'No pitched battle then?'
'Not if it can be avoided.'
Wik pushed his cup towards Bane, who filled it. 'And what if you're killed, Bane? How do we get our money then?'
'I will see to it that you are all paid whether I live or not.'
'Oh, and I just trust you on this, do I?'
'Aye, you do, Wik. But, as a gesture of good faith, I will give you five gold pieces in advance.' Bane unhooked the pouch from his belt and tipped the contents to the table. The five heavy golden coins rolled across the wood. Wik stared at them for a moment, then
scooped them up. Dropping four into his own pouch he drew his dagger and cut into the fifth, examining it closely. Then he added it to the others.
'Are we agreed?' said Bane.
'Aye, we are agreed. We'll defend the people of Three Streams for five days.'
By dusk more than ninety outlaws had assembled by the corral. Wik and the stocky Valian moved among them. Finally Bane walked out, wearing breastplate and helm, two short swords hanging at his side. Climbing onto the trestle table he called the outlaws forward. 'You know me,' he said. 'I am Bane. You know also that I have promised two gold coins to every man who marches beside me for these next five days. I hope you are not insulted by this, for you are all Keltoi, and I know many of you would willingly march for nothing against a savage enemy threatening the lives of Keltoi women and children. The reason I make this offer is simple. The soldiers of the king are paid when they fight for the king. And for the next five days you are all soldiers of the Rigante. So do not spurn the gold, my friends. Just earn it! We will leave two hours before the dawn.'
Leaping down from the table Bane strode back to the farmhouse. Gryffe joined him there. 'That was nicely said,' he observed. 'However, most of them wouldn't pull their mothers from a pit unless she paid them first.' Bane grinned and moved inside. Iswain was waiting there.
'So now you are all soldiers of the king,' she said, her voice sorrowful.
'Gryffe will remain here,' he told her, 'and make arrangements to feed those who have fled from the settlement.'
'What?' roared Gryffe.
Iswain's eyes blazed. 'How dare you insult my man!' she thundered. 'I will stay here and make arrangements for the refugees. The other women from the camp will help me. You'll not shame Gryffe by going without him.'
Bane raised his hands. 'My apologies to you both,' he said. 'It was not my intention to offend anyone. Nothing would delight me more than knowing Gryffe was at my side. But I thought…'
'What did you think?' asked Gryffe angrily. 'What possible reason could you have to leave me behind?'
Bane caught Iswain's eye, and saw the fear there. If Gryffe knew she had approached Bane about putting her man in danger he would be even more angry. 'I was thinking', said Bane carefully, 'that I needed someone I could trust to look after the farm and the cattle. And that, of course, was disrespectful to you, Iswain, for you are more than capable.' He swung towards Gryffe. 'No insult was intended, my friend. Of that you can be sure. It lifts my spirits to know I'll have you with me.'
'Ah, none taken,' said Gryffe, with a grin. 'I'll sharpen my sword.' He wandered off to the rear of the house.
'You misunderstood me,' said Iswain softly. 'What I was trying to say this morning was that I didn't want my man put in pointless danger. But he is a man – and a good, brave man. There is nothing pointless about helping women and bairns in danger.'
'I stand rebuked,' Bane told her.
'Just try to bring him back safe,' she said. 'And do not worry about the farm or the refugees. I'll take care of things.'
Bane leaned in close. 'There is something else you can do,' he said. 'At the back of the first barn there is an old chest, containing a few items I brought back from Stone. Underneath it, about two feet down, I buried another chest. This one is full of gold pieces. If for any reason I do not make it back, dig it up and pay every survivor the two gold pieces I promised them. The rest – and there won't be much left – you can keep.'
'You trust me with that much gold?' asked Iswain.
'Of course I do,' he answered, with a smile.
'Ah, Bane,' she said, leaning in to kiss his cheek, 'you are a fool sometimes, but I do love you.'
In the gathering darkness Gwen trudged back to the house of Meria. She had left Orrin sleeping peacefully in Vorna's bed, and now, her shawl wrapped around her, she felt her emotions clash. The death of Ru and the saving of Orrin had come so close together that she no longer knew what she felt. Sadness and joy warred within her. What she did know was that, had little Badraig not been back at the house, she would have asked Vorna if she could stay the night. The last person she wished to see now was the hard-faced Meria.
Gwen was not a vengeful person, and there was no thought in her to punish Bran's mother. She just wished she could be heading anywhere else than back to this house of disharmony. She considered collecting Badraig and returning to Vorna's, but there was a great deal to pack for tomorrow's journey. With a heavy heart she approached the door, pushing it open. Meria was sitting by the fire, but she surged to her feet as Gwen entered.
'Is he dead?' she asked fearfully.
'No. Vorna healed him.'
'But… she has no powers now.'
'I saw her hold her hand over the poisoned ring, and ice formed under her fingers. The ring cracked and broke. I think she has powers still, Meria.' Gwen walked past the older woman.
'What are you talking about? Poisoned ring? What poisoned ring?'
'It doesn't matter,' said Gwen. 'Orrin is healed and well and sleeping. Let us leave it there. I am very tired.'
'I want to know what happened in that house,' said Meria, stepping in front of Gwen, who sighed and walked to the chair by the fire. She sat down and told Meria all that had happened, of how Orrin must have taken Ruathain's ring, and how he had looped it around his neck.
'Vorna thinks the poisoner planned for the ring to kill Connavar. It was a slow-acting poison, which is why it took so many months to kill my Ru.'
'I don't believe it was poisoned…' began Meria.
'Stop it!' said Gwen. 'I am not a fool, Meria. When that moonstone cracked open I saw the foulness that seeped from it. I could see then that the stone had been hollowed. As soon as it was removed from round Orrin's neck he strengthened and was quickly well. What you believe, or do not believe, is up to you. I know what killed my son. It was no-one's fault – save the murderers who intended harm to Connavar. No-one set out to rip Ruathain from the world. And I do not blame you for giving him the ring.' She rose from the chair. 'That is all there is to say – except that I shall be leaving tomorrow, with my sons. I believe Vorna when she says the raiders are coming. All who stay here will die, and I have seen too much of death lately.'
Meria stood very still, and Gwen saw the hardness ease from her face, and for a moment she regained a semblance of what must have once been great beauty. 'I stopped you from bringing Vorna to this house. I killed my grandson.'
'Not wittingly,' said Gwen. 'And I could have disobeyed you.' She left her there, and went to the bedroom. Badraig awoke as she entered. Gwen lifted him from his cot and held him close.
For Finnigal the new day was a continuing nightmare of frustration and near boiling anger. It had begun reasonably, with many of the refugees leaving their homes at dawn and harnessing their wagons. The first argument broke out within minutes, when Finnigal saw several people loading large chests onto the back of a wagon. He strode over and told them that only people and food would be leaving that day, since there were insufficient carriages. The man, an elderly Rigante merchant, berated him soundly, and refused to unload them. Finnigal tried to reason with him, but finally ordered two soldiers to remove the chests and carry them back into the house. The merchant, white-faced with fury, then refused to leave Three Streams, saying that if all his money was taken he'd be better off dead anyway.