Part 5 Harvest Fair
We were heroes in High Cliff. We were able to recover all the goods from the recent caravan and many other things as well from the bandits' camp. The merchant, Aylani, pressed us to accept a reward for her cargo and for killing the bandits but Daeghun said no. She wore him out with talk and eventually he agreed to allow her to pay for West Harbor's shipment of grain and salt. Wasn't the village council going to be surprised when he gave them their gold back?
Everywhere we walked, people stared at us and talked, and it made me feel so strange. When my father suggested we make camp in the forest and wait for our wagons to catch up to us in the morning, I said, yes, please. A hot bath would have been nice but a cold stream was perfectly acceptable.
I was afraid the rains would resume when we entered the Mere, but it appeared that the unseasonable weather had come to an end. The wagons made it to West Harbor in good time and the guards helped unload the supplies into the common barn, where they would be kept until they could be distributed at the Harvest Fair. The tents were already standing in the village square. The guards perked up when they saw them. Everyone loves a festival, and West Harbor was famous for brawling and for mead. West Harbor had no inn or tavern but Harbormen are a hospitable bunch and the guards were taken care of.
The Fair started the next day. Brother Merring hurried across the square to me.
"Rose, I heard what happened in High Cliff. You should have come to me last night!"
"What?" I said but when his long fingers touched my face and turned me towards the sun, I realized I must have some spectacular bruises. There was no mirror in our house—neither one of us had to shave. Daeghun had given me a poultice that had taken away some of the ache in my jaw and my back and the walk from High Cliff had loosened up my muscles well enough. You didn't stay in the militia for long if you couldn't shrug off minor injuries. Still, when Merring said a quiet prayer and I felt Lathander's light fill me up, burning away the last of the pain, I was grateful.
"I'm told you used power against the bandits," he said carefully. I hoped those High Cliff guards hadn't told everyone in town, but they probably did. Merring knew about my god mark, of course. He gave me a worried look. "Are you well?"
"Something happened," I said and I described it to him. "They feared me, Merring. I had no armor, hells, I had no clothes, but no one could touch me. My sword felt alive in my hands. It felt like every stroke I took was a killing blow. Is this power from Tyr?" I touched my shoulder where the mark lay.
"Almost certainly," he said and there was pity in his eyes. "I'm afraid…" I turned to see what had caught his attention. Retta and Bevil stood across the square. Bevil held her by the arm, as if she needed support and he seemed to say something urgent to her. When she saw me look at her, she turned her face away. She looked ashamed.
"Oh no," I said. She stood still as I walked to her but she looked down at her feet. Bevil gave me an anguished look.
"Retta, please," I said. There were tears in her eyes as she looked up at me.
"Oh, Rose, I am so sorry," she whispered. "I didn't know Blane was…was…oh, gods, he could have killed you."
"You have nothing to be sorry for," I said fiercely and I pulled her into a hug. She gave a little sob and clung to me for a moment. The square was crowded for the festival and I figured we had given everyone enough of a show.
"Come to my house," I said. "Let me get you some tea."
We sat in the kitchen and Retta talked.
"I met Blane in Neverwinter," Retta said. "We met at a fair and fell in love at first sight, as silly as that sounds. He carried me off to the wilds of West Harbor, to my parents' dismay, and within a few months, I was pregnant with Lorne.
"Blane had always had a hot temper, but it seemed that the older he got, the worse it became. Chauntea blessed our marriage generously, perhaps too generously too quickly. We had to work hard to keep our children fed, and it ate at him I think, and his temper grew. Sometimes a very little thing, a broken strap or a spilled drink would set him off. He would get angry, and he would hit me. We all learned to be…careful."
The thought of this sweet, caring woman forced to tiptoe around her husband's rages made me feel ill.
"Why didn't you leave him?"
"How could I? My parents were so far away. I could never have made it all the way to Neverwinter with my children.
"I had a difficult pregnancy with the twins. I was tired all the time, and sick, too, and all the work fell on Blane. And I was so clumsy and awkward." She sipped her tea. "He hit me one afternoon and I fell and couldn't get up. Lorne, who was only six or seven, got between us and tried to protect me. Blane turned on Lorne and he beat him. Sweet Chauntea, I thought he would kill him. I screamed and screamed. Your father came, Rose. Daeghun. I don't know how he made Blane stop, but he did. He told Blane that he did not deserve his family and that he was unworthy of us. He made Blane leave. He took care of Lorne, healed him, and he told me that he would take care of us, too, until we could make it on our own. All the neighbors helped out with the plowing and the herd and the harvest, and your father made sure we always had enough to eat. You were very small then. I don't know how much you remember.
"I never saw Blane again, but Lorne did. I knew they met sometimes but I never knew where or how they arranged it. Lorne would disappear for a day or two or three and come home with gold in his pocket or a new weapon. How he loves those swords of his."
"You never asked him where he went or what he did?"
