Summer's Song (chapter 3)

Chapter 31

A stab of pain woke Tarin up from the darkness. His arm felt like it was on fire. He cried out in anguish and squeezed his eyes his eyes tight. Hazy red shapes came from beneath his eyelids. Then the color lightened as his body relaxed and stretched out over his eyes. It took him a moment to realize it as sunlight. Still, he kept his eyes closed 2

“Just a few more stitches,” said a familiar voice. The person beside him pinned his arm down and pinched the two pieces of side together as the needle again passed through his skin. “Calm down. It’ll be over soon.” What would be over soon? Why was he in so much pain? Then he remembered. The maiden from the forest. The bandits. The knife cut.3

His skin was pulled taut once more. Another cry escaped him though this time he tried to hold it back. “I know. I know it hurts. I’ve had stitches my self. Thrice I believe,” came from the soothing voice. It itself was like a balm to the pain. 4

She pierced again. “Ah, last one. Ouch!” A drop of her blood dripped from her finger and landed on the last part of the wound. For a moment, Tarin saw visions of meadows, a little boy like the ghost, and then it went dark. “Sorry. Now here we go.” His sight came back as she readied the needle and he opened his eyes. One shot of pain later and she was cut the excess string.5

“There, just rest. Let the pain fade away. Then you can drink some of this tea.” She laid a wooden cup on the side table. 6

Tarin glanced around the cottage through slightly blurred eyes. It was small, but had a pleasant feeling to it. A wide hearth took up one wooden wall with a small pot hanging in it. Near that was a table, covered with food and a butcher’s knife. A rough chair was pushed up against the table and a pile of skins sat in a mound in one corner. Meat hung from the ceiling, from the looks of it, venison and quail. The side table at its side was sturdy, holding paper and charcoal, much of the parchment written on in tiny, cramped handwriting. The only other thing was the bed, merely a pallet filled with dried pine needles on an oaken plank, but it was delightfully comfortable, draped in a doeskin.7

Hezia came back over with a pouch yielding herbs and some gauze. After cleaning the dried blood away from the sewed up cut, she carefully placed a few leaves on top. “Witch hazel, laurel blossoms,” she listed simply as if she were passing them on a stroll and named the other herbs as she put them on. Finally, she wrapped him forearm with the fabric a few times before tucking the end in and taking the rest away.8

“Now, as soon as you’ve rested a bit, we shall continue to Fargo Keep.” She sat down on a stool next to the bed. Tarin strained a little, grimacing as he sat up. Resting his weight on his forearms, he looked around once more. “Really, why are men such babies when it comes to stitches? I knew one maiden who could bare ten without a cry escaping from her.”9

“We’re more sensitive on such terms. Besides, I didn’t call out that much.”10

She giggled and stared at him a second before looking away. “You were unconscious for most of the time.” 11

“You live here alone,” he asked without really thinking. No evidence of anyone else existed in the cottage. No extra beds, clothes, or anything to signify a spouse or friend. Hastily, he took a sip of tea which was better than any he had ever tasted.12

“Aye, been so for two years now,” she stated sadly with a sigh. She took a sip of hers as well. She also glanced around the place that was her haven as well as her prison. 13

“Why do you live so… isolated?” He looked at her a moment. Why, indeed, would a young, beautiful girl such as her stay trapped in this cottage in some gods-forsaken wood? She seemed well off but such a state probably took much time and effort. She needed a husband to set her off. Maybe… Wow, when had he decided to go that road? He hadn’t thought of marriage for years. And certainly not to such a random chit, no matter how beautiful. 14

She stiffened quickly and glared at him. “That, my lord, you shall never find out,” she snapped vehemently. 15

“Never say never, my lady.”16

She snorted softly. “I am no more a lady than a surf, my lord.”17

“I thought we established that I was to be just Tarin. And who says I’m a lord?” he added playfully.18

“Hmm, would a poor man have a horse, own a cook, and make friends with a nobleman?” she mocked back. 19

“What if he be a rich merchant? I’m sure that would qualify him to have such things.”20

“True, but if you were a merchant, you would know to be cautious of bandits on the roads. And you wouldn’t have gone and gotten yourself lost.”21

He gave up on the half-hearted ploy. “And what of you? You sound not like a peasant, nor a hermit. You know to write and read. Any other thing I should add?”22

“Nay, I know how to speak because I often talked with the lady of the keep when her husband was away. And my mother—” she hesitated, “the mid-wife thought it good of me to learn my letters.”23

He sensed she wasn’t telling him the whole story but shrugged it away. Everyone deserved their own secrets. Even if he was interested in the girl’s secrets, he had no real reason to pry. Still, he had tried. Somehow he sensed that he would never find out unless she thought it best, no matter what. He wanted to be the person that got to hear them. 24

“If you’re ready, I think I’m well enough to travel again.” He groaned as he got off the bed, accidentally flexing his injured arm.25

