Scarburg Meadhall

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Scyrr tried to straighten himself, but suddenly his head started spinning around. With all effort however, he managed to keep himself in almost-sitting position.

"Master Wulfric..." he started, but to make matters worse, the feeling of sickness in his stomach suddenly seized him with unprecedented strength. Not now of all moments.

"It was the stinking tanner Erbrand," Scyrr took a deep breath. "He tried to kill me. I am sorry..." There was no time to get more into details, Scyrr turned himself around and leant over the cart's side, trying to avoid Wulfric's sight. Inside, he felt angry, what will his weakness look like in front of the young masters? And most of all, when will this end? He felt his head spinning around all the time and when he straightened himself, he did not feel any better than before.

[Thinlómien]

Wilheard

Take the horses. Sure, sir.

Wilheard lead the two horses to the stables with care, but anger was sparkling in his countenance. The horses could sense it, and were nervous. This time Wilheard didn't pause even for a second to calm them. He was annoyed.

Yes, Wulfric was the boss. He was bigger, and smarter. And older and more experienced. He was happy enough to be his brother's right hand - too much responsibility didn't suit him well anyway - but he would definitely not be a squire or a page to be ordered around. Wulf would need to learn that, better sooner or later.

"Good morning, sir!" greeted a cheerful voice.
"Morning, Baldwic," Wilheard replied. Baldwic was a few years his senior and they had been training together a few times recently. Wilheard liked him well enough even though he thought the guy was still a bit of a baby.

It was quiet in the stables and most of the soldiers gathered there were now looking at Wilheard. He knew Wulfric would've said something to the assembled soldiers, but he just stuck the reins of the two horses to Baldwic's hand.

"Bald - take care of these for me, or find a stableboy to do it in your stead."
"Sure, sir," the soldier replied but his young master had already turned and was striding out of the stable door.

He spotted Wulfric and Scyrr quickly - they hadn't moved - and ran to them.


Wulfric

"It was the stinking tanner Erbrand... He tried to kill me. I am sorry..."

Wulfric clenched his fists. He had known the locals were up to no good, but he hadn't expected anything like this yet. He rebuked himself; he needed learn out of such naivety if he strived to be a good leader or soldier some day.

Scyrr looked bad, worse than he had first thought. Wulfric's eyes scanned the yard and spotted a woman with a bucket of water.

"Hey! You there! If you have a healer in this place, find him and bring him here now!"

The woman laid her bucket on the ground and hurried off.

Scyrr tried to talk. "They... they already..."
"Don't speak," Wulfric cut off the soldier's talk. "You need to make a distiguishable report to your Eorl, so save your words."

Wulfric didn't exactly enjoy saying those words, but there was enough soldier in him to put practical matters before pride in such minor things and to respect a commander even if there were doubts on his sanity.

Where was Will when he was needed? He needed someone to stay with Scyrr and take care of the matters for a second.

"I'm here," said a voice behind his back and Wulfric turned quickly just to see his brother standing next to him.
"Need to practice your hearing, soldier, you should've hear me running here had you been concentrating at all," Wilheard remarked.
"Now's no time for idle banter," Wulfric retorted. "I'll go find Father, you stay here with Scyrr. A healer's coming for him - that is if the locals can be trusted."

Without further ceremonies, Wulfric hurried away to find his father. It wasn't very difficult - Athanar walked out of the door of the great hall just when Wulfric was at the doorstep and they literally bumped into each other.

"Sir," Wulfric said quickly. "Scyrr is wounded. He says he was attacked by the local tanner, named Erbrand. Will is now with him - they're in the far end of the yard there, by the trees. I have sent for a healer."

[Folwren]

Saeryn had left Athanar in the great hall soon after the rest of the people had left. She had stood by while Javan made his apology and then she and Athanar had finished their discussion and she retired for a brief time to her room. She could not rest long, for much pressed on her mind. So she rose and went out, leaving soon after Æðelhild and Matrim had finished speaking with Athanar, but she knew not of their meeting with him.

As she came out into the courtyard, she spotted Erbrand coming out from the kitchen. At first, she paid little mind to him, it was normal enough to see him there during the day, but something caused her to take a second glance, and this time she noted the drawn expression about his mouth, and his lowered eyebrows. He did not appear as he normally did. He hastened towards the stables, but she called him back. He stopped and turned and then came towards her several steps.

“My lady,” he said. “I am taking my leave.”

“So suddenly, Erbrand?” she asked. “Why?”

“Something has come up. I cannot explain, but you will find out soon enough.”

“I hope you do not feel that because Eodwine has left and Athanar is taking his place that you are no longer wanted here.”

