respect. "Thank you."
"Steban," Toma gasped. "Come here."
"Dad, he's a Caydarman!"
Tain pushed the boy. A soul-searing hatred burned in his young eyes. He glared at Mikla, Torfin, and Tain.
Tain suddenly felt tired and old. What was he doing? Why did he care? It wasn't his battle.
His eyes met Rula's. Through the battle of her soul flickered the feelings she had revealed the day before. He sighed. It was his battle.
He had killed a man. There was blood in it. He couldn't run away.
XVI
"I want to see Shirl," Rula declared next morning. "I'm going too."
"Mom!" Steban still didn't understand. He wouldn't talk to Tain, and Torfin he eyed like a butcher considering a carcass.
Tain responded, "First we take care of Mikla. Steban. The sheep. Better pasture them." To Toma, "Going to need sheds. That barn's too crowded."
Toma didn't reply. He did take his breakfast broth without difficulty.
He finally spoke when Steban refused to graze the sheep. "Boy, come here."
Steban went, head bowed.
"Knock it off. You're acting like Shirl. Pasture the sheep. Or I'll paddle your tail all the way out there."
Steban ground his teeth, glared at Tain, and went.
Rula insisted that Mikla lie beside the new home's door. Tain and Torfin took turns digging.
Tain went inside. "We're ready, Toma. You want to go out?"
"I've got to. It's my fault . . . . I have to watch him go down. So I'll remember."
Tain raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"I thought about what you said. I don't like it, but you're right. Four dead are enough."
"Good. Torfin! Help me carry Toma."
It was a quiet burial. Rula wept softly. Toma silently stared his brother-in-law into the ground. Neither Torfin nor Tain spoke. There were no appropriate words.
Tain saddled the roan and threw a pad on the mule. He spoke to her soothingly, reassuringly.
He knelt beside Toma while Torfin readied the paint. "You'll be all right?"
"Just leave me some beer. And some soup and bread."
"All right."
"Tain?"
"Yes?"
"Good luck."
"Thanks, Toma."
The mule accepted Rula's weight, though ungraciously. Tain donned his weapons. Little was said. Tain silently pursued his Morning Ritual. He hadn't had time earlier. Torfin watched. He and Rula couldn't talk. There were too many barriers between them.
The Tower was a growing, squat, dark block filled with frightening promise. A single vermilion banner waved over its ramparts. A feather of smoke curled from an unseen chimney.
"Something's wrong," Torfin remarked. They were a quarter mile away. "I don't see anybody."
Tain studied their surroundings.
Sheep and goats crowded the pens clinging to the Tower's skirts. Chickens and geese ran free. Several scrawny cattle, a mule, and some horses grazed nearby.
No human was visible.
"There should be a few women and children," Torfin said. "Watching the stock."
"Let's stop here."
"Why?" Rula asked.
"Beyond bowshot. Torfin, you go ahead."
The youth nodded. He advanced cautiously. The closer he drew, the lower he hunched in his saddle.
"Rula, stay here." Tain kicked the roan, began trotting round the Tower. Torfin glanced back. He paused at the Tower gate, peered through, dismounted, drew his sword, went it.
"Whoa." The roan stopped. Tain swung down, examined the tracks.
"Six horses," he murmured. "One small." He leapt onto the roan, galloped toward the Tower gate. "Torfin!" He beckoned Rula.
Torfin didn't hear him. Tain dismounted, peered through the gate into a small interior court. Quarters for the garrison had been built against the bailey walls.
"What is it?" Rula asked.
"Six riders left this morning. The Witch and the other five Caydarmen, probably."
Rula's cheek twitched. She wove her fingers together. "What about the people here?"
"Let's find Torfin."
The youth appeared above. "They're up here." He sounded miserable.
Tain guided Rula up the perilous stair. Torfin met them outside a doorway.
"In here. They saw us coming."
Tain heard muted weeping.
