The Journeys Home: Dragons Run My Life, #3

By tony lavely

Jenoele rides with Tanial, her Regent, and a few trusted friends to Rendekebing and the Lindebalgh palace. With King Esben, her Da, likely dead, she and Tanial will take the throne and control of Lindebalgh, and await their sister Miri, ready for a dual coronation party.

 

Miri and Rhion intend a peaceful, boring thir'dar trip from Sianel Dnias to Rendekebing. That part of their plan succeeds better than Jenoele's.

 

Tanial looks forward to Jenoele's coronation eagerly; on its conclusion, she aims to mount her horse alongside her love and make for her family.

 

Three others trail them north planning a different celebration, one involving death.

 

The Journeys Home is the third of the Dragons Run My Life series, following The Faux Princess and Amerith - The Warden's Tale and The True Princess.

• Language: English
• Publisher: tony lavely
• Release date: Aug 5, 2020
• ISBN: 9781386054757

Book preview

Book Three

Dragons Run My Life

The Journeys Home

By

Tony Lavely

Cover Image: Warrior Queen Boudica, © 2013, Howard David Johnson

Copyright © 2020 by Tony Lavely

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Edition 200805.3

All rights reserved.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-tailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Tony Lavely.

Map - Territory Two Detail

Description

Jenoele rides with Tanial, her Regent, and a few trusted friends to Rendekebing and the Lindebalgh palace. With King Esben, her Da, likely dead, she and Tanial will take the throne and control of Lindebalgh, and await their sister Miri, ready for a dual coronation party.

Miri and Rhion intend a peaceful, boring thir’dar trip from Sianel Dnias to Rendekebing. That part of their plan succeeds better than Jenoele’s.

Tanial looks forward to Jenoele’s coronation eagerly; on its conclusion, she aims to mount her horse alongside her love and make for her family.

Three others trail them north planning a different celebration.

The Journeys Home is the third of the Dragons Run My Life series, following The Faux Princess and Amerith - The Warden’s Tale and The True Princess.

Aberystrad

29 Jasel - 4 Naliae, 550

1: In the Tårn

29 Jasel

JENOELE, THE YOUNG GIRL King of Lindebalgh, heard voices from the courtyard, one at least male and angry. Ah. The other, male and… conciliatory? Nay. Appeasing, that was the tone. O’course! Carwyn! And his da, Lord Pryderi.

She’d not seen much of Carwyn. At the wedding and then at dinner afore that when Tanial hurried him out of the room and into the kitchens. She didn't recall even speaking with him, but if he is Mallt’s twin brother, surely… surely he is as well-suited as she?

The words became clearer, and Jenoele stopped, not so much to eavesdrop as to allow Mallt to catch her up and give her guidance. Or mayhap, race into the dispute. She hoped Mallt wouldn't; Carwyn was holding his own. Or not yielding, though that’s not the same thing.

Someone bumped her, then grabbed her shoulders. Mallt peered over her shoulder. Apologies. I was too⁠—

The voice that must have been Mallt and Carwyn’s Da rose over all. "I do not understand why… why both my children have been hoodwinked by these… these… In the pause, Jenoele wondered just what term he might use for her and her sisters. … these… He seemed stuck. … charlatans! Or dissemblers! They are pleasantly configured women, that is true, but their form should not attract Mallt."

Jenoele snapped her head around at Mallt’s gasp in her ear, then grabbed her waist and held on. Nay, nay, nay! ’Twill do no good for you to burst in just now. I’m certain of this.

"I suppose you, Pryderi continued, might find one or even both of them amusing to bed, once or several times, but⁠—"

"But what, Da!" Carwyn’s voice slipped from the placating tones he’d used just a moment earlier. Jenoele looked around; she feared to need help to keep Mallt from inserting herself in her family’s problems. She grasped Mallt’s waist even tighter, then waved at Liam and Tanial, approaching from the Tårn. They hurried toward them.

Surely you do not believe either of them finds you suitable? the Lord asked, but his tone was bitter.

Jenoele staggered just as Liam arrived.

Tanial murmured, Best we keep them both back a moment.

Liam must have agreed; his arms encircled both Jenoele’s waist and Mallt’s.