“No, lady,” he said, a wistful look passing over his face. But he did not explain himself. “I must go. I bid you farewell, and I hope that justice is done here, and you are treated as you should be, and nothing that is yours is taken from you.”

Saeryn shook her head, confused, but he turned and hurried away. She stood, staring after him, wondering what brought this on and what she should do about it. The morning had already been confusing enough, what with Athanar’s offer to her of adoption and her child, if it were male, taking the place of heir of Scarburg. She did not feel she needed this extra burden laid on her. But Erbrand was one of Eodwine’s men. What was happening here? Would the place disintegrate, despite Athanar’s careful attempts to keep the people together?

She was still wondering this when she saw not only Erbrand exit on horseback, but coming behind him on his own horse, Lithor rode also. She stood stock still in the courtyard, incapable of calling after them. She did not believe it. She could not believe it. This action was entirely against both their characters, but there they were, both leaving.

It was not so much for Erbrand to go. He had the right to stay or leave as he pleased, but Lithor was part of the eorl’s guard. He was bound, by his word and by the expectations laid upon a man-at-arms, to not abandon his lord and his companions. But it was clear enough that he had every intention of going and not returning.

Saeryn watched them until they were out of sight and then she turned and hurried to the kitchen. If Erbrand had told anyone what had happened to make him leave in such a manner, it would have been Kara.

She found her seated on the hearth, with her hands clasped between her knees, doing nothing. Her eyes were red, and her face pale, but she was not crying.

“Kara,” Saeryn said, coming inside. “What has happened? Why has Erbrand left?”

Kara did not look towards her. “He has. . .he killed. . .” she shot a wavering glance towards Saeryn and her eyes swam with tears. “It cannot be hidden, you will find out soon enough!” She covered her face with her hands and rocked back and forth, silently weeping.

Saeryn stood as though struck by lightning on the doorstep. She wondered if this numb feeling that she felt was because so much had already happened that day, or because for some reason she did not really care. She felt she did not fully understand. Of course, Kara had not spoken plainly, so how could she understand? What had he killed? Rather, who had he killed? For it must be a man for him to run, and for Kara to be incapable of telling her.

But her questions were answered in a brief moment. While she still stood in uncertainty just inside the kitchen, Fordides and Ginna both suddenly entered behind her. She turned slowly, as though in a dream, and saw them both, observing instantly Fordides flushed face and Ginna’s pale one.

“Oh, lady Saeyrn!” Ginna said, reaching forward and grasping her hand. “Thank goodness you are here. I don’t know what to do. We brought him back as best we could, but he’s badly hurt.”

“Who is?” Saeryn asked.

“It’s that Scyrr fellow,” Fordides answered. She seemed a little tamer than usual, and her eyes were abnormally wide. “Erbrand ‘most killed him, he did, and it was all Ginna and I could do to get him off ‘im.”

Although she knew that Scyrr was one of Athanar’s men and this would mean further trouble with Athanar, she no longer had anything with which to react. Her face did not change, nor did her feelings. She felt cold and unmoved. “Where is Scyrr now?” Saeryn asked.

“Outside. We set him in the wagon. We don’t know what to do. What will happen to Erbrand? Should we tell lord Athanar what we saw?”

Saeryn stepped past them and looked out. Only when she saw Scyrr, looking sick and badly hurt, and Athanar’s oldest son standing by and talking to him did the full realization of the situation come to her. She felt scared again. Almost as badly scared as she had been the previous night when she thought Athanar was going to be a tyrannical ruler who ran Scarburg like a military outpost. Lithor had been punished mercifully, but he had run from it. Then Erbrand, despite seeing how Athanar behaved similarly to Eodwine, and hearing that the two people must become one, had almost killed one of Athanar’s men and then fled. What would Athanar feel necessary to do? How would he react?

“Fordides,” Saeryn whispered. “Fordides, I feel I am going to faint.”

[Folwren]

“I wish we could find out what’s happening,” Cnebba said ruefully. Javan and Garmund followed his gaze into the courtyard. A sudden thought occurred to Javan.

“Your mum said the soldiers were in the woods - but look! They’re not, yet. They’re still getting ready. They won’t be out for a few more minutes. If we hurry, we can get to the top of the lane and hide before they come through, then we can see what is going on!”

The two boys looked at him doubtfully. He stared at them, changing his eyes from one to the other, before throwing up his hands and saying, “Well, it’s better than staying around here and rotting, isn’t it?”

Cnebba looked at Garmund, but Garmund suddenly agreed with Javan and wheeled about, heading off at a run. “Come on!” he shouted over his shoulder. “We won’t have much time!”

