So listen, Maccy, she said. We may have to stay here all summer, but eventually someone will bring his warband and get us out.
Macla nodded miserably. They were sitting in the temple gardens, on a little bench among the rows of carrots and cabbages. Macla, who was sixteen, was normally a pretty lass, but today her blond hair was pulled back in an untidy knot, and her eyes were red and puffy from weeping.
I just hope youre right, Macla said at last. What if no one thinks our lands worth having? Even if they married you, theyd still have to fight with the rotten old Boar. And you cant afford to give me any dowry now, and so Ill probably rot in this awful old temple for the rest of my life.
Dont natter like that! If I take the holy vows, then youll have all the land for your dowry that any woman could want.
Oh. Hope came into her eyes. You always did talk about being a priestess.
Just that. Now, dont worry. Well find you a husband yet.
Macla smiled, but her flood of complaints had raised doubts in Gwenivers mind. What indeed if no one wanted to take the Wolf lands because they brought the Wolfs feud with them? All her life Gweniver had listened to the constant talk of war, and she knew something that the more innocent Maccy didnt: the Wolf lands lay in a bad strategic position, right on the Cantrae border and so far east of Cerrmor that they were hard to defend. What if the king in Cerrmor decided to consolidate his frontier and pulled back?
Gweniver left Maccy in the garden and went for a restless walk. If only she could get to Cerrmor and petition the king! By all accounts he was a scrupulously honorable man and might well listen. If she could get there. She climbed up the catwalk and looked out. Even though it had been three days since theyd ridden to the temple, Burcan and his men still camped in the meadow.
How long are you going to stay there, you bastards? she muttered under her breath.
Not much longer, as it turned out. The next morning, when she climbed to the ramparts just after dawn, she saw the warband saddling up and loading their provision carts. Yet when they pulled out, they left four men and one cart behind, a guard over her and provisioned to stay for months. Gweniver swore with every foul oath shed ever heard until she was panting and out of breath. She should have expected no less, she supposed. Even if Burcan had taken his men away, she never could have traveled the hundred and eighty miles to Cerrmor alone.
Unless I went as a priestess? she remarked aloud.
Once she had the blue tattoo on her cheek, she would be inviolate, as safe on the roads as an army. She could go to the king with her holy vows lending her force and beg for the life of her clan, find some man to take Maccy and keep the Wolfs name alive. If she succeeded, she could return here and take up her life in the temple. Turning, she leaned against the rampart and looked down at the compound. The neophytes and lower-ranked priestesses were working out in the garden or carrying firewood to the kitchens. A few strolled in meditation near the round temple itself. Yet for all the activity it was silent in the warm spring sun. No one spoke unless necessary, and then only in a quiet voice. For a moment she felt as if she couldnt breathe, just from the stifling vision of her future here.
All at once she felt a blind, irrational rage. She was trapped, a wolf in a cage, chewing and raging at the bars. Her hatred of Burcan rose up as strong as a lust and then spilled over on the king in Cerrmor. She was caught between them, begging one to let her have what was rightfully hers, begging the other to take her vengeance for her. She trembled and threw her head from side to side as if to say nay to the whole universe, in a rage as bitter and hard as a splinter of glass in her throat.
With a wrench of will she calmed herself. Giving in to mad fury would do her no good.
Youve got to think, she told herself. And pray to the Goddess. Shes the only hope youve got.
The main bodys pulled out, Dagwyn said. But they left four men behind.
Bastards! Ricyn snarled. Treating our lady like she was a prize horse or suchlike, there for the stealing!
Camlwn nodded grimly. The three of them were the last men left alive from the Wolfs warband, and for days theyd been camping in the wooded hills behind the Temple of the Moon, where they could watch over the woman that they considered their sworn lord. All three of them had served the Wolf clan from boyhood, and they were prepared to go on serving it now.
How good a watch are they standing? Ricyn said. Armed and ready for a scrap?
Not on your life. Dagwyn paused for a grim smile. When I sneaked up on them, I saw them sitting around in the grass, as happy as you please, and dicing with their shirtsleeves rolled up.
Oh, were they, now? Then lets hope that the gods make their game a nice long one.
The free men who worked the temples lands were extremely loyal to the high priestess, partly because she took far less of their crops in taxes than a noble lord would have, but mostly because they considered it an honor for them and their families to serve the Goddess. Ardda was sure, or so she told Gweniver, that one of the men would make the long trip to Dun Deverry for her with a message.
