“He slanders me who says I eat of meat!” the Brown Man stormed. “I dine only upon whortleberries, nuts, and apples!”
“How can a fellow sustain so much bulk as you have upon such a diet?” Geoffrey’s words dripped sarcasm.
“Thus does a bull, and so do I!”
“A bull grazes constantly, all the day long,” Geoffrey taunted. “Can you think of nothing but food?”
“Surely, Geoffrey, if the man says he eats only fodder, he does,” Alain said nervously.
Geoffrey turned on him, shocked. “Surely you do not fear the fellow!”
“Surely I do not,” Alain agreed, “but I understand what he means when he says that he is of the land and the land of him.”
Geoffrey stood frowning at him in thought while Gregory said, his voice low, “Even thus is a legitimate king. His ancestors fed from the land for generations; its elements are in his blood and bone.”
“But not its fungus.” Geoffrey turned back to the Brown Man. “So it comes once again to feeding, for thus are you made—of the substance of the land. No wonder you can think of nothing but food!”
“I think also of trespassers and murderers,” the Brown Man said in an ominous rumble.
“A murderer you must be, then, for as I’ve said, your bulk requires meat,” Geoffrey returned.
The Brown Man roared, “You would not dare insult me so if you stood upon this side of the river!”
Finally Geoffrey’s wolfish grin broke loose, and he stepped toward the water.
CHAPTER 10
“Forfend!” Alain grasped his shoulder, then let go and dodged adroitly as Geoffrey’s arm swung like a windmill to knock his hand away—but the prince caught his shoulder again and said, “If he feeds all day, what is that to you?”
“I do not call him liar,” Geoffrey said evenly, “but people do not graze the livelong day, so I know he cannot live on naught but salad.”
“Come home with me and see,” the Brown Man sneered. “If you dare, come across this brook and see how you fare!”
Geoffrey stepped down into the stream.
“Brother, no!” Gregory caught his arm and, before Geoffrey could turn on him, said quickly, “You taught me when I was quite small that a man’s a fool to take a dare and thereby let another steer him as he pleases!”
“I spoke of boyhood pranks then,” Geoffrey said in a voice strained tight with self-control, “not a grown man’s insult.”
“Yet he will govern you as surely by those insults as a bully’s taunts do manipulate a foolish boy! Come, brother, you are a man in his prime, and a knight!”
“And it is beneath a knight’s dignity to stoop to brawling,” Alain said.
“All excuses for cowardice!” the Brown Man jeered. “Cross the brook if you dare!”
Geoffrey froze with one foot in the water, his eyes narrowing. “The man who names me coward is too blatant in his aims.”
Gregory sighed with relief, then frowned at a sudden thought. “You said you would not name him liar, but I shall—for he could not truly eat apples when the nearest orchard we have seen is so well guarded.”
“What’s this?” the Brown Man demanded, outraged. “It cannot be that some fellow has dared to steal my groves!”
“It most certainly can,” Geoffrey said, gloating. “Indeed, the land seems to be bursting with guardian spirits in these latter days.”
“Only I am rightful warden!”
“Of the moors,” said Alain, “but the orchard we speak of stands where forest trees once towered, though fields of wheat and barley spread about it now.”
The Brown Man fell silent, glowering.
“ ’Tis the land of farms and farmers,” Geoffrey said, “and no concern of yours.”
“We should not have told him this, brother,” Gregory said. “We should have let him go forth on another trip to that orchard all unknowing, and let him lock himself in combat with the Apple-Tree Man.”
“The Apple-Tree Man?” The Brown Man’s glower lightened to brooding. “I have heard him spoken of before.”
“Enough to declare him your enemy?” Gregory asked, too innocently.
“Nay, my ally! And fool would I be to bait him into combat, for no matter who won, the world of trees and bushes would have one less guardian.” The Brown Man eyed Geoffrey with reluctant respect. They could see how dearly the words cost him as he said, “I see you are brother to a wise man.”
“The next best thing,” Geoffrey said cheerfully.
“I shall greet the Apple-Tree Man with all courtesy, and offer him heather in place of his apples,” the Brown Man decided. “Thus may we keep from coming to blows.” He took a deep breath. “Loath though I am to admit it, I owe you lads a favor for telling me of him.”
Geoffrey noticed that he hadn’t said he was grateful and had certainly offered no hint of apology. “You shall owe us another, then, for I promise not to hunt any creature that moves till I have come off of your moors.”
“That is not a favor—it is the course of discretion,” the Brown Man snapped. “Know, belted knight, that if you had crossed that stream, my ravens would have fed upon your flesh and I would have enriched my moors with the dust of your bones!”
“If you could have,” Geoffrey said, the wolfish grin now open and wide.
“He could have indeed,” Gregory said low-voiced behind him.
“Know that the power of the moors is within me,” the Brown Man informed him with no trace of boasting, “the life-force of ten thousand acres of bracken and heather, and all the creatures that feed upon them or make their homes within them! Do you truly think you could stand against such might?”
Geoffrey scowled and stood with every muscle tensed—but did not answer.
“Nonetheless, I would as lief not shed the blood of any creature, deserving or no,” the Brown Man rumbled. “Nay, go your way, and come not again onto my moors with empty packs. Bring with you all the food you will need for your sojourn here.”
“Why, so I have,” Geoffrey answered, “dried beef and biscuit, and though I would have preferred fresh meat, I can do without.”
“We shall indeed refrain from hunting until we have come down from your lands,” Alain said. “Tell me, how long a journey have we till we have passed out of your domain?”
“Aye,” said Gregory. “Where do these moors end?”
“Weary of them already, are you?” the Brown Man asked with a sour smile. “Well, you’ve a long and lonely road to travel yet, me buckos. Onward you go with the rising sun on your left hand, onward for two more days before you come to the end of my moors. Down a long slope you’ll go then, to the shores of an icy lake—and when you see its waters, you’ll think the moors a pleasant place, mark my words!” With a sinister laugh, he turned, stepped into the bracken, and was gone.
“Wait!” Geoffrey called. “Wherefore shall we rue that coming? Stay, spirit, and tell!”
Alain’s hand fell on his shoulder. “Do not think to call him back, Geoffrey. It galls him to have to acknowledge a debt to us, no matter how slight, and he still rejoices in his revenge.”
“Even if there is little reason,” Gregory agreed. “There may be no cause to fear that lake—or for all we know, no lake at all.”
“Quite so,” said Alain. “The fellow seeks to steal our peace of mind, that is all.”
Geoffrey turned back, frowning. “Telling a lie only to have us spend the next two days in apprehension? Aye, I can see that would be such revenge as he could allow himself even though he feels beholden.”
“Call it that and nothing more,” Gregory coaxed. “Come, dip some water from that stream and let us set to stewing some dried beef.”