“And so they met again, in due time, this pair of lovers not-to-be, and still Gundevald had not returned from his campaigning. By that time, however, mere concern over Gundevald’s late return was being replaced by grave misgivings.”
Chulderic’s attention was caught now by something else, something low and dun colored and immobile, out of place on the edge of the stream ahead of us, and he was already spurring his horse toward it. I kicked my own horse forward, following him until he dismounted beside the body of a young buck, less than two years old. It lay half in and half out of the water, its head, complete with immature antlers, almost completely submerged.
“Throw me your rope.”
I did as he ordered, scooping the tightly coiled circle of plaited leather from where it hung from a thong by my knee and lobbing it into his outstretched hand. As he worked to unravel it, shaking out the tight-wound coils with both hands, I watched his eyes move constantly, taking note of everything there was to see in the clearing on the bank, from the dead animal itself to the grass around the area where it lay, and the fringe of bushes that screened the clearing, concealing it from view from any distance greater than ten paces.
Finally, apparently satisfied with what he had seen, he stepped ankle-deep into the stream and looped one end of the rope around one of the deer’s haunches, tying it securely before throwing the other end to me.
“Here,” he growled. “Loop this around your saddle horn and pull this thing up onto the bank, clear of the water.”
My horse made short work of the haul, and moments later I had dismounted and stood looking down at the deer with Chulderic.
“Might have been a natural death,” he murmured, more to himself than to me.
I shook my head. “I don’t know, Magister. It’s an awfully young buck.”
“Aye, it is. But youth is no great protection against death. There’s no sign of any human cause that I can see—not even a wound. But whatever caused it, the beast is newly dead … within the day, anyway. I passed by here last night, just before dark, and there was no sign of it then. Look, you can see the marks my horse made, crossing the stream there.” Sure enough, the marks were unmistakable, and they passed within half a score of paces of where we had found the carcass. Chulderic was still looking about him. “Well, at least it’s clear of the water,” he continued. “That’s what’s important. No point in leaving it to pollute the whole stream. I’ll send someone to bury it later, or at least to drag it away from the water, to where it’ll do no harm.”
“I can do that, Magister,” I said, waving the rope I had begun to coil again.
“No, that’s no job for you—not today. You have more important matters to attend to today.” He moved away, to where his horse had begun cropping contentedly at a drift of lush grass, and raised one foot to the stirrup, but before he remounted he twisted back to face me, speaking over his shoulder as he steadied himself on one leg with both hands braced against his saddle. “You didn’t expect to see that today, did you?”
I blinked at him, not knowing what he meant. “To see what, Magister?”
“Death, lad.” He grasped and heaved, hauling himself back up into the saddle, where he looked at me again, one eyebrow raised high. “Death in the middle of a fine afternoon.”
“Oh. No, I didn’t.”
“No, and you never will … . Even in war, when there’s danger all around you and the enemy is close and you know someone’s going to die at any moment, it’s always unexpected when it actually happens.” He pulled on his reins, making his horse snort and snuffle as it stamped its feet and sidled around to face me. “What about the deer?”
He had lost me again. “What about it, Magister? It was just a dead deer, lying in a stream.”
“Aye, that’s right, that’s what it was. But how did it die? When? Why?”
This distraction from his narrative was trying my patience. “Forgive me, Magister,” I said, “but I cannot think those things are significant. The only thing that matters is that the animal is dead.”
He nodded his head sagely, his lips turned sharply downward in what looked like a pout. “Aye,” he murmured, so quietly that I could barely hear him, “that’s how it always is, lad. Bear that in mind. The fact of the death always outweighs the reasons for it. I have come to believe that more and more as I grow older … .”
I was frowning at him, beginning to feel concern over the way his attention was drifting and changing, but almost as though he had noticed my misgivings, he blinked and shook his head slightly, then looked about him, easing himself around in the saddle as he considered where we were.
“Let’s go now,” he growled eventually. “We’ll head over that way, to the north, and then circle back to the south until we hit the trail we came in on. We should be back at home in less than an hour. What was I talking about before we found this carcass?”
I kicked my horse forward and followed him through the screen of saplings and bushes we had penetrated earlier. Then, once we were back on the main pathway, broad enough to accommodate us side by side, I kicked gently until we were even with Chulderic’s mount.
“The wedding.”
“Aye, well, listen closely and learn. Garth of Ganis was no fool, and no one would ever accuse him of being indecisive. He saw the strong attraction between his daughter Elaine and the young warrior Childebertus—as did everyone else in Ganis—when Ban’s party first arrived, and he watched it flower rapidly during the gaiety and excitement of the week preceding the nuptial ceremony. Fortunately, he had no awareness that the pair had met before, on Ban’s first visit—that escapade had somehow managed to escape his attention—but he could see at a glance what was happening this time, and he was having none of it. He set some trusted men to watch the pair closely day and night, exhorting them to make sure that the two young people never had a moment alone together. But Garth, being a man, knew it was only a matter of time, as the young people’s attraction to each other grew and fed upon itself. He did not distrust his daughter, but he was well aware that she was an impressionable young girl, barely more than a child, and that the buck prancing around her was a seasoned campaigner, a decade older than she, experienced in life and good to look upon. He decided to put an end to their liaison immediately after the wedding, before anything could come of their intensifying attraction.
“On the day of the wedding, Garth watched Elaine, barely paying attention to the bride and her new husband in his concern over his unmarried daughter. He had increasing difficulty in concealing his anger as he saw how eye contact between Elaine and her admirer had given way to touching, their hands constantly hovering close to each other’s so that their fingers were seldom untwined, even though the clasping was always brief and cautious and, they believed, hidden from the eyes of others.
“That night, the night of the wedding feast, the King made sure his daughter’s nurse would have company in her chambers—a collection of visiting children of all ages to keep her awake and thereby ensure that Elaine remained safely where she ought to be, in her own quarters. At the same time, he invited Childebertus to sit among his personal guests at dinner, and took great satisfaction in watching the young man’s discomfort as he sought vainly for some way of making his escape. Each time young Childebertus rose to his feet, the King would speak to him directly, drawing him back into the general conversation and making it impossible for him to leave without being ill mannered and obvious.