Suitable for what, Da? You think me unable to bed a comely girl? My upbringing is unworthy of Lindebalgh princesses? You do not consider that I might join them to aid my sister!

Carwyn! Arawn! Lady Meinwyn approaches; she is not well-pleased.

Jenoele relaxed in Liam’s hold; he relaxed, too. Keep a good hold, Gapten, til the Lady speaks. I enjoy it, I must admit; I shall pay penance to Tanial in due course. He chuckled in her ear; she shivered to feel it.

Lady Meinwyn had carried on. "What is the matter with you! ’Tis not enough you drive our daughter from our house? You would embarrass, nay, denigrate our son as well! You know King Jenoele is just there, with her elder sister! You cast aspersions on Carwyn as well as them… I suggest, my Lord Husband, that before I seek to join both Mallt and Carwyn in King Jenoele’s company… Jenoele gasped. … you stand down, apologize to Carwyn, then go inside and hope King Jenoele does not choose to have your head struck off! Forsooth, I fear Rhion would not stop her did he hear what I did!"

Jenoele shivered again, but this was not due to Liam. She heard mutterings, too soft to understand, then footfalls which faded away.

The next shivering was Liam’s fault. He whispered in her ear loud enough for both Mallt and Tanial to hear, I recommend, Highness, your next statement be the equal of I find your offer pleasing but you will better serve your King by remaining here.

She nodded, twisted against his hand, and said, I agree, Gapten Liam. Gramercy. She pulled Mallt’s ear close. Are you settled? Can we approach them?

Aye, Highness. Gramercy.

Liam released them both; Jenoele took Mallt’s hand in her right, and Tanial’s in her left, and strode toward the courtyard.

She pushed through the opening in the hedge and scanned the open courtyard. Meinwyn and Carwyn were standing three paces from the hedge, just out of the line of the path. Carwyn already showed color; Jenoele was surprised to see it deepen as he saw her. He dropped to a knee and bowed his head. Jenoele stutter-stepped, unready for his obeisance. She glanced around; everyone had focused on her.

She took one more step, then reached for Carwyn’s hand. She raised him, unwilling at first, but when she took another step and kissed his cheek, he became eager.

I do not expect, Jenoele said, "that I shall be ready for any in my bed anon; were I, you would be worthy. I do not speak for my sister, but hope she may afford you a position in her troop. She raised his face and kissed him again, then turned to Meinwyn. Lady, as you suggested, we could not fail to hear words spoken in anger. As we shall hope others may do when we speak so, we allowed them to wash past us, disregarded. We appreciate your offer; ’tis pleasing to us. Still, we are better served as you aid your King. We hope this is meet."

I find it so, King. Mayhap our paths will cross again… When Wyn’s senses return to him.

Jenoele glanced at the boy, who was somewhat dazed. She found his hand still in hers; she gave a little tug. As he snapped conscious, she said. "If Tanial does not speak quick, I will take you to my troop. She felt a hand on her arm; it was attached to Mallt. If my Chancellor and Viceroy agree…"

Mallt’s whole being shown with joy.

She need not speak. Sister-mine, Regent, may I make the offer to master Carwyn?

For a certainty, sister-mine, subject only to assigning him to Liam for training.

Will you join with the King of Lindebalgh, Master Carwyn?

He dropped to his knee again. I will, Your Highness! I pledge my sword and myself to you first, and then to your sisters and mine. He drew his short sword and held it to her.

She took it, drew him up and returned the weapon. You are one of us. Well met, Gapten Pryderi.

Your Highness, Liam said, if I may suggest… Jenoele nodded. Gapten Pryderi should first be Gapten-iau, til his training is further advanced. ’Twill cause him, and thus you, less difficulty with the others of your Guard and military.

The difference is?

The Gapten-iau rank is junior, signifying the beginning of his training.

Hmm. What difficulties do you envision?

Liam colored. What⁠— Your Highness⁠—

"A further Pronouncement: All in our present company shall address me as Jenoele. I’ll not strike any heads off for a violation, but I will not be pleased. Continue, Liam, if you will."

