The Nethergrim Read online

Edmund glanced across. “That’s a play. People acting, you know. That one’s about the making of the kingdom. It’s a bore.”

  “Oh.” Tom nodded. “I didn’t know they had singing. What’s that, then, over there? Is that a play, too?”

  “Those are two men arguing over the price of a barrel of salted herring. I suppose you could treat it as entertainment if you wanted.”

  “And that?”

  Edmund tried to catch Katherine’s eye to smirk at her, but she seemed intent on finding their way through the crowd. He turned to follow Tom’s direction. “What are you looking at?”

  “That big tent where the woman is shouting inside.”

  “Oh, that? That’s the court.” Edmund stopped—he thought he felt something brush at his side. He clapped his hand at his belt and glared around him, but it was only an ox being driven past for sale. He looked back at Tom. “The Court of Dusty Feet—Lord Aelfric sets one up for every fair. There’s more trouble for him to hear about in one day than he usually gets all year.”

  “—stole my pigs!” The shouting woman could be seen through the opening of the tent, but the person she jabbed her finger at could not. “I swear to you, my lord, and I bring ten solid folk to swear on my name that I am no liar! My pigs, good porkers, stolen and gone!”

  Edmund laughed. “Oh, no—more missing pigs!”

  “So Lord Aelfric’s in there?” Tom bent down to peer beneath the flap. “I’ve never seen him before. Does he leave the castle very much?”

  “I must remind you, good woman, that I merely sit in my father’s name.” The answering voice had a highborn accent but sounded clear and young. “I judge for your lord, but I am not your lord. I would ask you again to address me as a squire for the sake of propriety. Clerk of the court, you will note her claim and take the names of those who swear for her.”

  Edmund looked inside the tent. A ring of angry relatives surrounded the woman, all of them glaring at a cringing, road-dusted man with the look of a traveling tinker about him. A platform stood at the opposite end, upon which had been set a thick oaken chair. Its occupant could be called boy as easily as man, sixteen and sandy fair, with what Edmund thought to be an ill-advised attempt at a beard.

  Edmund shook his head at Tom. “No, that’s his son, Harold. Aelfric must be training him at law by letting him sit as judge for the day, so he knows how it works when he inherits.”

  Katherine dropped her sack into Edmund’s arms without so much as a warning. “Oh, let’s go in for a while!”

  “What? What for?” Edmund staggered under the unexpected weight. “Why on earth would you want to stand around in a court? There’s a whole fair to see!”

  “Let’s go in—just for a bit! Let’s go in! How do I look? Do I look all right?”

  “I can’t see you right now, I’ve got a sack in front of my face.” Edmund managed to maneuver the sack to the ground without spilling it. “Why don’t we sell Tom’s things first so we don’t have to carry them around?”

  “Good idea. You do that—you’re good with money, no one better.” Katherine arranged her skirts and tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “I just want to know about the pigs. Could be important. See you soon!” She plunged into the tent.

  Edmund shrugged at Tom. “I don’t understand. Pigs? Who cares?”

  “I truly am sorry,” said Tom. “I know you wanted to come alone with her.”

  “There’s still the feast and the dance.” Edmund heaved up his load, and took his longbow back from Tom. “I thought I handled all that with the honey cakes rather well, don’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t know, but the cake was very good. Thank you, by the way.”

  It did not take long to sell the fleece, once Edmund had prevailed on Tom to let him pretend that they were his and go stand somewhere out of view. Tom had the disturbing tendency to agree with anything every haggling fat-face of a merchant said to him, nodding like a yielding little lamb and saying that yes, they did look a bit off, now you mention, and no, I suppose it’s not fair of me to foist such junk on a man of your elder years at such a price. Edmund gently shoved his friend aside and got to business, and by the time he heard the fanfare of trumpets from the field north of town, he had two marks, three pennies and a farthing to press in Tom’s hand, along with a pair of empty sacks.

  He saw Katherine coming, and made a point of letting the money clink into Tom’s open palm at just the right moment. “So, what of the missing pigs?”

