Pattern

'Shut up,' he hissed, 'they're here. Horses, in the yard. Can't you hear?'

That woke her up. 'Maybe it's the missing horses,' she whispered. 'Maybe they found their own way home.'

Poldarn didn't answer. He felt his way along the wall with his hands, looking for the door. It took him far too long to find it; by then, the rest of the household was awake. He could hear someone unbolting the door, calling out, 'Who's there?' Not a sound tactical move, he thought.

'It's all right,' replied a familiar voice. 'It's only me.'

'Bloody hell,' Poldarn whispered under his breath. Then he found the door and pushed through it.

'Boarci,' he shouted, 'for crying out loud. Where have you been?'

Someone had managed to get a lamp lit. It was only a little one, squidged out of stream-bed clay and fitted with a rush wick, but it gave just enough light to show Boarci's face, grinning. 'Ciartanstead,' he said. 'And I've brought you all a present. Anybody going to help me get it in from the cart, or have I got to do every damn thing myself?'

'What cart?' Poldarn asked, but nobody was listening to him. A moment or so later, they were all helping him to haul a big, fat, strangely familiar barrel in through the doorway.

'Is that…?' Asburn said, in a voice quiet with wonder.

'Yes,' Boarci replied. 'And don't say I never do anything for you.'

It was one of Hart's salt-beef barrels. There was a rope tied round the top and another round the base. It hadn't been opened, though one of the staves was cracked, and the pickle was seeping through.

'Well, don't all thank me at once,' Boarci said.

Poldarn found that extreme anger made him talk softly. 'Where did you get that from?' he asked.

'From Ciartanstead,' Boarci replied. 'Where else?'

'I see.' Poldarn nodded. 'I thought for a moment you might have run into Hart and traded it for something. So you went over there and stole it.'

Raffen laughed. 'Wasn't stealing,' he said. 'It's our salt beef.' Then he caught Poldarn's eye and shut up rapidly.

'Yes,' Boarci said. 'After they had the nerve to come over here, saying we were telling lies about their fucking horses. Also, Asburn said he fancied some salt beef.'

'Fine,' Poldarn said. 'Now, what's this about a cart? Where did it come from?'

'Same place,' Boarci said. 'Actually, it's not a cart, just the old trap.'

'So as well as stealing the beef,' Poldarn purred, 'you stole the trap and the horses.'

Boarci grinned. 'I found the trap out on the mountain road,' he said. 'Wheel'd come off, they'd ditched it. In open ground. I call that salvage, not stealing.'

'Actually, he's right,' Rook put in; then he shut up, as well.

'I found it,' Boarci went on, 'and I put the wheel back on-bloody fools don't know how to fix a busted cotter-pin out of an old nail, don't deserve to have a decent trap. The rule is, if you find something that's been ditched and you fix it up, it's yours to hang on to and use till the owner squares up with you for your time and trouble. Always been that way, hasn't it?'

The rest of the household seemed to agree, but they did so in dead silence. The only person who didn't seem to feel the tension was Boarci himself.

'So you fixed the cart,' Poldarn said. 'Then you went down to the farm and stole the horses, and then you used them to steal the barrel.'

Boarci shook his head. 'Catch me being so obvious,' he replied. 'Can't go stealing horses, they'd miss 'em and get upset. Different, of course, if you just happen to find a string of horses wandering about on the hill. Same rules as the trap, you see.'

'You found the horses-' Poldarn stopped abruptly and stood with his mouth open for a heartbeat or so, until his composure returned. 'All that time those men were here, and you knew where the bloody things were.'

'Don't talk soft,' Boarci replied cheerfully. 'It was after they'd pissed off home I found the horses. I was right, you see, they had been down in the combes there. That's why I went back, to see if I could pick up the trail. One of you lot must've walked right past it, I could see a man's trail clear as anything. So I followed it up, right onto the mountain, and there the buggers were, in a little fold beside the small rill.'

Poldarn nodded. 'But you didn't bring them back,' he said. 'You decided you'd steal them instead.'

'No, actually.' Boarci perched on the corner of the table. 'I thought, I'll take them back to Ciartanstead and that'll clear everything up. So I set off, and next thing I found was the trap, like I told you. Well, that was too good to miss, so I fixed it and carried on; and when I got there-it was just before dawn, nobody about, the idle bastards-I suddenly thought, I wonder if that barrel of beef's still there; you know,' he added, looking at Poldarn, 'the one you stashed away from the rest of us, in the back shed.'

This time, everyone looked at Poldarn. He was tempted to explain, because they were giving him those kind of looks and he'd hoped he'd seen the last of them; but he decided against it.

'So I thought,' Boarci went on, 'it's a dead certainty they don't know it's there; after all, nobody knew about it except you and Hart, and me because I just happened to see you sneaking it in there, all furtive. Well, it was still there, so I got some rope and some timbers and made up a sort of rough block-and-tackle; and here we are. And the joy of it is, they don't even know they've been robbed. Now we can take the horses back, and the trap too, and say, excuse me but we think these belong to you, all innocent and virtuous, and that'll put that right; and meanwhile, we're up a barrel of beef, just when it'll do us the most good. Now, is that neat, or what?'

Poldarn didn't know what to say. Inside, he knew what he had to do. He had to tell Boarci to leave the house and never come back. But why? Boarci had done a stupid thing, put all their lives at risk, but he'd done his stupid thing in such a clever way that it seemed pretty well certain that he'd got away with it, and all for their sakes; there was the barrel, crammed with Hart's exceedingly fine salt beef, at a time when they desperately needed it. It wasn't as though Boarci had acted selfishly; he'd been putting food on the table for them ever since they'd got there, and now he'd done it again, in style, as well as finding the wretched, elusive horses and given Poldarn a wonderful opportunity to snatch back the moral upper hand. It was a daring exploit, not a bloody stupid thing to do; at least, that was how everybody else in the house was taking it. Everybody except himself.

But Poldarn knew what he ought to do; not because of the risk, but because he'd told Boarci not to pull any more stunts after his fight with Terfen, and Boarci had disobeyed him. That was unforgivable, an abomination; things like that didn't happen here, because the hands didn't disobey orders, because heads of households didn't give orders for them to break. God, Poldarn thought, I'm starting to think like Eyvind. As if that's a bad thing, in this country.

'Well,' Elja said, 'what're you going to do? We can't give it back, if that's what you're thinking. If we give it back, we've got to tell them we stole it. And anyhow,' she said, 'what were you doing hiding it away in the first place?'

'It was for you,' Poldarn said at once. 'I could see you were sick to death of porridge and leeks. And the salt beef was getting eaten so fast, I wanted to make sure there'd be some left for you by the time you got back.'

'Oh.' Elja looked at him, and shrugged. 'Well, next time I'll thank you not to make me your accomplice without asking me first. Anyway, all's well that ends welclass="underline" we're a barrel of beef to the good, thanks to Boarci. Now, I suggest we let the matter drop and go back to bed.'

No, Poldarn thought, we can't do that, it's far too serious. If we just forget about it, there'll be big trouble in the end. 'All right,' he said, 'let's do that. Only, please,' he added, grabbing Boarci by the arm as he passed, 'I want you to give me your word that you won't do any more stuff like that. We got away with it this time, but we won't be so lucky again.'