Authors: Catherine M. Wilson
"My advice?"
"Not to seek revenge."
It took half the morning, but at last we had everyone sorted out and ready to travel. After consulting with Ru, Fodla chose three of the northern chieftains, who, with the warriors of their households, would accompany us to Merin's house. Altogether they would be about three hundred, enough to allow them to feel safe but not enough to cause trouble. Fodla invited the wolfskin chieftain, despite Ru's warning that his had been the loudest voice opposing our alliance.
"That's why I want him," Fodla told her. "If we can win his trust, he will persuade the others who are reluctant."
The young king gratefully accepted the offer of several carts and the oxen to draw them, so that he and all his wounded could be taken home in some comfort. He and Bru, though lacking a common language, had by signs and gestures each extended the offer of friendship to the other. If Elen or her kin someday posed a threat to either of them, it would be wise of them to stand together. Whether Bru had thought of it or not, fostering his son with me would enable the boy to learn our language, so that when he returned home, he could serve as an interpreter with both the people of my household and the people of the young king's.
Before the young king left us, Maara and I went to bid him farewell. I told him he would always find a welcome in Merin's house, and though such offers are usually politely accepted, then soon forgotten, I had an idea that someday he would appear on Merin's doorstep. He asked Maara if she remembered the way to his house, and she assured him that she did, and that if we ever came north again, perhaps to visit Bru, we would be honored to accept his hospitality.
I hadn't seen Finn since early the day before. When Bru came to tell me that Vintel's warriors and their escort were ready to march, I asked him if Finn would be coming with us.
"He wouldn't miss it," Bru replied. "When he comes home again, he will have tales enough to last him all his life."
We agreed that Vintel and her warriors should follow behind us and keep a little distance from us, even when we camped for the night. Many of Merin's people had friends among them, and I wanted no one to be tempted to offer any of them a welcome. In my eyes, they were all as guilty of treachery as Vintel. They had come to Merin's house, not just as allies, but as guests, and they had betrayed Merin's hospitality.
Sparrow asked me if she should have the tent taken down and brought home with us. I told her to leave it where it was. I wanted to bring nothing with me that reminded me of Elen.
At last we got the multitudes moving in more or less the right direction. Maara insisted that we lead the way, though she sent scouts ahead of us so that we wouldn't stumble into trouble. My guard, of course, was never far away from me. Sparrow and Taia walked with us.
"How many days are we from Merin's land, do you think?" I asked Sparrow.
She and Taia consulted with each other. Sparrow thought a week, but Taia believed five days would be enough to bring us there.
"The way is always shorter going home," she said.
It didn't seem all that short to me. Even with friends to talk to, to pass the time, the days seemed endless. Soon all my friends had heard several times over every one of my adventures that I chose to tell, and I had heard every scrap of news of Merin's land that they could think of. When I could manage to ignore the army following along behind us, it almost seemed as if we were just a band of Merin's warriors, traveling the frontier in search of cattle raiders. And as the time went by, I felt more and more at home with them.
One night we camped in a place that I remembered. We had camped there once before, on our first day in the wilderness, when we went to the frontier with Vintel.
"If we start early," I said to Maara, "we might be home tomorrow night."
"Day after tomorrow will be soon enough," she said. "We'll need time to set up an encampment, and to greet the people of Merin's house. You will have this homecoming only once. Let's do it properly."
"I don't care about properly," I told her. "I want to go home."
"You'll care later," was all she said.
Without seeming to exercise her own authority, Maara imposed some order on what might have been unmanageable chaos. To those of Merin's captains she considered most friendly to us, she assigned some important task or appointed them to a position of responsibility. They took their duties seriously. They knew that if they did well, they would be asked to join the new leadership in Merin's house.
Fodla took upon herself all dealings with the northerners. She traveled and camped with Ru and the three chieftains, and used the time to become better acquainted with them. She was the last person I would have chosen for a mission of diplomacy, but she seemed to be having some success. I believe her frank manner met with their approval. She managed to wrap her tongue around a few simple words of their language. Once or twice I heard laughter coming from their campfire, inspired by Fodla's misadventures of interpretation.