Tis not a certainty, but on our arrival in Rendekebing, should Gapten Pryderi be a Gapten or Huwch-Gapten, the Guard and the military… and your court, will assume with no other evidence that he shares your bed; that he is your consort. If that’s what you wish… that is meet. If ’tis not, he would be better at the lower rank.

She smirked at him. Forsooth, Liam, they will see both Carwyn and Aedan in that role anyway, will they not? Mayhap you and Jens, too. They may even wonder on Mallt.

He tipped his head. Truly. Do you wish to encourage them?

I invite who I wish to my bed for warming. I thought to share with Mallt, you and Tain for the nonce; Carwyn is welcome if such will not embarrass Mallt. She looked again at her hand, still gripping Carwyn’s. ’Twould be an improvement were I not clutching his hand like a babe, she said with a laugh. She allowed him to raise her hand to his lips and lightly touch it. She retrieved it with a gramercy and a grin.

Jenoele… Carwyn’s voice was hesitant; she instantly thought of the Warden speaking to Macsen in the Great Hall balcony. … I⁠—

Gapten Carwyn, Jenoele said, do not fear to speak. Warden!

The woman stood back a pace or two, observing.

Aye, Highness?

Jenoele fumed, explained she wished none of the company address her so, then said, My Gapten Pryderi here requires boosting, much as kriger Macsen did, if you recall?

The Warden tipped her head as she approached. ’Tis not exactly the same, I trust.

Jenoele frowned, then shook her head. Nay, not exactly, o’course.

The Warden smiled before scowling; she gripped the front of Carwyn’s shirt to pull him into her face. I do not know the King’s role for you, Gapten, but stand tall is the first order. You can follow directions; I watched as you protected us during the wedding. Now, stand tall before King Jenoele, bow as you were taught, and say gramercy. Then, speak your piece with no whining or regrets. She does not choose you because you’re weak.

Aye, Carwyn said. Gramercy, Lady Warden. He shifted to face Jenoele, then bowed. Jenoele, he began, and she thrilled at the firmness in it, while I would be honored to be considered your consort… I request that we follow the Huwch-Gapten’s suggestion. Allow me to earn the higher rank as I shall.

She nodded, then said to Mallt, Mark Carwyn’s appointment as Gapten-iau… Is that correct, Liam? He nodded and she went on, As of this ’dar. For the nonce, you shall report to Liam for training whenever the opportunity presents, and to me or in my absence, Mallt or the Regent, for such other duties as we may require.

As you command.

Lady Meinwyn, Tanial said, we wish you well. The King and Queen stay with you and your Lords and Ladies for two or three ’dars; wine and dine them as will make the best impression. None of us hold any rancor for you or the Lord of the Slot; we hope the same from you.

The Lady dropped the smallest of curtseys, and Tanial nodded in return.

Jenoele chose not to do more than dip her head, but she did that with a smile. When she turned, the horses were ready.

Tanial grinned at the young King. She’s doing as well as we hoped, though having both Mallt and Carwyn… I shall be interested to see how that plays out.

Clasping Liam’s arm, she noticed Jenoele and Carwyn speaking with Meinwyn, though Carwyn looked to be listening to the others. With a smile, she said to herself, "You’ll have much more of that, Wyn."

She pulled Liam gently toward the horses, most of them standing patiently, a couple, prancing, ready to be off.

We should have ten here; where are the others?

He shrugged as if to say ’tis not my duty, but as he did, they heard squealing and laughter. He stopped and tipped his head. As you wish.

Through the gap in the hedge, Gwawr and Esyllt raced into the courtyard. Behind them, at a more placid pace, came a young woman, followed by Vibeke and Teare, holding hands. Grinning like it was all their doing, Guard Catrin and Bitte trailed them.

Tanial knelt to catch the two girls as they ran into her. Who do you run from? With a huge smile, she looked up at the girl trying to herd them in.

’Tis Siân! they screamed together.

Aye. Meinwyn joined her, apparently finished with her discussions with Jenoele. I wonder where Carwyn has gone, now. Siân shall be their governess; I take full responsibility for her and the girls til you are prepared⁠—

I recall now, Tanial said. Well met, Siân.

The woman smiled, then reached to clasp wrists with Tanial. Well met, Princess Regent. ’Twill be my pleasure to train these two as they need.