"Trouble," Torfin
"Steban," Toma gasped. "Come here."
"Dad, he's a Caydarman!"
Tain pushed the boy. A soul-searing hatred burned in his young eyes. He glared at Mikla, Torfin, and Tain.
Tain suddenly felt tired and old. What was he doing? Why did he care? It wasn't his battle.
His eyes met Rula's. Through the battle of her soul flickered the feelings she had revealed the day before. He sighed. It was his battle.
He had killed a man. There was blood in it. He couldn't run away.
XVI
"I want to see Shirl," Rula declared next morning. "I'm going too."
"Mom!" Steban still didn't understand. He wouldn't talk to Tain, and Torfin he eyed like a butcher considering a carcass.
Tain responded, "First we take care of Mikla. Steban. The sheep. Better pasture them." To Toma, "Going to need sheds. That barn's too crowded."
Toma didn't reply. He did take his breakfast broth without difficulty.
He finally spoke when Steban refused to graze the sheep. "Boy, come here."
Steban went, head bowed.
"Knock it off. You're acting like Shirl. Pasture the sheep. Or I'll paddle your tail all the way out there."
Steban ground his teeth, glared at Tain, and went.
Rula insisted that Mikla lie beside the new home's door. Tain and Torfin took turns digging.
Tain went inside. "We're ready, Toma. You want to go out?"
"I've got to. It's my fault . . . . I have to watch him go down. So I'll remember."
Tain raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"I thought about what you said. I don't like it, but you're right. Four dead are enough."
"Good. Torfin! Help me carry Toma."
It was a quiet burial. Rula wept softly. Toma silently stared his brother-in-law into the ground. Neither Torfin nor Tain spoke. There were no appropriate words.
Tain saddled the roan and threw a pad on the mule. He spoke to her soothingly, reassuringly.
He knelt beside Toma while Torfin readied the paint. "You'll be all right?"
"Just leave me some beer. And some soup and bread."
"All right."
"Tain?"
"Yes?"
"Good luck."
"Thanks, Toma."
The mule accepted Rula's weight, though ungraciously. Tain donned his weapons. Little was said. Tain silently pursued his Morning Ritual. He hadn't had time earlier. Torfin watched. He and Rula couldn't talk. There were too many barriers between them.
The Tower was a growing, squat, dark block filled with frightening promise. A single vermilion banner waved over its ramparts. A feather of smoke curled from an unseen chimney.
"Something's wrong," Torfin remarked. They were a quarter mile away. "I don't see anybody."
Tain studied their surroundings.
Sheep and goats crowded the pens clinging to the Tower's skirts. Chickens and geese ran free. Several scrawny cattle, a mule, and some horses grazed nearby.
No human was visible.
"There should be a few women and children," Torfin said. "Watching the stock."
"Let's stop here."
"Why?" Rula asked.
"Beyond bowshot. Torfin, you go ahead."
The youth nodded. He advanced cautiously. The closer he drew, the lower he hunched in his saddle.
"Rula, stay here." Tain kicked the roan, began trotting round the Tower. Torfin glanced back. He paused at the Tower gate, peered through, dismounted, drew his sword, went it.
"Whoa." The roan stopped. Tain swung down, examined the tracks.
"Six horses," he murmured. "One small." He leapt onto the roan, galloped toward the Tower gate. "Torfin!" He beckoned Rula.
Torfin didn't hear him. Tain dismounted, peered through the gate into a small interior court. Quarters for the garrison had been built against the bailey walls.
"What is it?" Rula asked.
"Six riders left this morning. The Witch and the other five Caydarmen, probably."
Rula's cheek twitched. She wove her fingers together. "What about the people here?"
"Let's find Torfin."
The youth appeared above. "They're up here." He sounded miserable.
Tain guided Rula up the perilous stair. Torfin met them outside a doorway.
"In here. They saw us coming."
Tain heard muted weeping.
"Trouble," Torfin
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