Your own future will be less than you imagine if you continue in this vein, Nilsson thought, though out-wardly his face was quietly serious.
‘We’ve been through worse, and survived,’ a man called. ‘Could you have led us better? Tending Meirach will only give you so much credit. If you want to teach us our affairs you’ll have to do better than sneer and talk poetic.’
Nilsson was grateful that the comment had been relatively good-humoured. Others might have told Rannick he had to fight if he wanted to be heard.
And they might yet.
‘I’m not teaching you your affairs,’ Rannick said. ‘I’m telling you what you already know. You’re well led, that’s why you’ve come so far. But from here you must join with me and together we go an entirely different way.’
‘We go north… Lord,’ cried another voice. ‘North and away from this place. And we have ways of choosing our own leaders.’
‘You go north and you die,’ Rannick said, starkly.
There was abusive denial from the crowd. ‘Whatever kind of land lies up there, we’ll get there and we’ll cope,’ was the consensus.
Rannick shook his head. ‘Up there is the Great For-est. No people. Nothing. Just trees and birds and animals. There’s nothing for you to live off except whatever your own labours grow or hunt down. And that’s not your way, is it? But…’ He levelled a finger at the crowd before anyone could remonstrate with this comment. ‘You’ll not even get so far.’
There was more denial, this time indignant.
Rannick pointed north. ‘I came to your camp the other night to warn you, but I could see you were in no mood to listen so I had to let matters take their course. But beyond where you were the valley is a bad place. Nothing that does not already live there enters and survives. You saw what happened to the horse,’ he added quietly.
There was an uncertain silence. ‘Just some animals. Dogs probably,’ someone said eventually. ‘We’ve faced real dangers in our time.’
Rannick shook his head. ‘You’ve faced men. Crea-tures like yourselves. But up there…’ He left the sentence unfinished and another uncertain silence descended on the crowd.
Nilsson watched intently. His men were in an odd mood. The early return of the patrol with its account of the slaughtered horse and Meirach’s disappearance, followed by the arrival of this strange person who seemingly had the protection of their leader and who had brought back Meirach, cured of his burns, all conspired to unsettle them. Ironically, he thought it made them more amenable to listening.
But not that amenable!
‘We don’t have to put up with this,’ came a disparag-ing voice. ‘You want to lead us, then state your case and take your chance. We don’t want to hear children’s tales. You said yourself you needed us, Rannick. Well, as far as I can see, we don’t need you. You’re not even a good teller of tales. We’ve given you credit for helping Meirach but unless you’ve anything worthwhile to say, stand down and let us get on with our business. We need to see what’s to the north for ourselves then we’ll decide what we’re going to do.’
Shouts of agreement greeted this.
Rannick did not reply for a moment, but stood with his head bowed slightly.
Then he spoke. His voice was low and menacing and it once again filled the courtyard, hissing around it like a biting winter wind. ‘In deference to your captain, I have indulged you enough,’ he said. ‘Know this: I come in the wake of the one who once led you. I come with his power to take up his mantle and to lead you back to what was unjustly torn from you by his weakness. I do not vie for leadership with the likes of you any more than does the eagle with the sparrow. If you wish to go to the north and test the truth of my words, then go and I’ll not hinder you. And if any of you are fortunate enough to return then you may try your fortune further by prostrating yourself before me and begging my forgiveness for your arrogance and folly.’
There was uproar. Still Nilsson watched. Surpris-ingly, the men were divided. Indeed, it was the disarray among them that prevented them from attacking Rannick. There was every conceivable reaction to his powerful declaration: disbelief, anger, confusion, fear and, strangest of all, adulation. It was a reflection of Nilsson’s own inner feelings when he had confronted Rannick earlier. They feel it, too, he thought. The power again.
‘I leave you to choose now,’ Rannick went on, his voice overtopping the din. ‘Those of you who wish to go on to the greatness that was denied you, remain. Those of you who wish to follow your old way, go north and accept the consequences.’ Then he turned and walked down the stairs to Nilsson, motioning him back to the castle.
As they left, the crowd, though noisy, parted for them freely.
Back in Nilsson’s quarters Rannick sat silent, while Nilsson watched the continuing proceedings from his window. Various figures mounted the stairs to state their piece, some haranguing, some persuading, some reasonable, some emotional. He listened as all the minor jealousies and differences in his troop came to the surface. A wave of anger passed through him. You’ll blow some wind now, won’t you, you dogs? he thought. Now that you’re well fed and housed again. But it was Nilsson this and Nilsson that, look after us, Captain, only a few weeks ago.
The anger passed as quickly as it had come, to be replaced by some satisfaction. He had effectively manoeuvred Rannick into calling the congress, and the outcome could only be an improvement. A rowdy congress was essential from time to time and, being formally absent from it, he could view this one with unusual equanimity.
And, too, it had revealed interesting details about this new saviour. He was particularly amused to hear Rannick lying about luring them into the valley; a politician’s device if ever he heard one. Whatever chance had brought them here, it had nothing to do with Rannick, he was certain. Even his former lord would not have claimed such skill; indeed, he had feared chance happenings.
And too, Rannick had surreptitiously wiped his brow as they had stepped out of the courtyard and into the shade of the castle interior. Good human traits, he thought. They confirmed his earlier conclusion that though Rannick could indisputably use the power, he was still just another scheming, grasping mortal; at heart, his own kind.
Definitely now he would bind himself to this man. There was a roar from the courtyard.
Chapter 19
‘I don’t think those men are tithe gatherers at all.’
Standing in Rannick’s dishevelled garden, Gryss felt his insides go cold. Marna’s words were perhaps only the petulant grumblings of an over-sensitive young woman disturbed by recent events, but their effect was like that of a gentle leaf-stirring breeze which tilts an aging tree that final fraction too far and sends it crashing down, seemingly without apparent reason.
‘What makes you say that?’ he asked, struggling to keep his voice from reflecting the turmoil within him that had abruptly been released.
Marna pulled a wry face. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Their appearance. Their behaviour. Everything. They’re a shifty-looking lot, not to say downright nasty-looking. Why would the King hire a motley crew of foreigners like that to collect the tithe? And that… Saddre… didn’t really seem to know what he was doing when he was going round the barn with you. Did you see the way he kept looking at that captain for instructions?’ She began to warm to her revelations. ‘And why did everything have to be taken to the castle to be checked?’
Gryss gestured to stop this outpouring. ‘I don’t know,’ he conceded. ‘But soldiers are soldiers, Marna. They’re not chosen for their looks, and I’ve no idea where the King gets them from or how he decides who does what. All I’ve ever seen are soldiers on ceremonial parades and on guard outside public buildings, and that was a long time ago. And I didn’t speak to any of them; they could all have been foreigners for anything I know, even then.’
Marna looked at him, unconvinced and waiting.