Gramercy! Tanial pulled both girls into a hug. Miss you I shall! Be you safe and listen to Siân! She kissed them both on the nose, then stood.

Metha and Jens rode their horses to join the others; Miri and Rhion now stood with the Lady Meinwyn. The half after seven bell rang before the farewells were done. Tanial mounted neither first nor last; she wiped her eyes as she followed Liam and the Warden out of the city.

Tanial found the ride up the side of the mountains no more interesting than the ride down had been. Although she could pay closer attention to Liam, still, neither could get very distracted for fear of pushing their horses off the trail and down to… well, she considered the drop into large rocks and larger trees. We would mayhap live, but oh! the pain.

They’d worried about the border crossing, but in the doing, no questions were asked of any of them once their packs and bags were lightly rifled through.

Back home, once more! Jenoele enthused as they began the trek downhill into Lindebalgh.

Gareth Wilovir stood in the line of minor Lords and Ladies waiting to greet King Rhion and his new Queen, Miriajona. He gave thought to bringing Pryderi’s Lord Chamberlain’s attention to his position, Prince to the King and half-brother to Lady Meinwyn, hoping to move to the head of the line, but decided not.

Several winters had passed since he’d last seen Meinwyn; he hadn't been able to attend the pyre for his brother, Glyn, killed in the King’s service while escorting the Queen-to-be to meet Rhion. Meinwyn had dispatched a messenger to inform him of the King and Queen’s visit; he’d made the arrangements and, now, here he was.

In line behind Pryderi’s vassals and tenants, he laughed at himself. Why should I e’en worry on my place in line? Forsooth, the King cares nothing for me nor for my coca plantation. He might think on the taxes I pay, though. Pfaugh!

A tug on his arm brought his dagger almost clear of its sheath before he recognized Meinwyn. She saw the motion, and she smacked him hard before pulling him into a welcoming embrace.

You’ve cost me my place in the line, sister. I shall ha’e to start again, back at the vintner’s shop.

Nay, you shall not. She gripped his arm and tugged gently. Come with me. We have missed you, and I ken you grieved as we did when… when Glyn’s pyre was lit.

Mayhap not, he replied carefully, since I could not return for it. I think on him most ’dars, though, wishing for his good advise. He loosened her grip on his arm. ’Tis part of my reason for finding my way here this eve. I wish to see and meet this Queen who caused… Nay… He warded off her protest. … I do not mean to impute Glyn’s murder to the Queen, but he was escorting her. Is she worth his death?

She turned him from the main hallway down a servant’s run to the buttery, where he stopped short, agog as she poured a cup and handed it to him.

Surely ’tis not your duty to serve⁠—

You ken ’tis not, save for you and for my Lord Husband. The look accompanying her words gave him pause; he took a long sip. Miriajona slept as the murderer took Glyn’s life. As did Saitanne. The murderer has not yet been rooted out, but you may as correctly blame Rhion for Glyn’s death as Miri. Finish that. If you need one more to allow your usual good nature to show, I shall pour.

Nay, dear sister. Gramercy. I shall not bring dishonor on you or on Arawn. And I shall treat the Queen with the respect she deserves.

I am glad to hear it. You shall be seated aside her through dinner.

Again, he stopped short. Wynnie, whate’er is on your mind?

What? She walked off.

He caught her up. This all leads to something, And I have been away too long to guess what ’tis. I pray you, give me a clew, at least.

She took his hand and grinned at him; it brought back memories of adventures the two of them and Glyn had had long years ago. "Now, I am worried," he said with a half-hearted laugh.

Do not worry. She led him into the courtyard. I shall take you to the King and Queen in a moment. You will see… The King seems suited to his work, but he has barely twenty-five winters. His Queen is a little bit of a girl, seven winters younger than he. Truly, she is so tiny, I have advised her to continue with the potion to… Rhion does not need a dead Queen in quest of an heir. That has nothing to do with you.

Gramercy. I canna express my relief!

Don't be silly. Except for his guards, and hers, they are the oldest in their retinue. They need a calming influence. Someone to point to risks and guide thoughts.

