‘And I’ll bury him,’ said Kaelin. ‘Now get off my land.’
He watched her walk away then swung to the waiting men. ‘You speak in Keltoi, you talk of conquered lands, and you regard southerners as little more than hounds of the Varlish. And yet beneath it all you are scum, all talk and no honour. Back in Old Hills, when a man takes a wage, he works – and fights – alongside the man who pays him. It is called loyalty where I come from.’
‘You do not pay the wages,’ said Finbarr Ustal. ‘They come from Maev Ring. The man you threatened is Call Jace, the clan leader of the Rigante. I’d fight and die for him willingly – and I’d need no wage for it.’
‘Then go and do it, Finbarr. Pack your things.’
‘I have a wife and three bairns to support,’ said Finbarr, shocked.
‘I’m sure Call Jace will support them for you, you being such a loyal follower.’
Finbarr stood stunned. Senlic Carpenter stepped forward. ‘This must not get out of hand, Kaelin,’ he said. ‘No-one knew you were about to strike Call Jace, and when Bael hit you with the pistol it took us all by surprise. None of us would have allowed any further harm to come to you. You have my word on that. Finbarr is right, though, in one respect. Call Jace is admired throughout the mountains. He holds to the old ways. Even the beetlebacks will not ride into his territory.’
‘What did he want here?’
Senlic looked away, then took a deep breath. ‘He was here for his tribute, sir. Two steers a month. Your aunt agreed to it. Every farmer and merchant pays Call Jace. If they didn’t he would steal the steers anyway.’
Kaelin stood very still. He was angry enough to tell them all to pack their belongings and leave, and to add that if Call Jace stole one cow he would kill him. Yet he didn’t, for he knew it would be foolish. With no-one to run the farm he would be reduced to hiring men he didn’t know. As to the tribute, if Maev had agreed to it then that was all there was to it. He stood silently staring at them, his contempt obvious.
‘Am I dismissed, then?’ asked Finbarr Ustal.
Kaelin’s head had begun to pound. He reached up and felt a lump the size of a sparrow’s egg. The skin was split, though blood was no longer flowing.
‘Pick out two steers for the tribute and deliver them yourself,’ said Kaelin.
‘ Tis a two-day walk to his settlement,’ said Finbarr.
‘Then you’d best take supplies,’ answered Kaelin. ‘You still have a place here, Ustal. But if you cross me again I’ll kill you.’
Senlic Carpenter spoke. ‘Call Jace may want more steers, sir. Because of the . . . embarrassment,’ he concluded lamely.
‘I don’t care what he wants.’ Kaelin swung back to face the silent Finbarr. ‘Tell Call Jace that Maev Ring set the tribute and I will abide by it. Tell him also that – as leader of the clan – he is welcome at my house.’
‘That is all? No . . . apology or … gesture of friendship?’ asked Finbarr.
‘No.’
Kaelin walked towards the house. His legs almost gave way and he staggered, but righted himself. Once inside he sat down in front of the fire. Then he passed out.
He awoke some hours later. Moonlight was filtering through the window and the fire had gone out. His head was thudding like a drum. Rising from the chair he groaned and walked through to the kitchen. There was a pitcher of water on the table and he poured himself a drink. The water made him feel sick. He made it out into the yard before vomiting. Feeling weak and disorientated he struggled up the stairs to the west-facing bedroom and lay on the bed, too weary to remove his clothing.
He felt better by the time the dawn came up, though his head still hurt. Blood had matted his hair and stained the pillow. Moving downstairs he cooked three eggs and ate them with yesterday’s bread, which he fried in beef fat.