‘You like her, though?’
‘Of course I like her. She’s a woman to walk the mountains with.’
‘She’s mean with her money, though,’ said Kaelin.
‘Aye, she’s careful. She needs to be. The Varlish don’t like to see any highlander gathering wealth. It makes them uncomfortable.’
‘Why? She pays her tax to the Moidart and the king.’
‘They mock us and tell us we are stupid, but secretly they fear us, Kaelin. Wealth is power. The Varlish have no desire to see powerful highlanders. Now, enough talk. You tell Maev I’ll be needing you at the week’s end. The pass is open and I’ve a hankering to see the ocean.’
Kaelin laughed. ‘Will it just be the two of us?’
‘Of course. Together we’re an army, boy.’
‘And whose cattle will it be? Old Kocha?’
‘I’ve not made up my mind. I like to spread my favours.’ Jaim chuckled. ‘They say the Moidart has brought in a new bull from the Isles. Ten pounds he paid for it.’
‘How much is that in chaillings?’ asked Kaelin.
‘Two hundred.’
‘For a bull?’ Kaelin was amazed that such a sum could have been paid. ‘Are you joking with me, Grymauch?’
‘I never joke about the price of cattle. I’m wondering how much the Finance would pay for it.’
‘How much do you think?’ asked Kaelin.
‘At least enough for my fine,’ answered Jaim Grymauch, with a wide grin.
The ride had not proved quite as uncomfortable as Alterith Shaddler had feared. The wind had died down, the temperature hovering a few degrees above freezing. There was still snow on the high ground, and the wheels of the carriage crunched over icy puddles, but Alterith believed he could finally feel spring in the air.
The carriage slowed as it neared the top of a rise. The driver cracked his whip above the pony’s ears. The little beast lunged forward. Alterith felt a moment of motion sickness and took a deep breath. Then the carriage topped the rise, and the schoolteacher found himself gazing down over the magnificence of the Eldacre valley. The first sight to catch the eye was the mighty castle, rearing like a giant tombstone on a hill above the town.
The ancestral home of the Moidart, Eldacre Castle was a monument to the power and ingenuity of the Varlish race. Alterith’s heart swelled each time he saw it. Walls forty feet high, boasting twenty jutting turrets and four massive gates of seasoned oak, reinforced with iron. Fifteen thousand workers had laboured for seven years to build it. The finest stonemasons and carpenters had been brought in from the south at vast expense. Many of them had stayed on in the valley after the castle was built, including Alterith’s own ancestors, one of whom had been responsible for fashioning the curved rafters of the chapel within the Great Keep.
For three hundred years Eldacre Castle had been an impregnable fortress in times of war, and a mighty symbol of Varlish superiority in times of peace. Just the sight of her massive walls and turrets, fashioned with murder holes and oil vents, was enough to quell any thoughts of rebellion within renegade highland hearts.
The carriage picked up speed as it moved down the hill. Alterith’s motion sickness returned. ‘Slow down, for pity’s sake!’ he yelled.
‘Mustn’t be late, sir,’ answered the driver.
Alterith sat miserably, praying that he would not be sick. Bad enough that his wig had fallen off at the Moidart’s feet. The prospect of arriving before the Moidart in a vomit-stained coat was more than he could bear. The Moidart would, in all probability, dismiss him, and Alterith could ill afford to lose the extra two chaillings a month. Steeling himself, he clung on to the strap on the inside of the carriage door and tried to focus his mind on something other than his heaving stomach. He chose history.
Eldacre. Originally Old Oaks, the centre of government in the ancient kingdom of the Rigante, once ruled by Connavar, Bane, Laguish, Borander and Sepdannet the Leaper. Now a town of some twenty-five thousand souls, with three mines, two of coal, one of gold, five blast furnaces feeding a thriving industry making muskets for the king’s armies, iron rims for wagon wheels, ornate buckles and accoutrements for officers and gentlemen, and swords for the military and for export. It was a prosperous community, a healthy mix of industrial and agricultural, with seventeen churches, a massive cathedral, and an Academy for the Instruction of the Righteous. Alterith himself was a graduate of the academy, having majored in the Terms of the Sacrifice, and the evangelical journeys of St Per sis Albitane.