I beg your pardon for my dull mind. Surely Arawn is better suited⁠—

Nay. Mallt pledged herself to the Princesses of Lindebalgh afore the wedding, as a matter of honor. Arawn… he did not take it well. Then Carwyn accepted Princess Jenoele’s request to join her… her guard.

Jenoele? Three of them?

Aye. So Arawn is not disposed to help, since Rhion prevented neither of them going.

You did not either, I ween.

Forsooth. ’Twas not my place. She looked around as the bell sounded the twelve hour. "We shall go to the hall. Jenoele and Saitanne travel to Rendekebing. Miri, with Rhion, will stop here a ’dar or two, then follow. Your advice would be invaluable to them.

I must be honest. Not one of his advisors in Traenthe has ever moved outside the city. Surely none have arrived from Bryn Hafoddewi, like you. You may keep him from dangerous errors.

More likely I am to have my head struck off. I recall Ithel, King Rhion.

"That is why you sit by the Queen. For ones so young, they hold many secrets, none of which you need worry on, instantly at least. Convince her you can help both of them… I hope you agree that you can help them?"

I shall consider that question as I fathom her wit and intellect.

"Aye. Keep your hands from fathoming her; I ween the King would have your head for it… except that she would gut you afore he could stand. His mouth fell open. She smiled again, but he didn't care so much for this one. She carries two blades that I know of, and has well learned their use."

While stunned by his sister’s words and ideas, Gareth followed her into the Great Hall. The grandeur of the scene made little impression; the trip to the table set on the raised dais captured his attention.

No, the walk was ordinary, mundane. The goal, the end, that was nonpareil.

Before he made an ass of himself, he stopped those thoughts. She is not only mated, she’s the Queen. My Queen! Regole doesn't take kindly to bedding another’s mate, even if she isn't the Queen. Think, man!

Time ran out; Meinwyn spoke his name in introduction. Queen Miriajona, King Rhion, I pray you welcome my brother, Prince Gareth Wilovir.

He went to his knee. Highnesses, ’tis an honor.

Nay, Miri said. Rise, if you will. ’Tis our honor to meet you and convey our sympathy on Prince Wilovir’s death. Forsooth, my sister and I have naught but good words to say about our brief time with him.

Gramercy, Highness. I pray you, use my name, Gareth. Few ken me as a prince.

You are family, Gareth. It shall be as you wish. Rhion hugged Miri. "We pray you use our names similarly."

Miri for me, and Rhion or Tomi for him.

Aye. Shall we be seated? The rest of the table, nay, the entire room awaited the King and Queen’s taking their places.

Gareth smiled to himself as he took his chair beside Miri. ’Tis as Wynnie said. Young and unaccustomed to subtlety. I can help them. Do I wish to? And both of them are damnably attractive!

You have chosen a lovely gown for the eve, High⁠— Miri, I beg pardon.

Gramercy. Lady Meinwyn’s Seamstress Mistress should revel in your words. She spent the whole of last night completing it, despite my direction to take her rest. Miri glanced down at herself. I fear my tits are largely visible, especially from your vantage.

His face warmed more than a large gulp of the wine could account for. I beg pardon. I did not mean⁠—

She smacked his hand gently and returned a grin to his blush. We both ken you looked… and continue to. ’Twas not so long ago, as a Princess of Lindebalgh, I appeared bare always. She frowned, a stern expression. You may touch me with your gaze as you wish. I shall be affronted most seriously were you to touch me otherwise, save with my permission. As I now give it, for I would dance to this. She tipped her head toward the court musicians, playing a waltz.

I would hold you with great pleasure, Miri, but, bumpkin that I am, from the mountains, I can but listen and bewail my inability⁠—

Again, you are silly. Tomi, I will dance this with Gareth.

May I have the one following?

She stood and curtseyed to him as she replied, You hardly need ask, love. With Gareth’s hand in hers, she pulled him up and led him a pace or two from the table. During the break between courses, she taught him the basic steps, which he enjoyed.

When they returned to their chairs, he said completely truthfully, I only regret I shall not have the opportunity to do this… dance, you called it? Again.

We shall see.

I am curious, he said as servers laid the next course, a stuffed goose, Wynnie said you carried two blades that she knew of…

Miri tittered under her breath, then said, Wynnie? Oh! Lady Meinwyn?