“But, boys!” Leodern called, straggling along behind. “But, Modtryth said to stay in sight of the house and - and - and you shouldn’t be doing this! You’ll get in trouble!”

“Shut up, ninny,” Javan threw over his shoulder, “and don’t give us away, whatever you do! Stay here, if you want to!”

Leodern slowed to a walk and watched as the boys disappeared around the corner of Harreld’s smithy. A sad, dejected frown etched itself into her face and then she dropped to the ground, herl legs folded tailor fashion, and her chin sank into her hands.

The boys ran on, unmindful of Leodern. They sped up the hill towards the main road and then darted off into the woods on the left of the road. Behind them, they could hear the stamp of horses and the jingle of the bits and harnesses. Then a shout was given and trotting hooves came up the path.

“Quick!” Javan gasped. A strange sort of fear wrapped about his chest, as though he were being the one hunted. Something told him they must not be seen. “Up into the tree, just as quick as you can!”

[Firefoot]

Had Thornden listened to anything he had just said? It did not seem to Léof that he had. Well, perhaps these concerns had already been thought of, and Athanor thought it more important to secure the area than to actually find the fugitives? Truth to tell, he still had a hard time thinking of either Erbrand or Lithor as particularly dangerous, but that was not for him to decide.

Then Thornden asked, “Do you want to go out with us?”

That was unexpected, and Léof had no idea what use he might be on such a venture, but it suddenly seemed very attractive to get out of the stables for a while – even if it was just on a fool’s errand to the marshes. “Actually, yes, I would,” he said. “What would you have me do?”

[Folwren]

The questions were obvious in Leof's face as he looked keenly at Thornden. But, thankfully, Thornden's invitation seemed to drive those questions from his mind.

"Yes, actually, I would. What would you have me do?"

"Saddle your horse. And then wait for us here while we search the place. We'll be back for our horses before going out towards the marshes. We'll split into two groups once we reach them and there I'll give further instructions." He turned as he finished and then stopped and turned again. Leof was already walking off to get his horse. "If you like, you can make certain no one is hiding in the stables and all," he said. It sounded ridiculous, and he knew Leof knew it. Of course they weren't skulking in the stables. Leof knew as well as he did that they weren't anywhere near Scarburg.

Without waiting to see it on Leof's face or hear him ask a single question, he turned and strode away.

"You two," he said indicating two men, "check the kitchen and the smithy. You four, check the great hall and all the sleeping quarters." He continued to partition his men and send them off until they all had someplace to search.

[Durelin]

The riders started out heading south east, cutting across the flatlands to the road toward Tancred and Faramund. They searched for any signs of the riders and stopped briefly every few miles if they came upon a farm house or traveler to inquire about one or two fast riders, a tanner and possibly a soldier... There search was turning up nothing, and Coen grumbled and cursed to himself that they had not gone this way. But he would never dare to criticize his lord, even speaking to himself. No, it was not a matter of having more riders covering different areas...it was simply that he had not acted quickly enough; or rather, he had not kept track of his men well enough. And he had not kept his eye on those two troubled men. What had he told himself? That Lithor was dangerous, and it was to be watched what company he kept.

The party was small, but Coen still sent out two men as if they were scouts serving a larger train. One road ahead periodically and reported back, the other might cut to the east or west a ways beside the road and loop around back to the road. Both men were good trackers, and the latter was one of the locals who knew the land well. Neither was to stop and ask questions of anyone unless there was some other sign that indicated the men had been that way. The main party then was slower going, as it periodically stopped to inquire about Erbrand and Lithor.

The front rider came back at a gallop, having just reported only a couple minutes before. Coen brought the party to a halt in confusion as the man approached. "I just watched two men or something disappear into the woods from the side of the road," the man reported ineloquently.

"Then why did you come back here rather than pursue them?" Coen asked angrily, letting his frustration get the best of him.

"Er...the brush is too thick for riding sir. I...thought it best to... If it is them...I mean...two against one..."

Coen sighed. "Forgive me, you are right. But we've already wasted enough time."

With a shout the riders took off at a gallop until the scout signaled that they were getting close. They then slowed to a trot, Coen at the head of the party with the scout, who slowed to a stop and nodded toward the woods to the east of the road.

Coen dismounted and took his sword from his gear to put on his belt and the rest followed suit. He indicated a man to stay behind with the horses, and then prepared to make his way through the brush carefully and as quietly as he could, searching for signs on the way. But he already saw clearly that someone, or likely more than one person, had clumsily plunged into the forest from the road. Coen fingered his sword's pommel.