  “More than just pigs. Cattle and cats, goats, favorite dogs.” Katherine walked with them out on the lane that led from the town up to the castle. “There’s even a man from Roughy saying he’s missing a daughter and both his sons.”

  “Well, that’s just a jumble.” Edmund shrugged. “Nothing to connect them.”

  “That’s not what Harry said.”

  Edmund shot her a look. “Harry?”

  Katherine fidgeted with the tassel of her belt. “I heard that his friends call him Harry.”

  “I can’t think of anything that would eat both cattle and dogs, let alone children,” said Tom. “What did folk say about it?”

  “Well, someone said the Nethergrim, but everybody laughed.” Katherine sounded odd—unlike herself, with a giddy, girly trill in her voice Edmund had never heard before. “Harry got angry about it—said it was wrong to speak of such a thing today of all days, when we have gathered to honor the men who slew the Nethergrim and made the north safe for us all. I think he even looked at me when he said it. You should have seen him—he handled it so well, put it all together as clever as you like. He’s going to tell his father all about it, told everyone he would make sure that the land was safe, and not to worry. You should have seen him!”

  Edmund had to look to make sure that clouds had not come in. The sun shone as bright as before, the sky the same full blue and the world around him dancing in high holiday, but he could no longer feel the joy of it.

  “Oh, look, there’s Papa!” Katherine waved. Her father did not seem to see her. He stood beneath a brightly colored canopy next to the stern, stooped figure of Lord Aelfric of Elverain, looking obviously uncomfortable amongst the crowd of noble guests gathered to soak in his unwanted glory. Lord Aelfric was making a speech, but his creaky old voice did not carry far.

  “We should go and watch.” Katherine grabbed for Tom and turned to push into the crowd. “And then when Harry comes to join them, we can tell him all about what we found up on the hill last night. I could even lead him up there myself, and—”

  “No, no!” Edmund wanted more than anything to avoid another brush with Harry. “We should take Tom to see the archery tourney. He’s never seen one before!” He tugged Tom the other way, off toward the dozen targets that had been raised on open ground below the castle.

  Tom looked from one friend to the other, his long arms stretched out wide in both directions. He did not seem to care which way they dragged him.

  “Well—all right, then.” Katherine let go. “For Tom.”

  They turned back across the field, finding a place along the strip of trees beside the archery lists. A crowd of men, none of them rich or noble, stood at the other end with longbows in hand. A few at a time stepped up to the mark, shot three arrows at the butts and earned the praise or joking scorn of their fellows.

  “A good day for it, I suppose.” Katherine fluffed out her skirts to sit in the grass. “Not much of a crosswind.” Tom lay back against a walnut tree. He reached out to pluck a blade of grass and started chewing on it. Edmund found a spot on a boulder that had soaked up some heat from the day, and sat atop it with his longbow laid across his lap. One of his neighbors stepped up to shoot—Jordan Dyer took his stance, drew back and hit within a hair of the bull’s-eye.

  “Good one, Jordan!” Edmund clapped along with the crowd. He felt an idle wish that he practiced more himself, enough at least that he could enter the tourney without looking a fool. The trouble was that just about everyone in the village was a crack shot�
�they started drilling at the targets once a week as little kids, and the men were bound by Lord Aelfric’s laws to keep at it until they were sixty. There were no such laws in Bale, the town where Edmund had lived until he was ten. By the time Edmund had moved to Moorvale with his family, the boys his own age were so good that there seemed no point in trying to catch up.

  “You’re right—better than a speech.” Katherine settled back against the boulder, her shoulder resting just near Edmund’s foot. “You’re coming to the feast for sure, then?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.” Not for all the world.

  “I’m a little afraid of it, to be honest. The dance, I mean.”

  “Why?”

  “There are going to be rich girls there, noble girls with their dainty little hands, wearing gowns that cost as much as Papa’s house.” Katherine looked down at her own hands, then tried to hide them up the sleeves of her dress. “I know what people say about me. I’m afraid I’ll just stand by the wall all night.”