Aye. I pray you, do not speak to her of my… indiscretion.

She patted his hand. Truly, I shall not. She ruffled the fabric of her skirt. Even during our dancing, you did not notice?

My thoughts mayhap were elsewhere.

The smirk looks good on her… and is well-deserved, I fear. But she does not wear daggers at her hip, or agin her back.

I agree and am thankful ’tis so. She parted the halves of the skirt to show… She wears breeches! And boots. She opened the flaps over the knives sheathed on the inside of her thighs, and slid one out for his inspection.

Very nice. Gramercy.

She returned the blade and arranged her skirts as they were. When they were again smooth, he asked, Does the Seamstress Mistress ken you don breeches under her gown?

Nay, which made the waist a bit tighter than she intended. I hope it does not ruin the line.

Believe me, Highness, with you inside it, nothing could ruin the line.

You tease, good sir.

Nay, not for a moment!

Rhion leaned over Miri’s shoulder. Be easy, Gareth, she affects all of us so, I fear. When I become old and infirm, I suspect she will ha’e no shortage of suitors.

"That shall not be to’dar." Gareth attempted to put an end to this line of thought.

Miri helped. Lady Meinwyn tells us you have a castle in Bryn Hafoddewi, I ween she said. If you will not think too poorly of me… I ken nothing of that place. Can you speak of it?

With his dagger he sliced a portion of the goose to split between them while he considered what to tell her. We are in the mountains, an otto’dar and a half travel from here. The border with Lindebalgh is close by, within a ’dar’s ride. Need I say Kings from either land are only thought of when the tax collector arrives? A visit, and you both might see a place far different than Traenthe. He continued, describing the trees, the high meadows and the mountain lakes and peaks⁠—Those are not close; we are below the tree line.⁠—and the hearty people who settled there. I grow coca almost exclusively, since the market remains excellent. My tenants supply my other needs, for a fair price.

I wish for you to meet my sister, Saitanne, who can speak with you on these topics. Myself, I listen and learn, if you will.

Once the sweet had been served, Rhion swapped seats; Gareth joined him in talking family matters. They finished as that course was cleared, and Miri returned.

I pray you, Miri said, speak on about your home.

Except for pauses when Rhion had a dance with her, and one with Lord Pryderi, she listened to his mutterings about the mountains and the life he led there… alone, since the death of his brother.

Neither of you found mates, then?

Nay. Few enough girls to keep the… how do you call⁠—

The servants? The vassals? The denizens who… who make the kingdom function? As opposed to our elevated selves, the royalty and the Lords and Ladies? For the sake of this discussion, let us say common people for those the King has not granted status to.

I sense… no matter.

You sense my displeasure, Gareth? And so you should. Forsooth, I do not ken the way forward, but I hope with Tomi to bring all to an equal level. She sighed. "That is not our concern now, and it may never be your concern. I ween you bemoan the lack of high-born girls in your… paradise. O’course you bed the farmers’ daughters."

O’course, be they willing. But… how does the Queen ken these things?

She laughed aloud. Even at nigh nineteen winters, the Queen kens many things her Da and her Kammerdame mayhap wish she did not. Her face grew somber. "Some, she wishes she did not."

He touched her hand, and she brightened. Enough. I hope… Tomi, have you and Lord Pryderi agreed our plan and Carwyn’s fate?

In large part. We shall give the Lord a second banquet on the morrow, departing the morn following. The two girls stay here with their governess. I told them you would speak with them anon. Carwyn shall follow Jenoele and us north, delaying until Ēostre.

When?

The ’dar after the feast. The eighteenth of Naliae.

Gramercy. I shall see the girls on the morn. She turned to Gareth. "We shall see you on the morrow, then."

2: Near Traenthe

4 Naliae

TWO QUEENS VICTORIOUS!

Doona and Carree’s cry brought a smile to the old man’s lips, but Doona decided, since he didn't laugh aloud, she’d not have to kill him yet. Still, she felt certain Ddieithryn Tywyll needed to die a quiet death. She doubted he’d be much missed.

When shall you depart then, mistress?

