way, so you will not be lacking for female company. Yes, yes, I know that they will be moving fast, but both you and your mother can ride well.”
Borneheld stood to one side, pleased with the afternoon’s events, but now impatient to get back to his men. In truth, he was not particularly happy that Axis should be the one to provide his future wife with an escort to Arcen, but as there were few men to spare as escort it would be foolish to ignore the service he could provide. Besides, Borneheld grinned to himself, Axis would have several weeks to envy the wife his elder brother had won. Axis would never be able to find a wife so well-bred or with such lands.
Isend stared at his daughter impatiently. “Well?”
Faraday looked between her father and Borneheld, feeling a confused mixture of emotions: relief, that she would not have to endure many more awkward moments with Borneheld in the near future; sadness, that she would not be returning home, and a welter of complex emotions about Axis. She managed to maintain a smile on her face, although she felt that everyone in the room must see how false it was.
“It sounds like the best solution,” she finally said dutifully.
9
LEAVETAKINGS AT DAWN
A xis strode about the courtyard in the predawn darkness, impatient to get moving and irritated beyond measure that he was to be saddled with a group of women. That one of them was the Lady of Tare did not diminish his displeasure one whit.
“Belial!” he shouted, frowning into the milling men and horses in the courtyard, trying to spot his lieutenant. “Belial!”
“Sir.” Belial appeared at his side, a tall, well-built man with deeply set hazel eyes and a thick line of fine sandy hair over his tanned and beardless face. He wore a plain, grey woollen tunic coat over a white shirt and grey leather trousers, the normal uniform of the Axe-Wielders. Belial was some seven or eight years older than Axis, but despite his service, experience and undoubted expertise he had never harboured any ambition to lead the Axe-Wielders. He preferred that someone else have the ultimate responsibility and care, and he served happily under Axis.
“Why isn’t everyone in formation!” Axis snapped. “It’s late!”
Belial took no offence at his BattleAxe’s short temper. He was always tense and irritable before they moved out. “This is the last cohort to form up. The other cohorts are waiting outside in the streets. In line. Packhorses loaded. Supplies accounted for. Geared up, fed, watered, weaponed, and ready to go.”
Axis glared at Belial but there was so little light the effort was wasted. “Then where are these cursed women!” he growled.
“These cursed women are geared up, fed, watered, ah…packed, and ready to go,” a feminine voice said from behind him.
Axis wheeled around. He could just make out Embeth in the dim light, but it was the huddle of female shapes behind her that caught his eye. Artor’s arse! he thought, only avoiding swearing out loud through a supreme effort.
“I had not expected you to bring every single one of your seamstresses, laundresses and chambermaids with you, Lady Tare,” he said curtly. “Do you think to teach my Axemen needlework about the fires at night?”
“The Lady of Skarabost, her daughter Faraday and I have brought our maids, BattleAxe. We do not travel without our attendants,” Embeth replied firmly.
“Well I hope they can ride, because you’ll have to travel without them if they fall off their cursed horses crossing the first overflowing gutter they come to!” Axis snarled, ignoring Embeth’s gasp at his rough tone. Turning on his heel, Axis disappeared into the throng of men as they mounted and formed up.
Belial shrugged in sympathy at the women, then hurried off to fetch their horses. Embeth turned to the ladies Merlion and Faraday and smiled wryly. “I have heard that his temper improves as the sun rises, my friends. Let us hope that is truly the case!”
“No
Borneheld stood to one side, pleased with the afternoon’s events, but now impatient to get back to his men. In truth, he was not particularly happy that Axis should be the one to provide his future wife with an escort to Arcen, but as there were few men to spare as escort it would be foolish to ignore the service he could provide. Besides, Borneheld grinned to himself, Axis would have several weeks to envy the wife his elder brother had won. Axis would never be able to find a wife so well-bred or with such lands.
Isend stared at his daughter impatiently. “Well?”
Faraday looked between her father and Borneheld, feeling a confused mixture of emotions: relief, that she would not have to endure many more awkward moments with Borneheld in the near future; sadness, that she would not be returning home, and a welter of complex emotions about Axis. She managed to maintain a smile on her face, although she felt that everyone in the room must see how false it was.
“It sounds like the best solution,” she finally said dutifully.
9
LEAVETAKINGS AT DAWN
A xis strode about the courtyard in the predawn darkness, impatient to get moving and irritated beyond measure that he was to be saddled with a group of women. That one of them was the Lady of Tare did not diminish his displeasure one whit.
“Belial!” he shouted, frowning into the milling men and horses in the courtyard, trying to spot his lieutenant. “Belial!”
“Sir.” Belial appeared at his side, a tall, well-built man with deeply set hazel eyes and a thick line of fine sandy hair over his tanned and beardless face. He wore a plain, grey woollen tunic coat over a white shirt and grey leather trousers, the normal uniform of the Axe-Wielders. Belial was some seven or eight years older than Axis, but despite his service, experience and undoubted expertise he had never harboured any ambition to lead the Axe-Wielders. He preferred that someone else have the ultimate responsibility and care, and he served happily under Axis.
“Why isn’t everyone in formation!” Axis snapped. “It’s late!”
Belial took no offence at his BattleAxe’s short temper. He was always tense and irritable before they moved out. “This is the last cohort to form up. The other cohorts are waiting outside in the streets. In line. Packhorses loaded. Supplies accounted for. Geared up, fed, watered, weaponed, and ready to go.”
Axis glared at Belial but there was so little light the effort was wasted. “Then where are these cursed women!” he growled.
“These cursed women are geared up, fed, watered, ah…packed, and ready to go,” a feminine voice said from behind him.
Axis wheeled around. He could just make out Embeth in the dim light, but it was the huddle of female shapes behind her that caught his eye. Artor’s arse! he thought, only avoiding swearing out loud through a supreme effort.
“I had not expected you to bring every single one of your seamstresses, laundresses and chambermaids with you, Lady Tare,” he said curtly. “Do you think to teach my Axemen needlework about the fires at night?”
“The Lady of Skarabost, her daughter Faraday and I have brought our maids, BattleAxe. We do not travel without our attendants,” Embeth replied firmly.
“Well I hope they can ride, because you’ll have to travel without them if they fall off their cursed horses crossing the first overflowing gutter they come to!” Axis snarled, ignoring Embeth’s gasp at his rough tone. Turning on his heel, Axis disappeared into the throng of men as they mounted and formed up.
Belial shrugged in sympathy at the women, then hurried off to fetch their horses. Embeth turned to the ladies Merlion and Faraday and smiled wryly. “I have heard that his temper improves as the sun rises, my friends. Let us hope that is truly the case!”
“No
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