Feather (9 page)

Tag gulped and thrust the kitten back into his pack. “You must come closer to the fires. The cats are very upset tonight. You mustn’t sleep here, on the edge of the camp away from the others.”

Feather hesitated. “Denna and Riah don’t like me.”

“They and the other girls are jealous of you is all,” Tag said.

“I don’t think so. Why would they be jealous of a slave?”

Tag didn’t answer the question. Instead he said, “Go sleep near Hana and Kama then, and the other grown women.”

“I . . . I don’t know if I should. They get nasty if you act free when you’re not.” It didn’t exactly express Feather’s insecurity, but she didn’t know what words to use to tell him how the Blen women treated her. She was neither completely of them nor completely separate from them. Kama still muttered darkly at her if she didn’t make the arrows fast enough, and Hana was not beyond slapping her, even now, if she got in the way. “Can I sleep near the boys?” she asked timidly.

“I should think not!” Tag scowled at her. “Besides, tonight I sleep with the men. You surely can’t come near where they stay.”

Feather ducked her head, embarrassed that she had even suggested it. “I will go to Kama,” she whispered.

“Good.” Tag stood up. “I must go now, or they will wonder where I am. If Mik lets me keep this kitten, I will let you hold him tomorrow at the noon stop.” He smiled at her, and Feather’s world slid closer to level once more.

Tag left her, and she tiptoed past the teenaged girls. Kama was curled up in her bear robe amid the adult women. Feather sank down beside her cautiously. Kama stirred and raised her head, staring at her. Feather waited, expecting to be scolded and sent away, but Kama only moaned and snuggled down beneath her robe.

Feather exhaled and settled beside her, careful not to touch Kama, but close enough to hear her breathing. In the quiet night the only sounds were snapping flames, an occasional gruff voice from the men’s area, and the distant yowling of the cats.

The next few days were dedicated to preserving the meat and making the lodge and the new house tight for winter. The people moved their things into their winter quarters, and woodpiles were stacked within easy reach.

At last Alomar declared that they were ready to meet the cold weather.

“The snow will come soon,” Shea said after breakfast one morning, looking toward the north.

“We will have a few more days of good weather,” Alomar said, and no one disagreed with the elder.

“Perhaps it is time to explore the cellar hole of Ezander’s old hunting lodge,” Hunter suggested.

Karsh was immediately alert and ready for adventure. It had been months since Hunter told him they would dig it up one day, and he had all but given up hoping the time would come.

The other men agreed, and that evening the whole tribe sat at the council fire inside the earth lodge.

Once more Alomar told the story of the last king of Elgin, who had died in the plague, and his son Linden, who was killed defending his land.

“And there will never be another king in Elgin,” said Bente, Jem’s son. Karsh sat on the floor with him and the other children, listening to every word the old man spoke.

“Not necessarily,” said Rand.

Alomar smiled. “Not a true heir to the throne. Someone else could perhaps rally what’s left of the people and
make
himself king, I suppose.”

“Didn’t King Ezander have any more children?” Cricket asked.

“Yes, he had a daughter,” Alomar said. Everyone straightened a bit and waited for more information.

“What happened to her?” Gia asked.

“She was married to a prince from another land before her father died,” Alomar said. “Before the plague came to Elgin, Princess Tira married Rondo of Pretlea and went to live in his land.”

“Was she queen of Pretlea?” Karsh asked.

“No. You see, Rondo was the king’s third son. He would only become king if his two older brothers died before he did, and even then, if one of them had a son, that lad would become king before Rondo would.”

Karsh settled down on his mat, disappointed.

“But Tira’s daughters were noble ladies,” said Alomar.

“Didn’t she have any sons?”

“No, I’m afraid not. Just daughters. They were said to be beautiful, but that is all that I know. When the sickness came, you see, Elgin had no word from Pretlea. Traveling was too dangerous, and Linden never knew whether his sister got the message he sent to tell her of their father Ezander’s death.”

“How sad,” Tansy murmured.

“So none of our people—that is, none of Princess Tira’s descendants—could become rulers of Pretlea,” said Shea. He sat by Rose, holding Lil, one of the young orphans.

“That is correct,” said Alomar. “Of course, things might have been different if she had married a man of Elgin. In Elgin, the royal line could go through a daughter.”

Karsh sat up again and stared at the elder. “You mean . . . if Tira had been around when Linden was killed, she would have been queen of Elgin?”

“That’s right. But in Pretlea, the royal line goes only through the males, so her daughters were not eligible to rule even if by some mischance all of those in line for the throne before Rondo died, and he became king.”

“That’s a stupid way to run a country,” said Cricket.