’Tis early yet, Donna said. We might⁠—

We might first ask, Lord Tywyll, if there be any advantage to us lying about this fine city… Carree waved her hand about to take in the trees and brush. … since ya have spent many otto’dars here? Mayhap ya ken sights and such ’twould be ta our advantage ta see?

He tipped his head, then flicked a glance at the man who’d led the girls to him. Nay, I think not. You’ve seen the Ewe; with the King and Queen away, ’tis the most entertaining sight in Traenthe.

Who has tha King appointed Regent, then? Doona asked. And might we gain access to the palace whilst the King is na in residence?

A triumvirate sits in his place: The Lord Chamberlain, the Minister of whatever Rhion wishes Eifion Neirin and the King’s… I’m not sure what her relationship is, though she styles herself Princess Mared Vinter.

Umm. Could we pit one agin tha other, ta our advantage?

I have not tried such a stratagem, Miss Doona. Neirin, I ween, would deflect any attempt to divide the other two. He was with us earlier, but now… he seems to have turned.

How do ya mean, turned?

He met with McSimeen, and not I. Once McSimeen died, he’s been at the bitches’ beck and call. I ween he’s decided the coin comes from the King and the⁠—

Tha bitches! Carree finished vehemently.

Aye, the bitches.

An ya don’t believe we could get in an do fa him.

Nay. Or better said: ’tis not worth the risk. Better we should keep our goal afore us.

Could one or some a tha regents be… eliminated? Doona asked.

He dropped to sit, placing his mug beside him on the trestle. At some length, aye. But, Miss Doona, that’s not keeping our eye on the mark. I mark that an addition to the job, and further fees, as ’twill not put either of you on the throne.

Three added fees.

Aye.

Nay, Doona said. We ride north, as we planned. If yar man leads us directly back ta tha Ewe, we shall be outta yar hair.

The ride back was easy, now the star had risen. It was also quiet, as Doona would not reveal her plans where Tywyll’s man could hear. Time enough after we depart the Ewe.

Once they’d ridden north from Traenthe for a couple hours, Doona called both Carree and Fynn to ride by her. ’Tis time fa us ta be rid of Tywyll, she said to Fynn. I do na care about his men, ’less ya view them a threat, but go ya and finish him.

Ya do na think he can make good on his job?

Aye, but I reckon he’ll be as quick ta finish us when either tha King’s family or tha Queen’s decide they wish revenge on us.

’Tis true, milady, Fynn said. He owes allegiance ta he or she wi the coin, and them only.

And we do na have tha coin ta interest him once his job is done. She faced Fynn. Go now, and follow when ’tis done.

He spun his horse and rode back south.

Carree gave her a hard look. Forsooth, ya ween this is best?

Aye. At best, they kill each other. At worst, one dies; the other lives. We be at risk from either, I ween.

And Cadfael, too, then?

Aye.

Carree nodded and moved back to trail the others.

The weather warmed as they rode north. Camping off the road was no more pleasant than it had been, but Doona didn't find it much worse, either.

Make ready to leave, Tywyll said to his men after a long look at the star, dropping behind the low hills inland. On the morrow at first light, we shall move out.

Which way, Lord?

Not west is all I can say.

The men’s looks were disbelieving; he wondered for a second just why that should be. Never had he tried to surprise them. When he said na west, he meant either north or south, since east was all water. ’Twas the way the roads ran. He shrugged and poured a mug of the caffe.

Before the mug had cooled, he heard a rustle in the bushes to the south of his camp. He set the mug down and stood, loosening his baselard and making sure the others were preparing. Wait til we see who ’tis, he muttered, loud enough for them and not loud enough for the invaders.

In a moment, the man who’d led Doona and Carree to the camp pushed Fynn through and tripped him to fall before Tywyll. He’s sneakin’ about, milord, and seems entirely untrustworthy. He threw two knives and a short sword down next to Tywyll.

After a glance at the weapons, Tywyll nodded. Aye, that he is. Did you blood him?

Nay; naught but a scratch. mayhap two. He kicked Fynn. Sit up afore tha lord.

’Tis fine, Tywyll said. Fetch a plaster afore he bleeds o’er us all. He reached down to catch Fynn’s arm. Well met. ’Tis Fynn, eh? From Liege Clague?

