The Warrior's Path (30 page)

When we reached the campsite, Maara told me to lie down. I was so tired I didn’t protest. I was determined to rest for only a little while, but I fell into a deep sleep and must have slept for several hours. It was late afternoon when Maara woke me. Laris and Taia were coming up the hill.

After we kept the evening watch, all four of us sat around the fireless hearth while Laris told us what she had learned from the traders. The northern tribes had had a poor harvest the year before, and the winter had been hard for them. Those who were starving stole from those who had little more than they did. It was a fortunate thing for us, because as long as they were fighting among themselves, they were leaving us alone.

“That explains why we have yet to see a raiding party this year,” Laris said.

“Let’s hope this year they have a better harvest,” said Maara. “When all of them are starving, their shared misery will bind them together. That’s when they’ll come to trouble us.”

“They say you lived once among the northern tribes.”

Laris’s tone was casual, but she and Taia and I all seemed to hold our breath, waiting for my warrior’s answer.

“No,” said Maara.

“But you know their language and their ways,” Laris persisted.

“I know enough of their language to exchange a few words with them. That’s all.”

“Then how do you know so much about what they’re likely to do?”

Maara studied Laris’s face. A cautious look came into her eyes, as if she were standing on the threshold of a trust that could not be taken back.

“My people were more like your people than the people you call northerners,” she said at last. “We were never allied with any of the northern tribes, but we traded with them sometimes, and sometimes we preyed upon them. We knew a little of their language because we traded with them, and we knew something of their ways because they were our enemies.”

“You traded with your enemies?”

“We traded with whoever had what we wanted,” Maara said. “If we couldn’t trade, we fought them for it.”

I would have liked to ask her what kinds of things her people needed to trade for. My family traded wool for grain, but that was an exchange of gifts between friends. Every year we sent wagons filled with bales of wool to Merin’s house, and when they returned, they brought us a share of the harvest. I thought better of questioning Maara just then. I decided I would rather talk to her in private about it.

“Where do your people live?” Laris asked her.

Maara shook her head. “They’re not my people anymore.”

I was glad I had slept that afternoon. If I hadn’t, I would have toppled over where I sat and missed the entire conversation. I would also have missed the look Laris gave me when Taia stumbled off to bed. Laris expected me to follow Taia, and when I didn’t, her impatient frown told me that she was waiting for me to leave her alone with Maara. It didn’t come as a complete surprise when the thought occurred to me that Laris might be looking for more than someone to share blankets with. That made me all the more determined to take my place at Maara’s side, at least until she herself told me to do differently.

I was in fact not at all sleepy. I watched Laris stifle her yawns while she waited for me to go to bed. Maara didn’t seem tired, although she had been up since the middle of the previous night.

Finally I said to her, “You need to sleep.” She looked at me and nodded, and I took her cloak and mine and made a bed for us, as I had when we were on the Tor with Cael and Alpin.

Laris understood what I had done. When our bed was ready, I touched Maara’s shoulder and offered her my hand to help her up. Laris caught my eye. My grandmother used to say that someone had looked daggers at her, and that phrase came back to me when I met Laris’s eyes. I knew better than to look away from a look like that. I held her gaze, not as a challenge, but to show her that I knew what she wanted and that I intended, if I could, to prevent her having it.

That night, as I lay beside my warrior, I wondered what it was about Laris that bothered me. Maara had the right to lie with anyone she chose, and if she wished to lie with Laris, no one had the right to interfere. Still the thought kept coming back to me that Laris didn’t love Maara. She may have been fascinated by her, but what fascinated her was the people Maara came from, not Maara herself.

Sparrow would have laughed at me. I could almost hear her teasing voice asking me what there was to be upset about. The only answer I could think of was that Maara deserved better. She deserved to be loved for herself.

We spent a month at Greth’s Tor. The cattle raiders never came. We encountered no one but a few traders with their caravans.

Because we could see anyone approaching us from quite a distance, raids against our cattle there seldom succeeded, but it was unusual that no one made the attempt.