Laris and Kenit were busy keeping track of the warriors belonging to Merin's allies. Whether they would remain loyal to Merin was still uncertain, but I hoped they would stay on in Merin's house until midsummer, so that I would have a chance to get to know them, and they to know me. Laris agreed to stay, to show them that, even without Vintel, Merin had the loyalty of other houses just as strong. Kenit too volunteered to stay until his son was a year older, and Taia thought her family could spare her for another year.
The next day we stopped early in the afternoon.
"How long will Vintel stay in Merin's house?" Sparrow asked Maara.
"No longer than can be helped," Maara replied. "She will be given time to take her leave of Merin. Then I want her gone. It will be difficult enough to keep the peace between Merin's people and the northerners."
Sparrow looked a little sad, but she understood. Nothing would suit Vintel better than a breaking of the fragile peace.
"If you want to spend tonight in Vintel's encampment," I said, "I understand."
Sparrow shook her head. "I'll walk with her tomorrow."
Then she leaned toward me and whispered something in my ear.
Later that night Maara asked me what Sparrow had said.
"It's a secret," I told her. "You'll find out in the morning."
Maara had me up before first light.
"We're going on ahead," she said. "Just you and me."
I wasn't unwilling, but I wanted to know why.
"So that you can have a few quiet moments with Merin and your mother."
Now that we were within the boundaries of Merin's land, Maara was willing to leave my guard behind. The night before, she had left instructions for them to stay with Laris and Taia, who would lead the army in my absence. We had a start of half an hour, and anticipation lightened my step. We could hope for at least an hour of peace and quiet before we had to deal with their arrival.
The rising sun revealed the beauty of Merin's land in springtime. After the darkness of the forest and the drab shades of the wilderness, the tender green of leaf and grass, the sparkle of sunlight on the river, the open sky, the blooming earth, made this place the loveliest of any I had ever seen. This was home.
I had taken for granted that I would always find a welcome here until my exile taught me otherwise. It made my homecoming all the sweeter, to have back again what I had lost. I wondered how I could have been so willing to remain with the forest people or to join Bru's household. This was the place I belonged to, as it belonged to me.
By midmorning we were within sight of Merin's house. The countryside was deserted. On such a beautiful spring day, people should have been out of doors, working on the practice ground or bathing in the river.
"Where is everyone?" I asked Maara.
"Behind us. Every able body would have gone with Vintel's army."
Then I caught sight of someone on the trail. A moment later she caught sight of us, and she lifted the long skirt of her gown as she hurried toward us. I wouldn't have known who it was if not for what Sparrow had told me the night before, but Maara knew her right away.
"It's Namet," she said, and before I could reply, she ran to meet her.
I dawdled a little, to give them a few moments alone together. When I reached them, Namet let go of Maara long enough to embrace me.
"Your mother is beside herself," Namet told me. "She refused to believe the worst had happened, but I know she was as terrified as I was. Even if you were living, we didn't know if we would ever see either of you again."
Namet wiped a few tears from her eyes with her sleeve.
"Is this Sparrow's surprise?" Maara asked me, while Namet composed herself.
"Yes," I said. "She told me last night that when she sent the messenger, she told him to be sure Namet was sent for, so that she would be here in time to welcome her daughter home."
"That was kind of her," said Maara.
"Yes," murmured Namet. "Very kind."
Namet knit her brows, as if she found it difficult to credit Sparrow with such an act of kindness. I hoped she might now be willing to reconsider her opinion of someone she had misjudged.
But Namet had no time to think of Sparrow. She was busy looking Maara over.
"How did you survive the winter?" she asked. "Were you hungry? Were you cold?"
Maara assured her that we had been comfortable and well fed. She answered Namet's doubtful look with the revelation that we had spent the winter among the forest people.
Both Namet and I let out exclamations of surprise.
