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The news of unrest along the border reached Rainger far less frequently. The Tandians did not appear to be participating in any problem-making at all, despite the increasing number of soldiers. When news came from a nearby township of a brawl involving half the town elders, he was quick to gather his men and ride out to see what had occurred.
He had hoped that the reduced number of soldiers within the town he left didn’t give rise to more problems, but he was sure that life was starting to settle back into some form of normality.
He wondered if this could not have been easily handled while they were away at the Keep. It also occurred to him, too often, that the queen herself had been stirring things up within the town by instilling fear for what Tands might do. She sent regular correspondence, not just to him about what she thought he should be doing, but to the townsfolk themselves.
A notice had hung in the middle of the market declaring that Tands could not be trusted and that all tradesmen should be closely observed. She had them looking for spies that didn’t exist. As the concerns within the town had died down, the notice had disappeared in the night. Rainger was thankful of the anonymous vandal and hadn’t pursued the matter any further.
Riding into the township, Rainger quickly noticed that the Tandian town was much closer to the border than the town he was based in. He also noted the lack of Tandian forces. Riding through the market, the remnants of the queen’s message was clear as the nails now only pinned scraps of paper to the wall.
The marketplace itself was peaceful. People and traders from both kingdoms moved together around the stalls without animosity, and he wondered why he had been given the information he had. It was as he climbed down from his horse that he heard the shouting that emanated from the town hall.
The village elders were screaming at each other across the space. One walked towards another and shoved him hard in the chest. Someone else took a swing and thankfully missed a fourth council member. It was clear that whatever this was, it had been going on for some time. They all looked ratty and in need of sleep; several members of the group already sported well-bruised jaws and eyes.
“Enough!” Rainger boomed above the din, and the room fell into an uneasy silence.
They looked him over and several started to mutter amongst themselves.
“What seems to be the problem?” he asked.
The room erupted again as everyone tried to speak, loudly, at the same time.
Rainger held up his hand and waited for quiet to return. He pointed at one man and waited.
He looked somewhat nervously around, as though his fellow councilmen might punish him for Rainger’s reason in selecting him. He coughed and then squared his shoulders.
“We are not sure, given the current political climate and the number of Tandian soldiers on the border, that we should entertain their tradesmen, nor sell to the villages across the border.”
“The people don’t want it,” another called out, and grumbling followed.
Rainger held his hand up again and quiet descended on the room. “The people in the market don’t seem to mind who they trade with or sell to,” he said.
They looked between each other and then back to Rainger.
“How long have you been debating this issue?” he asked.
The muttering increased.
“A week or more,” one man called out, and the noise level rose to almost what it was when Rainger entered.
“I couldn’t see any Tandian soldiers,” Rainger said calmly. “And the market is operating as it should.”
The background muttering continued as the men all looked at each other before pushing past Rainger and out into the market.
He followed to find them standing in the sun, shielding their eyes and silently watching over the movement at the market.
“I did say,” one man said quietly, and the group of men broke up. Some moved into the market for a closer look and others walked away.
“That was easy,” Rainger said to a captain standing nearby. “Take the men and move through the market to ensure there isn’t any trouble brewing under the surface.”
“Where are you going?” the man asked.
He raised an eyebrow and then tilted his head towards an alleyway. “Exploring.”
I am not needed here, he thought, anger rising in his chest with the idea of the queen and her instructions. He wasn’t doing any soldiering, and what was being done could be done by any of them. A commander wasn’t required. He ducked around a corner and leaned against a wall. He pulled Kellin’s last letter from his pocket and smoothed it out.
He could picture her by the fire, her needle poised as though she worked on the material in her hand—although he knew she didn’t—as she sang soft lullabies to the baby growing inside her. She had claimed Meg the better singer when they were at the Keep, but he remembered being lost to the sounds of her voice more than once. She seemed happier about the baby with each letter, although her fears of what might happen once the child arrived grew. He stuffed the letter back inside his breastplate and wondered what he could do for Queen Elalia to agree to bring him home.
He clenched his fists and kicked at the dust at his feet in frustration, because he knew she wouldn’t allow it. No matter how he asked, no matter her sister’s needs. He shook his head slowly and focused on the small opening in the curtain that hung opposite him in the lane.
The sweet smell of freshly carved wood filled his senses as he pulled the curtain back. An older man bent over a bench seat worked a plane slowly over the surface as small curls of wood fell into the dust at his feet.
He stopped at the sight of the big soldier and slowly put down his tool. “How can I help you, sir?” he asked, running a dusty hand through his hair.
“I did not mean to disturb you,” Rainger said hastily, noticing the small child that darted through another curtain. “I could smell the wood and I wondered what you did.”
