A Princess of the Chameln (13 page)

There they rested at last, getting down to sit on a fallen tree while the poor horses rested. There was no sound but the rushing water; odd gusts of wind came down from the mountains. The day was very fine and clear. When Aidris walked to the banks of the stream, she could see the dark sweep of the forest-clad mountain wall stretching away northward almost to Rodfell Pass above Vigrund.

“We must stay here,” she said. “At night we will try to go over the Wulfental.”

Above them a bird screamed, an eagle, riding upon some column of air. A single rider was on the road, very close. In panic Sabeth sprang up, took Imba's bridle and led the mare into the trees at the lower edge of the clearing. Aidris went after her, leading Telavel into this small, dark clump of firs, all the cover they had. This was the end, she thought, they would be taken. She drew out her sword from the saddlebag and buckled it on with clumsy cold fingers. It was dark in their hiding place; they could not see out into the clearing.

A horse called, and Telavel answered. There was a movement close at hand; a man's voice cried out, “Who's there?”

Sabeth drew a long shuddering breath ending in a sob.

“I will go out,” said Aidris wearily. “I am the one they are looking for.”

“No!” pleaded Sabeth. “Do not leave me!”

“Come!” ordered the unseen horseman. “Come out of there!”

Aidris drew her sword and stepped between the trees. She saw a tall, glittering figure, horse and rider clothed all in light, the White Warrior himself, servant of the Goddess, come to carry her across the frost-fields to another world. She shielded her face to see better, leaning against a tree. A young knight, mailed in black and silver, mounted upon a bay charger, stood in the clearing. He wore a plumed helmet and carried the banner of a white tree.

“Why . . . it is a young maid . . .” he said in a wondering voice.

They stared, not knowing how to address each other.

“Good sir knight . . .” said Aidris, “we are pursued . . . we thought . . .”

“
I
thought of brigands!” said the knight. “You are not alone, young mistress?”

A beam of sunlight caught his face as the beautiful bay sidestepped on the rocky ground. Sabeth came out of the trees and, taking a few faltering steps, clutched at the tree where Aidris stood.

“Lady . . .” said the young knight.

Sabeth stared back at him; she reached out a hand.

“Will you help us?” said Aidris.

She spoke softly, as if she might break a spell, for Sabeth and the young knight could only gaze at each other, spellbound.

“You were pursued,” said the knight, “on the road to the Wulfental.”

“We were trying to come into Athron,” said Sabeth.

Then the knight set the haft of his heavy lance upon the ground and used it to vault from his saddle. He strode towards them and knelt down, lance in hand, its green pennant streaming out.

“I have been brought here,” he said. “I have been led to this place only to serve you!”

Sabeth could only reach out a hand again, and the knight took it, but Aidris could see he was not bold enough to press it to his lips. She spoke up again.

“What may we call you, sir?”

“Why, I am Gerr of Kerrick,” he said. “Of Kerrick Hall, by Garth, in Athron.”

“This lady is Mistress Delbin,” said Aidris, “and I am Kedran Venn.”

“Put up your sword, brave kedran,” said Gerr of Kerrick. “I am here. Your mistress . . . Mistress Delbin . . . is safe now.”

“I hope so,” said Aidris. “Did you come from the hospice? What was doing there?”

“As I rode past, there were troopers of Mel'Nir on the road to the pass and some going on foot into the forest near the hospice, beyond the lake.”

“Alas,” said Sabeth, “how will we come over the pass?”

“We must wait,” said the knight. “Come, lady, sit down. I will make a place for you by this fallen tree.”

He strode about, taking a blanket from his own saddlebag and settling it on the ground. Their two horses had come out of the trees, and he approached Imba, the patient brown mare, and took the cloak of lynx and fox, which lay across Sabeth's saddle.

“A lovely cloak . . .” he said.

“It came from the northern tribes,” said Aidris.

The knight set it gently around Sabeth's shoulders. He had taken off his helm and looked even younger. His hair was a rich brown, and he was tanned by the sun; his eyes were grey-blue. He had fine straight features, almost too straight. When he grew older, thought Aidris, he would look like one of the warriors carved in wood on the panels of the Council Hall in Achamar. He sat on the fallen tree, and Sabeth sat on the ground; they made a handsome pair, a knight and a fair lady from some tapestry.

