Chapter 28

Papa,” murmured Katherine, hunted through the shadowed forests of sleep. A hand reached out for her, blooded and trembling. She tossed and turned onto her back. “Papa.”

She woke. The cloak she used for bedding lay crumpled down around her ankles. Sweat chilled in beads on her skin. She sat up, shivering, trying to hold on to the substance of her dream—why Papa, and not Harry?

More than a hundred people huddled close in slumber on the floor of the great hall, whole families rolled under blankets all together in the only decent shelter they would ever know. The fire in the great stone hearth had gone to embers—it cast just enough light for Katherine to pick her way amongst the sleeping forms at her feet. Men and women, young and old, lay entwined all around her, piled over with their children, dogs and cats, all at peace, all breathing out into the frigid air in their separate meters and registers. Katherine stopped in the middle of the room and listened, entranced for a time, then picked her way between them and slipped out into the courtyard.

Silence was everywhere. The dark walls of the inner ward held it cupped. A lone watchfire shone atop the keep, its feeble light drowning in the sky. Katherine crossed the courtyard, shoes rustling in the tended grass, her eyes on the stars framed four-square above her. She shot a glance up the walls, to where candlelight shone through the arrow-slit window of Harry’s room. She spared herself time for one more pleading wish, then opened the door on the long day’s work ahead.

Goody Bycross turned from the washpots with a scowl. “Girl, you begone.” She waggled her laundry-stick in Katherine’s face. “You’re wanted in the stables today.”

Katherine stopped at the threshold of the laundry shed. “What? Why?”

“Request from Lord Wolland.” Goody Bycross looked a good deal less than pleased to be bearing such news. “The lords go a-hunting today, and they want you to come along with them. Well, don’t stand here with your jaw as wide as the door, shut them both and get on with you!”

Katherine closed the door on the row of women washing clothes and breakfast linens. She turned and raced back to the hall to change into a tunic and breeches. She would have skipped through the grass on her way to the stables, but for the light in the arrow-slit window above.

A boy slept on a bed of straw by the door of the stable. He awoke as Katherine approached and challenged her in a whisper: “Who goes there?”

“They say I’m wanted here today.” Katherine peeled the melted stump of a candle from the shelf by the boy’s bed and took up flint and steel to light it. “Do you know why?”

“Not a clue.” The boy rubbed his eyes and let out an apple-wide yawn. “You’re the old marshal’s daughter, aren’t you? You might as well do some work, while you’re here.”

“I’d like that.” Katherine carried the candle down the passage, holding it to the wick of each lantern hanging on the wall. Boys uncurled from the straw and stood blinking, dogs gained their feet and shook themselves out, and the horses woke one by one as she passed.

“Here.” Katherine held the apple she had brought along under Indigo’s nose and stroked his mane as she fed him. Sorrow returned—Indigo was Wulfric’s now, won by the custom of the joust. He would soon be gone, taken away to Wolland, never to be seen again. She could bear to stay with him no longer, though she would have wanted to linger until someone came to throw her out. She snuffed the candle and left.

The stables warmed with the heat of activity. Boys drew water, poured oats and mucked out stalls. They danced past one another in the narrow passage with tack and saddle in hand. The faint rumor of the sun’s rising seeped in around the shutters, and with it the first of the knights and ladies coming for their horses. Katherine kept in the thick of the work, moving swiftly from one noble personage to the next, ensuring that they all left with steeds well fed and prepared. She cleaned out the shoes of a visiting stallion, then ran her hands through his tack, checking it for frays. She walked over to the storage stall and hauled up a sack of grain with her back to the door.

A voice spoke from behind her: “My son does not love you.”

Katherine felt her insides give a squeeze. She dropped the sack and turned to curtsy. “My lady.”

Lady Isabeau had not slept, and no amount of careful arrangement of her hair, veil and dress could disguise it. “He thinks he does, but he cannot. I do not say it to wound you.”