“I make what I can,” he said. A warm smile lit up his face, his brown skin crinkling around his green eyes, and Rainger found himself smiling with him.
“Do you make these for yourself?”
“I would like to, but I am too busy making for others.” He held out his hand and indicated the furniture and lumber in various stages of completion around the space.
Rainger noticed a small crib and moved closer to run his hand over the intricate pattern on the side of it.
“Do you have children?” the man asked.
Rainger started to shake his head and then stopped. “We expect our first child,” he said quickly, unsure how to explain it or even when exactly the child would arrive.
“I could make you a similar crib,” he offered. “I can do you a good price and carve any pattern you would like.”
Rainger nodded slowly, looking over the crib again. “A raven,” he said softly.
The old man nodded. Rainger stepped forward quickly and shook his dusty hand.
Meg worried for Kellin. Despite Rainger’s letters from the border, she still hid herself away. In the early hours of the morning as the sun started to peek above the walls of the castle, Meg would wrap her in a thick shawl and drag her out to the Temple. It was the only time she seemed close to herself, and she would stand at the feet of Kira until other worshippers started to arrive.
Meg longed for the soldiers to laugh and talk with them as they had at the Keep, and she knew that some contact for Kellin was needed with those outside of herself, the nurse and the maid. Yet more men with the princesses would cause more talk and would only serve to bring them to Elalia’s attention.
She entered Kellin’s rooms to find Brother Erasmus sitting at the table, nodding politely as Kellin retold Rainger’s stories of the border.
“He has a surprise for me,” she said quietly, holding the latest letter tight in her hand. “He won’t give me any hint as to what that is. I hoped it was his return, but I fear Elalia won’t easily allow it.”
The Brother continued to nod, his face more and more serious.
“But he does say that the towns are quieter than when he arrived. He talks of the wonders at the market and the fruit he wished we could get here in Rocfeld, or that it was as fresh as it is at the border.”
Meg smiled at the comfortable way Kellin leant towards the Brother and the bright smile that lit up her face. Her hand rested softly across her stomach as she mentioned the soldier and Erasmus reached forward and took her other hand. If only he would come home, we would all be more at ease, Meg thought.
While Kellin was settled, Meg quietly excused herself. She slipped back to her rooms and changed. She could still remember the reaction to her trousers that first time, but the men no longer looked at her any differently to any other man in the yard. Or at least they didn’t treat her any differently, and she was thankful for that.
Her time thinking of nothing but the way her sword moved or her feet travelled through the dust was a welcome relief from her requirements within the Hall and the hours she spent with Kellin. Not that she didn’t want to spend time with Kellin, but she felt the need to entertain her or distract her from Rainger, and she found it increasingly difficult.
In the yard, Meg took her wooden sword and squared up, and Kiam did the same. She waited, but Brent didn’t signal for them to start. They looked at each other and then both turned and looked at him.
“The enemy isn’t going to give you time to get ready,” he reminded them.
Kiam nodded, but Meg felt a little lost. “I am just starting...” she said as Kiam moved forward quickly. She backed up out of the way before she thought to use the sword in her hand.
“Give it a go,” he snapped, letting his sword drop. “I’m not going to chase you around the yard. You want to learn to use a sword. Use it.”
She nodded once, shook herself out and held the sword out.
He swung at her slowly and she blocked easily, and then he moved more quickly. Her sword more often than not blocked his swings. The few times she was unable to block stung as the wood smacked against her.
“Maybe I need some armour,” she muttered as she rubbed her arm.
“Maybe,” Brent called from the fence, “but the enemy won’t wait.”
She put her sword up quickly to block another swing from Kiam. “How can I learn if I don’t get the chance to hit back?” she asked, blocking yet another hit.
“This could be far more important to learn,” he said.
The sounds of wood on wood echoed through the yard until her arm ached from the constant barrage of hits. Brent had simply nodded and walked away to signal the end of her practice.
Kiam smacked her on the shoulder and grinned. “You’re not too bad,” he said.
She handed him her wooden sword and with a shrug, headed back towards the castle, walking as she was through the people at the market. They barely turned to look at yet another skinny boy walking towards the castle gates.
She was tired but invigorated from the exercise when she returned to her rooms, only to find Erasmus. She rubbed her arm and paused at the sight of him.
“Are you well, my...” He paused and looked her over. “Do I want to know?” He smirked.
She moved over and sat beside him. “You already do,” she said. “I am sure the Temple whispers in your ear as to what I do with my days.”
He shrugged. “Do you think a prince will want a princess who fights with a wooden sword?”
She laughed comfortably. “I knew that you knew,” she said. “One day I may need to wield a real one,” she said more quietly, “and I would hope he could understand the need.”
“He seems a sensible fellow; I’m sure he would adapt.”
She shook her head and stood. “I need to change back into a princess.”