"Sir," he heard a voice behind him a little louder than a whisper. Coen did not turn around. What was this fool doing? He was talking loud enough for anyone within a hundred meters to hear him! "Sir, above us."

The Captain stopped dead and looked up into the branches of the tree before him. The first thing he saw was a set of shoed feet, and then the body of a boy...and then another...and another. Three boys perched in the branches like birds. Coen's hands dropped to his side and he sighed.

"You two get down from that tree before we shake you down," he shouted, grimacing as he suddenly realized that he had a headache since the morning's drills.

[Folwren]

Léof’s simple extension of friendship put Quin more at ease than he had been ever since he arrived. He drew a breath and cast a sidelong glance at Léof, studying him for the first time. He looked like a nice fellow, and now he was looking at him, not with a hard intimidating look, but kindly and openly.

“I’ve been with Lord Athanar for eight years,” Quin answered. “At the beginning of my eleventh summer I was sent to him as a paige, and I have stayed with him ever since. I became a man-at-arms only just last year. It’s something of a step for me.” He ventured a smile.

“Will you answer me something? I’ll let you ask anything in return, and I hope you do not think ill of me for asking this.” Léof nodded, indicating he continue. “What sort of man…I mean…is Erbrand safe? Thornden there requires that we not kill anyone, but what if Erbrand attacks us? I ask you because I figure you know something of him.”

[Firefoot]

“I do not think you need fear Erbrand. If I thought this would come to a fight, I probably would not have come for I would be near useless in a real attack,” replied Léof. “Erbrand may be argumentative at times, and act without thinking, but beneath that he really is a decent sort. He cared well for his horse, and even made me this saddle that I’m using as a gift, though he said it was thanks for my care of his horse.

“I might ask you a similar question,” he continued. “What sort of man is your lord? What sort of punishment do you think he would judge fit for Erbrand, were he to be found and brought back?” Léof abruptly recalled Nydfara’s odd and annoying questions back in the stables. “And how might he deal with anyone who helped him?”

[Folwren]

Léof’s answer of Erbrand did not sound bad. Quin began to think that perhaps the tanner was not quite so evil after all. He wanted to think good of these people here, and he certainly believed that Scyrr could have easily provoked Erbrand to fight, if his temper was known to flair easily.

But the questions concerning lord Athanar caused Quin to think soberly for a moment. “Lord Athanar is a fair man, but he does not have a great deal of tolerance for reckless or undisciplined behavior. I do not know for a certainty, but I think my lord believes that Erbrand attempted to kill Scyrr and then ran because he knew his act to be wrong. By the law, Erbrand is subject to death if he had killed Scyrr. Since he did not kill him, quite, Athanar may be lenient on him and not execute him. He may order him to be branded, or one hand cut off.” He paused. “I am not sure, quite honestly. For as long as I’ve been in his household, no one has ever done anything like this.

“As for someone helping him…I don’t know if I quite understand what you mean. I guess Athanar would see it as a sort of disobedience or disrespect for his command. If it were one, say, like you or I, he might be flogged, or perhaps forced to leave in disgrace. But what do you mean by help? How would anyone help him?”

[Folwren]

Javan frowned at Fearghall, then down at the ground and kicked at the dirt. The soldier didn’t look back at them as he turned his horse back towards home. Finally, with a defeated shrug of his shoulders, Javan waved his hand to the other boys and headed back. “If we don’t go back, he’ll tell somebody, and then we’ll really be in trouble,” he said in explanation.

They agreed and the three trudged back to the Hall behind Fearghall’s horse. They found the courtyard quiet and empty. The wounded man had been moved, the search parties had all left, and the rest were inside.

Fearghall turned his horse about in the courtyard to face the three boys. “I’m glad to see you three decided to follow me back. Give me your word that you will stay here after I leave to go rejoin the captain, and I will not inform anyone about where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing.”

Javan and the other two exchanged glances and then Javan nodded. “You have our word. We will stay.”

Fearghall nodded then, and without another word, rode back out. The boys turned to watch him go, and then Javan tapped Garmund on the shoulder. “Come on. I don’t see anyone about, we might be able to get back to where we’re supposed to be without being noticed. Quick!” He started off at a run, and Garmund, after grabbing Cnebba came after him.

[Folwren]

"Maybe the scout who was sent out earlier has brought some news to lord Athanar while we were away," Hilderinc said. "Maybe the captain's party was actually going for a definite trail, unlike us."

Thornden sent Hilderinc a covert glance and the worried frown that had been etched in his face all day deepened a little more. He did not respond to the comment as Hilderinc had not directed it to him, but his thoughts dwelt on it and the possibilities that lay within it for the rest of the ride home.

