“Neither have they, but I heard. They’re good boys. Layne would not allow Agwaine to harm him and Lennox stood by him. That made me proud, for it’s hard bringing up boys without a mother. And they’ve turned out well.”
“They are a credit to you.”
“As is Gaelen to you,” said Leofas, “for he took them all on.”
“He is a credit to himself. Will you argue against Cambil on the Council?”
“On the question of the Aenir, I will.”
“Then I’ll take up no more of your time.”
“Man, you haven’t finished your ale. Sit and be comfortable for a while. I don’t get many visitors.”
For an hour or more the men sat, drinking ale and swapping stories. It came to Caswallon that the older man was lonely; his wife had died six years before and he had never taken another. On the death of Padris three years ago Leofas had refused to stand for Hunt Lord, claiming it was a young man’s duty. But he remained on the Hunt Council, and his words were heeded.
“How long do you think we have-before they invade?” asked Leofas suddenly, his eyes clear despite the jugs of ale.
Caswallon fought to clear his mind. “I’d say a year, maybe two. But I could be wrong.”
“I don’t think so. They’re still fighting in the Lowlands. Several cities are holding out.”
“We need a plan of our own,” said Caswallon. “The valley is indefensible.”
“Seek out Taliesen,” Leofas advised. “I know these druids raise the hairs on a man’s neck, but he is wise, and he knows much about events outside Druin.”
For two months Caswallon took Gaelen with him on every hunt, teaching him more of the land and the creatures of the land. He taught him to fight hand-to-hand, and to wrestle and to box, to roll with the punches, and to counter swiftly. The lessons were sometimes painful, and Gaelen was quick to anger. Caswallon taught him to hold his fury and use it coolly.
“Anger can strengthen a man or destroy him,” he told the youth as they sat on the hillside above the house. “When you fight, you stay cool. Think with your hands. When you strike a blow it should surprise you as well as your opponent. Now pad your hands and we will see what you have understood.” Warily the two circled each other. Caswallon stabbed a straight left to Gaelen’s face. Gaelen blocked it, hurling a right. Caswallon leaned out of reach, the punch whistling past his chin. He countered with a swift left that glanced from the boy’s jaw. Off balance, Gaelen hit the ground hard, rolled, and rose to his feet with eyes blazing. Caswallon stepped in to meet him, throwing a right cross. It never landed, for Gaelen ducked inside the punch and caught the taller man with an uppercut that sent him reeling in the grass.
“Good. That was good,” said Caswallon, rubbing his jaw. “You are beginning to move well. A little too well.” Reaching up, he took Gaelen’s hand and the younger man pulled him to his feet. “Let’s sit for a while,” he said. “My head is still spinning, I think you’ve shaken all my teeth.”
“I’m sorry.”
Caswallon laughed. “Don’t be. You were angry, but you kept it under control and used the power of your anger in your punch. That was excellent.” The two sat together beneath the shade of an elm.
“There is something I have been meaning to ask you,” said Gaelen, “about the bush you hid me in when the Aenir were close.”
“It was a good hiding place.”
“But it wasn’t,” insisted Gaelen. “It was out in the open, and had they looked down they would surely have seen me.”
“That’s why it was good. When they attacked their blood was up. They were moving fast, thinking fast, seeing fast. You understand? They didn’t examine the clearing, they scanned it swiftly, making judgments at speed. The bush was small and, as you say, in plain sight. It offered little cover and was the last place, so they believed, that anyone would choose as a hiding place. Therefore they ignored it. Similarly that made it the best place to hide in.”
“I see that,” said Gaelen, “but what if they had stopped to examine the clearing?”
“Then you would probably have been slain,” said Caswallon. “It could have happened-but the odds were vastly against it. Most men react to situations of violence-or threatened violence-by animal instinct. Understanding that instinct allows an intelligent man to win nine times out of ten.”
Gaelen grinned. “I do understand,” he said. “That’s why when you raided the Pallides you chose to hide in the village itself. You knew they would expect you to flee their lands at speed, and so they raced from their village to catch you.”
“Ah, you’ve been listening to the tales of my wicked youth. I hope you learn from them.”
“I am learning,” agreed Gaelen. “But why did you choose the house of Intosh to hide in? He is the Sword Champion of the Pallides, and everyone says he is a fearsome opponent.”
“He is also a widower with no children. No one would be in the house.”
“So you had it planned even before you did it. You must have scouted the village first.”
“Always have a plan, Gaelen, always. ”
Later, as they sat on the hillside above Caswallon’s house, awaiting the call to the midday meal, Caswallon asked the boy how he was settling in with the other lads in the small village.
“Very well,” Gaelen told him guardedly.
“No problems?”
“None that I can’t handle.”
“Of that I have no doubt. How do they compare with the boys of Ateris?”
Gaelen smiled. “In the city I used to watch them play games: hunt-seek, spider’s folly, shadowman. Here they play nothing. They are so serious. I like that… but I always wanted to join in back in Ateris.”
Caswallon nodded. “You joined us a little late for children’s games, Gaelen. Here in the mountains a boy becomes a man at sixteen, free to wed and make his own life. It is not easy. Two in five babes die before their first birthday, and few are the men who reach fifty years of age. Childhood passes more swiftly here. Have you teamed yet for the Hunt next week?”
“Yes, I travel with Gwalchmai, Lennox, and Layne.”
“Fine boys,” said Caswallon, “although Gwalchmai is a little timid, I think. Are you content with the teaming?”
“Yes. We are meeting today to plan the Run.”
“What problems will you face?”
“Lennox is strong, but no runner. We may not beat Agwaine’s team to the first tree.”
“Speed is not everything,” said Caswallon.
“I know.”
“Which of you will lead?”
“We’re deciding that this afternoon-but I think it will be Layne.”
“Logical. Layne is a bright fellow.”
“Not as bright as Agwaine,” said Gaelen.
“No, but you are. You should enjoy yourselves.”
“Did you lead when you ran in the Hunt?”
“No. Cambil led.”
“Did you win?”
“Yes.”
“Was Cambil a good leader?”
“In his way. He still is. And he has been a good Hunt Lord for the Farlain.”
“But he doesn’t like you, Caswallon. Everyone knows that.”
“You shouldn’t listen to idle chatter. But you are right. He doesn’t like me-but then he has good cause. Three years ago I robbed him of something. I didn’t mean to, but it worked out that way, and he has not forgotten.”
“What did you steal?” asked Gaelen.
“I didn’t actually steal anything. I just refused to stand against him for the position of Hunt Lord. I didn’t want the role. So he was voted to it by the elders.”
“I don’t understand. How can he hold that against you?”
“That’s a difficult question, Gaelen. Many people assumed I would try for Hunt Lord. In truth I would have lost, for Cambil is-and always was-worthy of the role. But had I stood and lost, he would have known he was considered the better man. Because I did not stand he will never know.”
“Is that why Agwaine doesn’t like me?” asked Gaelen. “Because his father doesn’t like you?”
“Perhaps. I have been very selfish in my life, doing only that which I enjoyed. I should have acted differently. If I am nominated for the Council again I shall accept. But that is not likely.”