This has got to stop! I cant order those men off land that doesnt belong to me, but Im not going to let them sit there all summer, either. Youre not a criminal come here for sanctuary, and so theyve got no right to keep you in. And besides, we all know theyd murder you if they could. Well see if the king Burcan serves can make him call his men off.
Do you think the king will listen to your petition? Gweniver said. Ill wager he wants our lands in the hands of one of his vassals.
Hed best listen! Im asking the high priestess in the Dun Deverry temple to intercede personally.
Gweniver held the bridle of Arddas palfrey as she mounted, adjusting her long dresses over the sidesaddle, then walked beside her horse as she rode down to the gates. Since the four Boarsmen had shown no inclination to try entering the temple, the gates were standing open. Gweniver and Lypilla, the gatekeeper for the day, stood together and watched as Ardda rode out, sitting straight and defiantly in the saddle. As she reached the road, the Boarsmen scrambled to their feet and made her deep, respectful bows.
Bastards, Gweniver muttered. Theyre keeping to every letter of the law while tearing out its heart.
Just that. I wonder if theyd even murder you.
Take me to Burcan for a forced marriage, more like. Id die first!
They shared a troubled glance. Gweniver had known Lypilla all her life, just as shed always known Ardda. They were as close to her as aunts or elder sisters, yet she doubted deep in her heart if she could bear to share their life. Out on the road Ardda turned round the curve of the hill, riding north, and disappeared. The Boarsmen sat down and returned to their dice game. Gweniver found herself remembering the man shed killed on the road and wishing that she could deal those four the same Wyrd.
Although she could have gone back and made herself useful in the kitchen, Gweniver lingered at the gates for a while, idly talking with Lypilla and staring out at the freedom of hill and meadow denied her. All at once they heard distant hoofbeats, riding fast from the south.
I suppose Burcans sending messengers or suchlike to his men, Lypilla remarked.
The Boarsmen in the meadow seemed to agree, because they rose, idly stretching, and turned toward the sound. Suddenly, out of a stand of trees, burst three riders in full mail and with swords at the ready. The Boarsmen stood frozen for a moment, then yelled and cursed as they drew swords: the riders were charging straight into them. Gweniver heard Lypilla scream as a Boarsman went down with his head cut half off his shoulders. A horse reared and staggered, and Gweniver saw the riders shield full on.
Wolves!
Without thinking she was running, sword in hand, down the hill while Lypilla screamed and begged her to come back. The second Boarsman fell as she ran; the third was being mobbed by two riders; the fourth broke and ran straight up the hill, as if in his panic he was trying to reach the sanctuary of the temple that his very presence was desecrating. When he saw Gweniver racing straight for him, he hesitated, then dodged to one side as if to go around her. With a howl of unearthly laughter that sprang out of her mouth of its own will, she charged and swung, catching him across the right shoulder before he could parry. When the sword slipped from his useless fingers, she laughed again and stabbed him in the throat. Her laughter rose to a banshees shriek as the bright blood ran, and he fell.
My lady! It was Ricyns voice, cutting through her laugh. Oh, by the Lord of Hell!
The laughter vanished, leaving her sick and cold, staring at the corpse at her feet. Dimly she was aware of Ricyn dismounting and jogging toward her.
My lady! My lady Gweniver! Do you recognize me?
What? She looked up, puzzled. Of course I do, Ricco. Havent I known you half my life?
Well, my lady, thats not worth a pigs fart when a man goes beserk like you just did.
She felt as if hed thrown icy water into her face. For a moment she stared half-witted at him while he looked her over in bemused concern. Just nineteen, her own age, Ricyn was a broad-faced, sunny-looking blond who was, according to her brothers, one of the most reliable men in the warband, if not the kingdom. It was odd to have him watching her as if she were dangerous.
Well, thats what it was, my lady. Ye gods, it made my blood run cold, hearing you laugh.
Not half as cold as it made mine. Berserk. By the Goddess Herself, thats what I was.
Dark-haired, slender, and perpetually grinning, Dagwyn led his horse up and made her a bow.
Too bad they left four men behind, my lady. You could have handled two all by yourself.
Maybe even three, Ricyn said. Wheres Cam?
Putting his horse out of its misery. One of those scum could actually swing a sword in the right direction.
Well, weve got their horses now, and all their provisions, too. Ricyn glanced at Gweniver. Weve been up in the woods, my lady, waiting to make our strike. We figured that the Boar couldnt sit here all blasted summer. The duns razed, by the by. We rode back and found it.