  Edmund could not have asked, could not have dreamed in a thousand nights for a better moment. He nearly let it slip by, so amazed he was at its perfection. He took a breath. “Well, if you want, I would be happy—no, I would be honored, deeply honored, if you—”

  She looked up at him. His mouth went dry.

  “Ah—Katherine, isn’t it?”

  Katherine gasped and leapt to her feet. She curtsied. “My lord!”

  “Not a lord yet.” Harry waved a hand through the air. “I was just speaking to your father, Katherine. What a day this must be for him!”

  Edmund sat staring at the space where Katherine had just been. Tom awoke, blinked up at Harry and scrambled out of the way without being noticed.

  “I have not seen you in some time, Katherine—it must be years, I think.” Harry stood Katherine’s height, or perhaps slightly taller. His bright hazel eyes seemed to flash golden in the sun. “Was it at a winter feast?”

  Katherine stammered, and curtsied again at his side. “I was eleven, good squire.”

  “Yes, that’s right, we had your father up for that, and you came along.” Harry’s boots were fashioned of fine kid leather, and his clothes seemed made to mold to his frame. “We played a game of chase-about behind the hall with some other children. I seem to recall you played a little trick on me that day.”

  “I’d hoped you’d forgotten, good squire.” Katherine flushed bright red.

  “How could I forget? It took me days to get that gunk out of my hair!” Harry laughed—Edmund would have liked to pretend it was false and snobbish, but it was neither. “You were such a little imp back then. You’ve grown.”

  Katherine stared at the ground. “Everyone says that.”

  “I wonder if they mean it the way I do.”

  Katherine looked up at Harry. The mooning look on her face made Edmund sick.

  Harry seemed to notice Edmund only then. “Oh.” He arched one elegant brow. “And who is this? Your friend?”

  “Yes, good squire,” said Katherine. “This is Edmund Bale. My friend.”

  Edmund scrambled off the boulder and bowed. “Good squire.”

  “Ah, yes, from up in Moorvale, are you not? The innkeeper’s son.” Harry leaned down to smile over Edmund with his hands behind his back, acting for all the world like Edmund was a child who wanted a pat on the head. “Do you know, I was just telling our noble guests that we have the best archers in the kingdom right here in Elverain, and the best archers in Elverain hail from the village of Moorvale.”

  Edmund nodded. “The best, good squire, no question.”

  “And so, young Edmund,” said Harry, “when is your turn?”

  Edmund blinked. “Turn?”

  “In the archery tourney!” Harry tapped the longbow in Edmund’s hands.

  Edmund gaped—first at the bow, then at Harry. “Oh. I wasn’t—”

  “Come, come,” said Harry. “Let us have a sample of your deadly skill.”

  “My deadly—?” Edmund swallowed hard. “Yes, good squire.” He turned and shuffled out onto the field. He took his place in line, shooting looks across at Harry and Katherine whenever he could.

  “You must be proud of your father, Katherine.” Harry’s voice carried across the open field. “And we are all grateful for the work you do—John often says that the horses he sends us are as much your handiwork as his.” Katherine seemed to be turning pink at his side.

  Edmund stepped up to the mark and gauged the wind. He looked around him at the gathered crowd, and saw almost every one of the neighbors who stood next to him week after week at archery practice. He tried to remember all that they had shown him. The stance comes first. Plant your feet shoulder width apart and stand with equal weight on each leg. Your toes should line up to the bull’s-eye. Nock the arrow between your first two fingers, but don’t pinch it or you’ll throw off your aim. He sighted down to the target—maybe he could do this after all.

  “Miss! Miss, miss, miss!”

  Edmund glanced over to find Geoffrey and his stupid little friends lined up along the trees. They passed along the chant to children Edmund did not know, who took it up without knowing or caring why it was right and good that Edmund should miss the target.

  “I saw you earlier, when I was holding court down in the square.” Harry drew in at Katherine’s shoulder. “I’m glad I found you again.”

  If Katherine made a reply, it was too breathless for Edmund to hear. He gauged the distance—one good shot would draw a cheer, draw Katherine’s eye. One good shot.