The adults smiled, but Karsh thought Cricket was right. He turned to Alomar, thinking hard as he spoke. “Doesn’t that mean that if Tira had any descendants—male or female—they could come back to Elgin and claim the throne?”

“If there were a throne to claim,” Alomar said with a rueful smile.

“The castle is in ruins, remember?” Hunter said.

Karsh sighed. It was true. The people of Elgin were few and scattered. They had been attacked so many times that the survivors lived in fear of each other, isolating themselves in pockets where they hoped no one would find them.

The youngsters began drooping with fatigue, and Shea and Neal took their families to the new house to sleep. Karsh walked sleepily into the men’s sleeping room of the lodge where he would live this winter with Hunter, Jem, Bente, and Hardy. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought once more of his sister. If only King Ezander had lived, or his son had been more powerful. If only Princess Tira and come back and driven out the invaders! Then the land would be in peace, and Feather would be here.

T here was a festive mood as the women packed food and the men gathered digging tools and empty sacks for the expedition. By midmorning, the entire band was crossing the ridge together, leaving only Hardy behind in the highest spot, to keep watch.

The men slashed a path through the thorny bushes, and they began at once to dig in the bottom of the depression. Within minutes, the children were finding small bits of metal and pottery, and the men were turning up larger items with their spades. Spikes and bolts fell away from rotten timbers, and Jem discovered a small, cylindrical ceramic item, the use of which no one could imagine.

The children soon tired of digging, and Gia took them out on the hillside with the dogs to run and play. Neal went with them as an extra precaution. The older boys and girls carried sacks of dirt out of the hole to where the women sifted it. They soon laid out on a rock the many small items they found: a few copper coins, buttons, a small hinge, and a fork. Karsh worked hard, digging with a wooden spade. His biggest find was a rust-encrusted ax head.

After lunch, Weave lay down in the shade with the baby and the younger children for a time of rest while the men went back to their labor. Karsh was impatient. He wanted to find something large, something whole and useful.

“Hey!” Shea shoved his spade into the earth again, and the crunch it made drew the other men to him.

“Careful,” Hunter said. “You might break something.” They attacked the area systematically, with three men

lifting out clumps of dirt. Fragments of glass and pottery came up with the soil. They worked with more caution and were soon rewarded.

“Hold it,” said Shea, stooping to brush the dirt away from a rounded object. The side of a glazed tan jug gleamed beneath the grime. With great care, Shea and Hunter stripped away the earth, revealing the entire jug, with its handle intact and a bright blue flower painted on one side.

Hunter worked it loose and lifted it, placing it gently in Shea’s hands with a smile. “A gift for your wife, who is so skilled at feeding us all.”

Shea grinned and carried the jug up to where Rose sat with the other women.

“How perfectly shaped,” she exclaimed.

Zee, who was the most skilled of the tribe at making pottery, examined it eagerly. “What do you suppose they used for a glaze?” she asked.

Back in the cellar hole, Neal squatted to push away more dirt. “That looks like a dish,” he said. A small, redand-white patterned plate appeared.

“We may have found an ancient wife’s cooking place,” Rand said.

“The hunting parties that stayed here had to eat,” Shea said with a chuckle.

In the next hour they uncovered many cooking utensils and dishes, and the women were overjoyed. Metal tongs, a candlestick, a cooking pot, and several spoons joined their other booty.

“This site has not been disturbed since the days of the kingdom,” Alomar said gravely.

Hunter rubbed the dirt off the side of the pot, and held it up for the elder’s inspection. The metal had a greenish cast. “Bronze,” Alomar said. “A metal alloy.”

“We found a button made from it once,” Rand reminded him.

“It will not rust,” Alomar said. “It lasts longer than iron when it’s exposed to the elements, though it does corrode.”

As the excavation area widened, Karsh’s excitement built steadily. What else would they find? Anything was possible, the elder had said so.

“Here!”

They scurried to see what Rand had found. It appeared to be the rusted, disintegrating top of a metal box, and he directed Karsh and Cricket to help him dig it out carefully while the other men turned their attention to other spots. Soon they had the box out and open, and Karsh whooped.

“What is it?” Hunter called.

“Is it coins?” Bente asked, hopping down from the rim of the cellar hole.

“Better than that,” said Rand.

“Fish hooks!” Karsh couldn’t resist reaching into the chest, and pricked his finger on one of the barbed hooks. “Ouch!”

Cricket laughed, but Rand scolded him. “There, now, don’t be so hasty.”

The others clustered around, and Rand carefully lifted out several hooks of different sizes. “They seem to be all right,” he said, handing one to Shea and one to Hunter.

“A hundred years old, and still usable,” Shea agreed, squinting at the rusty hook he held.