Aidris saw into the heart of the matter right then, at that moment, but no word had been said and she would put nothing into words herself. She was held back by a certain shyness and by fear, a sly, wretched fear that said, deep down: It is better that no one knows . . . She could only guess at what their rescuer believed. She walked up to the path and stood on watch behind a tree. No one came by; there was no sound of a chase.

So for the rest of the long day they remained in that green round with their rescuer, Gerr of Kerrick. They sat together peacefully or walked to the path or further down the banks of the rushing stream. During that day Aidris sometimes forgot her care; she was, for a moment, carefree. She would check, hearing Sabeth's laugh or Gerr's eager voice and think: This is a dream of how life might be.

They lit no fire; they ate bread and apples from Gerr's store of provisions and the last of the dried fruit from Ric Loeke's pack. In the twilight Gerr spoke up formally.

“Kedran Aidris has spoken of travelling into exile. Where will you go, my lady?”

“Oh, do not call me such a name,” said Sabeth in a low voice.

“I will do nothing to displease you,” he said, smiling. “All that has been, all the dangers of your journey, these things will never be spoken of again. Only come with me in Athron to my home, Kerrick Hall. Let my father and mother welcome you and give you help in this sad time. My mother would receive you, Mistress Delbin, as one of her ladies; and you, good kedran, could enlist with our captain, Megan Brock, who has all our kerns and kedrans under her charge.”

Sabeth gave Aidris a quick pleading look. All her artifice had gone; she had sung no songs for Gerr of Kerrick.

“You are very kind,” said Aidris, “but let us answer you when we have come into Athron.”

He smiled, boyish and shy, but full of confidence.

“Oh you will see what a fine place it is. Athron is a magic kingdom, and Kerrick Hall is the very heart of Athron!”

He had spoken of his home very often during the day, and Aidris thought of it already as a marvellous place, awaiting them. Its trees and warm stone walls and broad parklands reminded her of some tales half-remembered, a place in a dream.

“Now you must sleep a little under the stars,” said the knight cheerfully. “I will move nearer the pathway. When the moon sets, we will try for that secret path that the Tulgai showed to Kedran Aidris.”

When the knight was out of earshot, Sabeth buried her face in her hands and wept bitterly. Her whole body was wracked with a fearful sobbing.

“Why?” whispered Aidris. “Why do you weep
now?”

“My life . . . my wretched life . . .” sobbed Sabeth. “I am accursed. None of it was my fault.”

She would not be comforted. Her tears dried up at last, and she stared at Aidris in the growing darkness.

“It was my dream, always,” she said, “that a true knight, a prince, would find me and rescue me. Oh he is so fine and good! Could we do as he says? Could we go to Kerrick Hall, forget all that has been, forget our former lives?”

Aidris looked at Sabeth and thought of the long way they had come. She wondered, not for the first time, if it was possible to know another person. She thought of Nazran's own quick judgements and his criticisms: what kings and queens of old he had plucked from the scrolls and held up saying: “She was a good judge of character.” “He chose his advisors very wisely.” It was a royal trait, and she, Aidris, should have it or cultivate it.

No one that she knew, neither Nazran nor Maren nor Bajan, none of the ladies of Lien, would have granted Sabeth, the beautiful singing-girl, more than a scrap of pity. All their judgement would center on that part of life where they knew or thought they knew all and she, Aidris, knew nothing. Yet she trusted Sabeth.

She knew what it was to be afraid, dreadfully afraid, as Sabeth was afraid of the forest, and still to endure. She owed a debt to her companion for that perfect kindness and understanding Sabeth had shown in that dark hour when she was half-dead of Shame.
“No one blames you. No one will ever know.”
She knew what it was to be or to feel accursed.

“Yes!” said Aidris. “We could go there. We will put all our lives behind us to this hour. You are Mistress Delbin, and I am Kedran Venn. Gerr has promised as much . . . no questions will be asked. You are a lady in distress, just what such a young knight dreams of, and now he has found you.”

