The King's Bastard - By Rowena Cory Daniells Page 0,37
about preparing it.
All the while Lence's smile got tighter and tighter. No one but Byren seemed to notice and there was nothing he could do, for to turn down the villagers' feast would have been churlish. He had saved his brother's life and Lence had returned the favour. This should have been enough to settle his fears, but Byren was aware of a small kernel of worry growing within him, planted by the old seer.
It wasn't as if he'd meant to steal Lence's glory. He could hardly have let the beast kill him. Halcyon forbid it, that would make him the kingsheir!
When the others went out to the feasting fire Byren remained in the village council hall to think. The building had been dug into the mountain side for protection from the winter's cold so one wall and half the roof were made of natural stone. With a chimney at each end and a series of narrow shuttered windows tucked under the steep roof, it could house all the adults of the village. Right now it held the hunting party's belongings. He rolled his bow in oiled cloth and tucked it away with his pack. You had to look after your weapons. It might mean the difference between life and death. It nearly had today when the bow string broke.
It was strange. As twins he and Lence were very similar, yet so different. Sometimes Byren felt closer to Fyn. Almost midwinter. Fyn would be coming to the castle for the ceremonies and celebrations. It would be good to see his serious younger brother again and Fyn's arrival was sure to make Piro's face light up.
Just then, the hunters broke into a drinking song and Byren glanced through the open door to see the others sitting around the feasting fire, eyes alight with laughter, cheeks reddened by the flames. Lence was in the midst of them, drinking and laughing loudest of all.
Time to join them and slip quietly into the background. Byren checked the edge on his hunting knife and slid it into its sheath. In the early days of father's reign it was customary to go armed at all times, but his father had forbidden the wearing of even ceremonial swords in the castle during celebrations. Too many duels between hot-headed warriors had resulted in deaths and blood feuds.
Byren turned to go outside.
The village's head couple stood in the doorway.
'Byren Rolen Kingson,' the old man said, giving a jerky bob of his head. His wife followed suit. 'We've come about Unistag Spar. My wife's cousin lives over the Divide on Foenix Spar and -'
'Unistag raiders have attacked her village three times this winter, took their store of winter grain and all the marriageable girls,' the wife interrupted indignantly. 'And I want to know what King Rolen's going to do about it.'
The husband sent Byren an apologetic look. Strictly speaking, this wasn't King Rolen's responsibility. The spars were ruled by petty princelings, warlords, who held power by hereditary right, enforced with the sword.
Byren knew what his father would say. In fact, it wasn't his place to take this to his father. He glanced past them to the campfire and Lence.
The old man took in the direction of his gaze. 'We came to you because you killed the leogryf.'
Byren was beginning to wish he hadn't.
'And it's no good saying my cousin should go to the Foenix warlord for help,' the old woman said, as if in answer to something Byren had said. 'Because there's no point their warlord protesting to the Unistag warlord. The warlord of Unistag is so frail he won't see spring. His heirs are fighting over who will wear his helm. Meanwhile their warriors, greedy for grain and glory, are raiding Foenix Spar.'
Byren nodded. Rolencia's spies had reported this. 'Look, I'll mention it to the king, but I can't promise anything.'
They nodded.
He grinned. 'You could always suggest your cousin move over the Divide into Rolencia. Nowhere's safer!' Even Merofynia had been rocked by civil war when his mother's younger brother died and more recently the Merofynian spars' warlords had fought a series of bitter battles.
'See,' the old woman said. 'The kingson agrees with me.'
Thanking him, the old man backed out, drawing his wife with him. Byren headed towards the feasting fire. The change of warlord on Unistag Spar could mean trouble for Rolencia. A young, ambitious man would set out to impress his followers and that could mean raids on the Rolencian valley people as well as other spars.