and Dath piled wooden trenchers high with meats and warm bread, Dath balancing a jug of gravy under his arm. Suddenly Dath froze.
Standing in front of him was a woman, filling her own trencher, silver hair spilling down her back. It was Brina, the healer.
‘What’s wrong, Dath?’ Corban muttered.
‘Her,’ hissed Dath. Brina had a reputation amongst those that lived around Dun Carreg. ‘She’s a witch.’
Brina must have heard something, for she looked straight at Dath and twisted her mouth at him.
Dath looked as if his eyes were about to burst from his skull. Turning quickly, he crashed into a solid wall of leather and iron, dropping both his plate and the jug over the warrior he collided
with.
The Queen’s brother, Pendathran, loomed over the boys, scowling as gravy dripped down his tunic and onto his boots. With good reason he was often called the Bear.
‘I’m s-sorry,’ stuttered Dath as he attempted to wipe the mess off the warrior, but only succeeded in smearing it around a wider area. Pendathran gripped Dath by the wrist and
growled. For a moment Corban thought his friend might actually collapse from fear, then Pendathran’s scowl cracked and he chuckled.
‘Don’t worry, boy,’ the warrior said. ‘My nephew has wed today, so I will forgive you, even though you
are
a blundering idiot.’
Dath smiled, mostly from relief, then Pendathran glanced over the boy’s shoulder and his good humour vanished, the scowl returning.
‘Pendathran,’ said a slightly built man, shadowed by a broader and taller young lad. Pendathran glowered at him for a moment, then turned and strode away. The slim man watched
Pendathran’s back, shook his head and walked on.
‘Who was that?’ Dath asked Corban as they refilled the spilt trencher and jug.
‘You don’t know? That was Anwarth and his son, Farrell. Rumour says that Anwarth’s a coward, that he played dead when Queen Alona and Pendathran’s brother, Rhagor, was
killed by brigands in the Darkwood.’
‘I thought the counsellor Evnis was blamed for that.’
‘By Alona he was, but King Brenin wouldn’t punish Evnis or Anwarth. Said he didn’t have the evidence.’
Dath puffed his cheeks out. ‘Lot of bad blood, there, then.’
‘Aye.’
Dath nodded. ‘So how did Farrell get so big? His da’s so small.’
‘Have you seen his mother? She’s a big lady. And he’s the same age as us – a bit younger, even. He is
sensitive
, though, or so I’ve heard. About his
da’s reputation.’
‘What do you mean?’ Dath said.
‘He hits people that mention it.’
‘Oh. Remind me not to bring the subject up in earshot of him then. He looks as if he could be as big as your da soon.’
Corban chuckled. ‘His mam must feed him well.’
‘I wish I lived in the fortress,’ said Dath, ‘you get to hear all the exciting stuff.’
‘Oh, I don’t know, there’s plenty to get excited about living in the village. All those different types of fish that you get to find out about.’
Dath kicked his friend in the shins.
They found Gwenith and Thannon sitting on a cloak, picking at half-empty trenchers, sharing a jug of mead. Cywen was there as well, but Corban looked past her as he sat down.
‘I found your cloak, Ban,’ she said, passing it to him. Cywen had stitched it as she had promised. Relief was quickly replaced by annoyance, though; he did not want to feel indebted
to her after what she had done.
‘Thank you,’ he managed.
‘Where’s your da?’ Corban asked Dath.
His friend pulled a sour face. ‘I’m not sure where he is, now . . .’
Corban knew what that meant. Dath didn’t
want
to know where his da was. He had taken the loss of his wife hard, had turned to drinking earlier and earlier.
‘Come, eat with us,’ said Gwenith, patting the ground beside her.
Dath smiled gratefully.
It was dark now, many small fires lit all across the meadow. As he looked around, Corban spotted Brenin and Alona, laughing with Marrock and
Standing in front of him was a woman, filling her own trencher, silver hair spilling down her back. It was Brina, the healer.
‘What’s wrong, Dath?’ Corban muttered.
‘Her,’ hissed Dath. Brina had a reputation amongst those that lived around Dun Carreg. ‘She’s a witch.’
Brina must have heard something, for she looked straight at Dath and twisted her mouth at him.
Dath looked as if his eyes were about to burst from his skull. Turning quickly, he crashed into a solid wall of leather and iron, dropping both his plate and the jug over the warrior he collided
with.
The Queen’s brother, Pendathran, loomed over the boys, scowling as gravy dripped down his tunic and onto his boots. With good reason he was often called the Bear.
‘I’m s-sorry,’ stuttered Dath as he attempted to wipe the mess off the warrior, but only succeeded in smearing it around a wider area. Pendathran gripped Dath by the wrist and
growled. For a moment Corban thought his friend might actually collapse from fear, then Pendathran’s scowl cracked and he chuckled.
‘Don’t worry, boy,’ the warrior said. ‘My nephew has wed today, so I will forgive you, even though you
are
a blundering idiot.’
Dath smiled, mostly from relief, then Pendathran glanced over the boy’s shoulder and his good humour vanished, the scowl returning.
‘Pendathran,’ said a slightly built man, shadowed by a broader and taller young lad. Pendathran glowered at him for a moment, then turned and strode away. The slim man watched
Pendathran’s back, shook his head and walked on.
‘Who was that?’ Dath asked Corban as they refilled the spilt trencher and jug.
‘You don’t know? That was Anwarth and his son, Farrell. Rumour says that Anwarth’s a coward, that he played dead when Queen Alona and Pendathran’s brother, Rhagor, was
killed by brigands in the Darkwood.’
‘I thought the counsellor Evnis was blamed for that.’
‘By Alona he was, but King Brenin wouldn’t punish Evnis or Anwarth. Said he didn’t have the evidence.’
Dath puffed his cheeks out. ‘Lot of bad blood, there, then.’
‘Aye.’
Dath nodded. ‘So how did Farrell get so big? His da’s so small.’
‘Have you seen his mother? She’s a big lady. And he’s the same age as us – a bit younger, even. He is
sensitive
, though, or so I’ve heard. About his
da’s reputation.’
‘What do you mean?’ Dath said.
‘He hits people that mention it.’
‘Oh. Remind me not to bring the subject up in earshot of him then. He looks as if he could be as big as your da soon.’
Corban chuckled. ‘His mam must feed him well.’
‘I wish I lived in the fortress,’ said Dath, ‘you get to hear all the exciting stuff.’
‘Oh, I don’t know, there’s plenty to get excited about living in the village. All those different types of fish that you get to find out about.’
Dath kicked his friend in the shins.
They found Gwenith and Thannon sitting on a cloak, picking at half-empty trenchers, sharing a jug of mead. Cywen was there as well, but Corban looked past her as he sat down.
‘I found your cloak, Ban,’ she said, passing it to him. Cywen had stitched it as she had promised. Relief was quickly replaced by annoyance, though; he did not want to feel indebted
to her after what she had done.
‘Thank you,’ he managed.
‘Where’s your da?’ Corban asked Dath.
His friend pulled a sour face. ‘I’m not sure where he is, now . . .’
Corban knew what that meant. Dath didn’t
want
to know where his da was. He had taken the loss of his wife hard, had turned to drinking earlier and earlier.
‘Come, eat with us,’ said Gwenith, patting the ground beside her.
Dath smiled gratefully.
It was dark now, many small fires lit all across the meadow. As he looked around, Corban spotted Brenin and Alona, laughing with Marrock and
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