“Tis all politics, woman. Peace with the highland Rigante will mean more tax income for the Moidart and the king. It will mean more merchants able to bring their convoys through the mountain passes, and that will bring down the prices. Gold is what the king cares about. Not heads upon spikes. And, as one of his barons, the Moidart will have to do what is good for the king.’
‘You’ll take Grymauch with you,’ insisted Gian.
‘I will not. We are to meet alone, with no weapons. I’ll take Raven.’
Later Maev had come to the hulking fighter as he sat in the doorway of his own hut.
Normally his heart would beat faster as she approached him, his breath catch in his throat. Maev was the most beautiful woman Grymauch had ever seen. He had hoped to find the courage to tell her so, but instead had stood by as she and the handsome young warrior, Calofair, had begun their courtship. Calofair was now in the north, trading with the Black Rigante. When he came back he and Maev would Walk the Tree.
Jaim glanced up as Maev approached. ‘You’ll go anyway,’ she said.
‘Aye, of course I will.’
‘You’ll not let him see you.’
Jaim had laughed. ‘He’s a bonny swordsman and a fine fighter, but he’s a hopeless woodsman. He’ll not see me, Maev.’
Gian came walking across to them. Maev put her arms around the pregnant woman, and kissed her cheek. Jaim Grymauch wondered briefly how it would feel if Maev did the same to him. He reddened at the thought. Gian stretched and pressed her palms into the small of her back. This movement caused her pregnant belly to look enormous. Jaim laughed. ‘Pregnancy suits some women,’ he said. ‘Their skin glows, their hair shines. They make a man think of the wonders of nature. Not you, though.’
‘Aye, she’s ugly now right enough,’ said Maev. ‘But when she’s birthed the rascal she’ll become slim and beautiful again. Whereas you, you great lump, will always be ugly.’ Maev’s smile faded. ‘Why does the Moidart hate Lanovar so?’
Jaim shrugged. The truth clung to him, burning in his heart, but he could not voice it. Lanovar was a fine man, braw and brave. He had many virtues and few vices. Sadly, one of his vices was that he found women irresistible. Before wedding Gian the previous spring Lanovar had been seen several times in Eldacre town. Few knew the woman he had met there, but Jaim Grymauch was one of them. He suspected that the Moidart was another. Rayena Tremain was beautiful. No doubt of it. She was tall and slender, and she moved with an animal grace that set men’s hearts beating wildly. The first affair with Lanovar had been brief, the parting apparently acrimonious.
Rayena had – four months later – wed the Moidart, in a great ceremony in Eldacre Cathedral. Within the year there were rumours that the marriage was foundering.
Lanovar began acting strangely, disappearing for days at a time. Jaim, concerned for his leader and his friend, had secretly followed him one morning. Lanovar travelled to the high hills, to a small, abandoned hunting lodge. After an hour a lone horsewoman rode up. Jaim was astonished to see it was Rayena.
Beside him now Lanovar groaned, the sound jerking Jaim back to the painful present. Lanovar’s face was bathed in sweat, and his breathing was shallow and laboured. ‘I was never . . . frightened … of dying, Grymauch,’ he said.
‘I know that.’
‘I am now. My son is about to be … born and I’ve . . . given him no soul-name.’
In the distance a wolf howled.
CHAPTER ONE
THE THIN CANE SLASHED THROUGH THE AIR. THE FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD youth winced, but uttered no cry. Blood seeped from a split in the skin of his right palm. The tall, bony schoolmaster loomed over the black-haired boy. He was about to speak, but saw the blood on the tip of his bamboo cane. Alterith Shaddler gazed on it with distaste, then laid the bamboo on the shoulder of the lad’s grey shirt. Drawing the cane back and forth he cleaned it, leaving thin crimson streaks on the threadbare garment. ‘There are those,’ said Alterith Shaddler, his voice as cold as the air in the stone schoolroom, ‘who doubt the wisdom of trying to teach the rudiments of civilized behaviour to highland brats. Since knowing you, boy, I am more inclined to count myself among their number.’