The Indian went on:?Nowadays they do pretty good up north, most years, but people remember just exactly how it was the neighbors pulled through. Lots of fights since over that. Preachers telling you it?s the way all the big Manitou wanted things to happen, that you?re not so bad; they get a hearing up there from some people.?
Ed Vogeler stirred his pipe?s bowl with a twig.?You planning on taking the northern route down the Lakes and out the St. Lawrence?? he said.?It?s been done now and then, but… rough way to go. You haven?t got all that much time before freeze-up.? ?After freeze-up, we thought,? Rudi said.?Ingolf says it can be done.? ?I always said Ingolf had more balls than sense,? the Sheriff said.?Never was a Vogeler didn?t have guts, but brains, now…?
Ingolf stiffened and flushed a little, then made himself relax with an effort that only an expert eye could see. Rudi thought that Wanda Vogeler did detect it; her eyes rolled slightly ceilingward, and she sighed.
But her husband did not, despite being the man?s brother, he thought. The tact of a bull buffalo, to be sure.
Instead of barking a reply, Ingolf tossed back half his applejack and followed it with a sip of the coffee of roasted roots. ?Ed,? he said mildly, and set the cup down with careful gentleness.?There?s something you?re missing.? ?What?? the older man said impatiently. ?Yah, yah, when I left Readstown I did have more balls than brains. But that was ten… no, more… years ago. I fought through the whole damn Sioux War as a paid soldier, and other places too, and then I went into salvage work. When I say salvage I?m not talking about a trip to Madison for some rebar or leaf springs, either. I?ve been all the way from the Atlantic to the Pacific and back.? ?Yah, we heard, so?? ?And I?m still alive, Ed. When hundreds of poor brave dumb fucks I crossed paths with are well and truly dead. Pardon my French, Wanda.? ?I?ve heard the word, Ingolf.?
He inclined his head to her and went on to his brother:?I saw them die, and I lived. My balls are doing fine, but my brains took over the thinking job a while ago. Or I would?ve taken my last trip through an Eater?s guts.?
After a moment the Sheriff?s head moved in a slow nod, and he studied his brother for a full minute, stroking his gray-streaked beard before he spoke. ?Point. But… yah hey, it?s easier to move on sleds over snow than on the roads the rest of the year, the way they?ve gotten wrecked. You can haul a lot more weight that way with the same horsepower-that?s why we move freight in the winter and do our lumbering then. And yah, yah, da lakes freeze-or at least enough of them does. But man… supplies!? ?It?s possible,? Ingolf said.?Going the southern route in winter, there?s too much mud and wet snow, most of the time-and we?re not going to wait until spring. Plus the Cutters had a river-galley waiting for us south of the Iowa border, if we tried to go up the Ohio. There are still just under a hundred of them at least, hard men, and they?ll jump us when they can.? ?Easier to move the supplies too, it would be,? Rudi said.?And the folk, on skis. From what Ingolf tells me, men on skis can travel three or four times as fast as those on foot-faster than men on horseback, unless they had a string of remounts each and left a trail of dead horses.? ?Yah,? Ed Vogeler said.?As long as you didn?t get caught in a storm for three weeks. Or run out of fodder for the horses pulling your sleighs. You can?t exactly buy hay and oats up there, most places.? ?Some places, if you know who to ask. I?ll go part way with them,? Pete said, and the Sheriff gave him a surprised look. ?Not all the way,? the Indian went on.?Got my woman and kids here to think about. And I?m getting too old, not much good in a fight anymore. This is my home, now. But far enough to get?em started.? ?It?s your life, Pete,? his overlord said.?Hmmm… youse could get big sleds built around here, convert your wagons maybe, and enough provender…?
He looked over at Wanda. Her square middle-aged face was tight with concern for her brother-in-law.
For him at least, Rudi thought. And the rest of us too, I think, even on short acquaintance. Mother would like her, I think, even if she talks a good deal. And I notice she?s been quiet here. ?Yah,? she said, slowly and unwillingly.?We could spare a lot.? To Rudi:?We keep a three-year rotating stockpile.? ?It was two, when I left,? Ingolf said. ?Ed?s a careful man,? his sister-in-law said.?Und it?s easier since we?ve got the stuff for canning and pickling as much as we want now-lots of mason jars and good tight barrels and such. So we?re always running down the older part anyway, as we add new. And the out-farms do the same.? ?Enough, with some hunting,? Pete said.?As far as the midlakes. I don?t know much of what comes after, say, Duluth. Just that things get worse the farther east.?
Mathilda broke away from the long kiss.?Spare my healing ribs, Rudi! And my reputation.?
Rudi ground his teeth silently; she hadn?t objected to his hands for quite some time, and the taste of her was upon his lips, along with that of the Sheriff?s excellent apple brandy, of which he?d had more than she in the long discussion. It was silent now in the guest quarters, past midnight and all others asleep. Mathilda saw the look despite the dim light of the passageway and smiled a little sadly, patting him on the cheek: ?Waiting like this isn?t easy for you, is it, poor lamb? Just you wait until we?re married, and you?ll never regret the witch-girls again!? ?That I won?t!? he said, catching his breath.
Then he drew back a little, his hands on her shoulders.?Matti.. . anamchara mine… are we betrothed? We haven?t said the words.?
Her smile died.?Yes. Or at least I want us to be.? ?And myself also!?
The next kiss was long. He pulled away with difficulty, and remembered Associate custom. From one knee he spoke: ?But some things it?s better to say aloud. Mathilda… will you marry me, pagan clansman that I am?? ?Yes!?
She caught his head to her, and after a moment he felt a warm drop on it. When he rose, he touched a finger to the track of a tear. ?Why are you weeping, my heart?? ?Because I?m happy, you great gangling idiot! Because I can just be Mathilda and happy for an instant, not the Princess.?
Then she wrinkled her nose at him.?And yes, I?ve thought about it carefully-the politics as well. If you weren?t going to be High King, it would be… harder. But I think Mother will approve. And I think the Cardinal-Archbishop will give us a dispensation. That?s just bargaining, though. I want you.? ?And me likewise. Now, when? Tomorrow? Perhaps a week? We?ve good Father Ignatius here, after all-and my folk have no problem accepting a Christian marriage as valid. We can have a grand celebration when we?re home, when the war allows… but there?s no reason we should be apart the now.?
Her hands fell away from him, and the joy in her face faltered-as if the shadows that lay across them in the dim hallway had entered there. ?Rudi… we can?t get married here and now.? ?Why not?? he said, and grinned.?Besides the delightful prospects it raises, it would be better if you were my heir in law. Someone must lead our folk in Montival; and modesty aside, you?re the next best choice after me. For some of it, you?re better. I?m not immortal, and we?re in just a wee bit of danger, you might say.?
Her eyes fell.?I… I can?t marry without Mother?s permission, Rudi.? He felt a chill pass over his own happiness.?As you said, she?ll be happy enough. For one thing, she cares little for the matter of our different faiths-?
Then he cursed himself as she winced; that was not something that Mathilda Arminger liked to remember about her mother. ?-and for another, the kingcraft of the thing will delight her. I wouldn?t be surprised if she hadn?t had something of the sort in mind!?
Mathilda nodded.?She?s mentioned a dynastic marriage before. But