and Siguna nodded to show that she was following.

“I have been thinking,” said Arika, “that to make up for Alin’s loss, the Mother has sent us you.”

Siguna’s eyes stretched wide. “Me?”

“It was the Mother’s call you heard the day that you rode into the forest,” Arika said with sublime certainty. “Have you not felt that?”

“Sa,” Siguna whispered. “I have felt that.”

“You have your father’s strength in you, Siguna; and you have some of his ruthlessness, too. That is good. The Mistress must sometimes be pitiless when she carries out what is her duty. You understand this. You understand the sacredness of duty. I saw that when you undertook to search the bodies in the gorge.”

“But I am not a member of your tribe!”

“You could be,” Arika said, “if you wished to be.” A beat of silence. “Do you, Siguna?”

“Sa.” Once again the answer was but a whisper. “I want to very much.”

Arika smiled as if she were not surprised.

* * * *

Siguna thought she would never fall asleep, so many thoughts were teeming in her brain. She finally drifted off, only to be awakened shortly after dawn by the sound of raised voices.

Arika had awakened even before she had; Siguna saw her figure at the hut’s door. “Come,” she said over her shoulder to Siguna, “it looks as if Tyr has brought in one of your father’s men.”

Fully awake by now, Siguna scrambled to her feet, found her moccasins, and followed Arika out the door.

There was a small group of men standing in front of the tent Siguna knew belonged to Ronan. Siguna recognized Tyr and two other men of the Red Deer, but the one her eyes flew to was the defiant young man who was standing in the midst of the other three, with his hands bound behind his back. It was her brother, Vili. With a startled cry, Siguna ran forward, calling his name.

“Siguna!” Vili was more surprised to see her than she was to see him. “We thought you were dead!”

“No,” she answered him in their own tongue. “I was captured while I was out in the forest. What happened to you? Why are you here?”

“Father sent me to scout along this river. Like you, I was captured.” Vili cursed and sent a furious look toward Tyr. “They were watching for us.”

“You weren’t alone?”

Vili shook the blond head that was so like their father’s. “No. Luckily, Bragi got away.”

The three men of the Red Deer had been listening in uncomprehending silence to this conversation, and now Tyr looked toward the tent in front of which they were standing and said, with obvious relief, “Ronan! Look what we found in the forest.”

Siguna’s head snapped around in time to see Ronan straightening up from the tent opening. He was not wearing his headband, and his black hair streamed around his face. He was shoeless and shirtless, wearing only buckskin trousers that had obviously been pulled on in a hurry. He pushed his fingers through the loose hair on his forehead and surveyed Vili from head to toe. He spoke to Siguna without looking at her. “You know him?”

“Sa. He is my brother.”

“It’s obvious he was sent here to spy on us.” Ronan’s eyes had never left Vili. “Was he alone?”

When Siguna didn’t answer, Tyr did. “We didn’t see any others, but I doubt it.”

At last Ronan turned his head to look at Siguna. She stared back, her face suddenly stricken, and said nothing. After a moment he said, “Never mind, I know the answer already. Your father would never have sent him alone.” He ran his fingers through his hair again, thrusting it back off his face, and turned to say something else to Tyr.

Siguna stared at Ronan, at the tangled black hair that was clinging to the strong, tanned neck, at the smoothly muscled shoulders and upper arms, at the wide chest, the flat stomach and narrow hips. Deep inside her, something rippled.

“Who is he?” Vili asked her urgently, inclining his head toward Ronan.

“Their kain,” Siguna replied. Then, when Ronan looked at her inquiringly, she said, “He wanted to know who you were. I said you were the chief.”

There was the soft rustling sound of door skins being pushed back again, and then Nel was with them. She had taken more time to dress than her husband; only her unbraided hair betrayed her hurry. Ronan said to her, “It’s Siguna’s brother. Tyr caught him scouting us.”

The beautiful flush of rose in Nel’s cheeks disappeared. Ronan slipped his hand under the silken fall of her hair and rested it reassuringly on her nape. The two large wolfdogs came padding out of the hut to stand by her side.

“Was he alone?” Nel asked her husband.

“He won’t say, but of course he wasn’t alone.”

“We searched the forest for any others,” Tyr said, “but if they were on horseback like this one…” He shrugged.

“Where is his horse?” Nel asked.

Tyr said, “Unfortunately, we had to spear the horse in order to capture the man.”

A little silence fell. Then Ronan said bleakly, “So, now he will know where to find us.”

Siguna understood immediately that the “he” referred to her father.

“Do you want to send some of your own men to ride after the others?” Tyr asked.

“When did you capture this one? This morning?”

“Last night. We searched for any others until it was dark.”

“It is too late, then,” Ronan said. “They have too much of a start.”

All this while, Vili had been standing perfectly still, straight-backed, with defiance on his face, his hands tied behind his back.

Nel said, “The poor boy looks exhausted.”

Vili turned his eyes in her direction, seeming to guess that she was speaking of him. He looked at the two dogs who guarded her side, and Siguna said immediately, “The dogs are as tame as Father’s old mare, Vili.”

“Vili?” Nel said. “Is that your brother’s name, Siguna?”

“Sa.”

“Please remember, he is not our guest, Nel,” Ronan said sternly. “He is our prisoner. I do not want him let loose to return to his father with further descriptions of our camp and our numbers.”

“I understand that, Ronan,” Nel said. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t feed the boy. After all, he is Siguna’s brother.”

Siguna smiled a little at Nel’s typical kindness. However, when she looked at Ronan he was wearing what Mait and Thorn had called his “black look.” He was obviously unhappy with this new development.