A stablehand brought Lady Isabeau her riding mare, then bowed and backed away. Lady Isabeau led the mare off down the passage, causing everyone to stop and make their reverences. Katherine followed her outside, then bent to make a step from her hands.

“Men of his station in life do not have the luxury of those feelings.” Isabeau gained the saddle with Katherine’s help. “Be thankful it is not your lot.”

“He called for me, my lady.” Katherine handed her the reins, but kept her gaze averted. “He sent for me. Why would you not let me see him?”

“You know the reason. I’m sure you will be pleased to know that he is expected to live.” Lady Isabeau arranged her skirts over the side of her mare and rode away toward the gates.

Katherine blinked back tears, for she had no time to cry them. A herald called out from the courtyard, and the door of the keep swung wide. Through it stepped Lord Wolland and Lord Aelfric, walking as far from each other as good manners would allow. Sir Wulfric followed behind, seeming not to notice the hateful looks shot his way by every groom, smith and washerwoman in the castle.

Katherine took the reins of Lord Aelfric’s own courser and led him from the stables, followed by two stable boys with steeds for Wulfric and Wolland.

“Katherine Marshal.” Lord Wolland favored Katherine with a smile that made her want to punch him right in the mouth. “Your second name rings true once again.”

“She is no marshal, my lord.” Lord Aelfric looked as though he had aged into his final years overnight. “She is a ward of this castle, a girl without parents to speak for her.”

“It is custom, my lord, for a marshal to attend to the horses of the lords on the hunt.” said Wolland. “More than that, it is simple good sense. Shall our steeds wander off into the woods while we stalk our prey with the longbow?”

Lord Aelfric made a weary wave of his hand. “Do as you will.”

Sir Wulfric stepped out before the other men. “I beg you again, my lord, to accept my apologies.” He bowed to Lord Aelfric. “I would rather cut off my own hand than do injury to young Harold. It cheers me to learn that he will survive.”

“Those are the chances of life, sir knight.” Lord Aelfric’s creaky old voice seemed to have lost what remained of its strength. “Every father learns in time that he cannot shield his child from the wandering cruelties of this world forever.” He flicked a glance at Katherine, making her insides squeeze again.

A page boy in Wolland’s colors stepped before them and bowed. He offered out a handful of arrows, all very straight and well crafted, each with identical fletching, black feathers from a bird that Katherine did not recognize.

“A gift,” said the page. “From my lord Wolland.”

Lord Aelfric took an arrow and turned it over in his hands. Two other pages made the rounds of the nobles, offering similar arrows to all present.

“What think you, my lord?” said Wolland. “Have my men made shafts to rival the storied arrows of Elverain?”

“They are of excellent quality.” Lord Aelfric looked up at the boys distributing dozens of arrows to the hunting party. “This is a lordly gift to be given so widely.”

“Consider them tokens of my esteem.” Wolland waved a hand. “Emblems of my wish for a more harmonious union between our lands.”

Lord Aelfric shot him an icy look. “I will gladly take them, my lord.”

“Good.” Wolland climbed into his saddle and rode away with Wulfric to join the hunters.

Katherine held out the reins of Lord Aelfric’s courser. He did not seem to see her, so she pressed them into his hands.

“What is the proper course for an honorable man?” Lord Aelfric did not look at Katherine, but no one else was near enough to hear him. “The lessons of my youth come back to me across the long years. I feel the sting of it; the face of my own father gazes down on me, questions me. Have I failed?”

Katherine’s dream returned. She saw her papa in chains, bound and wrapped in them up and down his arms—somewhere dark, somewhere cold. He reached for her, blooded and trembling.

“You see before you an old fool—the very pattern of the oldest of fools.” Lord Aelfric put a hand to the pommel of his saddle. “The fool seeks to purchase safety at the cost of honor. The fool pays in coin for his life, but then finds himself paying again, and yet again, in things more dear to him than life.”

Katherine glanced around her. She stood alone with her lord in the center of the courtyard. The hunters waited by the outer gates. The commoners went about their business in stable, smithy and garden, all of them out of hearing.