What had Hilderinc seen and noticed? How long would it be until Hilderinc learned that no scout had been sent out? When would Hilderinc guess the truth of the matter? And would he go to Athanar and tell him of his suspicion of Thornden's dishonesty, as any true and loyal soldier should? The outlook had been grim from the beginning, and the more Thornden thought about it, the grimmer it became.

They came into the courtyard more than an hour after dark. Once dusk had fallen, they had been obliged to pick their way carefully through the marsh. They were hungry, tired, and half frozen by the time they got back and they all unsaddle their horses with stiff and numb fingers. As they were finishing, Coenred with his men came riding back in. A searching glance through their numbers showed Thornden that they had been as fruitless in their search as he and his men had been. It gave him a little comfort to know that Lithor and Erbrand were safely away, but it did not ease the tight feeling in his stomach.

The men flowed into the warm, fire-lit hall in a steady stream, clumping in groups inside near the fire and scattered about to talk about what had happened throughout the day and during their searches. When lord Athanar and the two ladies entered the hall, the room became silent and they turned their eyes towards him, hoping finally to hear something that would satisfy all their curiosity and answer at least some of their questions.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

When they have arrived back to the camp, Áforglaed was the first to unsaddle his horse and as Thornden already gave them leave, he ran across the darkness-covered courtyard into the healer's room to see Scyrr. That way, he had missed the return of Coenred's party, and learned about their unsuccessful mission only later when he came down for dinner.

Scyrr seemed to be getting better, and at least the local healer took good care about him. When Áforgaled came, he was sleeping, probably the best thing he could do at his current condition anyway. The healer woman was just on the leave herself, going to join the rest for the evening meal. Áforglaed remembered seeing her before, she was a pretty young woman, about his age, and somehow it seemed to him that she did not really fit the place. She looked different from the fair-haired girls back home, and there was something in her bearing which made her look almost noble lady-like. Perhaps she is an Elf, Áforglaed thought, but then he dismissed the thought straightaway: he had never seen an Elf, but he assumed them to be different.

"Your friend will be all right," the healer told him, standing at the door, as if nudging him to leave too. "I will bring some food for him when we go back from the dinner."

"No... no, I will do that," Áforglaed said. He followed to the door, with one last turn back to resting Scyrr.

The healer woman nodded in approval. They left the healer's quarters and slowly walked towards the main hall. As they walked in silence, Áforglaed's grim thoughts were suddenly washed away in the presence of this fair lady, which was so unlike the loud yellow-haired maids and girls in Edoras. He almost forgot about the trouble of the day, until another man joined them, and to his dismay, Áforglaed recognised the man who got into fight with him just after their arrival yesterday. The man cast a sideway look at him and then spoke a few fast words to the healer-woman. She nodded and they continued their pace towards the hall. Áforglaed stopped and gazed after them darkly. His brief moment of relief was gone again. What does this man have to do with her anyway?

So his mood was still grim as he arrived to the hall. The warmth inside took the evening chill off his bones, but his mind remained troubled. He sat along the table with the rest of the soldiers just as lord Athanar had entered the hall.

[littlemanpoet]

Harreld rubbed his eyes again as he walked from his smithy to the mead hall. Before he fell asleep he wanted to talk to Thornden. Not that telling him tonight instead of tomorrow would change a thing, but he wanted it done.

He stretched his arms and neck, trying to loosen them after hours of whet stone work. He squinted ahead of him: the moon hung just above the horizon in the west. It was late, but he was determined to wake Thornden if he had to. It turned out to his surprise that this was unnecessary, for Thornden was just coming out of the Mead Hall.

"Thornden! Hail!"

"Harreld! You are still awak?"

"Aye, there is a matter I cannot banish from my thoughts. Will you be gong to Edoras?"

"Not I, but I will be sending- Ugh! You stink, Harreld! Did you sleep in your scrap iron?"

Harreld chuckled. "Close enough. I will bathe in the morning. I would beg a boon of you, though."

"Speak it."

"Have your messenger stop in at my brother Garreth and tell him to come to Scarburg. There is more than enough work for two smiths now with the extra soldiers."

Thornden's brow rose. "I suppose a few moments can be set aside for that-" he murmured doubtfully.

"Or do you think our new eorl would say me nay?"

"I ... cannot say. Would you like me to ask him?"

Harreld sighed. He had been hoping for quick reassurance from Thornden. The man's doubt did nothing to assuage his dislike of the new eorl. "Aye, I would be in your debt if you would. The work is more than one man can handle now."

"I will take care of it," Thornden replied. "Get some sleep! I'll tell you in the morning."