  “Tonight we do honor to your father, so I think you should sit in a place of honor as well.” The nervous, hopeful tone of Harry’s voice made it grate all the worse in Edmund’s ear. “I will arrange for you to sit with the nobles, at the high table.”

  Edmund did his best to pretend he was deaf. Put your other hand on the bow with the grip right at the base of your thumb—that was next. He drew back. A bull’s-eye—please, just once.

  “You won’t be out of place at all, I promise. Sit next to me; we can talk about horses. It will be such fun—and, later, if you like—” Harry moved in for the killing stroke. “Katherine, may I have the honor of asking you to the first dance at the feast tonight?”

  Edmund loosed his arrow. He had already sunk his head before it landed in the dirt, yards away from the target.

  “Me?” Katherine sounded near to losing her voice. “I would—that would—yes, please, good squire!”

  “Ha!” Geoffrey hopped up and down from the sidelines. “Good one, Edmund!” His friends laughed long and loud.

  No one else said much—most grown-ups were not so cruel. It all had the feeling of a bad dream, though Edmund could not remember a particular dream so perfectly bad. He thought for a moment that he might as well strip off all his clothes and stand naked in the field, just to make it all as horrible as possible.

  Harry looked out to the archery field. “Oh.” He turned to Katherine. “Your friend is not a very good shot, is he?”

  Edmund felt a nudge at his back. “Er, you do have another go.”

  “Forget it.” Edmund slumped off the field. He looked up at Katherine and found her still turned to Harry, her eyes shining wide, a spot of flush on each of her cheeks. The ache was more than he could bear.

  He found Tom on the other side of the walnut tree. “I’ll walk home with you if you like.”

  “What about the feast, though?” Tom turned as he passed. “Aren’t you going to the dance?”

  Edmund could not bring himself to answer. He watched the ground at his feet, nudging through the crowd without seeing them, and it was only by the sound of following footsteps that he knew that Tom had come along to walk home at his side.

  Chapter

  6

  Papa, your guard is low.” Katherine twisted up her arm to take a strike on the edge of her shield.

  Her father parried her counter. “Have mercy on an old man!” He sprang back a step and switched his stance.

 
It was too late in the year and in the day to be warm, but the sun had broken bright above the clouds. The dull thwack of wooden sword on sword returned in echo from the wide country all around. The horses grazing down in the pasture had long ceased to pay the noise any mind. The longer Katherine sparred, the deeper she got into the shift of stances, lunges and blocks, the closer she came to forgetting for a moment the horror of the night before.

  “You’re getting sweaty, Papa.” She jammed a thrust down her father’s sword to the crossguard. “Would you like a rest?”

  John knocked her blade wide. “That’s odd, child. I was just about to ask you the same thing. Arm straight, now—you’re falling out of stance.”

  “Ha! As you like, then.” Katherine came on, swinging high across the shoulders, meeting each parry and driving her father back over the top of the hill. John gave ground past the splay-limbed oak at the summit, stumbling over the roots and seeming barely able to stave her off—but never losing his smile.

  She read the trick a moment too late.

  Her father drew her in, then planted his foot and broke her advance, stumbling no more. “Out of stance, child. Too eager for the kill.” He did not fake his hard breathing, though—she had gotten very close. She wove and ducked, giving ground in return until she found her balance.

  “Hello up there!” The voice floated up the hill from afar.

  Katherine and her father stepped apart, then dropped their guards. Two figures rode proud horses up the Dorham road—the first of them young and straight of carriage, the second riding sidesaddle in long skirts. The first rider dismounted to open the pasture gate—Katherine gasped and threw her sword aside.

  John shaded his eyes to squint at the approaching figures. “Who’s that?”

  “Harry—Harold, Papa.” Katherine unbuckled her shield and let it drop in the grass.

  “With his father?”

  “No, his mother.” Katherine tried to brush the dust and bits of grass from her tunic, then looked herself over. No good, no good—sweat stains on her breeches, mud on her boots. She reached up to push errant strands of hair into her braid. A little voice in her asked her why she bothered, but she could not help herself.