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Authors: Rosemary Sutcliff
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above him, Talore said with that leaping gentleness of his, ‘
This
swan is a better price than if it were as many copper cook pots as there are fingers on my one hand.’
The two men stood facing each other beside the fire, the one big and red-gold and blustering, swaying a little on his heels, the other slight and dark, and still as a forest pool; while the rest of the big firelit hut looked on, the boy Luga watching his father out of the shadows, expectantly.
Then Morvidd said, ‘And that is your last word as to the thing?’
‘That is my last word.’
‘Then you’re mad!’ Morvidd let out a kind of baffled roar. ‘You’re a fool, Talore One-hand! To shake your head at a fine copper—’
Talore cut across his blustering, with the same gentleness. ‘That you have said before. Nay then, Morvidd the Chieftain’s brother, there is a thing that you forget, in all this. It is I who choose what master Fand’s cubs shall go to, and what master Fand’s cubs shall not go to; I, and no other. And I choose only masters who to my mind are worthy of them.’
For a moment Drem thought that Morvidd was going to burst like an old skin bottle filled too full, then he seemed to collapse as though the bottle had been partly emptied. He blinked, and swallowed loudly, then gathered himself together and strode to the doorway. On the threshold he turned, some of his bluster coming back to him, and shouted: ‘Then here is
my
last word. There are better cubs easily come by for a smaller price; and do not you be trying to sell a cub to
me
when Fand litters again and maybe no man needs another hound!’
‘I will not, assuredly, I will not,’ Talore said, looking after the big angry man as he flung away into the night; and the familiar note of laughter was deepening in his voice.
The boy Luga made after his father, turning also on the threshold with a long, lowering look that took in everybody in the house-place but rested longest upon Drem, before he too was gone.
‘He was very angry,’ Drem said, when the sound of footsteps had died away.
‘He will forget,’ Talore said. ‘He blusters—like a west wind he blusters; but a west wind blows itself out in a while.’
But Drem had a feeling that however quickly Morvidd’s fury blustered itself out, it would be a long time before Luga forgave having seen his father worsted and made to seem foolish.
Ah, but what did that matter? The thing was over; and Drem drew a long breath, and turned his gaze again to the swan lying spread-winged in the firelight. They were all looking at the swan now, while Wenna set aside her stitching, and rose to set out the deer meat which she had been keeping hot for the lord of the house in a pot among the embers. ‘Gwythno was here at noon, and Belu from the ford a while before. I gavethem the puppies as you bade me . . . I would have liked a copper cook pot, but I suppose we can do without.’
‘Nay then,’ said Talore, laughing. ‘We are none so poor that we must trade a puppy for a cook pot. If your heart is set on such a thing, then go and speak with Kian the Smith, and tell him he shall have two dressed wolfskins from me, for making it.’
Talore’s sons were all round Drem now, laughing. ‘That was a great hunting,’ they said. ‘Little brother, that was a fine kill—see, it is all but as big as himself!’ And the eldest son caught him a friendly buffet between the shoulders that landed like the blow of a bear’s paw and all but sent him sprawling into the fire.
Triumph rushed up into Drem’s throat, all the fiercer and more sweet for what had gone before. Just for one dreadful moment following on Morvidd’s words, he had seen his swan, his beautiful kill, as so small a price for the cub that it was not really a price at all. Just a big dead bird, beginning to be tattered and unlovely. But then Talore had said that it was worth as many copper cooking pots as there were fingers on his one hand, and the white rumpled
This
swan is a better price than if it were as many copper cook pots as there are fingers on my one hand.’
The two men stood facing each other beside the fire, the one big and red-gold and blustering, swaying a little on his heels, the other slight and dark, and still as a forest pool; while the rest of the big firelit hut looked on, the boy Luga watching his father out of the shadows, expectantly.
Then Morvidd said, ‘And that is your last word as to the thing?’
‘That is my last word.’
‘Then you’re mad!’ Morvidd let out a kind of baffled roar. ‘You’re a fool, Talore One-hand! To shake your head at a fine copper—’
Talore cut across his blustering, with the same gentleness. ‘That you have said before. Nay then, Morvidd the Chieftain’s brother, there is a thing that you forget, in all this. It is I who choose what master Fand’s cubs shall go to, and what master Fand’s cubs shall not go to; I, and no other. And I choose only masters who to my mind are worthy of them.’
For a moment Drem thought that Morvidd was going to burst like an old skin bottle filled too full, then he seemed to collapse as though the bottle had been partly emptied. He blinked, and swallowed loudly, then gathered himself together and strode to the doorway. On the threshold he turned, some of his bluster coming back to him, and shouted: ‘Then here is
my
last word. There are better cubs easily come by for a smaller price; and do not you be trying to sell a cub to
me
when Fand litters again and maybe no man needs another hound!’
‘I will not, assuredly, I will not,’ Talore said, looking after the big angry man as he flung away into the night; and the familiar note of laughter was deepening in his voice.
The boy Luga made after his father, turning also on the threshold with a long, lowering look that took in everybody in the house-place but rested longest upon Drem, before he too was gone.
‘He was very angry,’ Drem said, when the sound of footsteps had died away.
‘He will forget,’ Talore said. ‘He blusters—like a west wind he blusters; but a west wind blows itself out in a while.’
But Drem had a feeling that however quickly Morvidd’s fury blustered itself out, it would be a long time before Luga forgave having seen his father worsted and made to seem foolish.
Ah, but what did that matter? The thing was over; and Drem drew a long breath, and turned his gaze again to the swan lying spread-winged in the firelight. They were all looking at the swan now, while Wenna set aside her stitching, and rose to set out the deer meat which she had been keeping hot for the lord of the house in a pot among the embers. ‘Gwythno was here at noon, and Belu from the ford a while before. I gavethem the puppies as you bade me . . . I would have liked a copper cook pot, but I suppose we can do without.’
‘Nay then,’ said Talore, laughing. ‘We are none so poor that we must trade a puppy for a cook pot. If your heart is set on such a thing, then go and speak with Kian the Smith, and tell him he shall have two dressed wolfskins from me, for making it.’
Talore’s sons were all round Drem now, laughing. ‘That was a great hunting,’ they said. ‘Little brother, that was a fine kill—see, it is all but as big as himself!’ And the eldest son caught him a friendly buffet between the shoulders that landed like the blow of a bear’s paw and all but sent him sprawling into the fire.
Triumph rushed up into Drem’s throat, all the fiercer and more sweet for what had gone before. Just for one dreadful moment following on Morvidd’s words, he had seen his swan, his beautiful kill, as so small a price for the cub that it was not really a price at all. Just a big dead bird, beginning to be tattered and unlovely. But then Talore had said that it was worth as many copper cooking pots as there were fingers on his one hand, and the white rumpled
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