"Aye. Good night," Harreld replied unhappily. Now that the thing was done he was very weary and it was not long before he was sound asleep, dreaming of sharpened sword edges and prison bars.

[Mnemosyne]

"I must be getting old," said Wynflaed, as Lilige carefully hung her dress away. "I do not recall my back aching this much since I bore Aedre."

"You do not look it," said Athanar. He was sitting at the edge of the bed, but his eyes were alight with thought.

"You flatter me, husband. Lilige, that is all I will need you for tonight; I know you must be weary from the day's events as well. I will call you should I require anything."

Lilige curtsied and left the room.

Wynflaed sighed. She had not seen Athanar very much that day, and while that could be typical in a day's work at court, so much of the day had dragged on...

After Saeryn had told Athanar of Lithor's desertion, the two of them had gone back to the kitchens and begun to muster the effort for when the searchers would return--plenty of hot broth, with barley thrown in for good measure. Then there was the general bustle of trying to keep everyone calm, getting the stables ready for the return of the riders, and even trying to find a stout store-room in case the runagates were found and needed to be locked up.

"Is aught wrong?"

"Hm?" Wynflaed turned to look at Athanar, and then sat next to him on the bed. "No, I was merely woolgathering. I had wished to acquaint myself with the household, but I did not think I should have to do so this soon--or this suddenly."

"Mishaps are what bring out the genius in a general." He brought his hand to the back of her neck and began to rub it.

"Aye," said Wynflaed. "And you did most marvellously today, especially at the feast. I only wish I could have done more."

"You kept things running--"

"--I and the Lady Saeryn--"

"--and that is what matters."

"Well," Wynflaed said, rising, "I do not expect tomorrow to be much easier than today. I can see your mind is still working, but I am weary. Let us discuss what is to be done in the morning--and do not stay up too late with your plans!"

But Wynflaed could not tell if Athanar had heeded her advice or not, for she slept not too long after she laid her head on the pillow.

[Durelin]

Coen rose the next day feeling nearly as much dread as he had when he first learned of Scyrr's near death. There had been a moment yesterday that had felt almost as if this Hall were one unit, and not two butting heads over imagined and purposeful insults and encroachments. He also woke with a headache.

He had not slept much. His mind was on Erbrand and Lithor, two men who he thought the Hall was surely better off without. The one was young and hot-blooded, and with the course he had set himself on, he was likely never to return to a straight path. Lithor was well old enough to have cooled his blood and become accustomed to using his head. So he was truly just a bad sort.

The meetings with the local lords were on Coen's mind, as well, but not nearly as much. He would be there to do as Athanar ordered and to support his lord as was needed. But that all the bad blood and misfortunes that had taken place since they arrived, several of them could have easily been avoided had he been more attentive. He had let Scyrr be dragged into this confrontation, as he had let him out of his --, when all the others were at drills. Except Lithor, whom he had simply assumed, foolishly, was still detained by his lord for his foolishness.

He knew that man was dangerous, and he had done nothing about it. But it had not been his place. It was not his place. It was his place to find him, to find him and Erbrand both, for justice and to restore the insult to his lord, but...his place was wherever his lord told him to be. And he told him to be here. Tomorrow he would be at his lord's service for the necessary politicking, which needed a show of force if not actual force.

Coen rose and made his way through the barracks, waking those men who were not already up and tending to their horses or themselves...as Athanar had ordered, he smiled to himself. He had sent Aforglaed to serve as one of the king's messengers to Edoras, and Scyrr was still laid up. But he had no complaints so far regarding any of the other soldiers now that Lithor was gone, except perhaps for that one who was quite young...though so many of them looked so young... And he still had Hilderinc to help hold them together. Perhaps things were not as steeped in chaos as he thought.

He went to the stables to see to his horse, give him some feed and tack him. Coen felt bad putting him through another rough day after yesterday's search, but he did not doubt he was strong enough to do so. He had not ridden with full equipment yesterday, at least.

[Firefoot]

As Léof was preparing Æthel for riding, a voice spoke up behind him. “You don’t expect to find the fugitives here, do you.”

“What?” Léof spun around to find Nydfara standing there. Léof knew that Nydfara had no horse, and so likely had no business in the stable. He also did not think that the question the other man had asked was any of his business. “I mean, what makes you think that?”

“It was plain enough to see that you looked puzzled after Thornden called after you to inspect the stables. And since coming in here, you have not looked for them.”

Léof scowled at him. “So you’re both eavesdropping and spying on me.”

“Say rather that I keep my eyes and ears open. Nor have you yet answered my question,” said Nydfara.