Fynn pushed himself up and sat. Blood flowed slowly from wounds on his chest and right arm, and left thigh. Aye.

And your purpose… ‘sneakin’ about my camp? Tywyll drew his baselard and touched Fynn’s neck. Fynn glanced around but made no other move. Aye, my boys have two crossbows armed and they both point at you. Best you take care with your answer. The two men glared at each other, but Tywyll broke the silence. ’Tis that slip of a girl… what’s her name? Doona? Aye. She thought you could save her da paying me, did she?

She dinna say.

Hmm. What did she say that brought you here?

After another silent contest, Tywyll flicked his hand toward his men; a quarrel hit Fynn in the butt. Hardly a life-threatening injury, it scored his flesh without piercing. The leather breeches would require more repair. I asked you a question, Fynn.

Ya were a bother ta her. I’s ta fix it.

Tywyll laughed, a full belly laugh that had him wiping his eyes. Aye, he finally said. Were you more adept in the brush, you might have done. He turned and walked toward the fire. From across the pot where the caffe still thickened, he said, What am I to do with you, Fynn? He waved the man who’d found Fynn to him. While the boys have him under their eye, use the plasters on him. And some of the spirits. We do not wish him to die just yet, I ween.

Tywyll sat and watched as the bandaging and clean-up proceeded. One of the cuts was deeper than it had appeared; the man brought a small leather folder with a curved steel needle and twists of catgut. Sorry we ha’e na enough spirits ta numb ya, the man said. What we ha’e shall wash the wound when I’s done.

Tywyll watched with a hint of amusement as the man grimaced, but then he called, Ho! Find a stick or branch. He can at least bite on it.

One of the men tossed a quarrel in Fynn’s direction. He grabbed it and shoved it in his mouth just as the needle pushed through his skin.

Tywyll waited for several minutes after the stitching was complete, the wound washed with the little spirits they had and a dressing lashed over it before he spoke again.

Have you any idea what I should do with you, Fynn?

I ween, since yar man patched ma wounds so neat, and used tha last bit a spirits on it, ya do na mean ta kill me right off.

Aye. That would be a waste, as you observe. He paused a moment more. I think to have you travel to Bwichblaenau, to your liege. Were you to attend me as I seek Doona and her companions, you might not be so welcome.

Fynn returned a wry grimace. Forsooth, milord. He winced, then continued. In a ’dar or two, I shall be able to strike off south, as ya wish.

Good. Rest now. In the morn, we shall speak again.

We hold til the morrow, Lord?

Aye, but not a minute later.

In the twilight, Tywyll stepped away from the fire and the others. He found a convenient rock closer to the sandy shore and sat, considering his next move. No matter he’d told Fynn he would travel north, his concern was now that the gold was not worth the effort it would now take to earn it. The putative usurpers had no more gold; Tywyll wasn't entirely sure they had sufficient to pay what they’d promised him. Would they have allowed the girls to approach him? Had they in fact allowed them to come north, or were the girls on their own? Questions he could not answer. Questions that left him uncomfortable.

Then the other questions: Could he afford to throw a year’s work away without payment? Would his reputation suffer irreparably should he default?

These were interesting questions, but unanswerable. He spit into the sand and decided. North ’twould be.

Lindebalgh

Naliae 5 - 10, 550

3: The Road North with Jenoele

5 Naliae

ONCE THROUGH THE BORDER crossing, Tanial caught Liam for a question. What has happened to Carwyn?

He grinned in response. Did you just now miss him?

Aye. A certain Gapten has kept me busy. I assumed he was closeted with Jenoele, but I finally realize that we have not even a horse for him.

Forsooth. Before we left the Tårn, Lady Meinwyn asked permission for him to stay at the Tårn, til their Ēostre celebration is done.

And that will be?

‘Several ’dars, yet. The Lady hoped he could stay til the seventeenth, and ride to us or Rendekebing the next ’dar."

To Rendekebing, Tanial muttered. He will not arrive afore we enter unless…

Unless?

Unless the palace falls not to Jenoele and I, but to others.

Oh, aye, he said. Shall we discuss the… the entry to the city and the palace?

"We shall. This eve, after the workout