“Are you sure?” Concern was stressed in her chime-like voice.26

“Aye. I must be to Fargo Keep before they expect me dead.” He winced at the thought. Without her, he most likely would be dead, in some back road, unknown to anyone. He owed her more than two goron; he owed her his life or at least a healthy hunk of his money.27

“Well come then. The horse is just outside.” She helped him mount and then took something out of the bag that she always seemed to carry. He wasn’t even sure if she set it down while facing the bandits. 28

“What’s in there? You seem to value it a lot, to carry it everywhere.” He eyed the bag as she pulled a narrow strip of black-dyed buck hide.29

“Oh, just my canteen, a compass, my bow, and a few herbs I’ve collected. Rosemary and that sort is all. I used to have arrows but broke them trying to bring down a wild boar. Those things can move!” She stepped toward him. “I’m dreadfully sorry, but I don’t wish for anyone to know of my cottage. I’m afraid I’ll have to blindfold you. May I?” 30

“Why?” Even as he asked, he bent over so she could tie it on.31

“Reasons I’d rather not discuss, my lord,” she whispered into his ear, her breath warm compared to the cold day. He glanced a moment at the sky before she pulled the cloth tight to see it was cloudy but not rain clouds.32

With a firm knot, she spun around and took the horse’s reins. Tarin swayed as they started and blindly reached for the saddle horn to keep from falling off as they did a curve. Unknown to Hezia, he was able to see through a small slit at the blindfold’s bottom. He silently traced their route, intent on coming back someday. But the question nagged at his brain all the way back to the main road. Why did she wish for no one to know of even her existence? And another saying, why will she not tell me the truth? Does she not trust me? He shook his head. 33

At the road, Hezia removed the betraying blindfold and moved on ahead. Tarin followed quietly. 34

The keep loomed menacingly in front of them. Made of stone, it had a beware look to it. Even the red and orange flags waving from the guardhouse and battlements did little to decrease its cruel look. Tarin, oblivious to her awed state, continue to the draw bridge. The guard at the gate halted them.35

“I am Lord Tarin Carleysay of Carnin Fief,” he yelled. “I wish to seek audience with Lord Phillip.” Hezia wandered closer, nervous. 36

“And who is she?” the guard warily questioned.37

“A friend.” Hezia froze, stunned to be called such by Tarin. But, wasn’t it true? She had saved his life, kept from being lost, shared her home, certainly that qualified as friend status. At least acquaintance. 38

The guard nodded and motioned for the portcullis to be raised. It went up like a yawning mouth as they neared the swelling opening. Tarin briskly charged through it before it was half way up, just enough to clear it, and headed for the stable where a stable boy collected Garson, insuring that he would be in good care. He came back to her just in time to see the Lord of Fargo Keep approaching to meet them.39

“Tarin, my old friend!” he exclaimed as he came up to them. He was a little chubby, but not ridiculously so. He had a handsome face and light brown hair that framed his face. He padded his old buddy on the back as he and Tarin began to discuss earlier years. Then a woman, remarkably beautiful, with reddish hair and a petty form came from the Great Hall’s doorway and shyly came up to them.40

“Ah, you must be the dreaded Maybeth, the one to capture this, uh, unruly knight,” Tarin announced.41

“Aye, I am my lord. Phillip has told me much of you. He speaks highly of your achievements in the royal army.”42

“He would, though no battles were issued during my time. And you are as beautiful as I’ve heard.”43

Hezia listened on, trying not to notice the slightly sick feeling she got as Tarin chatted with the beautiful Maybeth. She knew it was jealousy, she’d felt it before, but the pull was stronger than usual. Alas, she could not join the talk to ease the pain. There was nothing else to do until she was acknowledged. She stood behind Tarin, forgotten. As if sensing her dismay, she saw Maybeth nudge her husband and wave her head slightly toward her, her rust-colored hair barely swaying with the motion.44

“And who’s this wench, eh? Did you finally tie the knot?”45

“Nay!” Tarin reddened as well as Hezia. “She is my friend. And you should know I wish not to wed. Not after…”46

“Well, she’s pretty enough, she is.” He looked her over. “Aye, she might be good for you, that is, if she has a tongue. Do you still have one or are you mute?”47

Blushing again, she said vehemently, “I am not, my lord. And neither would I marry as well.” Her life was too dangerous. If she did wed, her secret would be discovered, and she would be hauled to the Sapphire Castle in a heartbeat.48

“I don’t see why not, you two would be a beautiful match, but come,” the lord said as Maybeth elbowed him, “you are a guest. Let us dine before our food grows cold.” Putting an arm around Tarin, the started for the Great Hall’s main entrance, Maybeth and Hezia coming up silently behind. Hezia could see Tarin grimace as Phillip brushed his shoulder and explained that his forearm was tender. Phillip looked at him a moment and shrugged, continuing his venture toward the waiting table and food. 49