In his right hand was a large axe.
Holding it close to the head he extended it towards the far end of the village and then tilted it first to the right and then the left, at the same time talking earnestly to the rider.
The rider waved out the same instructions with his right hand, then, thanking his guide, he returned to his horse. As the group prepared to ride off, he gave the man a further brief salute and received an acknowledg-ing wave of the axe in return.
One of the riders glanced back as they gathered speed down the empty street. Shoulders hunched, the man was scuttling back into the warmth of his home.
‘Is that a tradition in these parts, Lord?’ he asked. ‘Greeting strangers at your door with the threshold sword in your hand?’
‘After Ledvrin, I’m afraid it is, Sirshiant,’ replied the leader.
The Sirshiant grimaced.
The Lord caught the expression. ‘You’re from the west,’ he said. ‘You had burdens of your own, I appreci-ate, but they weren’t those of the people around here. Take no offence at such actions. It grieves me to know why they happen, but it causes me no distress to see people willing to guard their own. Besides, you know well enough that an object’s a weapon only when it’s used as such.’ He laughed, unexpectedly. ‘In this case, that axe wasn’t an axe, it was a signpost.’
The group splashed out of the village and followed the road through the sodden countryside for some way until they came to a crossroads. Turning right they rode a little way and then hesitated at a narrow gateway. Beyond it was a rough-surfaced cart track leading to an isolated farmhouse.
The Lord nodded and one of the riders dismounted and opened the gate. The others passed through and galloped on towards the farmhouse as he closed the gate and remounted.
As they clattered into the farmyard, the door of the house opened and a woman appeared with a cloak cast hastily over her head.
‘This way, Lord,’ she said. ‘Your men can go into the barn over there. I’ll send someone over to help them straight away.’
The Lord and one of the other men dismounted and followed the woman into the house.
They found themselves in a broad hallway, its ceil-ing supported by heavily carved wooden beams and its walls bearing a homely mixture of pictures, outdoor clothes, and various bits of harness and tackle. Behind the door hung a short sword, its blade dark and pitted with age, though its edge was recently sharpened.
The woman threw her cloak on to a peg and with a brief ‘excuse me,’ trotted along the hall to a room at the back where she could be heard giving instructions to someone.
As the two men waited, the steady drips from their clothes formed large spreading pools on the tiled floor. The Lord fidgeted impatiently as he waited.
A door opened and a young girl came out. As she saw the two men, she stopped in the doorway and smiled pleasantly. The Lord, however, was looking over her head into the room. Gently, but hastily, he eased her to one side and stepped inside. The other man held out a tentative hand as if to restrain him, but did nothing.
‘Lord Eldric,’ said Sylvriss, looking up at the mud-stained and soaking figure who had just entered.
‘Majesty… ’ he began.
‘Lord!’ came a stern voice from behind him. Eldric started. It was the woman of the house. ‘You can’t go in there in that state,’ she said witheringly. ‘You must get out of those wet clothes and muddy boots immediately.’
Sylvriss lowered her gaze and smiled as the discom-fited Senior Lord of the Geadrol retreated in disorder.
‘I’m sorry, your Majesty,’ said the woman leaning in and closing the door. ‘You know what men are like.’
Within a few minutes the woman returned, leading a marginally drier and more presentable pair of visitors.
‘Lord Eldric, Hylland,’ Sylvriss said, smiling broadly and holding out a hand to the two men.
‘Majesty, are you all right?’ said Eldric, kneeling down by the side of the bed and taking the offered hand.
‘Yes, Lord Eldric, we’re both of us well,’ she replied, inclining her head to the other side of the bed.
Eldric looked across. Hylland was bending down and reaching a playful finger into a simple crib. The tiny sleeping figure lying there moved its head from side to side, frowned, and smacked its lips contentedly.
Eldric stood up and moved round to the crib. Look-ing down at the heir to Fyorlund’s throne, he smiled with grandfatherly wonder and fatherly memory.
‘How did you come to be here, Majesty?’ he asked after a moment. ‘We came as soon as we heard, but… ’
‘Lord,’ Hylland interrupted. ‘Will you excuse us? These questions will wait awhile. Now, her Majesty and I must talk alone for a moment.
Eldric looked at him impatiently then nodded with awkward understanding and once again retreated.
He was pacing the hallway and affecting to look at the pictures when Hylland emerged some time later.
‘Is everything all right?’ he asked anxiously. ‘You were a long time.’
The healer smiled. ‘Healer’s privilege, Lord, to play with the baby first,’ he said, then he laid a reassuring hand on the Lord’s arm. ‘They’re both fine. Mother and son. She’s a little tired and he’s a bit small, but that’s only to be expected. He’ll soon catch up. The birth caught everyone by surprise but went well enough seemingly, and I couldn’t have tended them better at the Palace than these people have here. Our concerns were needless.’
Eldric let out a long breath. ‘Can I go in?’ he asked, unconsciously casting a glance towards the rear room that housed the Queen’s new protector.
Hylland opened the door for him. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘She’s waiting for you. I’ll go and give the men the news.’
Eldric grunted nervously, and stepped inside.
He paused for a moment as he closed the door be-hind him, taking in the atmosphere of the room. It was clean and spruce, but only a little more so than it would be normally, he felt, and it held a subtle mixture of scents: old ones, rich and solid, deep sunk into the floor and walls, and echoing the lives of generations; and newer, sweeter ones, dominating for the moment, but ephemeral, and due to pass away soon, like the melting snow outside.
But perhaps not totally, he thought. Perhaps they too will add a small lasting note to the room’s old chorus.
He looked at his Queen. Her face was as rich in tales as the room. A little fuller than it had been, it told of tiredness, both from old trials and new, yet it was lit from the inside by a joy and a vigour that could not be touched by a mere passing physical weakness.
She was beautiful. Unexpectedly Eldric felt his knees go weak…
He cleared his throat noisily and stepped forward carefully on his momentarily unsteady legs.
Sylvriss indicated a chair that had been placed by her bed.
‘Sit down, Lord Eldric,’ she said. ‘You look tired.’
Eldric sat down. ‘Not as tired as I was only minutes ago, Majesty,’ he said. He looked across at the crib.
‘A fine baby, Hylland tells me,’ he said. ‘Our Queen back amongst us, and an heir. It’ll do much for the people.’
Sylvriss looked at him in silence.
‘It’ll do much for us all, Majesty,’ he added, meeting her gaze.
Sylvriss smiled and laid her hand on his arm. ‘It does much for me, to be back,’ she said. ‘Back in my other home. My husband’s home.’
Despite her smile, Eldric caught a note in her voice that made him look at her uncertainly.
‘I’ve shed all the tears that I need to shed for his absence from this precious event,’ Sylvriss said, answering his unspoken doubt. ‘Besides, he’s here with me now more than he’s ever been and I intend to honour his life by the quality of both my own and our son’s.’
Eldric nodded understandingly, though there was a slight anxiety in his eyes. ‘You are well, Majesty?’ he asked. ‘And the baby? Hylland said it was a little small, and it… he… did come much earlier than we expected.’
Sylvriss laughed. ‘He came earlier than I expected, Lord,’ she said. ‘But it’s hardly surprising after what’s been happening. However, be assured. We are both well.’ Her face became mischievous and she patted his arm. ‘I dropped him like a well-seasoned mare,’ she said confidentially.