“And why should I?” asked Léof stubbornly. He had previously known Nydfara to be a hard-working if fairly aloof sort of man, even at times pleasant, but this was absurd.

Sensing Léof’s mood, Nydfara put up his hands placatingly. “I mean no offense, yet I find your response to Thornden’s orders odd. One might think that you were trying to aid the fugitives, rather than find them. And that would be more than odd. It would be treasonous.”

“What! You’re mad!” cried Léof, loudly enough that Æthel snorted and stomped her foot. He lowered his voice. “I did not even know what had happened until ten minutes ago, and am now going out to search. What are you doing to help, other than searching for conspiracies where there are none?”

“I would not be so sure of that. I ask you again: why did you not think to find the fugitives in the stables?”

“If you must know, their horses are not in their stalls,” said Léof, frustrated and wanting nothing more to do with Nydfara. “Erbrand and Lithor left with them some time ago.”

“And you did not try to stop them?” asked Nydfara. “Or tell anyone?”

“I did not know they had done anything wrong! I already told you that. Nor is it my practice to interrogate everyone who comes into the stable and leaves with his own horse. There is nothing here for you to report about me, if that’s what you’re after. I’ve already told Thornden what I know. Now, I would kindly ask you to leave, for I have nothing left to say to you.”

“Not so kindly, I think,” said Nydfara. “But as you wish.” He bowed slightly and left the stable.

“I wonder what that was about,” he muttered irritably as he turned back to the care of his horse. Perhaps it had been a jest (albeit an odd one). Or maybe there was some darker purpose – maybe Nydfara had actually been the one helping the fugitives, and he was trying to blame someone else. No, that made little sense. Lithor and Erbrand hadn’t needed any help; when they left, no one knew there was a problem. Right?

~*~*~*~

Nydfara, or Scyld, as he had once been known, smiled slightly to himself as he left the stable. That had been too easy, and more fun than he had expected. It had been so long since he had needed to manipulate information out of anyone that he feared he was growing rusty. Léof had been almost laughably easy to needle and, for as reluctant as he had initially been to speak, he had confirmed all that Nydfara wanted to know from him.

What he would do with the information was the question. He did not yet have proof of anything, but he, like Léof, was skeptical of the plans for the search parties. Searching the grounds and the marshes seemed a waste of resources, when the fugitives had taken off on horseback. He knew from experience that the scar was no terrain for riders, and the marshes were at least as bad. So why not instead send out more groups such as Coenred’s?

Thornden was an intelligent man. Nydfara could not speak for Athanor or Coenred, and them he could suppose were acting on misinformation. But since Léof had shared his knowledge with Thornden, if they did indeed continue on their current plan, Nydfara would indeed be suspicious. Perhaps Thornden had not directly aided them, but he also did not seem eager to catch them. Nydfara had observed his friendship with them, and he had no doubt that Athanor would want to know that his new officer had placed friendship over law.

Nor was Nydfara above wanting to curry favor with the new lord. It seemed that Athanor had few enough allies among the old crowd here. He did not know why, exactly; Eodwine did not seem likely to return. Anyway, one lord was much the same as another to him, and none were to be trusted.

And yet – if he shared these suspicions he had, he would be far more likely to make enemies of Thornden, Léof, and others than to make friends with Athanor. In fact, if his suspicions were wrong, he may just be labeled as a troublemaker (and an eavesdropper and a spy, as Léof had pointed out). He would have to think about it, and make his move, if he made one at all, sometime after Thornden left with his search party.

[Folwren]

"You two get down from that tree before we shake you down!" the captain of the guard shouted. Javan blinked in surprised. Coenred seemed very upset about something and quite honestly, Javan did not feel like going down if the captain was in a bad mood.

"But there are three of us," he observed without moving.

"Then all of you, get down!"

Javan looked at his two companions, pressed his lips together resolvedly, and bent down to grasp the treebranch. He swung his legs down and dropped to the ground just before Captain Coenred. Cnebba and Garmund landed behind him.

"Well?" Javan asked. "We're not the ones you're looking for. Hadn't you better keep searching? We were only coming out to watch."

[Durelin]

When the boys jumped down from the tree, Coen recognized the apparently lead boy as the one who had gotten into a fight -- a physical fight -- with Aedre. This boy needed some paddling, dearly. Fighting with a girl, and with a real smart mouth on him...

"Do you have respect for anyone, boy?" he asked, almost growling. He preferred disciplining a soldier with his head in the wrong place any day to dealing with a brat...much less three of them. They wanted to watch? Watch smugly while two criminals escaped judgment, responsibility?

