The Prince’s messenger came the next day with a small party and blew his trumpet from the path below the gatehouse. Lord Landry knew of their presence-he’d had scouts out, which showed he took the threat of invasion seriously. Perhaps he’d even known they were coming before he’d brought up the matter, so casually, at dinner. When the trumpet was blown Landry was ready, standing above the gatehouse with his family-all but Reeve, who had particular business elsewhere.
Derina wrapped herself in a cloak to hide her trembling. She had seen the preparations Landry made, and knew what he intended.
“His Highness bids you return that which you took last summer, when you attacked his camp,” the messenger said. “If not, there will be war between you that will not end until your hold is burnt up, your valleys laid waste, and your children scattered over the hills with stones their only playthings. His Highness offers you this, if you heed not our command-or, if you choose wisely, he offers his hand in friendship.”
A vast grin broke across Landry’s face at the sound of the messenger’s words-but Derina, who knew the smile, felt herself shudder. “What’s mine is mine!” Landry called. “If this Prince wants what is his, let him look for it in a place closer to home.”
“The Prince’s friendship is not so lightly to be brushed aside,” the messenger said.
“When was the friendship of a lowland man ever worth a pinch of salt?” Landry asked. He plucked up a crossbow from where it sat waiting, aimed briefly, and planted the missile a foot deep in the messenger’s heart. Other missiles whirred down from Landry’s soldiers. Then the gates swung open to let a group of riders under Reeve sally out. The Prince’s party were killed to the last man, so that none could return to their prince with any of the intelligence they’d doubtless gathered.
Burley watched the massacre from the gatehouse, fists clenched on his belt. He turned to Landry. “Let me head homeward, and tell my kinfolk to prepare,” he said. “And let me take Derina to where she’ll be safe.”
Landry shook his head, and seeing it Derina felt a cold chill of fear. “Send a letter instead,” he said.
“Sir-”
“No,” Landry said. “A letter. Your father will be more likely to help us if his son and grandson-” A nod to Derina. “-are guests here with us.”
Derina’s head swam under Landry’s cold blue gaze. She was in her father’s house again, under his power, and her husband was a pawn in her father’s war-a pawn set ready for sacrifice.
The burning arrow was sent from door to door along the valleys, and as men armed the great house was readied for siege. The spring lambs were killed, and their flesh salted for the cellars or dried in the pure mountain air. The herds and flocks were driven up to the highland pastures by secret ways, where an enemy would never find them unless he first knew where to look. The people of the valleys were prepared for evacuation, either to the great houses or to the high meadows with the flocks.
The Prince’s army paused in the lowlands for a week or so, perhaps awaiting the messenger’s return, and then began its toilsome march into the hills. Lord Landry arranged for the heads of the messenger’s party to await them on stakes, one every few kilometers along the road.
Lord Landry was in his element-boasting, boozing, swaggering among his old veterans or the country gentlefolk. Parties of warriors arrived under their local chiefs, were added to the defense of the great house or sent out to harry the enemy column with ambushes and raids.
The guards Landry posted were as polite as their duties allowed, but it was clear that neither Burley nor Derina were allowed to leave the house. Derina was almost thankfuclass="underline" Burley was safe as long as he remained here, held genteel hostage. If Landry should send him to war, Derina knew, he very well might not return.
But the blackmail served its purpose. Word came that Burley’s father Edson had brought his men into the war, and was already harassing enemy scouts and foragers.
“What a fool this Prince is!” Landry shouted down the length of the dinner table. It was crowded with soldiers, and Landry’s family were packed in at the top. “Come to fight us over booty worth less than what he’s paying his men to take it-and last year’s loot already shared out among our men as soon as we returned home! We could not return if it we would!”
“A fool and his army,” Reeve smiled, “are soon parted.”
Derina caught Norward’s look, a quick glance to the head of the table-as if he would say something, but chose not to.
The meal ended in singing, boasting, and boisterous talk of swordplay and the prospect of large ransoms. Derina, ears ringing, withdrew early, and went to bed. A few hours later Burley joined her, swaying slightly with wine as he undressed.
“Reeve and I are to leave tomorrow,” he said. “We’ll set an ambush above Honing Pass.”
Fear snapped Derina awake. She sprang from the bed and clung to him.
“Don’t go!” she cried.
Burley was bemused by her vehemence. “Don’t be silly. I must.”
“Father-” she gulped. “Father will kill you.”
Burley’s look softened. He touched her hair. “Your father won’t be coming.”
“His soldiers will be there. And-” She hesitated. “Reeve. If Reeve has not changed.”
Burley shook his head. “Landry still needs my father. I’m not without value yet.”
Derina buried her head in the curve of his neck. “Your father is mortal. So are you. And the lord my father will take your land in the name of our child.”
He put his arms around her, swayed gently back and forth. “I have no choice,” he said.
Derina blinked back hot tears. When had they ever had a choice? she thought.
Hoping desperately, she said, “I’ll speak to Reeve.”
Reeve listened carefully as Derina stammered out her fears the next morning. Unconsciously he rubbed the scars on his forehead. “No, father has not asked any such service of me,” he said. “Nor would he-Norward and I are strong enough to stand against him now, and Edlyn and mother support us. When we refuse to let him play us each against the other, he calls it ‘conspiracy.’ ”
“But his other men? His old veterans?”
Reeve looked thoughtful. “Perhaps. I’ll speak to them myself, let them know that I look to them to keep Burley safe.”
Derina kissed her brother on both cheeks. “Bless you, Reeve!”
Reeve smiled and hugged her with bearlike arms. “I’ll look to him. Don’t worry yourself-it’s an ambush we’ll be setting, not a pitched battle. All the danger’s to the other side.”
Reeve and Burley made a brave sight the next day, riding out in buff coats and polished armor, their troopers following. Derina, standing above the gatehouse, waved and forced the brightest smile she could, all to balance her sinking heart.
In a driving rain, five days later, the remnants of the party returned. The tale was of the ambushers ambushed, the Prince’s spearmen on the ridge above, advancing under cover of arrows. Reeve wounded to the point of death, run through with a lance, and Burley taken.
“His beast threw Master Burley, miss,” said an old serjeant, himself wounded in the jaw and barely able to speak. With dull eyes, Derina listened to the serjeant’s tale as she saw Reeve carried into the house on his litter. “The enemy ran him down. He surrendered at the last-and they didn’t kill him then, I saw them taking him away. He survived the surrender-that’s the most dangerous moment. So he’ll be held for ransom, most like, and you’ll see him ere autumn.”
And then Lord Landry came howling among the survivors, Norward following white-faced behind. Landry lashed at the nearest with a riding whip, calling them fools and cowards for letting his son fall victim. Then, snarling, hands trembling with the violence of his passion, he stood for a moment in the cold rain that poured in streams off his big shoulders, and then he turned on his heel and marched back to the main house. Derina ran after, feet sliding in the mud of the court.