Maara looked at me. "I think we can trust Namet with this news," she said. "Don't you?"
"Of course," I said.
"And Merin and your mother."
I smiled at her. "I'm glad to hear you say so. I've never been able to keep a secret from my mother."
"I can hardly wait to hear this wonderful tale," Namet said, "but first we must bring Tamras home."
Where the trail was wide enough, Namet walked between us, and where it narrowed, she gestured to Maara to go ahead, so that she wouldn't lose sight of her. From time to time I saw her reach out and touch Maara's arm, as if to reassure herself that she was real, and not a wraith conjured by grief and wishful thinking.
When we grew near to Merin's house, I saw that the place wasn't quite deserted. Two young women were sunning themselves in a meadow by the river. As lovers do, they saw nothing but each other. One was sitting up, gazing down upon her beloved, who lay with her head in her lover's lap. The sight of the two of them together, content in the warmth of springtime and in each other's company, made me long for the time when I was as innocent as they.
When I would have turned aside onto the path that led up the hill to Merin's house, Namet stopped me.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"To find my mother," I replied.
"Do you not see her there, waiting for you?"
I looked up, thinking she might be keeping watch from atop the embankments.
"Not there," said Namet. "There." And she pointed to the two young lovers. They were both sitting up now. It was Merin and my mother.
This time Maara and Namet stayed behind while I ran on ahead. By the time I reached them, they were both on their feet. My mother seized me and held me at arm's length and scowled at me, as if she suspected that I might be an imposter. Then she drew me into an embrace that nearly squeezed the life out of me. When she finally let go, I gasped for breath.
Merin had hung back while my mother greeted me. Now my mother drew her into our embrace, a gentler one this time, and we stood like that, with our arms around each other, until Maara and Namet joined us.
While my mother wiped her tears away, Merin turned to Maara and embraced her with a warmth I would not have thought her capable of. I didn't know whether Maara or I was more surprised.
Then Merin turned to Namet. "You were right, Mother," she said. "I should have trusted your far-seeing eye."
"It was not my far-seeing eye that gave me hope," Namet replied. "I have always been unwilling to believe bad news." She turned to me. "And Tamras promised that she would bring my daughter back to me. I've never known her not to keep her word." She stood beaming at me until I felt myself blush.
"Perhaps we should sit down here a while," Maara said, "so that we can tell you what has happened."
There was a moment of confusion, while our mothers decided whether they would rather sit beside us so that they could hold on to us, or across from us so that they could get a good look at us. They finally did a bit of both. We sat down in a circle. Merin and my mother settled me between them, and my mother invited Maara to sit at her other side. Namet took the place between Maara and Merin.
I looked across the circle at Maara, hoping she would begin. I had told the story so often I was tired of it, but every time she told it, I heard something new.
Maara began with the night Vintel took her captive. Most of it they knew already, because Sparrow had held nothing back from them. They knew that I had killed one of Vintel's warriors and that Vintel's warriors claimed they had killed us.
"I never believed it," Namet said. "It could have been Vintel's lie, to cause us to lose hope. Or it could have been her warriors' lie. They would have said anything to keep on the right side of Vintel." She turned to Maara and took her hand. "I was afraid, because I knew you were in danger, but I never believed you dead. By a sense I can't explain, I felt the world still held you in it. I felt you in this world alive."
Something in her voice made me wonder if she had felt Eramet leave this world, even before word reached us.
Our mothers were anxious to learn how we had survived the winter. Maara made it into an amusing tale. They listened, enchanted, to our stories of the forest people. Namet asked question after question, wanting to know everything about them, and I suspected she would have liked to make a second journey beyond the wilderness, to see them for herself.
Maara said nothing of my illness that winter. There was enough in the story of our adventures to alarm them without relating troubles they didn't need to know about. As she told of our capture by the northerners, our dealings with Elen, the gathering of the armies and their encounter on the battlefield, they all grew very quiet. No one interrupted or exclaimed out loud. They held their breaths as they held their tongues, so that Maara would leave nothing out.