Other places along our borders were more hilly or more wooded. It was easier for raiders to approach unseen there, and our warriors had to be always on the move along the frontier. Word came to us that raiding parties had made off with a few cattle in some of those places. I wished we had gone there instead. We would at least have had a little more to do, and the prospect of encountering a raiding party was still unreal enough to me to be exciting.

I think Alpin felt as I did, but Taia had been to Greth’s Tor the year before and was content to have been sent there a second time. She seemed not to relish the idea of challenging cattle raiders or wandering the countryside.

On our last morning on the Tor, we made a show of keeping watch, but I think we all passed the time just enjoying the beauty of the place.

During our stay there, the weather had often been unsettled. Sometimes we’d had to sit huddled under our cloaks through spring showers, and when it wasn’t rainy, the nights could be quite cold. The last few days, though, had been warm and fine.

Maara came to sit beside me.

“Your first adventure has been uneventful,” she said

I nodded.

“Are you disappointed?”

I was, a little. I nodded again, but I said, “I know I should be glad.”

“Most of the days of a warrior’s life are uneventful,” she said, “but the others more than make up for it.”

Even as I leaned back against the sun-warmed rock, I felt a chill go down my spine.

“How do we know the raiders won’t come as soon as we’ve gone home?” I asked her.

“They have other work to do now. They’re farmers too.”

Maara ran her hand over the rock that sheltered us. A piece the size of a bird’s egg broke off in her hand. She admired it for a moment. Then she handed it to me and smiled.

“Giant’s bones,” she said.

We returned to find new faces in Merin’s house. Many warriors had joined the household while I was away at Greth’s Tor, and some brought their apprentices, who, along with the girls to be fostered with us, now filled the companions’ loft to overflowing. I was about to take my bedding back to my warrior’s room when Sparrow came looking for me. Together we went outdoors, outside the earthworks, and found a shady place to sit in the cool grass.

“Why are there so many people here?” I asked her.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll be back to normal by midsummer’s day.”

“There’s no room in the companions’ loft. Where am I supposed to sleep until then?”

“Some of us come out here at night and sleep under the stars. Why don’t you join us?”

“All right,” I said. “I will.”

The year before, I had spent the springtime with my warrior. Even after she recovered from her injuries, we kept mostly to ourselves. I still had much to learn about life in Merin’s house.

“What happens on midsummer’s day?” I asked Sparrow.

“Many of the warriors will have fulfilled their time of service here. On midsummer’s day, they will leave for home. If Eramet had lived, we would be returning to Arnet’s house on midsummer’s day next year.”

There was nothing in Sparrow’s voice to tell me how much she still missed Eramet, but I saw the darkness come into her eyes.

“You won’t ever have to go back to Arnet’s house, will you?”

She shook her head. “I’ll be here for as long as the Lady can find a use for me. Once I become a warrior, I suppose I could go wherever I like, but this is as good a place as any.” She lay back in the grass and gazed up at me. “Did you catch any cattle raiders?”

“No.”

“Too bad.” She reached out and took my hand. “I missed you.”

I blushed and said, “I missed you too.” And I realized it was true.

We now had leisure to enjoy the springtime. The fine weather and the freedom to be out of doors after winter’s long confinement made everyone a bit giddy, especially those of us who were still young. We would often steal an hour for ourselves, to go picking wildflowers or to lie in the soft grass, feeling the sun on our faces, breathing the spring-scented air. On warm moonlit nights we slipped away from the household and ran down the hill to bathe in the river. What we did was not forbidden, but we were secretive about it anyway, because it was more fun to pretend that we’d outfoxed our elders.

Some of our elders, though, seemed as giddy with spring as we were. One afternoon I saw Fet and Fodla sitting together in the sun outside the earthworks. While Fodla watched with rapt attention, Fet wove a wreath of yellow daisies. When it was done, she presented it to Fodla, who wore it for the rest of the day with as much dignity as if it were a crown.

