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They were dispatched where they stood in the torchlit yard. No words spoken, no ceremony, pause for prayer. Five living men, five dead men. In the time one might lift and drink a cup of wine. Bry
A message needed to be sent, endlessly: the Cyngael might not worship gods of storm and sword, or believe in an afterworld of endless battle, but they could be—some of them could be—as bloody and as ruthless as an Erling when need was.
She was still outside when her father spoke to the older, red-bearded raider. Bry
"How many of you were here?" Bry
"Thirty, a few more." No hesitation. The man was almost as big as her father, Rhia
"As many left behind?"
"Forty, to guard the ships. Take them off the coast, if necessary."
"Two ships?"
"Three. We had some horses, to come inland."
Bry
"You rode straight for this farmhouse?"
"Yes, that was the idea. If we could find it."
"How did you find it?"
"Captured a shepherd."
"And he is?"
"Dead," said the Erling. "I can take you to him, if you want." "You expected this house to be undefended?"
The man smiled a little, then, and shook his head. "Not defended by your warband, certainly. Young leaders. They made a mistake."
"You weren't one of them?"
The other man shook his head.
"The one who held me brought you here? Of the line of the Volgan?"
The Erling nodded.
"Elder grandson?" Bry
"But he didn't lead."
The man shook his head. "Yes and no. It was his idea. But Ivarr's… different."
Bry
"You came to burn this farm?"
"And kill you, and any of your family here, yes."
He was so calm, Rhia
"Because of the grandfather?"
The man nodded. "Your killing him. Taking the sword. These two decided they were of an age to avenge it, since their father had not. They were wrong."
"And why are you here? You're as old as I am."
First hesitation. In the silence Rhia
Part of an answer, Rhia
"There's no ransom for you, is there."
"No," the man said frankly. "Once there might have been." Bry
Again, a silence. "Escaped," the Erling admitted.
He had decided, Rhia
Bry
A murmur, from those listening.
"I did. I released him. He was a decent enough man." Bry
"That was a long way to go."
"By Ingavin's blind eye, I wouldn't want to do it again," the Erling said dryly.
Another silence. Bry
"A hammer, sworn loyalty."
"Until you escape again?"
"I said I wouldn't do it again, that journey. I was young then." He looked down and away for the first time, then back up. "I have nothing to go home to, and this place is as good as any for me to end my days. You can make me a slave, to dig ditches or carry water, or use me more wisely, but I will not escape again."
"You will take the oath and come to the faith of Jad?"
Another slight smile, torchlight upon him. "I did that last time."
Bry
"Last time. I was young. I'm not any more. Neither Ingavin nor your sun god are worth dying for, in my judgement. I suppose I am a heretic to two faiths. Kill me?"
Bry
"Where are the ships? You will guide us to them."
The Erling shook his head. "Not that."
Rhia
"Yes that, Erling."
"This is the price of being allowed to live?"
"It is. You spoke of loyalty. Prove it."
The Erling was still a moment, considering. Torches moved in the yard around them. Men were being carried inside, or helped if they could walk.
"Best kill me then," the red-bearded man said.
"If I must," said Bry
"No," said someone else, stepping forward. "I will take him as a man of mine. My own guard."
Rhia
"Let me be clear on this," her mother went on, coming to stand beside her husband, looking at the Erling. Rhia
The Erling looked at her. "Thank you, my lady," he said. "Certain things done for life make the life unworthy. You become sick with them. They poison you, your thoughts." He turned back to Bry
Bry
Enid nodded her head.
He was still frowning. "He can easily be killed. I will do it myself."
"I know you will. You want to. Leave him to me. Let us get to our work. There are wounded men here. Erling, what is your name?"
"Whatever name you give me," the man said.
The Lady Enid swore. It was startling. "What is your name?" she repeated.
A last hesitation, then that wry expression again. "Forgive me. My mother named me Thorkell. I answer to it."
Rhia
Rhia
Tonight the world had altered, very greatly, because there was also the other thing, which ought to have been pushed away or buried deep or lost in all the bloodshed, but wasn't. Alun ab Owyn had ridden an Erling horse out of the yard, pursuing the archer who'd shot at her father. He hadn't yet come back.
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