"No. I knew he was with Blane. After all that happened, Lorne still loved his father and it didn't seem fair to take that away from him. I don't think he blamed me for Blane leaving. He blamed Daeghun." She took a deep breath.
"Lorne is a lot like Blane, Rose, but he has a good heart and he loves you so much. He is calmer and happier around you than I've ever seen him. You're so strong, Rose. It won't be like Blane and me."
The door jerked open and Bevil rushed in.
"Mom, Lorne's been fighting in the Harvest Brawl and Cormick just beat him."
Retta went pale.
"Is he okay?" Bevil gave a worried headshake.
"Is he hurt?" I asked.
"Not hurt," Bevil said and exchanged a look with his mother. "Everyone was talking about…about our father, and the Mossfelds booed him, Mom. They catcalled when he got in the ring, and Cormick said something too, I don't know what. Lorne went crazy. When the fight was over, Brother Merring tried to calm him down, but…"
"Chauntea, no," she whispered. "Where is he?"
"I don't know."
He was in the middle of the village square, facing down my father. My fellow Harbormen were sure getting their Festival's worth of entertainment this year.
"You killed my father, elf. I should kill you for that." Lorne's eyes blazed furiously.
"Your father brought his death upon himself by his actions," Daeghun said quietly.
"You are doing the same," Lorne growled. I ran forward to stand by my father. Lorne stared at me a long moment and seemed to come back to himself, at least a little.
"I won't kill you," Lorne said. "Because of her. But I am done with you, elf. You stay out of my life, you stay away from my family. We don't need you." He held out his hand to me. "Come, Rose. I won't have you live in his house any longer. Come home with me."
"But Lorne," I cried. He reached for me and jerked me along by the elbow, and not gently either. It was just natural for me to resist.
"Please, Rose, come with us for now," was Retta's anguished whisper and I knew she was afraid Lorne would go crazy again. I couldn't do anything that would shame her any further. I saw understanding in Daeghun's eyes and he gave me a small nod.
"You have to talk to me, Lorne," I said, when we reached the front walk of the farmhouse. Retta touched Bevil's arm and the two of them went inside, leaving us alone. Lorne paced angrily up and down the walk. I didn't even try to keep up with his long stride and instead sat down on the front step and watched him. I could tell he was working up to something.
"I can't stay here," he said at last. "I can't live here anymore. I can't…Let's go away, Rose. Bevil is old enough to take care of the farm now and the twins are big enough to help. I have some gold I can give him. The kids and Mom will be fine. Let's just go. I can get work in Neverwinter."
"The war…."
"Then I can fight in the war," he said. "Or we can go somewhere else. Anywhere you like."
"I don't know…"
"We'll just head up along the coast road," he said. "We'll work our way north, and see where it takes us."
"You've got to give me time to think." Lorne pulled me to my feet and stared down at me. I could see the tension building in his eyes.
"No," he said. "There's been enough thinking and enough talking. I want to leave today. I want to leave now."
"I don't even have my armor or my weapons," I protested. He shook me, not hard, but his grip was tightening painfully on my upper arms.
"Don't argue with me, Rose. Leave it all. We'll get what we need on the road."
"No, Lorne. That doesn't make any sense."
"You're still arguing with me." He shook me harder this time. "Mom!" he bellowed. "Come out here. I want you to witness our vows."
"No, Lorne!" I cried. He dragged me, actually dragged me to the simple family shrine, nestled under a willow tree. Retta ran out of the house, her mouth open in consternation.
"What are you doing, son?"
"Getting married," he growled and he tried to push me down on my knees before the carving of Chauntea. When I refused to kneel, he satisfied himself with taking both of my hands in his. I couldn't break his grip without fighting, without hitting him, and I wasn't ready to do that yet, but I struggled anyway.
"Stop this," I said.
"Chauntea," he said. "Bless our joining, make it fruitful. I take this woman, Rose Farlong, to be my wife, for as long as I live."
"You can't force her, this is blasphemy," his mother cried. His eyes burned down at me and he shook me again.
"Say the words, Rose."
"I will not. You are mad."
He hit me then with his open hand, hard enough to knock me back a step and my legs slammed into the altar. He froze and he stared at me with frightened eyes.
"No," he whispered. "I didn't do that. I wouldn't do that." He took a deep shaky breath and then he fell to his knees. He clenched his fists tight and he screamed, a long wordless scream of such pain and frustration and madness that my heart broke inside me. He encircled my legs with his arms and he wept against my thigh. My heart broke and broke and broke.
"Please, Rose, please, Rose, please," he begged and my hands wanted to stroke his hair and tell him it was okay but I knew then that it never ever would be.
"No," I said. I pulled away. I left him on his knees and I walked back to my father's house.
Daeghun waited for me by the fireplace. I stood beside him and looked into the flames and I wondered if I would ever feel warm again. His eyes, his deep sorrowful eyes, were a well of compassion. I could drown there, if I wanted. I looked away.
"He can't help himself," he said softly.
"I know," I said. Then the tears I'd been holding back spilled out hot on my cheeks.