Faraday looked a little shaken at this plain speech, but she also looked determined. “I understand, Embeth. Tell me, did you have happiness with Ganelon?”
Embeth smiled a little, remembering. “He was a good man, and he cared for me. He also respected me. At first I did not love him, and I found it hard to be happy here. But as the years passed and our marriage grew stronger, love and happiness also came along. One day – after bearing him three children! – I woke up and realised that I was in love with Ganelon. Two years later I lost him to the ill-willed tusks of a wild boar.” Embeth did not add that she had almost died with grief when her steward brought her news of Ganelon’s death. For a moment her heart clenched, remembering the blood down the steward’s tunic, the tears in his eyes.
Faraday smiled, comforted. This is what would happen between Borneheld and her. Love might not come at once, not even for a year or two. But come it would, and she would be as good a wife to Borneheld as Embeth had been to Ganelon. All it took was patience, respect, and a firm sense of duty.
“Thank you, Embeth. I’m glad that I had this talk with you.”
“Artor rewards those who remain true to their duty. Now,” Embeth tucked Faraday into her bed as she would have done her own daughter, “to sleep with you, for it is an early start in the morning.”
When Embeth opened the door to her room a few moments later Axis was gone. She suddenly felt very sad, not wanting to spend this night alone after remembering her happiness with Ganelon. If Faraday had been betrothed to a Ganelon then Embeth would have no doubts about the outcome, but Borneheld was no Ganelon.
12 At the Edge of the Silent Woman Woods
The journey from Tare to the Silent Woman Woods took five days. The first days of Bone-month were upon them and the weather was now bitterly cold. During the day dark clouds broiled across the sky, and the riders were hit with frequent bouts of heavy rain and sometimes had. Snow could not be far away. The soldiers huddled inside their oiled sealskin cloaks, the collars turned up to their ears, trying to ignore the water that trickled down their necks. The plains of northern Tarantaise were bare of anything but league after league of scrubby grassland containing no life at all. There was no shelter to be found against the rain. Merlion huddled cold and miserable inside a voluminous cloak and again damned her husband’s insistence that they ride with the Axe-Wielders. Even Faraday’s spirits were dampened by the weather. Occasionally Timozel rode beside them, trying to cheer them up with amusing stories, but Merlion and Faraday would only smile politely, and eventually he’d gallop back to his unit.
Once or twice Axis tried to speak with Faraday. He thought he ought to say something, even though Embeth had told him she’d explained everything. On the one occasion he’d managed to find Faraday without her mother attached to her side like a limpet, she had smiled, apologised graciously for interrupting Embeth and himself, and turned on her heel and walked away without another word. Axis shrugged. Well, she had to grow up sooner or later. Better sooner, before Borneheld got his hands on her.
On the evening of the fifth day, for once blessedly clear of rain although the clouds still hung low, the dark line of the Silent Woman Woods appeared, on the horizon, spreading as far as the eye could see.
Belial rode up to Axis where he sat motionless on Belaguez, surveying the line of trees ahead. “It is enough to make an Artor-fearing man reach for his axe, is it not, BattleAxe?”
Axis nodded his head absently. He had only seen the Silent Woman Woods once before in his life, and had been glad to pass leagues to the south of them. Now, however, he would have to enter.
“We’ll make camp another two hours’ ride closer, Belial. Any closer and we’ll all suffer nightmares. In the morning … in the morning we’ll ride in.”
Belial understood his commander’s hesitation. The Woods were a frightening sight, and he dreaded to think what they would look like at a lesser distance. Let alone what they would look like while they were riding through them.
“All of us, BattleAxe?”
Axis laughed sympathetically at his lieutenant’s question. “No, Belial. Only a few of us. Myself, Gilbert, and one or two others. Timozel, perhaps, and Arne,” he said naming one of the cohort commanders. “You had better stay and assume command of the Axe-Wielders until I return, Belial.”
Belial tried, unsuccessfully, to hide his relief. “As you wish, BattleAxe.”
The Silent Woman Woods were even more unnerving from the vantage point of the campsite. The trees, dark, thick and gnarled, grew tight and close together. Their tops reared upwards for what seemed a hundred paces and stretched outwards so far that their boughs intermingled one with the other ensuring that little sunlight ever reached the forest floor. Eyes seemed to gaze out at those who watched. A constant undertone of strange whispers and crackles issued forth for anyone who cared to listen. The men were silent as they made camp, and most kept their backs to the Woods as much as possible. More men than usual made a prominent display of weapon practice with their axes as the cooks hurried to prepare the evening meal.
Faraday, her cloak held tightly about her, strolled up to Axis and Gilbert as they stood surveying the Woods. “It’s frightening,” she said quietly as she reached them, her eyes wide and apprehensive. “It’s so wild, so untamed, so uncivilised. What could live in there but demons?”
Gilbert tried to reassure her. “The Seneschal have the Silent Woman Woods well under control, Lady Faraday. Do not fear, Artor is with us.”
“Now and forever,” whispered Faraday in automatic response. She turned towards Axis. “And you have to ride in there tomorrow?”
Axis did not move his eyes from the dark Woods. “There is no other choice. Although how the brothers could live in there, Artor only knows.”
Faraday turned back to Gilbert. “Why are they called the Silent Woman Woods?”
“Because they do not ask as many questions as most women!” Axis snapped at her before Gilbert could reply.
“I’m sorry if I disturbed you, BattleAxe,” she said quietly, and turned and walked back to camp. The white cat wound about her heels. Axis glared at it.
It was a bad night for many in the camp that evening. Those that did drift off to sleep often woke sweating a few minutes later, frightened by unidentifiable fears. After tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, the nightmare claimed Axis.
He was in the dark place, naked and bound by invisible bonds to the floor. He strained every muscle, every ligament, trying to break free, knowing as he did so that he should be saving his energy for the fight that lay ahead. Sweat broke out from every pore on his body. His breathing grew heavy and laboured as his fear deepened.
Suddenly he could feel the presence, surrounding him, so powerful it might crush him.
“No,” he whispered, “you are not my father!”
The presence grew strange. It did not speak. There was not the hatred that he could usually feel. It felt … puzzled.
“Who are you?” Axis whispered. “Who are you?”
“Who are you?” an echo whispered back at him, strangely hoarse and distorted by the darkness. “Who are you?”
It felt strange – just as frightening and threatening, but different. The bonds holding his arms and legs disappeared and Axis leapt to his feet, trying desperately to discern shape or movement in the darkness that surrounded him. The ground felt cool and damp beneath his feet.
“We do not know who he is,” a voice whispered behind him, and Axis whirled in the dark, almost losing his balance. “Where has he come from? What is he doing here? How did his feet find the paths? Who guided his feet to the paths?”
“Who are you?” Axis whispered fiercely,