At last Alomar advised them to put the box of hooks aside and continue their digging. There might be many more discoveries yet to be made.

Gia came and begged her father to let her dig for a while instead of watching the children. Shea put his spade in her hands and mopped his brow. She turned up some iron barrel hoops and a pottery jar. Shea stepped in and dug carefully around the jar, lifting it out of the earth whole, and held it up to Gia. Removing the tightly fitted lid, she discovered a cache of bean seeds, clean and dry.

A short time later, Hunter uncovered a shield of bronze. The boys all began digging around the spot and soon found a cache of spear heads and more than a dozen metal arrow points.

The last discovery was made by Jem, whose spade clunked hollow against a wooden object. With much effort, they uncovered the rotting lid of an oak chest, bound by metal straps.

The sun was dropping in the west when they lifted the chest out of the cellar hole. It was very heavy, and the timbers were crumbling, held together tenuously by the metal bands. Everyone was eager to learn what it contained.

“Gather your tools,” Neal called. “Whether it’s junk or riches, we head home when we see what we have.”

Hunter fumbled with the cover, prying away the rotten wood. “Well! It seems to be lined with tin!” He levered the lock with a stick, and suddenly the hasp popped. Hunter and Jem together raised the lid and tipped it back. The people crowded in to see.

Alomar gasped, and a long silence followed. Then little Flame’s voice rang out.

“Daddy, Daddy, let me see. What is it?”

Neal swung her up onto his shoulders. “Paper, my love.”

Alomar knelt beside the chest and reached in with trembling hands. He touched the pile of loose sheets tenderly.

“It smells musty, but they are not ruined.” He carefully stirred the papers and lifted from beneath them a leatherbound volume. “A book!”

The people sighed and edged forward.

“Don’t touch it,” Rand cautioned. “It may crumble to dust.”

“No,” Alomar said in wonder. “There are several books, and they seem quite well preserved. I think . . . yes, I think all the people should touch them.”

He brought out five volumes, one at a time, and the people passed them around with reverence. When Karsh received one, he held it carefully and stroked the cover. The surface felt like cloth stretched tight over a board. It was the first book he had ever seen or felt.

He handed it to Hunter and watched as the man gently slid his fingers along its edge and spread the book open, about halfway through its thickness.

Karsh caught his breath. Before him was the likeness of a huge stone building, with towers piercing a cloud-studded sky. Along the top of its crenellated wall were several men holding bows and long knives. At the structure’s base were a dozen more men, hauling rocks to a large contraption.

“It is a battle,” Hunter breathed. “A drawing of a battle.”

Karsh’s heart was pounding. He had never seen anything so wonderful. The drawing was so detailed, so lifelike, he could hardly believe the men lived only on paper.

“So that is what is in this book,” he whispered.

“There is more.” Hunter carefully turned a leaf, and again Karsh gasped. This time, the weapons were shown up close: a crossbow and a long, tapered lance, and other implements Karsh could not name.

“How . . .” He stopped, unable to express all the questions in his mind.

“How what?” Hunter asked with a smile. “How did they make this? That is what you usually ask.”

Karsh gulped. “Well, yes, but that is not what I was thinking. I was wondering how many pictures there are in one book.”

Hunter looked up to see Alomar watching them. “Is there an answer to that, sir?”

Alomar cocked his head with a little smile. “This one I am holding has no pictures at all, I think. That one seems to have many.”

“We must head for home,” Shea said. “The night will overtake us.”

“But we’ll take the books?” Karsh asked eagerly.

“Certainly.”

The rotting chest was too unwieldy to carry, so they carefully placed the books in their sacks and began to gather the other treasures they had found. Among the many willing hands, all of the plunder was distributed.

Alomar picked up a sack of small items and his walking stick. “If only we could read them,” he sighed.

Karsh whirled around and stared at him. “But, sir, don’t you remember? The stranger can read!”

Everyone stood still. Slowly a smile spread over Alomar’s face. “Yes, you are right. Sam, the stranger, read the words on the coin.”

“I have not met this man,” Hunter said, “but if he is staying in the cave you described to him, I will pay him a visit tomorrow.”

“Take me with you,” Karsh pleaded, grasping Hunter’s sleeve. “Please!”

Hunter smiled. “Why should I take you?”

“Because you ought not to go alone.”

“Jem would go with me.”

“I would like to,” said Jem.

Hunter nodded as he began to walk. “I shall be pleased if you do.”

“Please,” Karsh said, grabbing the shovel and jug he was to carry and hurrying after them.

“Again I ask you, why?”

“Because . . . because I found the hole where we uncovered the chest of books?”