A Time of Exile

‘Good for you. Women need to be kept in their place.’

‘Cursed right.’

They finished their ale in silence. At the far table, Edyl’s howl of rage – he always was a rotten loser – announced that Peddyc had won the game. Amid laughter and jests, coin changed hands all around the warband.

‘And here’s our falcon back,’ Ynryc called out, pocketing a silver piece from the defeated side. ‘Come on, Cinvan – give Peddyc here a game. You’ve got a good hand with the stones.’

‘Maybe I will, if he’ll take me on.’

‘Oh, I’m always game,’ Peddyc said, grinning. ‘Let’s see if I can keep my winnings.’

Edyl rose from his place at the board.

‘Welcome back, falcon. And has your sister given you a nephew yet? But with proper ears this time?’

The world went red. Cinvan stepped forward, hit Edyl hard in the stomach with his right and swung up to clip his jaw with his left. Edyl went down like a sack of grain as the hall exploded in shouting. Cinvan felt men grabbing his arms, heard Garedd yelling at him to calm down. Abruptly the red fog cleared. Cinvan knelt to his lord in a cold-shaking sweat.

‘And what’s all this? By the hells, you haven’t been back for one wretched hour, Cinvan.’

Cinvan nodded in dumb agreement. He was so sure that he was in for a flogging that he could already feel the whip on his back. Young Dovyn caught his father’s arm and whispered something to him.

‘Oh.’ Melaudd turned to Peddyc. ‘Did Edyl make remarks about Cinvan’s sister?’

‘He did, my lord.’

‘Well, then, he’s got what he deserved. Tell him I said so when you bring him round. But here, Cinvan, try to keep peace in my hall, will you? If you’d only ignore these stupid foul jests, they’d stop making them after a while.’

‘True spoken, my lord, and my apologies.’

Later that day, when Melaudd and Waldyn’s wives and their serving women came down from the women’s hall to sit with the noble lords at the table of honour, Dovyn came to drink with his father’s warband. Cinvan wondered if he felt more at home with the men, now that his brother had an infant son, another heir between him and Cernmeton.

‘Good to see you back, falcon.’

‘My thanks, my lord. For a lot of things.’

‘Most welcome, truly. I’ve got somewhat to ask you. I’ll be riding down to Aberwyn soon. My father’s given me leave to take some of his men along for an escort. I was thinking of you, Garedd, Peddyc, and Tauryn. Are you game for a wet ride?’

‘Gladly, my lord. Your father’s a generous man with his ale, but time hangs heavy in winter.’

‘Just that.’ Dovyn gave him a grin. ‘We might have a bit of sport in the spring though. Here, I’ll tell you the news. I’m riding to Aberwyn to lay claim to some of that empty land up by the Peddroloc. If I can gather the farmers and suchlike, by the gods, why shouldn’t I have land and a dun of my own?’

‘Why not?’ Cinvan pledged him with his tankard. ‘Good for you, my lord. I take it your father’s sponsoring you.’

‘Just that.’ Dovyn’s smile was full of boyish hopes and pride. ‘He says he’ll back me with the warband if any of the cursed Westfolk try to argue about it, too. I can fancy myself spreading the Bear clan’s name a little further west.’

‘And your clan’s glory.’ Cinvan had a swallow of ale. ‘May the Bear roam where he will.’

Two days later, when the storm eased, Lord Dovyn and his escort set out for Aberwyn. All along the way, Melaudd’s personal vassals and allies gave them a roof over their heads and ale to drink, which was all that mattered to Cinvan. Dovyn was full of his plans, chattering about them in a most unlordly manner. Since the Old Ones had already fled this part of the country, his new demesne would have to be tilled by free farmers, but there were plenty of younger sons among the Eldidd freemen. Among the commoners, a freeman could divide his property up among his heirs when he died, but who would settle for some part of a farm when he could win a whole one? With a noble lord and his warband to protect them against the Westfolk, they would be glad to move and break new land, which would become theirs in freehold in return for dues. (Back in the Homeland, the noble-born had always divided their property, too, but here in the new and hostile country, with empty land all around them, they preferred to keep holdings strong by passing them intact to one heir.) Lord Dovyn would be a poor lord at first, but his wealthy father was willing to tide him over with cattle and extra horses until the crops – and the taxes – began coming in.

