Lady Faraday,” he said smoothly, “it has been bothering me that I should find your face so familiar when, to my knowledge, we have never met before this march.” He wondered if she would admit to her ill-mannered stare the night of the banquet.
Faraday smiled uncertainly, her hands clutching her knees where they were drawn up to her chest. “Really? … ah …” Her voice trailed off. She wasn’t sure how to address him. “BattleAxe” was so inappropriate in the relaxed mood about the fire, yet “Axis” seemed too familiar. She could hardly call him “my Lord”, because to all intents and purposes his illegitimate birth placed him beyond that respectable and noble title.
“You undoubtedly saw me at Priam’s nameday banquet in the Chamber of the Moons. I’m afraid that I was staring. The Axe-Wielders have such a legendary reputation in Skarabost, indeed, around all Achar itself, that I have long desired to see one. I was fortunate that my first sight of an Axe-Wielder was of their BattleAxe himself. I apologise from my heart for my bad manners that night, Axis Rivkahson.”
Embeth’s mouth dropped open in shock – and hers was not the only one. Never had she known anyone to address Axis so. He was extraordinarily sensitive about the circumstances surrounding his birth, so that no-one, no-one, ever referred to his mother or to his illegitimate status to his face. Yet … yet … Embeth had to admit that she was stunned, not only by Faraday’s explicit mention of Rivkah, but by the girl’s exquisite handling of what was undoubtedly an embarrassing moment for her. In the end, Faraday had done the impossible; she had referred to Axis’ illegitimate status in such a graceful manner as to make Axis’ connection to his mother a virtue rather than an embarrassment.
Axis looked as stunned as Embeth felt, but Embeth could see that emotions battled inside him. His instant reaction had been a surge of anger and humiliation that Faraday had referred so openly to his illegitimacy, but now he was confused by the fact that neither her eyes nor her tone held any trace of mockery. He groped for something to say, but such a complex mix of emotions surged through him that he could find no words.
Faraday clearly understood what she had started and she understood as well that having started it she would have to lay it to rest. She spoke again into the absolute silence about the campfire, her voice gentle, her eyes fixed on Axis. “I have heard that the Princess Rivkah was a woman of remarkable qualities, Axis, and you must surely be proud to have had such a woman as your mother. Yet I am equally sure that she too would be proud to have you as her son, and to have you bear her name through these years that she is unable to live herself.”
Embeth closed her eyes against the tears that pricked up in them. In the eighteen years she had known Axis she had never presumed upon their friendship enough to mention his mother to him so openly. And yet this young woman had spoken clearly and simply of Rivkah’s pride and love for Axis as if it were undoubted fact. Embeth did not often feel so deeply moved, and especially by one so young. She opened her eyes again and looked between Axis and Faraday. Perhaps her reticence in past years had been a mistake.
Axis took a slow, deep breath, profoundly affected by Faraday’s words. “Thank you, Faraday. It is rare that I hear anyone speak so well of my mother.”
Faraday’s beautiful smile lit up her face and Axis’ eyes darkened perceptibly as they looked back at Faraday.
Embeth, watching the two of them, felt a sudden chill of premonition. “Dear Artor,” she whispered to herself. “Not this … not this.” Not with Faraday bound to Borneheld. Not with the contracts signed and the betrothal oaths taken before witnesses. Not with the bitterness that already existed between the two brothers. If it could be stopped before it went too much further then the tragedy might be averted. She would have to speak to Faraday, the sooner the better.
Embeth smiled and spoke lightly, deliberately breaking the look between them. “Axis, it is so rare that I have a chance to hear you play your harp. Will you play for us now? And Timozel, do you have your lute with you?”
There was a collective sigh of relief around the fire as the mood changed.
“Only if the ladies agree to accompany us with their voices,” Timozel said, unsure what to think about the scene he had just witnessed.
For a man so given to the military arts, Axis had an unexpected flair for music and song. Embeth was never aware of who had taught Axis his skill on the harp – he was proficient even when he joined her and Ganelon at eleven. Although far less skilled, Timozel could accompany well enough and the three women were all practised with their voices. The rest of the evening passed pleasantly with ballads and songs of love and adventure.
Gilbert, protesting his inability to keep a tune, sat silently throughout the evening, applauding the musicians and singers whenever they finished a song and smiling at their laughter. His sharp eyes, however, kept returning to Axis and Faraday. Jayme had told him to report everything he witnessed, everything, and Gilbert meant to do just that.
Two days later they rode into Tare, the small town which sat on the border of the Plains of Tare and the small Province of Tarantaise. It was poor country, and even assiduous use of the Plough only yielded small returns in grain and vegetables, so Tare relied on the east – west trade across Achar for its primary income. When Embeth had first come to live in Tare as a young bride she had been overcome by the vast spaces of the sparsely grassed plains surrounding Tare. Now, after twenty years, she had come to love the town and appreciate the slow rhythms of Tarian fife.
The townsfolk fined the town walls to watch them arrive, waving and cheering as the men rode around the town walls. The Tarians were round-eyed but not displeased to see so many Axe-Wielders. Soldiers, whether Axemen or regular soldiers, always meant money.
The majority of the Axemen would have to camp outside the town precinct, for there was no way they could be billeted in a town the size of Tare, but Embeth invited the women, Gilbert, Axis and Belial to stay at her castle. After some confusion, Axis told Timozel he too could stay with his mother while they were in Tare. It was a concession that pleased Timozel though he was resentful that he needed Axis’ permission to sleep in his own house. Especially when Axis would no doubt make free use of the privacy of Embeth’s home to take further advantage of her.
Axis planned to stop two days in Tare to replenish supplies and rest his men and their horses. After the first few days on a hard march there was always a mass of equipment needing repair, horses to be reshod, and men needed the chance to spend some solid hours at weapon practice. And if the reports drifting down from the north were true, then within a few short weeks they might not have the time to relax, and many might never have the chance to woo a serving girl over a jar of ale again. He told the unit commanders to let as many men as possible enjoy their evenings in town.
The Lady of Tare lived in a high, thick-walled castle sheltered against the fortified walls of the town and separated from the streets of Tare by a tall private wall. It sat on a small hill so that its walks and gardens looked down over the town. It was a large building and accommodated the women, their servants, the Brother and the three Axe-Wielders easily. Although Embeth had another son and a daughter – twins and a year younger than Timozel – both were still attending the court at Carlon.
Embeth desperately wanted to talk to Faraday before she departed, but Merlion had other ideas. For the two days they stayed with the Lady of Tare she kept Faraday closeted in her room, going over designs for dresses, and describing the duties and responsibilities she would have to assume once she became the Duchess of Ichtar.
Faraday would have liked to spend some time on her own or talking with Embeth. There was also the town to explore and the thrill of watching the Axe-Wielders at weapon practice. But Merlion kept her firmly under control, admonishing her that she would have no time for such frivolities once she was married to Borneheld. Merlion had brought with her lists of the major nobles in the realm, the names of their families out to the third cousin, and the type of property and income that each controlled. All this