When the soldiers had selected him as one of the four hostages he had stood tall, straight of back, and he had shown no fear. Like me, when I was younger, thought Tovi. Then he shook his head.
No, he's better than me. There's a lot of his mother in him, and she comes from good stock.
Beside him walked Grame the Smith, his thoughts dark and brooding. Grame stood by while the soldiers selected the hostages, but he was holding the forge hammer in his hand, and using all his iron will to stop himself from running forward and braining the grinning officer. That I should live to see this, he thought, foreigners riding into our villages unopposed and stealing away our people. The smith felt the shame as if it were his alone.
Ahead of the two old men walked the three foresters, Fell at the centre. Bakris Tooth-gone was to his left, Gwyn Dark-eye to the right. Gwyn's thoughts were all of Fell. He loved him better than he loved his own brothers, and was racking his brains for a fresh argument to use to stop Fell from surrendering to the Outlanders. But nothing would come. Four lives were at stake, Tovi's son, the Widow Maffrey, the cattle-herder Clemet, and Nami, the fat daughter of the shepherd Maccus.
Fell was a man of honour, and once he had heard about the hostages there was only one course of action left to him. It broke Gwyn's heart to make this journey.
Bakris was thinking about what would happen once the arrogant Fell had been hanged. Surely his own skills would be recognized and he would be elected Captain of Foresters?
Fell himself could think only of Sigarni, and all that might have been. Taliesen had ordered him to lead the hunters deep into the forest, and this he had done, wounding several of them. They had almost caught him twice, but his woodcraft saved him - that and his in fleetness of foot. What will happen now, Sigarni, he wondered? Will you remember me kindly?
In his mind's eye he could see himself standing on the scaffold, the hemp rope at his throat. Will you die like a man, Fell, he asked himself, standing tall and proud? In that moment he knew that he would. No Outland audience would see a Highland man scream and beg for his life.
Fell glanced up at the branches above him, the sun dappling them with gold and sending shafts of brilliance to the undergrowth below. Through a break in the trees he saw High Drain, rising majestically above the other peaks. 'Be with me, Father!' he whispered to the mountain.
'What's that, Fell?' asked Gwyn.
'Talking to myself, man. Ah, but it's a fine day for a walk, to be sure.'
'That it is, my friend, but I'd be happier if we were heading north.'
'I cannot do that. I'll let no Highlander die for my crimes.'
'Crimes? What crimes?' snorted Grame, moving alongside them. 'They raped her, for God's sake, and they hunted her down like an animal. Who do they think they are, these Outlanders? First the Baron tries to steal her hawk, then they rob her of her virtue ..."
'What virtue?' sneered Bakris. 'Hell's teeth, man, that was gone long ago. She's had more pricks than an archery target.'
'That's enough,' hissed Fell as he swung on Grame. 'Who do they think they are? They are the conquerors, and they make the laws. You, me, the whole of the Highlands, are ruled at their whim.'
'There's supposed to be a leader coming,' said Tovi. 'I wish to God he would appear soon.'
'She already has,' said Fell. The other men looked at one another, then back at Fell. 'Aye, you'll think it nonsense,' he said. 'But an old sorcerer came to me, and told me to be at the Citadel town at dawn on a certain day. There I would see the Red worn again, and a sword held over the town. Well, my lads, I was there. And I saw Sigarni don the Red, and watched her kill an Outlander. She's the leader prophesied. I won't live to see it, but you will.'
'Have you gone mad, lad?' asked Grame.'What does she know of war and battles? She's a child. Who'd follow her?'
'I would,' said Fell.
'If he would, so would I,' put in Gwyn.
Bakris gave a sneering laugh. 'I'd follow her into the bedroom. Any time.'
'You will all see it come true,' said Fell. 'Now let's be moving on. I have a wish to be in Citadel town before dusk.'
Tovi put his broad hand on Fell's shoulder. 'I'm not stopping you boy,' he said, his voice thick with emotion. 'I'd do anything to bring my son home. Yet, even now, if you choose to take a different path I'll think none the worse of you. You understand?'
Fell nodded. 'I understand, Hunt Lord. But I killed an Outlander, and they want blood. If they don't get mine they will seek it elsewhere. It is their way. I would ask you this, though - look to Sigarni, and help her all you can. Both you and Grame are battle-hardened warriors. You have lived what the rest of us only hear stories of. You know how the heart feels before a battle, and how a man's courage can turn to water. You know what it takes to stand against a foe. That knowledge will be vital in the days ahead. My death may give you breathing space to plan. But it will be no more than that.'
'It may not even give us that,' said Gwyn. 'They want Sigarni too. They may just take you, and keep the hostages.'
'I've thought of that,' said Fell. 'Let us hope there is a spark of honour in the Baron.'
'You're doing the right thing, Fell,' said Bakris. 'I'd do the same in your place.'
'Then let's move on,' said Fell. 'One more hill, lads, and we'll be home.'
The five men trudged up the hill, cresting it just as the sun was turning to blood over the western mountain peaks. In the distance they could see the line of the wall around Citadel town, and the tall ramparts of the keep beyond.
By the north gate, in cages outside the wall, hung four bodies, and crows were thick around them.
At this distance it was impossible to recognize faces, but all knew the worn-out black dress worn by the Widow Maffrey. 'God's heart!' whispered Grame. 'They've killed them already! But it has only been two days! They promised a week.'
'A spark of honour, you said, Fell,' muttered Gwyn. 'Now we all see what Outland honour is worth.'
'They'll pay for this a thousandfold,' said Fell. 'I swear it!'
Sigarni, her red cloak wrapped around her shoulders, sat on the mock ramparts of Asmidir's castle home and stared out over the rolling hills and woodlands to the south. Asmidir stood alongside her, leaning on the crenellated grey stone parapet. 'You understand your purpose?' he asked her.
'Yes,' she said, her voice cold. 'I am to kill Outlanders.'
Angrily he swung on her. 'No! that is the first lesson you must learn. War is not just a game of killing. Any commander who thinks in this way will be destroyed, if not by the enemy then by his - or her - own troops.'
'Troops? Are you insane?' she stormed. 'There are no soldiers, there is no army. There is only Sigarni. And all I live for now is to kill as many as I can.' Pushing herself to her feet she faced him, her own pale eyes locked to his dark orbs. 'You can have no understanding of what they did to me, or what they took from me. You are a man. This whole world has been created for your pleasures, while women are here merely for sport — either that or to carry your brats for nine months, ready to feed more souls to your games of slaughter in years to come. Well, Asmidir, Sigarni will carry no brats, but she mil play your game.'
He smiled ruefully. 'You cannot play until you know what you are playing for. You must have an objective, Sigarni. How else can you plan?'
'An objective?' she mocked. 'I am alone, Asmidir. What would you have me do? Where is my army? You want an objective? To free the Highlands of Outland rule, to drive the enemy back into their own lands and beyond. To lead a hundred thousand men deep into their territory and sack their capital.
Is that enough of an objective?'
'It is,' he said. 'Now examine how you will plan for this objective.'