Obrin replaced the cork and looked hard at the handsome forester. ‘I’m not the most intuitive of men, Fell. But I’ve been a sergeant for twelve years and I know when something is eating at a man. What is it? Fear? Apprehension?’
Fell smiled wearily. ‘Is it so obvious then?’
‘It is to me, but your men must not see it. That is one of the secrets of leadership, Fell. Your confidence becomes their confidence. They feed off you, like wolf cubs suckling at the mother’s teats. If you despair, they despair.’
Fell chuckled. ‘I’ve never been compared with a mother wolf before. Pass the jug!’ He took several long swallows. ‘You’re right,’ he said, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. ‘The wine is good. But I don’t fear the Outlanders, Obrin. I am not afraid to die for my people. What gnaws at me is more personal. I shall make sure that my feelings do not show as strongly in the future.’
‘Sigarni,’ said Obrin, lifting the jug.
‘How would you know that?’ asked Fell, surprised.
Obrin grinned. ‘I listen, Fell. That’s another secret of leadership. You were lovers, but now you are not. Don’t let it concern you. You’re a good-looking lad and there are plenty of women who’d love to warm your bed.’
Fell shook his head. ‘That’s not the whole reason for my sadness. You didn’t know her when she was just the huntress. God, man, she was a wonder! Strong and fearless, but more than that she had a love for life and a laugh that was magical. She could make a cold day of drizzle and grey sky suddenly seem beautiful. She was a woman. What is she now? Have you ever seen her laugh? Or even smile at a jest? Sweet Heaven, she’s become a creature of ice, a winter queen.’ Fell drank again, long and deeply.
‘There’s not been a great deal to laugh about,’ observed Obrin, ‘but I hear what you say. I once owned a crystal sphere. There was a rose set inside, as if trapped in ice. I’ve always loved roses, and this was one of the most beautiful blooms, rich and velvet red. It would live for ever. Yet it had no scent, and would not seed.’
‘That is it,’ said Fell. ‘Exactly that! Like the Crown of Alwen – all men can see it, none can touch it.’
Obrin smiled. ‘I’ve often heard Highlanders talk of the lost Crown. Is it a myth?’
Fell shook his head. ‘I saw it when I was ten. It appears once every twenty-five years, at the centre of the pool at Ironhand’s Falls. It’s beautiful, man. It is more a helmet than a crown, and the silver shines like captured moonlight. There are silver wings, flat against the helm like those of a hawk when it dives, and a golden band around the brow inscribed with ancient runes. It has a nasal guard – like an Outland helm- and this is also silver, as are the cheek-guards. I was there with my father. It was the winter before he went down with the plague, my last winter with him. He took me to the Falls and we stood there with the gathered clans. I could not see at first, and he lifted me to his shoulders. A man cursed behind us, but then the Crown appeared. It shimmered for maybe ten, twelve heartbeats. Then it was gone. Man, what a night!’
‘Sounds like a conjuring trick to me,’ said Obrin. ‘I’ve seen magickers make birds of gold that fly high into the air and explode in showers of coloured sparks.’
‘It was no trick,’ said Fell, without a hint of anger. ‘Alwen was Ironhand’s uncle. He had no children, and he hated Ironhand. When he was dying he ordered one of his wizards to hide the Crown where Ironhand would never find it, thus condemning his nephew to a reign fraught with civil war and insurrection. Without it, Ironhand was a King with no credentials. You understand?’
‘It makes no sense to me,’ said Obrin. ‘He had right of blood. Why did he need a piece of metal?’
‘The Crown had magical properties. Only a true King could wear it. It was not made by Alwen’s order, it was far older. Once, when a usurper killed the King and placed the crown on his head, his skin turned black and fire erupted from his eyes. He melted away like snow in the sunshine.’