I'll show you where the bath is," he said, and Robinton murmured thanks, rummaging in his pack for his towel, soap and a clean shirt.
The bath was actually heated by some connection with the hearth, so it was not the cold wash that he could have expected. He did not loll in the warm water, though he would have liked to soak the aches of travel out of his bones, but he was grateful for the luxury.
A trestle table had been set up, but Robinton had the impression that the family usually ate sitting in the chairs by the fireplace.
Pessia was putting the last of the wherry sections into the bubbling cauldron swung over the fire. Saday was busy tearing greens into a beautifully crafted wooden bowl, while Klada – still in shock from being in the presence of a stranger, and a harper at that – was trying to put cups on a tray without dropping them. With an exclamation at her awkwardness, Torlin took the tray from her and, grabbing up a wine-skin, gestured for the harper to take a seat at the table.
Foxy though the wine was, Robinton was grateful for the cup and gave a proper harper toast to his hosts, smiling at Saday when she shyly placed the salad bowl on the table.
"That's beautifully done, Holder Saday," he said pleasantly, rubbing a finger along the rim. "Local wood?"
She nodded, managing a smile, and then looked anywhere but at him, taking a long drink from her cup.
By the time dinner was served and eaten, she had grown sufficiently accustomed to him that she suddenly blurted out that she had turned the bowl herself.
"Do you send your wares to the Gathers?" he asked. Many people made a few extra marks from their home-made things.
She shook her head vigorously. "Not good enough."
"I think so," he said kindly, "and I've worked in wood. I make my own instruments."
She bent her head, and that was the last he heard from her in conversation. His reassurance sat well with Tortole, though, who was far more amiable as the meal progressed. The men dominated the talk, asking questions and listening eagerly to Robinton's answers; their original rancour over his solution to the wall problem was easing. Pessia, having been reared in a large community, felt comfortable enough to break in several times with cogent queries about the rest of Pern, and Valrol beamed proudly at her.
Seen in a less threatening posture, Valrol was a good-looking young man. Robinton noticed the fond glances exchanged by the two and understood why she had taken him, despite the hold's isolation. Klada was attractive too, or would be if she looked up at anyone.
The pleasant after-dinner talk was truncated by a knock on the door. All three men lurched to their feet and Saday gave a fearful squeak, but it was Robinton who reached the door first, forestailing further unpleasantness.
Groghe stood in the doorway, a glowbasket in one hand and his pipe in the other.
"Damned near broke my neck over that sharding wall," he muttered under his breath. "Are you finished eating, Journeyman Robinton, so that we can have the soothing benefit of new songs?"
A glowbasket appeared in Tortole's hand. Shawls and jackets appeared on the Tortole contingent as they all stepped out, forming a sort of cordon which moved with Robinton.
"Pessia, grab my gitar, would you please?" he asked, pointing to the side room where he had put his things.
Once she returned, smiling at being given such an honourable task, he joined Groghe and they all made their way to the post where he had said he would sing. The Sucho group had brought out chairs, and instantly Tortole ordered his sons to bring seating for his folk.
"Lovely evening," Robinton said as Groghe found himself a seat on the broken wall and settled down. The harper returned the Holder's wink with a nod and a grin and tuned his gitar.
Despite this being a very small gathering, he started off with the Duty Song, Groghe joining him with his pipes.
The look on the faces in the light of the glowbasket, their hunger for music, for companionship – which made this estrangement over a wall even more ridiculous – was a scene which Robinton doubted he would forget. And one which made his profession all the more important in his own eyes. He had taken so much for granted in his life.
He played and sang until he went hoarse. As the gathering progressed, one after another of his listeners began to sing choruses with him. In fact, by the time he could sing no more he had quite a good chorus going, with three-part harmony in places.
It was Groghe who called a halt. Robinton could no longer feel his buttocks, they'd been mashed against the post so long.
"We have a long day's travel, my friends, and you have a wall to build tomorrow," the Holder said. "You have sung in harmony this evening. Continue that mood tomorrow."
"I'll only build my half of the wall," Tortole said, unwilling to concede.
"And Sucho will build his," Robinton said quickly, pointing at Sucho who hesitated briefly before nodding. "Your women don't need you two fighting," he added. "They are lonely enough up on this hill without being unable to share their lives with another family."
The women agreed loudly.
The two families were already at work – the women of both working together to mix new mortar and crack the old off the stones -by the time Groghe and Robinton were ready to mount. Robinton's parting gift was a sheaf of songs, which he gave to Pessia.
"You have a good, strong alto. Get them singing again."
"I will. I've missed it fearfully," she said, holding on to his hand a moment before taking the music. "Thank you," she added under her breath.
By the time they had reached the trail winding through the forest, Groghe kicked Robinton's stirruped foot, grinning. "A wall has two sides, indeed! You've a glib tongue on you, Harper, but what a great notion! My father will howl with laughter."
Robinton grinned, though the image of the dignified Lord Grogellan howling with laughter was more than he could manage.
He was, in truth, rather pleased with himself because of the success of their interference.
CHAPTER TWELVE
By the time they reached Tillek Hold, however, he had got tired of hearing Groghe repeat the tale of their little foray into arbitration at every hold they sheltered in on the long coastline leading to the tip of Tillek and the Hold. Lord Melongel was relieved to hear that the situation had been remedied – and very pleased to procure Journeyman Robinton's addition to his staff with such an instance of his abilities in the field. To offset this minor success, Robinton felt obliged to explain the circumstances under which he had left Benden Hold.
"He'll learn, young Raid will," Melongel said after Robinton had been candid with him. "His loss, Tillek's gain. Come, meet my Lady and my tribe of promising Bloods. Master Minnarden's off doing an arbitration service for me, so you'll have to wait to hear what your precise duties are here. However, I'll warn you now that I like to change journeymen every three or four turns, so don't take it personally when either Minnarden or I suggest we make a change."
Robinton grinned back, liking the man's manner: a refreshing change from the two much older Lords he had served, and a decided relief after Raid's didacticism. Melongel was in his prime, active and vigorous, with ragged good looks, though not quite as tall as his harper. He seemed to have time to attend to all his duties and still go out with the fishing fleet from time to time. Since Tillek Hold not only hosted the FishCraftHall but the MasterFishman, and did most of the western ship-building, Melongel thoroughly understood the needs of that Craft as well as the agriculture and forestry which made Tillek a profitable Hold. He had even qualified for his captaincy, but had never taken a command. On one cruise around the Southern Sea to Nerat, Melongel had found a major Holder's daughter, espoused her, and carried her back to his Hold. Robinton heard him call that the most profitable journey he'd ever made.