Coen knew how these more backwater places could be all too prideful about their communities, but there was something just...off about Scarburg folks, he swore it. All he had seen so far were brash words, mad men, and liars. He had that young man Thornden had a good head on his shoulders, but now he had apparently seen his true colors. He respected the Lady Saeryn but would respect her more if she didn't have so many hounds guarding her apparent interests.

"Fearghall," he called to one of his men. "Take these boys back to the Hall. String 'em up and drag them along behind you if you have to," he remarked. He knew Fearghall had enough sense not to take Coen seriously on his suggestion, even if the Captain was tempted. "This is no spectacle," he grumbled.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

After Thornden gave them the orders to secure the area around Scarburg, Hilderinc could see that many men among those who were given this task - especially those of Athanar's household - obviously seemed to consider their mission the dullest possible of all. One or two gazed enviously at Coen's party riding away. Hilderinc only shook his head slightly. Yesterday evening, many of those now craving for excitement were apalled at the idea of going to the drills in the morning. How easily did the mood of soldiers change. Of course, there were mixed feelings for many: among Athanar's men, there were also those for whom Scyrr was a friend, even though there were not too many. Most, however, were just keen to bring to justice the man who attacked one of "them" - once again the division between "old" and "new" Scarburgians seemed to manifest itself, this time in the personified form of Erbrand and Lithor. Lithor - the fool who had managed to insult the newcomers yesterday by calling them "guests". In some way, the fact that just these two have disappeared at the same time did not come to Hilderinc as a surprise when he heard Coen's words. And despite what Thornden tried to tell him, the image of local troublemakers seemed to get clearer in his mind.

It was curious that Thornden had defended Erbrand so ferociously - but in a way, Hilderinc could understand. Perhaps there was a kind of defense of the "old" Scarburgians, perhaps Thornden had tried to prevent Hilderinc from thinking badly about all of lord Eodwine's men, now that the issue threatened to awaken again. But Hilderinc was not the one to throw all hay into the same bag. Quite the opposite - the two fugitives seemed to be the prime example of those trying to ride against the wind while it was the least favourable. Inside, Hilderinc felt some calming pleasure in that his assumptions regarding Lithor as an incorrigible troublemaker and Erbrand as an impetuous brawler proved to be correct. These two obviously represented the most extreme of the old squad - their deed only has proved it.

There was still a hint of doubt inside Hilderinc, however. Something kept telling him that Thornden was really very plain in trying to prove that Erbrand was not a "witless brawler", as he had put it. And Thornden did not seem like a person who would act irrationally or too emotionally - no good leader would, in Hilderinc's book.

As he was passing through the courtyard, however, he bumped into somebody who did not seem unemotional at all: Áforglaed. Young Quin was with him, but looked rather noteless next to Áforglaed. Perhaps during all his time under lord Athanar's command Hilderinc had not seen the soldier so obviously irritated. No wonder, if there was somebody who could be considered Scyrr's friend, it would be Áforglaed. Hilderinc was quite sure that if Erbrand now appeared out of nowhere in front of them, Áforglaed would waste no time to attack him personally - and, he reminded himself, these two have also fought each other the day before. But Hilderinc certainly did not think that being in such a mood was good for Áforglaed.

"Any news?" he asked when the soldiers approached him. Áforglaed shook his head.

"I think they have fled," he said with anger apparent in his voice. "What is that Thornden doing, keeping us here? It is obvious that them traitors are not coming back-"

"We have to be sure," Hilderinc said calmly, looking also at Quin and bearing in mind that he should not let the young soldier be disturbed by Áforglaed's emotions. "Especially as there is two of them. Lithor might be just around here..."

"He is of no concern to me," said Áforglaed. Hilderinc could not help himself and raised eyebrows in surprise. This was really a bit different Áforglaed.

"Lord Athanar will see to that Erbrand is brought to justice," Hilderinc said after a while. "Don't worry about it. Has anyone been to the kitchens yet? No? Somebody should also report to Thornden how our search is going, even though there is nothing to report." He pointed towards the stables.

[Folwren]

Javan stood glowering after Coenred. He hardly minded a word that Fearghall said to them. He finally turned back to the man as he finished speaking.

“Look, sir,” Javan said, trying to sound like the men did when they bargained. “All we wanted to do was amuse ourselves a bit. We weren’t causing no harm. If you take us back, we’ll probably be seen by Cnebba’s mum, here, and be given chores of some sort. Worse yet, we might be in trouble for slipping off in the first place. Why don’t you just go back to Captain Coenred and tell him you took care of us, we’ll meander back towards the hall and just stay out of sight?”

He looked hopefully up at the soldier. If the man fell for it, the boys would be left to their own devices again, and they’d decide what to do after he had left.