The King's Bastard - By Rowena Cory Daniells Page 0,45

don't want untamed Affinity open to evil in our village.'

'Punish Overhill. He wasn't going to tell anyone about his son's Affinity. They've been hiding it!' yelled another. 'Banish him!'

Several voices echoed this eagerly.

Farmer Overhill moaned. His son tried to comfort him, but the men-at-arms held them apart.

Piro felt sorry for the farmer. She wanted to jump down there and order the men-at-arms off them. She glanced to her father.

'You know the law,' King Rolen said. 'Everyone with Affinity must serve the gods or risk becoming channels for evil. Unlike Merofynia, we won't allow renegade Power-workers to wander around stirring up trouble!'

People muttered under their breath in agreement. Rolencians had a low opinion of Merofynian customs, especially with regard to Affinity. Piro noticed her mother's tight lips. Her parents loved each other, but the role of Power-workers was the one thing they could not agree on.

Her mother leant closer to the king. 'If you banish the farmer you will have to reallocate his lands. The people from his village are far too eager to gain from his misfortune. If they had been more helpful he would not have been so desperate to keep his son with him.'

'Yet the son must go the abbey or be banished along with his father,' King Rolen whispered. 'I cannot ignore the law for anyone, not even you, my love.'

'Confiscate the farm!' the warlord of Leogryf Spar yelled. 'I would. No mercy for those who would hide Affinity.'

His sentiments were echoed by others.

King Rolen held up his hand for silence. Piro knew her father walked a narrow path. If he was too cruel, his own people would grow to hate him, yet if he was too lenient, his warlords would grow bold and raid Rolencia's rich valley. Word of the Utland raid on Port Cobalt had reached the spar warlords, which made King Rolen look weak. Ruling Rolencia was one long battle to keep the lawless elements under control.

'What do you think, kingsheir?' King Rolen asked.

'The law must be obeyed,' Lence said. 'Unless he serves the gods, the boy's choices are banishment or death. The old man is lucky you do not punish him for trying to hide his son's Affinity.'

King Rolen nodded. Piro felt sick to her stomach.

Muttering made her glance to the faces of Farmer Overhill's fellow villagers. She noticed the greedy gleam in their eyes. Her mother was right, they were too eager.

'But you can't send the boy to the abbey. There is no one to work the old man's farm. He'll starve!' she protested, only just remembering to keep her voice low.

'Quiet, Piro,' Lence snapped. 'The son has to go to the abbey. Without laws we are no better than the savages of the Utland Isles.'

From the corner of her eye, Piro noticed Byren shifting his weight. Abruptly, he leant forwards between their parents' chairs. 'Why not ask the abbot to send the gardening monks to help out on the farm during planting and harvesting? They could take most of the produce back to the abbey, and leave the old man enough to live on.'

Lence snorted. 'The old man won't last more than a couple of winters. What happens to the farm then?'

'At least he will have the winters in his own home,' Byren said. 'As to the farm, it is the son's inheritance. Let ownership go to the abbey once the old man is dead. When winters are hard the monks feed the needy. This way all Rolencia benefits, not just some greedy villagers.'

'Well said, Byren.' Queen Myrella placed her hand on the king's. 'Rolen?'

He nodded, stood and cleared his throat. 'Hear my judgement...'

Piro stopped listening. Though the judgement was fair, she felt hollow. People were so quick to turn on those with Affinity. It was fear that provoked it, fear of the Unseen and fear of how untamed Affinity left the god-touched person open to evil.

As she watched Farmer Overhill and his son being led away - the youth to the monks, the old man to his none-too-friendly fellow villagers - Piro vowed to hide her growing Affinity.

At least it was good for one thing, she could help Fyn find the Fate tomorrow.

Chapter Eight

Later that evening Byren could hear the familiar drinking song echoing up the stairwell from the great hall. By rights he should go down there and join the table where his brother sat, surrounded by the young men of Rolencia, but he hesitated. Had he sensed a growing antagonism in Lence or was he imagining it because