“You must like him . . . love him too,” said Sabeth. “Is he not the finest man you ever saw?”

“I do like him,” said Aidris, smiling. “and I never saw a more handsome knight.”

“What will
you
do?” asked Sabeth. “Will you find a husband? Will you seek . . . kedran love?”

“Why,” said Aidris, surprised, “I am betrothed. I have always known the man I will marry.”

She could not recall that she had ever been told of her betrothal. It was simply part of her life.

“Betrothed!” said Sabeth in exasperation. “You have never spoken his name! Is he old? Is he hideous? Do you not love him? Is he rich? What is he . . . a soldier?”

“A landowner,” said Aidris. “He is nine years older than I am. My mother's ladies always said he was very handsome. He is my friend . . . I . . . I trust him. I don't like to think of him now, when I am going so far away.”

“Have no fear,” said Sabeth. “He will not forget. He will find you again.”

They lay down “under the stars” for a few hours sleep, bundled in cloaks and blankets against the chill air of the mountains. Aidris found that she could sleep; she fell at once into a strange dream. She walked in a city, rather like Achamar but in her dream she knew this was Varda, that she had come into Athron. The people in the street wore queer clothes, dagged and scalloped, in half-tones, grey-green, misty violet, soft pink. She asked the way to the trading envoy's house and found that the people could neither hear nor see her. She was invisible, and her voice had faded to a whisper. She walked on in the dream, not much alarmed, and woke up, wide awake on the instant, in the clearing on the way to the Wulfental.

She let Sabeth sleep a little longer. When she had splashed her face at the stream and given the horses the very last of the oats, she went to find their rescuer. Gerr was on watch near the pathway; his charger, Firedrake, waited, all newly caparisoned for their journey.

“Good!” said the knight when Aidris came up, through the cool, undark spring night. “We must make some preparations.”

He had a hood in his own colors, white and green, for her to wear, in order to pass as his esquire. He suggested a change of horses: Sabeth to ride “the palfrey,” as he called Telavel, and Aidris to take Imba, the brown mare. He sensed her unwillingness and said, “You said your horses were perhaps known by the troopers. We can cover the brown mare in Firedrake's other mantle and the palfrey in a blanket. The change of mounts does add a touch of disguise too . . . perhaps the troopers expect a kedran upon a pony and a lady upon a brown mare . . .”

“Telavel is not a pony or a palfrey,” said Aidris, “she is a Chameln grey. I will change willingly, but I thought, with Telavel, I might more easily lead the way through that sheep-path. Still, I will try it with Imba. She is a good mare and has come all the way from Vigrund.”

“You are very sure of yourself, Kedran Venn,” said the knight laughing. “I am sure there is no better escort in the world.”

Aidris felt a thread of impatience with Gerr of Kerrick.

“What do you know of the trouble in Chameln lands?” she asked.

“You are invaded by Mel'Nir,” he said promptly. “Already, in Athron, there are a few who have travelled into exile.”

“And do you know anything of our history, our rulers, our customs?”

“Not much,” he admitted cheerfully. “I was coming to find out more, good Kedran, but destiny served me otherwise. Do you not have two rulers?”

“Yes, two,” she said, “from two families.”

It was difficult to speak of it, but she made an effort to probe further.

“Good Sir Gerr,” she said formally, “can you answer me one question, with absolute truth, as you would answer in the Halls of the Goddess?”

“Of course . . .”

He was all seriousness.

“Did you hear, today, from the troopers, the name or rank of any person they were seeking?”

“Truly,” said Gerr of Kerrick. “I did not.”

“What if I said to you that I am the one, the object of their search?”

“To be sure,” he said, a ripple of laughter growing in his voice. “But does that mean the Lady Sabeth is
your
escort?”

He could not help it; he laughed aloud. Aidris felt that the task was hopeless; she even had a twinge of wounded vanity. To the knight she could never look more than a kedran. At least he did not seem to have heard too much.

“We might have met by chance,” she said, “and travelled together.”

“Brave kedran,” said Gerr of Kerrick, “I can be loyal as the truest heart and I can be secret as that heart's core. Let us have no more of this. Trust me. Let us wake the Lady Sabeth and try for the pass.”