Arika spoke for the first time. “If they have scouted the river, that means they will know the terrain.”

Ronan’s scowl got even blacker.

“We had better call the other chiefs,” said the Mistress, “and discuss the situation.” Then, as Ronan did not move, she added tartly, “Tyr and Siguna are perfectly capable of seeing to the boy, Ronan. Get yourself dressed!”

Everyone stared at Arika in astonishment. She had sounded exactly like a mother.

Chapter Thirty-three

Within the hour, the Federation chiefs had gathered in what, in more ordinary times, would be the Red Deer tribe’s men’s cave. They sat on deerskin rugs, in a circle around the unlit hearth, and their faces were somber.

“The situation is thus,” Ronan said. “By tomorrow, Fenris will know the location of our camp and the numbers of our men. We must expect him to attack in a very short time.”

“We can retreat to the Red Deer summer camp,” Arika said.

“That is a good idea,” Unwar agreed. “That will give us the delay we need until the men of the Squirrel come. Without them, we are outnumbered two-to-one.”

“Not to mention that the enemy are all horsed,” said Haras.

Matti, the young man who had been chosen to represent the remnants of the tribes of the Fox and the Bear, listened with bright eyes and a grave face and said nothing.

“I particularly did not want him to know our numbers,” Ronan said bitterly. “That is why I posted men to intercept his scouts.”

“Perhaps the boy was alone after all,” Unwar said.

“He is the chief’s son,” Haras said. “Would you send your son alone on such a mission?”

Unwar grunted, then shrugged in acknowledgment of Haras’s point.

Ronan repeated, “I think Fenris will move quickly. He will not want to give us a chance to change our ground.”

“The Mistress is right,” said Unwar. “We should retreat to the Red Deer summer camp.”

“If we do that, we will be leaving the women and children in the Great Cave unprotected,” Haras protested.

“Move the women and children too,” Arika suggested.

Ronan said slowly, “I have been thinking…”

All the faces turned to him.

Ronan laced his hands upon his knee and frowned thoughtfully at his intersecting fingers. “All this time my plan has been to fool the Horsemasters into thinking that we are larger in number than we actually are,” he said. “This Fenris is too clever a chief to risk his men in what he perceives to be a losing fight. There is no reason for him to do so, not when he can find easier prey elsewhere.” His frown deepened. “However, now we must assume that Fenris knows our numbers. He will not be turned back as easily as I had hoped, and so our strategy must be changed.”

“Changed to what?” a grim-faced Haras asked.

Ronan glanced up from his hands. “The most effective weapon we have is surprise. Surprise is what won us the victory in the gorge. It is in my heart that we must rely on surprise once more.”

“How?” said Arika tersely.

Ronan went back to the contemplation of his fingers. “Even on horseback, they cannot move from the homesite of the Fox to the Greatfish River in one day. They will have to make an overnight camp somewhere along the way, and I am thinking a likely place is that great crescent-shaped meadow that lies below the Greatfish.” He shot a look at the Leopard chief. “Do you know the place I mean, Unwar?”

Unwar grunted agreement. “It would be a good place for them to make camp. The river is there for water, and the meadow will give them plenty of grass for their horses.”

“The mountains come right up to the edge of the meadow,” Ronan explained, his gaze going now from one face to the next. “And the mountains are covered with beech and pine trees. We could conceal all our forces in those mountains, and the Horsemasters would never know.”

“What are you suggesting, Ronan?” Haras asked uneasily.

“I think we should attack them while they are encamped along the River of Gold,” Ronan said.

“Attack?” said Haras.

“You are mad!” said Unwar.

“Why?” said Arika.

Matti was silent.

Haras leaned forward. “Ronan,” he said in measured tones, “think of what you are saying. These Horsemasters are seasoned fighters. They have pillaged and destroyed an untold number of tribes to the north. Now they are coming after us. They seriously outnumber us. The men of the Squirrel have promised assistance; surely you must agree that wisdom tells us to wait until they can reach us before we take action.”

“Haras speaks true,” Unwar said. “I will agree that your leadership until now has been effective, Ronan, but this proposal of yours is mad! The mountains are our one protection. To descend from the mountains means to be trampled down by the enemy’s horses or cut to pieces by their spears.”

“And if that happens,” Haras said, “think what it will mean to our women and children.”

A heavy silence fell as the chiefs contemplated that ugly picture. The summer sun slanted in the cave opening, and a patch of sunlight danced upon the crown of Ronan’s head.

Once again, Arika asked her son, “Why?”

“I think it is the way to win,” he answered simply. He narrowed his eyes, “Picture how it will be. We will attack by moonlight, when they are sleeping. The most important part of this plan is that they won’t have a chance to get to their horses, and on foot we are the better fighters. Our spears are heavier and longer, and we have the shields. Our men are in good heart—they remember the victory in the gorge. They have been training hard, and they have confidence in each other.”

From somewhere outside the cave, a horse’s whinny sounded. Ronan said firmly, “I think our formation will hold together. I think we can win.”

Matti, his fierce young face lit with joy, spoke his first words of the meeting. “I agree.”

“I do not. I think we should retreat to the Red Deer summer camp and await the men of the Squirrel,” Unwar growled.

“Can you tell me what is to prevent the Horsemasters from following on our heels to summer camp?” Ronan asked. “I doubt they will give us enough time for the men of the Squirrel to join with us.”

Unwar scowled, and Arika said, “Whatever we decide to do, we must do it quickly. It would be fatal for us to be caught here now.”

The four men all agreed with that.

Arika looked around the circle of faces. “There are a handful of us, so whatever course of action three of us choose must be the decision of the council.”