About halfway through the trip, they stayed with Tieryn Braur of Belglaedd, who greeted Dovyn warmly and made sure his men had shelter in the barracks instead of the stables. At dinner that night, the four Bear riders were given decent seats at a table near the fire and all the meat and mead they wanted, though Cinvan drank little. Up at the table of honour, the young lord was talking with his host and a pretty young woman who seemed to be the tieryn’s daughter. From their long distance away, Garedd watched them with a sentimental smile.

‘I think our Dovyn’s picked out the lady of this new demesne.’

‘Huh?’ Cinvan said. ‘Who?’

‘The daughter, you dolt! Look.’

Obligingly Cinvan looked. Dovyn and the lass were smiling at each other’s every word.

‘Now, that warms a man’s heart.’ Garedd paused to belch. ‘What do you wager he had no chance of winning her before, but now he’ll have land to offer.’

‘You’re drunk.’

‘I am, but so what? It’s just like somewhat in a bard’s tale. He’ll win the land and all for her sake.’

Cinvan ignored him and had another swallow of mead.

Since the men of the Bear were direct personal vassals of the princes of Aberwyn, Dovyn and his escort sheltered in the royal dun itself, a vast many-towered broch in the middle of Aberwyn. At meals, the Bearsmen sat at one side of an enormous great hall that had room enough to seat two hundred and watched their lord, far away at the other near a hearth made of fine pale stone, all carved with the princely dragons of the rhan. During the day, they had leave to wander round the town, which with its twenty thousand inhabitants was the biggest place Cinvan had ever seen. Every morning he and Garedd walked down to the harbour, where the Prince’s four war galleys rode at anchor and merchant ships came and went. In the afternoon they would go to one of the taverns that the prince’s men recommended and pick up a couple of cheap whores, or sometimes only one to spare the extra cost. As Garedd remarked one day, life in Aberwyn was a cursed sight more amusing than playing Carnoic in Melaudd’s hall or badgering a kitchen maid into taking a tumble with them out in the hayloft.

Unfortunately, every earthly paradise comes to an end sooner or later. On their last day in Aberwyn, Cinvan and Garedd went down to their favourite tavern to say a sentimental farewell to the lasses there. As they were sitting over a couple of tankards, a stout grey-haired fellow in red and white checked brigga came into the room. Uneasily he threw his fur-lined cloak back from his shoulders and looked with disdain at the chipped tables, straw-strewn floor, and blowzy wenches.

‘Now what’s he doing in here?’ Garedd said.

‘Looking for us. See? Here he comes.’

The merchant strode over to their table with a friendly if somewhat fixed smile.

‘My name’s Namydd. I see you ride for the Bear clan.’

‘Well, so we do,’ Garedd said, and he was the one who went on talking to the merchant while Cinvan sat and glowered. ‘And what can we do for you, good sir?’

Namydd brushed off the wooden bench with the side of his hand, then sat down and ordered ale all round. When the wench brought it, he inspected the rim of his tankard and wiped it on his sleeve before he drank.

‘Now, I’ve heard an interesting piece of news about your lord Dovyn. Some of my connections in the prince’s court tell me he’s filed a claim to land around the Four Lakes.’

‘He has. What’s it to you?’

‘A matter of great profit and one to your lord as well. I’m a merchant, you see, and I’d be willing to pay him for the rights to have a trading depot in his village.’

‘Well, he doesn’t have a village yet, good sir. But he’ll probably need the coin.’

‘Most lords in his position do. Now I’d like to approach him about this, but I wanted to have a word with one or two of his men first. Tell me, is your lord the approachable sort?’

‘He is. As decent a young man as you could ask for.’

‘Splendid! How soon will he be making his move on the land?’

‘Oh, some time in the summer. As far as I understand these things, anyway, they’ve got all sorts of legal matters to tend to first. Why don’t you ride to Cernmeton later in the winter? Doubtless he can tell you more then.’