“There is no need for you to go bound. Or do you still thirst for my blood?” He caught her hands, pulled at the cloth tying them.
“No,” Hertha answered in a low voice. “I believe you. He whom I sought is now dead.”
“Do you regret that death came not at your hand?”
She stared down at her fingers resting again against her middle, wondering dully what would become of her now. Would she remain a tavern wench, should she crawl back to Kuno? No! At that her head went up again, pride returned.
“I asked, are you sorry you did not take your knife to my gamester?”
“No.”
“But still there are dark thoughts troubling you—”
“Those are none of your concern.” She would have risen, but he put out a hand to hold her where she was.
“There is an old custom. If a man draw a maid from dire danger, he has certain rights—”
For a moment she did not understand; when she did her bruised pride strengthened her to meet his eyes.
“You speak of maids—I am not such.”
His indrawn breath made a small sound, but one loud in the silence between them. “So that was the why! You are no farm or tavern wench, are you? So you could not accept what he had done to you? But have you no kinsman to trade for your honor?”
She laughed raggedly. “Marshal, my kinsman had but one wish: that I submit to ancient practices among women so that he would not be shamed before his kind. Having done so I would have been allowed to dwell by sufferance in my own home, being reminded not more than perhaps thrice daily of his great goodness.”
“And this you would not do. But with your great hate against him who fathered what you carry—”
“No!” Her hands went to that talisman of Gunnora’s. “I have been to the shrine of Gunnora. She has promised me my desire—the child I bear will be mine wholly, taking nothing from him!”
“And did she also send you to the Toads?”
Hertha shook her head. “Gunnora guards life. I knew of the Toads from old tales. I went to them in my blindness and they gave me that which I placed in your bed to draw you to them. Also they changed my face in some manner. But—that is no longer so?”
“No. Had I not known your cloak, I should not have known you. But this thing in my bed—Stay you here and wait. But promise me this, should I return as one under orders, bar the door in my face and keep me here at all costs!”
“I promise.”
He went with the light-footed tread of one who had learned to walk softly in strange places because life might well depend upon it. Now that she was alone her mind returned to the matter of what could come to her with the morn. Who would give her refuge—save perhaps the Wise Women of Lethendale. It might be that this marshal would escort her there. Though what did he owe her except such danger as she did not want to think on. But although her thoughts twisted and turned she saw no answer except Lethendale. Perhaps Kuno would some day—no! She would have no plan leading in that path!
Trystan was back holding two sticks such as were used to kindle brazier flames. Gripped between their ends was the pebble she had brought from the Toads’ hold. As he reached the fire he hurled that bit of rock into the heart of the blaze.
He might have poured oil upon the flames so fierce was the answer as the pebble fell among the logs. Both shrank back.
“That trap is now set at naught,” he observed. “I would not have any other fall into it.”
She stiffened, guessing what he thought of her for the setting of that same trap.
“To say I am sorry is only mouthing words, but—”
“To one with such a burden, lady, I can return that I understand. When one is driven by a lash one takes any way to free oneself. And in the end you did not suffer that I be taken.”
“Having first thrust you well into the trap! Also—you should have let them take me then as they wished. It would only have been fitting.”
“Have done!” He brought his fist down on the seat of the settle beside which he knelt. “Let us make an end to what is past. It is gone. To cling to this wrong or that, keep it festering in mind and heart, is to cripple one. Now, lady,” she detected a new formality in his voice, “where do you go, if not to your brother’s house? It is not in your mind to return there, I gather.”
She fumbled with the talisman. “In that you are right. There is but one place left—the Wise Women of Lethendale. I can beg shelter from them.” She wondered if he would offer the escort she had no right to ask, but his next question surprised her.
“Lady, when you came hither, you came by the Old Road over ridge, did you not?”
“That is so. To me it seemed less dangerous than the open highway. It has, by legend, those who sometimes use it, but I deemed those less dangerous than my own kind.”
“If you came from that direction you must have passed through Nordendale—what manner of holding is it?”
She had no idea why he wished such knowledge, but she told him what she had seen of that leaderless dale, the handful of people there deep sunk in a lethargy in which they clung to the ruins of what had once been thriving life. He listened eagerly to what she told him.
“You have a seeing eye, lady, and have marked more than most given such a short time to observe. Now listen to me, for this may be a matter of concern to both of us in the future. It is in my mind that Nordendale needs a lord, one to give the people heart, rebuild what man and time have wasted. I have come north seeking a chance to be not just my own man, but to have a holding. I am not like Urre, who was born to a hall and drinks and wenches now to forget what ill tricks fortune plays.
“Who my father was"—he shrugged—"I never heard my mother say. That he was of no common blood, that I knew, though in later years she drudged in a merchant’s house before the coming of the invaders for bread to our mouths and clothing for our backs. When I was yet a boy I knew that the only way I might rise was through this"—he touched the hilt of his sword. “The merchant guild welcomed no nameless man, but for a sword and a bow there is always a ready market. So I set about learning the skills of war as thoroughly as any man might. Then came the invasion, and I went from Lord to Lord, becoming at last Marshal of Forces. Yet always before me hung the thought that in such a time of upheaval, with the old families being killed out, this was my chance.
“Now there are masterless men in plenty, too restless after years of killing to settle back behind any plow. Some will turn outlaw readily, but with a half dozen of such at my back I can take a dale which lies vacant of rule, such as this Nordendale. The people there need a leader, I am depriving none of lawful inheritance, but will keep the peace and defend it against outlaws—for there will be many such now. There are men here, passing through Grimmerdale, willing to be hired for such a purpose. Enough so I can pick and choose at will.”
He paused and she read in his face that this indeed was the great moving wish of his life. When he did not continue she asked a question:
“I can see how a determined man can do this thing. But how will it concern me in any way?”
He looked to her straightly. She did not understand the full meaning of what she saw in his eyes.
“I think we are greatly alike, lady. So much so that we could walk the same road, to profit of both. No, I do not ask an answer now. Tomorrow"—he got to his feet stretching—"no, today, I shall speak to those men I have marked. If they are willing to take liege oath to me, we shall ride to Lethendale, where you may shelter as you wish for a space. It is not far—”
“By horse,” she answered in relief, “perhaps two days west.”
“Good enough. Then, having left you there, I shall go to Nordendale—and straightway that shall cease to be masterless. Give me, say, threescore days, and I shall come riding again to Lethendale. Then you shall give me your answer as to whether our roads join or no.”