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After a week of riding, the troop crossed the Aver Trebyc at a point about a hundred miles west of Dun Deverry. Caradoc gave orders that the men were to ride armed and ready for trouble. He sent out point men and scouts ahead of the main body of riders, because they were approaching the border between Cerrmor-held and Cantrae-held territory. The precautions paid off with a rather strange prize. On the second day of riding armed, when they were finally getting close to the Eldidd border, the troop stopped for the noon rest in a grassy meadow that had never known plough nor herd. When the point men came back to change the guard, they brought with them a traveller, an unarmed man with rich clothing, a beautiful riding horse, and an elegant pack-mule that had obviously been bred from the best stock. Maddyn was surprised that the poor dolt had survived unrobbed for as long as he had. The young, sandy-haired fellow looked so terrified that Maddyn supposed he was thinking similar thoughts.
‘He says he comes from Dun Deverry,’ the point man said. ‘So we brought him along in case he had any interesting news.’
‘Good,’ Caradoc said. ‘Now look, young fellow, we’re not going to slit your throat or even rob you. Come have a meal with me and Maddyn here.’
With a most discourteous groan, the stranger looked around at the well-armed troop, then sighed in resignation.
‘So I will, then. My name’s … uh … Claedd.’
Caradoc and Maddyn each suppressed a grin at the clumsiness of the lie. When the stranger dismounted, Maddyn saw that he had a club foot, which seemed to ache him after so many days in the saddle. As they shared a meal of flatbread and cheese, the supposed Claedd told them what little he knew about the troop movements around the Holy City. The current rumour was that the northern forces were planning to make a strong strike along the eastern borders of the Cerrmor kingdom.
‘If that’s true,’ Caradoc said thoughtfully, ‘we’ll have no trouble getting a hire in Eldidd. Probably the Eldidd King will want to take the chance to raid into Pyrdon.’
‘Oho!’ Claedd said. ‘Then you’re a free troop! Well, that’s a relief.’
‘Oh, is it now? Most men would think the opposite.’ Caradoc shook his head, as if he were utterly amazed at the innocence of this lad. ‘Well and good, then. Who’s chasing you? It’s safe to tell me. I’ve sunk pretty low, lad, but not so low that I’d turn a man in for the bounty on his head.’
Claedd concentrated on shredding a piece of flatbread into inedible crumbs.
‘You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,’ Caradoc said after a moment. ‘But think about travelling with us. You’ll be a blasted sight safer. Ever had a fancy to see Eldidd?’
‘That’s where I was trying to go, and you’re right enough about it being safer. I’ve never swung a sword in my life. I’m a … uh … a scholar.’
‘Splendid. Maybe I’ll need a letter written some fine day.’
Although Claedd managed a feeble smile at the jest, his face stayed deadly pale. Yet, when the troop rode out, he came with them, riding by himself just behind Otho’s wagon. At the night camp, Maddyn took pity on him and offered to let him share their fire. Although he brought out food from his mule-packs, Claedd ate little of it, merely sat quietly and watched Aethan polishing his sword. When, after the meal, Caradoc strolled over for a chat, Claedd again said little as the captain and the bard talked idly of their plans in Eldidd. Finally, though, at a pause he spoke up.
‘I’ve been thinking about your offer, captain. Could you use a troop chirurgeon? I finished my apprenticeship only a year ago, but I’ve had an awful lot of practice at tending wounds.’
‘By all the ice in all the hells!’ Maddyn said. ‘You’re worth your weight in gold!’
‘Cursed right.’ Caradoc cocked his head to one side and considered the young chirurgeon. ‘Now, I’m not a curious man, usually, and I like to leave my lads their privacy, like, but in your case, I’ve got to ask. What’s a man with your learning doing travelling the long lonely roads like this?’
‘You might as well know the truth. First of all, my name’s Caudyr, and I was at the court in Dun Deverry. I mixed up a few potions and suchlike for some high-born ladies to rid them of … ah well … a spot of … er well … trouble now and again. The word’s leaked out about it in rather a nasty way.’
Caradoc and Aethan exchanged a puzzled glance.
‘He means abortions,’ Maddyn said with a grin. ‘Naught that should vex us, truly.’
‘Might even come in handy, with this pack of dogs I’ve got.’ Caradoc said. ‘Well and good, then, Caudyr. Once you’ve shown me that you can physic a man, you’ll get a full share of our earnings, just like a rider. I’ve discovered that a lord’s chirurgeon tends his lord’s men first and the mercenaries when he has a mind to and not before. I’ve had men bleed to death who would have lived if they’d had the proper attention.’
Idly Maddyn happened to glance Aethan’s way to find him staring at Caudyr in grim suspicion.
‘Up in Dun Deverry, were you?’ Aethan’s voice was a dry, hard whisper. ‘Was one of your high-born ladies Merodda of the Boar?’
In a confession stronger than words, Caudyr winced, then blushed. Aethan got to his feet, hesitated, then took off running into the darkness.
‘What, by the hells?’ Caradoc snapped.
Without bothering to explain, Maddyn got up and followed, chasing Aethan through the startled camp, pounding blindly after him through the moonshot night down to the riverbank. Finally Aethan stopped and let him catch up. They stood together for a long time, panting for breath and watching the silver-touched river flow by.
‘With a bitch like that,’ Maddyn said finally, ‘how would you even know that the babe was yours?’
‘I kept my eye on her like a hawk all winter long. If she’d looked at another man, I’d have killed him, and she knew it.’
With a sigh Maddyn sat down, and after a moment, Aethan joined him.
‘Having a chirurgeon of our own will be a cursed good thing,’ Maddyn said. ‘Can you put up with Caudyr?’
‘Who’s blaming him for one single thing? I wish I could kill her. I dream about it sometimes, getting my hands on her pretty white throat and strangling her.’
Abruptly Aethan turned and threw himself into Maddyn’s arms. Maddyn held him tightly and let him cry, the choking ugly sob of a man who feels shamed by tears.
Two days later the troop crossed the border into Eldidd. At that time, the northern part of the province was nearly a wilderness, forests and wild grasslands broken only by the occasional dun of a minor lord or a village of free farmers. Plenty of the lords would have liked to have hired the troop, because they were in constant danger of raids coming either from the kingdom of Pyrdon to the north or from Deverry to the east. None, however, could pay Caradoc what he considered the troop was worth. With thirty-seven men, their own smith, chirurgeon, and bard, the troop was bigger than the warbands of most of the lords in northern Eldidd. Just when Caradoc was beginning to curse his decision to ride that way, the troop reached the new town of Camynwaen, on the banks of an oddly named river, the El, just at the spot where the even more strangely named Aver Cantariel flows in from the north-west.
Although there had been a farming village on the site for centuries, only twenty years before the gwerbret in Elrydd had decided that the kingdom needed a proper town at the joining of the rivers. Since the war with Pyrdon could flare