Chapter 9.2.4

"Take this!" shouted the woman standing with Wallen, who was indeed the Lady Laurice. She threw back her hood and pulled down her scarf, then pulled Wallen with her as she stepped proudly down the steps. "Here I am, father, and here I’ll stay! I wedded this man, before the church and in deed, and only death can separate us."

Lord Guerney frowned. "So, child – what happened to your belly? Your babe was indeed an act of fiction, was it not? Why should I believe your story?"

"I have witnesses." She pointed to Sharp.

"Co-conspirators."

"The good people of the town of Goshawk will speak for me."

"Will they?" Lord Guerney mused, and in a flash I saw that he knew that a sword could change a story faster than gold. But then he seemed to give ground. "Well, then, if I must accept this wretch – bring forth your husband and let us see what kind of stump you have grafted yourself to. And if he is still willing to keep you when I say that you’ll bring no dowry nor inheritance to your wedding bed."

The look on her face was sour, but Wallen unwrapped his scarf, showing that he had shaved. Then he straighten his back, lifted his chin, and so transformed from the humble beggar to the noble Lord Reinard. His arm around his wife’s waist, he drew her down the steps and closer to her father – and further from the danger of the swords. "I am – though I do insist on the fulfillment of the bargain you made with me."

Anger melted into astonishment on the old Knight’s face, and then he whooped with laughter. Sheathing his sword, he held out his hands. "Come to me, my son! You have caught the uncatchable!"

The Lady Laurice was clearly perplexed as she moved into the now welcoming embrace of her father. "A bargain with him? What of the Bard-killer?"

"The Bard-killer is dead, and thus our agreement moved to his son." He slapped Wallen on the back. "Or did you not know that this is Wallen Reinard, the lord of Reinard Castle?"

All the Bards stared as Lord Guerney pulled Lord and Lady Reinard into the safety of his soldier. The red-headed Journeyman, who must have been Van, threw out a rude and impossible curse, but the rest seemed shocked into silence.

Charles was smiling smugly. Beside him, Peter’s face was red, almost purple, and his hands were clenched.

Grandmaster Meiltung turned to me and growled, "Did you know this? Did you know that he was blood-kin to the Bard-killer?"

"Not until I followed him to Songless," I signed back.

Grandmaster Meiltung looked at my hands with disgust. "Get your voice to speak for you."

Peter stumbled over and attempted to translate my words. "He knew nothing until they went to Songless together, he says."

"That was years before this! Why did you let him come into the Guildhall yesterday, eat our food, share our fire, and sleep beneath our roof?"

With those words, the Grandmaster made it clear to all that no matter how much the Bards detested any kin of the Bard-killer, Wallen was safe from our vengeance – as little as he himself like the idea. But he also made it clear that I was to blame for this state of affairs. I started to protest that it had been Sharp who had knowingly brought in the Bard-killer’s blood and granted him hospitality – but then realized that would doom the man. He would be driven from the Bardhall, perhaps even stoned – and from his round eyes and white face, I knew he was aware of this. As a Bard-in-Training I faced a beating, at most.

But as I thought, an answer came to me, one that would save both our skins. "You must see that Wallen is a good man, so that you will build a new Bardhall at Songless."

"There will never be a Bardhall at Songless," Grandmaster Meiltung roared, his anger turned to a new target. All the other Bards cheered assent. Now the Grandmaster turned to Lord Guerney and growled, "You have want you wanted. Leave us in peace."