Everyone in Merin’s house was happy and at ease. We had survived the winter. The seed was in the ground and growing. No one threatened us or what belonged to us, a few lost cattle notwithstanding. As much as I loved the colors of autumn and the stark beauty of wintertime, the warm air, the scent of flowers and new grass, and the smiles on the faces around me were irresistible. How was it possible to be unhappy even for a moment at such a time?

And yet no matter how beautiful the day, perfect happiness eluded me. For no reason I understood, the loneliness that had haunted me when I first came to Merin’s house returned when I least expected it, and one thing about springtime made it worse. On midsummer’s day, many of the young women the Lady had fostered would return to their homes, taking the young men they’d chosen with them. It was futile trying to keep lovers apart in springtime. I couldn’t go anywhere without finding some young couple sitting with their heads together or lying on the hillside in each other’s arms.

It made my heart ache sometimes to see them. I didn’t begrudge them their happiness, but I couldn’t help wondering how long I would have to wait before that kind of happiness came to me.

One thing more than any other was forbidden to apprentices. No young woman who aspired to become a warrior was permitted to lie with a man, not even during the spring festival. A few had dared, and the year before, one of them conceived a child. She was sent home, because the obligation of motherhood takes precedence over all others, but I was sad for her. She was the first daughter of her house. She went home without her shield, and not long afterwards her younger sister came to take her place.

I had years to go before I would become a warrior. I could give no thought to love until I had won my shield.

The first day of the spring festival was the warmest day we’d had so far. For two whole days together, the young people of the household, the companions and apprentices, would be free to do as we pleased, while our warriors would have to look after themselves. It was the time of the Maiden, and we were the maidens in Merin’s house.

Taia and I were both up early. Together we went to the kitchen to see what good things there would be to eat that day. Whole lambs had been dressed and spitted for roasting. Great piles of fresh spring greens, washed and trimmed, lay ready to garnish the meat. For breakfast, there were baskets of eggs, cooked in their shells, and crusty round loaves.

Freshly dug wild roots lay soaking in a bowl of water. I recognized a few that my mother used to make a spring tonic, and I begged a few pieces to make some for Taia and me. While it was brewing, I thought of Gnith, and I brewed another bowl for her.

Gnith lay on her pallet. Her eyes were closed. She appeared to be asleep, but I felt her spirit, alive and bright and waiting.

“Are you sleeping, Mother?” I asked her.

At once her eyes flew open. “Who are you?”

I set the bowl of tea down beside her. “This will do you good.”

“Tamras.”

“Yes.”

I helped her to sit up and held the bowl for her as she drank. Taia sat down on a stool nearby to drink her tea. She regarded Gnith with curiosity.

“Are you well, Mother?” I asked.

Gnith nodded. “Yes, indeed. Very well. Never better.”

Taia leaned toward me and whispered, “I thought she was — you know.” She tapped the side of her head with one finger.

“Hush,” I said.

Gnith ignored Taia and took another sip of tea.

“This is good,” she said.

A trickle of tea ran down her chin. I wiped it away.

“May I ask a blessing, Mother?” I said.

“A blessing? What kind of blessing?”

It was a long tradition in my family, and in every other family I knew, for children to ask a blessing of the oldest woman in their household on festival days.

“A blessing for the day,” I replied. “For the spring festival.”

A twinkle came into Gnith’s eye. She took my hand.

“I see,” she said. “A maiden comes to an old woman in springtime to ask a blessing. There can be only one thing she wants.”

“What’s that?”

“Love.”

I heard Taia give a little snort. I blushed. “Not this time, Mother.”

“Why not?”

“I have so many other things to accomplish before I think about that.”

“Nonsense.”

Gnith’s fingers tightened around mine, and she gave my hand a little shake, as one does to get a child’s attention. She looked around to see if anyone was nearby. She didn’t seem to notice Taia.

“Listen,” she said. “I’m going to tell you a secret.” She crooked her finger at me, and when I leaned toward her, she whispered, “Every thing in the world can wait but one. Only love can’t wait.”