“My lord, it is right to fear the strife of war.” Katherine stepped up beside Lord Aelfric and knelt with her hands laced together. “But there are times when we must do that which we fear.”

When the stern cast of his face relaxed, Lord Aelfric looked a good deal more like Harry. “Spoken as your father would speak.” He stepped into Katherine’s hands. “How I wish that I had heeded him, while yet I could.”

Katherine raised him into his saddle. “My lord, what is happening?”

“Too many things. I wish these dangers had not come so late in life.” Aelfric slipped his feet into the stirrups. “Lord Wolland is quite right; it is custom to have a marshal to attend our horses on the hunt. We will follow that custom as closely as we may.”

Katherine curtsied. “I will gladly serve, my lord.”

Lord Aelfric took his reins. “You seem to like the horse my son rode at the joust. I do not think Wulfric will take it ill if you ride him one last time.” He spurred his mount and cantered off through the gates. The hunters turned and followed him.

Katherine spent as long as she could in Indigo’s stall, feeding him and brushing him down as though it were not the last time she would ever do it. At last, when she could no longer ignore the ever more urgent summons to her duties, she saddled him and rode from the castle, following the nobles through Northend and up the Longsettle road. She turned at Thrawnthrup, passing through the humble cluster of cottages under old shade oaks and following an ox-trail through wide, flat fields harvested down to stubble. She found the hunting party gathered on a grassy slope by the eaves of the wood. The horn sounded just as she reached them, and she found herself riding in amongst the lords at a gallop down the trail that ran between forest and field.

Half a mile along they turned onto a track that wound up the side of the ridge and led into the trees. Katherine found Wulfric keeping pace at her side, a few lengths back of Lord Aelfric and Lord Wolland. Lady Isabeau’s party of noble ladies rode some distance behind, while from ahead rang the shouts of the other lords and knights, singing rounds of verse best meant for the worst of taverns.

Wulfric steered in so close that his knee bumped Katherine’s thigh. “I have never seen a match for that horse.” He cast a satisfied look over Indigo’s great and graceful back. “He will be a joy to ride.”

Indigo shifted away and rode his own course along the trail. When Wulfric turned his horse to close the gap, Indigo put on just enough speed to stay clear, raising his head ever so slightly and eyeing his pursuer, until Wulfric found his horse reluctant to press the issue.

“So, my lord.” Wolland rode at a comfortable pace ahead. “We are off to the usual spot?”

“We are, my lord,” said Aelfric.

“Good, excellent,” said Wolland. “I have never known a better place for shooting. Girl, attend us here.”

Katherine nudged Indigo to the space Lord Wolland had opened up between himself and Lord Aelfric. She kept her head low in deference, even as she rode, for she could see Lord Aelfric stiffen at the impertinence of a peasant girl riding abreast with lords of the realm.

“I wish to resume our earlier conversation.” Lord Wolland nodded to Katherine. “Do you recall? We spoke of the uses and purposes of war.”

Katherine looked to Lord Aelfric, but when he did not move to stop her, she spoke. “I remember, my lord. I said that most folk just want peace. War brings nothing but strife and ruin. We men and women have enough trouble already in this world, and to make more of it is the mark of a fool.”

Wolland smiled. “So says woman always. But she would have her sons defend her daughters.”

“If everyone fought only to defend, no one would need to fight at all.”

“Ah, no.” Lord Wolland shook his head, his smile turned wistful. “The world is too small, my girl. It is too hard. Someone’s line must fail, someone’s house must crumble, someone’s kingdom must disappear. A mother asks the world that her children prosper, but the children of all mothers cannot prosper. Thus, war.”

“My lord, do not mistake me.” Katherine clenched her reins. “It is right to make war in defense of hearth and home. It is right to root out those who threaten the common peace and put them to the sword.”

Lord Wolland guffawed. “My dear girl, that sounds alarmingly like a threat!”

