"I am Rowena, Sir Rodney." Her face came alight with hope allowed. "Will you truly plead my husband's case?"
"I can't say without knowing the facts. What kind of creatures did he kill, and how many of them?"
"Sixteen," she said bitterly. "Stole sixteen of the King's precious deer, and must be hanged for any. Never mind that sixty good people were like to starve next winter if he did not!"
"Never mind is exactly what the reeve may do." At least this was the party he'd come to find. "If he were a knight or a lord, he might be able to plead privilege, but a squire has far greater cause to fear the rope."
"Not rope." The lady lifted her head with pride. "My Geordie will be hanged with a golden chain." Then, as if to explain her pride, she added, " Tis not the chain of many."
"Yes, I know." Chains were reserved for nobility—but only someone related directly to the Crown warranted the dubious honor of being hanged with a golden one. "Your Geordie, then, is cousin to the Queen?"
'To her husband," the lady explained. "He is the King's nephew—and first cousin to the Crown Prince."
"A Loguire?" Rod nodded slowly. "Then there may be some grounds to plead privilege."
"Not when his father is attainted," she said bitterly.
Well, she hadn't married as a social climber, anyway. Geordie must be a very handsome young man to have attracted so lovely a bride when his prospects were so poor. "The harvest has been good this year, lady. Why would your people have been likely to starve?"
"Mold in the bins," she answered, and proceeded to tell him the whole tale as they rode. When she was done, Rod said what he could to reassure her, but he had a bad feeling about the case. Unless the judge was merciful, Geordie would hang surely, and his father would lead a rebellion that none would blame him for.
Of course, if Diarmid did grant mercy, someone was bound to cry favoritism and start a rebellion on the grounds of corruption.
Still, one crisis at a time. Rod drew Rowena out as they rode on, and by the time they rode into the town that had grown up around Castle Loguire, Rod had decided that Geordie had unquestionably broken the law—but had equally unquestionably had only the best of reasons for doing so. Too bad he hadn't applied to the reeve for an official exception—but maybe he'd known he couldn't make this particular reeve listen to reason.
Rod hoped he could.
THE LAST ROW of wheat fell, and the men dropped their scythe-bladed cradles with a whoop of joy, then turned to help with gathering the stalks into sheaves—and there would be many kisses shared as the sheaves were stacked, as there always were.
None for Diru, though. He found a place in the line and bent, spreading his arms wide to scoop up an armful of stalks, then took another to bind them together.
"If people could only gather as closely as their sheaves, eh, Diru?"
Diru looked up in astonishment. It was Ria, one of the girls of the village, actually talking to him! "Why … why, yes," he stammered, and cudgeled his brain trying to think of something to say. His tongue seemed to tie a knot in itself, though, even though Ria wasn't the beauty that Lenar and her friends were. Still, she was pretty enough, and it was an amazing pleasure to have her talking to him.
"Maybe we're all like stalks of wheat," Ria said, "no use unless we're all bound together."
"I… I suppose that's what a village is," Diru stammered.
"A good thought." Ria nodded with approval.
Approval! of Diru!
"But if we're a sheaf, then we ought to press against each other, shouldn't we?"
Dim couldn't stop staring. She couldn't really be flirting with him! Not with him! But he told himself that it would be rude not to answer and said, "I suppose that's what we all want."
"All?" Ria's eyelids flickered. "Folk say you're happier alone, Dim. Are you sure you want other stalks to press you?"
"Oh, very sure!" Dim said fervently, then realized he was being too forthright. He tried to pull away a little. "I mean, I wouldn't want to be a hermit living alone in the woods."
"How about a hermit with someone else living with you?"
Dim couldn't believe his ears. She couldn't be hinting that she found him attractive. No woman could—could she? "I—I suppose that if you have someone living with you, you're not a hermit."
"Still, it sounds lovely, being just two people alone out in the woods." Ria scooped up an armful of sheaves and went to carry them to the shock.
Diru scooped up his own sheaves and hurried to keep up with her. "It would be good enough if we could all pull together the rest of the year, as we do at harvest."
"But there should be some times when people can be alone together." Ria set her sheaves against the shock; as she turned away and Diru stepped up, her breast brushed against the back of his hand.
Diru stood frozen an instant. No woman had ever touched him, let alone a touch like that! Then he hurried to set his sheaves and turned to catch up with Ria. "I've felt sorry whenever I've heard of a hermit," Diru said. "People aren't meant to live alone."
"And they're not always meant to be serious." Ria turned to him with a smile, eyelashes flickering. "We're meant to do things together—aren't we, Diru?"
Diru's heart leaped. "Why … of course," he stammered, "things like the Festival tomorrow night." He screwed up his courage and burst out, "Will you dance with me there, Ria?"
"Dance with you?" He saw the delight in her eyes, and for a moment, his hopes soared.
They came crashing down as she threw back her head and laughed. The other young folk looked up at the sound, already grinning.
"Why, Diru!" she said very loudly. "Are you flirting with me?"
Diru tried to answer, his mouth moved, but no words came.
"Diru's flirting with me!" she called to the other young folk. "He's asked me to dance with him tomorrow night!"
Hoots of derision came from every side, howls of laughter, and Diru's face burned.
"Getting ideas a little above your station, aren't you, Diru?" Lenar came forward, eyes alight with merriment.
"Yes, Diru!" one of her friends said, giggling. "You should be asking someone with your own kind of looks. An elk, perhaps?"
"Oh, an elk's far too pretty!" another girl cried. "Diru should flirt with a bear!"
"Yes, Diru!" Hirol stepped up behind Lenar. "Maybe a she-bear would let you cuddle up to hibernate with her!"
"Yes, somebody must want you to cuddle!" Arker stepped up beside Ria and slipped his arm around her shoulders. "Nobody human, of course, but somebody." Ria laughed with him, clinging to his arm and pressing against him, eyes mocking as she looked at Diru.
Diru's face burned, but he burned hotter within, standing there in the middle of a ring of mocking laughter and realizing how they had laid their trap, and how eagerly he had fallen into it. It had all been a joke, a great big joke, to see Diru make a fool of himself—the beginning of the Harvest Festival merriment. He could see it all—it had been Lenar or Hirol who had thought of it, but Ria had been quick to agree, since she wanted so badly to be part of Lenar's circle—all the girls did, and this had been her chance. Then they had told all the other young people about their wonderful jest, one destined to be famous in the village for a lifetime—how pretty Ria made a fool out of ugly Diru!
Wordless, he turned and blundered his way out of the circle, the laughter of mockery filling his ears. He stalked away, but they kept pace with him for a hundred yards as the anger within him swelled and swelled—but he knew what would happen if he lashed out, for the boys had given him beatings enough before. In misery, he waded through that torrent of laughter until the trees enfolded him with their blessed coolness and the sounds of merriment began to fade behind him. There was little point in following him into the woods, of course. One last taunt came behind him: "Oh, leave him alone! He's gone to propose to that bear we told him about."