‘That shouldn’t be allowed,’ said Kammel Bard. ‘It should be an offence for clan filth to match with Varlish girls. My father says it pollutes our blood lines. Weaker races should be forbidden to wed outside their own kind.’
‘Your grandmother was Pannone, for heaven’s sake!’ snapped Taybard. ‘Everybody knows it. Does that make you polluted, Kammel?’
‘That’s a stinking lie! You take that back.’
‘That’s not a good thing to say to a friend,’ put in Luss Campion.
The moment was broken by the sound of hoofbeats on the road. The column moved aside as four beetlebacks cantered by. Taybard recognized Sergeant Bindoe in the lead. He slowed his horse as they neared Kaelin Ring and Jaim Grymauch. But he wasn’t looking at them. He was staring at Chara Ward.
‘There’s someone else who doesn’t like to see our Varlish blood tainted,’ said Luss Campion. ‘Uncle Jek knows how to treat the bastards.’
‘I do not like the man,’ said Taybard.
‘Maybe you’d like to tell him he has clan blood,’ snapped Kammel Bard.
Taybard turned to his friend, seeing the hurt on his face. ‘I am sorry, Kammel. Friends should not cause each other pain.’ He held out his hand. Kammel ignored it.
‘Do you take it back?’
Taybard felt his anger rising. ‘I tell you what. Tomorrow you and I will go to the church and look at the records of births. They go back two hundred years. We will find the entry for your grandmother and see what it says. If it says Varlish I will drop to my knees and beg forgiveness.’
‘A pox on you!’ shouted Kammel Bard. ‘You are my friend no longer.’ With that he stalked away.
‘Why did you do that?’ asked Luss Campion.
‘By the Sacrifice, Luss, you know he has Pannone blood. So how stupid is it to talk of taint and pollution? Most of the Old Hills Varlish have some highland links. Everyone knows it. It’s why when we get to the feast the town Varlish will look down their noses at us. It’s why they call us “the Kilts”. Do you feel you are a lesser man for it?’
‘There’s no clan blood in my line,’ said Luss Campion. ‘And I’ll kill anyone who says different. My blood is strong. My blood is Varlish.’
‘Strong blood? These clansmen crossed the sea and sacked Stone hundreds of years ago. They crushed every army that came against them. We defeated them by burning their villages, destroying their crops, butchering their women and children. They are not weak, Luss. They are just conquered.’
‘Which is what makes them weak. The Varlish are unconquered and invincible. However, it is obvious where your loyalties lie. But then, just like poor Kammel, you are also part clan. At least he has the strength to resist the call of his tainted blood, and desires to be Varlish. What is it you desire, Tay? A clan wife and a little home carved from dirt?’
Taybard could think of nothing to say. Thoughts whirled in his mind, but he could find no voice for them. Yes, he was proud of being Varlish, but why did that fact need to be allied with contempt for others? And if the clans are so weak and spineless and lacking in ambition why do we fear them?
Luss Campion walked away from him to join Kammel Bard.
Taybard was irritated with himself for alienating them. He had experienced no difficulty with traditional Varlish values before he had met the Wyrd. He had believed in his people with iron simplicity. His trouble had begun when she told him he was Rigante.
Her words had washed across his soul, and his heart had soared, though he knew not why.
The various entrance channels to the Five Fields were growing busy as the first of the arrivals from Old Hills approached them. Red-cloaked stewards stood at the entrances. The Varlish spectators produced small red discs, stamped with their family tax numbers, and were ushered to the right, while the clanfolk waited patiently to be allowed through to the left.
Kaelin Ring was feeling uncomfortable. Once again Chara Ward had linked arms with him, and showed no desire to separate and follow her Varlish neighbours through. Luss Campion and Kammel Bard had already passed the entrance and Taybard Jaekel was presenting his disc to a steward. A beetleback moved through the throng. Kaelin glanced at him. It was Sergeant Bindoe, his thin, hatchet face wearing a scowl. He approached Chara Ward.