“She fears for her people, my lord.” Lord Aelfric’s voice cut sharp across Lord Wolland’s boisterous noise. “Is that so hard to understand? It is no fault of hers that she knows nothing of diplomacy.”

“Then let us serve as instructors for her first lesson.” Wolland turned in his saddle. “My dear girl, it is often prudent for a lord to keep his anger in check, and so harness it to a larger purpose. A tricky thing indeed, diplomacy. The wise lord knows he must tread carefully to avoid giving undue offense, and yet he must also be at pains to seem like a strong man whose better nature wishes peace, and not a weak man whose survival depends on the kindness of his neighbors.”

There was a very still and pregnant pause.

Aelfric turned his head to regard Lord Wolland. “You have some skill at diplomacy, my lord, by way of long and diligent study.” He let the words hang. “Let us speak, then, of diplomacy, of statecraft, and of peace.”

“There is only one question between us on that subject,” said Wolland. “You know, my lord, what that question is. The time has come for you to give me your answer.”

Lord Aelfric rode on for ten more paces. He looked at Katherine and then sat up tall in his saddle to glare across at Wolland. “My answer is no.”

“You have long been praised, my lord, for the firmness of your loyalties,” said Lord Wolland. “Be that so, I yet beseech you to consider those loyalties in the light of the present day.”

Lord Aelfric’s owlish brows went down. “You have heard my judgment on the matter, my lord. It is final.”

“The man who does not change with the times is busy carving his epitaph.” said Wolland, the faintest hint of warning in his voice.

“Mine is already half carved,” said Aelfric. “When it is done, I trust it will say that I was not a man who forgot his friends.”

“Ah.” Wolland shook his head. “As I had feared.”

Their party arrived at a wide, shallow ravine in the heart of the forest. A brook wound through its center, flowing gently south, trickling and laughing over the smoothed rocks as it went. The trees grew sparse in that direction, and the canopy above very high; Katherine could see for quite a distance between the trunks. The ground rose to a ridge on either side, lined with stands of oak and maple, while beyond that, bare hilltops bumped the sky some distance off, just visible through the trees. The noble ladies took their places on the ridgeline to the right, while the knights made their way to their side of the gallery on the left.

Lord Wolland looked about him in satisfaction. “Yes. A fine spot for shooting.” He shrugged off his cloak and tossed it over the back of his horse, leaving the bright red lining exposed.

“You are warm, my lord?” Aelfric turned to him in surprise, for the wind amongst the trees whispered many hints of winter.

“I am growing warmer.” Wolland took up his bow and quiver. “Come, let us begin.” He put the reins of his horse in Katherine’s hand and advanced a few yards to one of the last pieces of good cover before the open ravine.

Aelfric raised his hunting horn to his lips and blew three loud blasts. A flash of movement caught the corner of Katherine’s eye, far off to her left behind the knights. She turned to search with her gaze through the trees, but caught no further sign of what it was.

Everything went quiet. The horses stood close, at rest but not at ease. The sun cut sharp through the barren branches above. Whispers sounded high and to the right, then a hush, then rising from the silence came the sound of the dogs. They began as muted noises, without mood or motion, then grew nearer, clearer and louder in their happy chase. Two dozen longbows creaked back. Lord Wolland’s round head rose just out of cover. Arrowheads glinted from the tops of the ridges. There was a hint, then a rustle, a shake, a sudden thunder and a doe burst from cover at the head of the ravine. She was in full wild run, her black eyes bulging as she galloped out into the killing place. The horses raised their heads all together, jerking Katherine’s arm back as the doe bounded down the ravine toward them, achieving a last moment of grace as she leapt into the sunlight, head high, long legs arched in the perfect form and model of flight. Then two dozen bowstrings whipped at the air. The doe lurched, stricken on all sides, and tumbled at once, her speed making a sprawling ruin of her last moments. She fell hard forward, eyes still staring wide, and as she came down, Lord Aelfric slid out from his place of cover to fall with her, one arrow deep in his left side.