Gemmell, David – Drenai 06 – The First Chronicles of Druss the Legend

‘Dreaming again, Ro,’ said Mari, moving to sit alongside Rowena. The young woman opened her eyes and smiled at her friend. Mari was short and plump, with honey-coloured hair and a bright, open smile.

‘I was thinking of Druss,’ said Rowena.

Mari nodded and looked away and Rowena could feel her concern. For weeks her friend had tried to dissuade her from marrying Druss, adding her arguments to those of Voren and others.

‘Will Pilan be your partner at the Solstice Dance?’ asked Rowena, changing the subject.

Mari’s mood changed abruptly, and she giggled. ‘Yes. But he doesn’t know yet.’

‘When will he find out?’

‘Tonight.’ Mari lowered her voice, though there was no one else within earshot. ‘We’re meeting in the lower meadow.’

‘Be careful,’ warned Rowena.

‘Is that the advice of the old married woman? Didn’t you and Druss make love before you were wed?’

‘Yes, we did,’ Rowena admitted, ‘but Druss had already made his pledge before the Oak. Pilan hasn’t.’

‘Just words, Ro. I don’t need them. Oh, I know Pilan’s been flirting with Tailia, but she’s not for him. No passion, you see. All she thinks about is wealth. She doesn’t want to stay in the wilderness, she yearns for Drenan. She’ll not want to keep a mountain man warm at night, nor make the beast with two backs in a wet meadow, with the grass tickling her . . .’

‘Mari! You really are too frank,’ admonished Rowena.

Mari giggled and leaned in close. ‘Is Druss a good lover?’

Rowena sighed, all tension and sadness disappearing. ‘Oh, Mari! Why is it that you can talk about forbidden subjects and make them seem so. . .so wonderfully ordinary? You are like the sunshine that follows rain.’

‘They’re not forbidden here, Ro. That’s the trouble with girls born in cities and surrounded by stone walls and marble, and granite. You don’t feel the earth any more. Why did you come here?’

‘You know why,’ said Rowena uneasily. ‘Father wanted a life in the mountains.’

‘I know that’s what you’ve always said – but I never believed it. You’re a terrible liar – your face goes red and you always look away!’

‘I . . . can’t tell you. I made a promise.’

‘Wonderful!’ exclaimed Mari. ‘I love mysteries. Is he a criminal? He was a book-keeper, wasn’t he? Did he steal some rich man’s money?’

‘No! It was nothing to do with him. It was me! Don’t ask me any more. Please?’

‘I thought we were friends,’ said Mari. ‘I thought we could trust one another.’

‘We can. Honestly!’

‘I wouldn’t tell anyone.’

‘I know,’ said Rowena sadly. ‘But it would spoil our friendship.’

‘Nothing could do that. How long have you been here – two seasons? Have we ever fought? Oh, come on, Ro. Where’s the harm? You tell me your secret and I’ll tell you mine.’

‘I know yours already,’ whispered Rowena. ‘You gave yourself to the Drenai captain when he and his men passed through here on patrol in the summer. You took him to the low meadow.’

‘How did you find out?’

‘I didn’t. It was in your mind when you told me you would share a secret with me.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I can see what people are thinking. And I can sometimes tell what is going to happen. That’s my secret.’

‘You have the Gift? I don’t believe it! What am I thinking now?’

‘A white horse with a garland of red flowers.’

‘Oh, Ro! That’s wonderful. Tell my fortune,’ she pleaded, holding out her hand.

‘You won’t tell anyone else?’

‘I promised, didn’t I?’

‘Sometimes it doesn’t work.’

Try anyway,’ urged Mari, thrusting out her plump hand. Rowena reached out, her slender fingers closing on Mari’s palm, but suddenly she shuddered and the colour faded from her face.

‘What is it?’

Rowena began to tremble. ‘I. . . I must find Druss. Can’t. . . talk . . .’ Rising, she stumbled away, the washed clothes forgotten.

‘Ro! Rowena, come back!’

On the hillside above, a rider stared down at the women by the river. Then he turned his horse and rode swiftly towards the north.

*

Bress closed the door of the cabin and moved through to his work room, where from a small box he took a lace glove. It was old and yellowed, and several of the pearls which had once graced the wrist were now missing. It was a small glove and Bress sat at his bench staring down at it, his huge fingers stroking the remaining pearls.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *