lay some sort of blanket curse on the lot of themânothing deadly, of course, but something disabling. "Temporary blindness," she muttered. "Or horrid great bottom swellings."
"I beg your pardon?" asked her husband, Gaheris, beside her on the wall.
"Just daydreaming," Lynet said.
Gaheris raised one eyebrow. "About bottom swellings?"
"Pustules," Lynet explained. "Hemorrhoids. Boils with scabby bits and oozing drainage."
Gaheris nodded. "I see." He edged slightly away from her.
"On
them,
ninny."
"Oh, right. That wouldn't be so bad. Say, that's a thought! You're a witch, aren't you? I don't suppose you know how toâ"
"Enchantress," Lynet said shortly. "And no, I don't. Although if they actually
had
great gaping sores on their sit-upons, I'd know just how to cure them."
"Wouldn't that be nice of you?" Gaheris said.
"I
wouldn't,
though. I'd let them fester."
"That should teach them a lesson," Gaheris said. "Shall I send them a threatening message telling them that if they don't lift their siege at once, my wife won't cure their scabby bits?"
"It's as useful a plan as any other I can think of," Lynet said soberly. "Oh, Gary, what are we going to do? All these people..." Turning, she looked over her shoulder at the main courtyard of Orkney Hall, where nearly a hundred men, women, and children lay clustered under makeshift shelters. When the White Horsemen had swept through the north, burning farms and slaughtering livestock, all the Orkney tenants who had escaped the first attacks had fled to the shelter of the hall, bringing their families and precious little else with them. The castle food stores had lasted barely a week, even on short rations, and now they had butchered and eaten all the livestock except for the fastest horses and a few milk cows that they kept to feed the youngest children. Now the animals' fodder was gone, so even the milk would dry up.
"I don't know," Gaheris said. He squinted to the south, then said grimly, "That'll be the oats."
Following his gaze, Lynet saw a haze of smoke rising just above the level of the forest and then hovering low over the ground in the oppressive air. "The new field," she said.
"All the fields, I should imagine," Gaheris said, "with that much smoke."
"Why are they burning crops?" Lynet asked. "It makes no sense. We have no fighters here, no army. We're a knight, a lady, and a castle full of farmers. They must know that we have no hope of driving them away. Why destroy the land?"
"I've been wondering that, too," Gaheris said. "If they were trying to steal the estates for themselves, they'd take care to keep the fields in good condition. But as far as I can tell, they're setting out to make them worthless." He shook his head. "Twenty years of good husbandry gone. Every barn burned, every fence torn down, every field torched, every animal butchered and left to rot on the hills. There's something evil here, something personal."
"You mean someone's trying to get at you? But what have
you
done to anyone?"
"It might not be me," Gaheris said. "After all, the estates officially belong to Gawain. Someone could be taking revenge on him."
"Or on me."
"Or all of us. I don't know. But we need to find out. We can't stay here to starve, and we don't have a chance in battle. I'm going to signal a parley."
"Can't we wait a few more days? They might realize that they've already destroyed everything of value and move on."
"If it were just us, maybe. But what about those children?"
"Arthur might send help."
"We don't even know if our messengers got through. If they had, Arthur would have sent someone by now."
"Then we should send more messengers. Listen: you call a parley. Hear their terms and ask for time to think about it. While you're keeping them busy talking, I'll send one of the young men out the back on my horse to take a message to Arthur. We'll use the Ivy Gate."
Gaheris considered this briefly, then nodded. "All right. If he gets away, I'll stall a few more days
"I beg your pardon?" asked her husband, Gaheris, beside her on the wall.
"Just daydreaming," Lynet said.
Gaheris raised one eyebrow. "About bottom swellings?"
"Pustules," Lynet explained. "Hemorrhoids. Boils with scabby bits and oozing drainage."
Gaheris nodded. "I see." He edged slightly away from her.
"On
them,
ninny."
"Oh, right. That wouldn't be so bad. Say, that's a thought! You're a witch, aren't you? I don't suppose you know how toâ"
"Enchantress," Lynet said shortly. "And no, I don't. Although if they actually
had
great gaping sores on their sit-upons, I'd know just how to cure them."
"Wouldn't that be nice of you?" Gaheris said.
"I
wouldn't,
though. I'd let them fester."
"That should teach them a lesson," Gaheris said. "Shall I send them a threatening message telling them that if they don't lift their siege at once, my wife won't cure their scabby bits?"
"It's as useful a plan as any other I can think of," Lynet said soberly. "Oh, Gary, what are we going to do? All these people..." Turning, she looked over her shoulder at the main courtyard of Orkney Hall, where nearly a hundred men, women, and children lay clustered under makeshift shelters. When the White Horsemen had swept through the north, burning farms and slaughtering livestock, all the Orkney tenants who had escaped the first attacks had fled to the shelter of the hall, bringing their families and precious little else with them. The castle food stores had lasted barely a week, even on short rations, and now they had butchered and eaten all the livestock except for the fastest horses and a few milk cows that they kept to feed the youngest children. Now the animals' fodder was gone, so even the milk would dry up.
"I don't know," Gaheris said. He squinted to the south, then said grimly, "That'll be the oats."
Following his gaze, Lynet saw a haze of smoke rising just above the level of the forest and then hovering low over the ground in the oppressive air. "The new field," she said.
"All the fields, I should imagine," Gaheris said, "with that much smoke."
"Why are they burning crops?" Lynet asked. "It makes no sense. We have no fighters here, no army. We're a knight, a lady, and a castle full of farmers. They must know that we have no hope of driving them away. Why destroy the land?"
"I've been wondering that, too," Gaheris said. "If they were trying to steal the estates for themselves, they'd take care to keep the fields in good condition. But as far as I can tell, they're setting out to make them worthless." He shook his head. "Twenty years of good husbandry gone. Every barn burned, every fence torn down, every field torched, every animal butchered and left to rot on the hills. There's something evil here, something personal."
"You mean someone's trying to get at you? But what have
you
done to anyone?"
"It might not be me," Gaheris said. "After all, the estates officially belong to Gawain. Someone could be taking revenge on him."
"Or on me."
"Or all of us. I don't know. But we need to find out. We can't stay here to starve, and we don't have a chance in battle. I'm going to signal a parley."
"Can't we wait a few more days? They might realize that they've already destroyed everything of value and move on."
"If it were just us, maybe. But what about those children?"
"Arthur might send help."
"We don't even know if our messengers got through. If they had, Arthur would have sent someone by now."
"Then we should send more messengers. Listen: you call a parley. Hear their terms and ask for time to think about it. While you're keeping them busy talking, I'll send one of the young men out the back on my horse to take a message to Arthur. We'll use the Ivy Gate."
Gaheris considered this briefly, then nodded. "All right. If he gets away, I'll stall a few more days
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