Earth Magic by Alexei Panshin, Cory Panshin Page B

Haldane asked, for he saw that Rolf’s fork was missing.
    Rolf looked chastened. “I should have taken two when I had the chance. I lost it last night to a stay-at-home. Ludbert Lead-Butt won it from me at dice and he will only give it back in trade for my cord. I’ll kill him and take it back, I think.”
    From the dais, Morca said, “Go then, Aella, You have my leave. But return for the betrothal banquet one week tomorrow and witness the sealing of Haldane to the Princess Marthe of Chastain.”
    “I will an I can, Morca. I will do my best,” Aella said, and smiled. He bowed deeply and withdrew.
    Before Morca could signal for another to come forward, Haldane made his way to the dais, conscious all the while of men’s eyes upon him. It was more attention than he was used to, the result of this marriage of politics. He walked the straighter for it.
    Morca saw him coming. In his great roaring voice he said, “Hey, Haldane, you have affairs to attend to.” He waved to a Nestorian serf, one of Odo’s go-fetches. “Go tell Lothor to prepare his daughter to receive a wooer.”
    Men laughed, led by Morca. Haldane stepped up to the dais and went to one knee by Morca’s elbow. He wanted Morca to know what he had done.
    He said, “Hemming and I have been riding. I have made him my own man now.” He spoke low, for Morca’s ear alone.
    Morca replied publicly, making their business common property. “I know,” he said. “It is just as I ordered.”
    “No,” Haldane said. “Hemming follows me now. I have bound him to me by oath.” He wanted Morca to know that Hemming was in truth his man now, and not Morca’s. No longer Morca’s to order. “He is the first man of my army and he moves by my word.”
    “Well and good,” Morca said smiling. “And I will give you more men later.”
    He left the boy in doubt whether he did understand or no. If experience were the judge, he did not. He would not. He put his great hand on Haldane’s shoulder and bore him down, bringing him to both knees.
    “Here, sit by me now until your bride is ready to see you.” He signaled for the next piece of business.
    Haldane took his place at his father’s feet. He had never been in battle but his heart bore scars. He looked out over the assembled men and like a good Get warrior showed nothing of his wounds.
    He did not know the man who stepped forward next. It was a stranger to Morca’s dun. But Morca knew him.
    “Well, Soren Seed-Sower, what business do you have with me?”
    Old Svein, sitting his stair, knew him too. “He is a Farthing, Morca,” he called. “His great-grandfather was your uncle’s enemy. Beware. Never trust a Farthing.”
    Morca stood in sudden anger. He waved an arm like an axe blade. “Up the stair, old man! I tire of you, Svein All-White All-Wrong. You’ve lived too long. Open your mouth to me again and I will break your neck.”
    And he sat him down again as Svein scurried up the stair to his stool and safety. Morca winked at Soren. “Say on.”
    Soren was a soft plump man. He was no danger to anyone, Farthing or not, great-grandson of a strong and dangerous man or not. Haldane did not know the man, but he knew his name. He was an example often spoken of. He was called Soren Seed-Sower because he had settled to the land like a Nestorian. No one wanted to be called a Soren Seed-Sower.
    “I ask your help again, Morca. Furd Heavyhand still harries me. Now he has taken five pigs and my fourth daughter back to his dun. I want my pigs back. I want Furd to cease his lazy raids. Let him raid the West like everyone else if he must raid.”
    His tone made it plain that he had better things to do than raid the West or anywhere.
    “The price is the same price you would not pay before,” Morca said.
    “My oath?”
    “No,” said Morca. “Your life if you break your oath.”
    Soren shook his head. Haldane could not understand why Morca would want the allegiance of such a man. Should strength ally itself with