Chapter 8.3.2

Oh, no. No, my lord, no, no. But I could see in his face that the idea was set. I signed, "We can’t just walk in. I’m well-known there, and your reputation precedes you."

"We’ll be in disguise." He leaned back and regarded me with half-closed eyes. "We could grow beards, and dress as commoners. Wait – we could be Bards! Yes!"

"You can’t." My hands sliced the air. "You don’t play any sort of instrument, and you don’t know the songs and stories. As for me, I can’t sing – the most I could be is a Silent Monk!"

He smiled. "No one would ever suspect a Silent monk of kidnapping. And I’m sure I learned enough in Slatten to pass for a Bard-in-training."

"You’re too old for that."

"I was a late convert."

"I was a late convert, and many years have passed since then."

"And I’m a slow student."

That was believable. Still, "No Bard-in-training would be wandering during the winter. Not unless he were in the service of a full Bard."

Lord Reinard paused. "So we still need a full Bard. I’ll send my soldiers out to look for one."

"You not find a Bard within miles of this castle."

"But a minstrel would do just as well, right? We could paint a harp on his hand, or have him wear beggar’s gloves. He wouldn’t need to fool Lord Guerney – just the common people would be enough."

"The Heathens will be much harder to fool."

He ignored me, caught up as he was in his dream. "I thought I saw such a minstrel in the market square. Sir Charles, take Ison and James and find this man."

They left, and my lord turned to me. "Now, shall we have some music?"

"My harp is still packed away."

"Then tell me a story."

My hands were tired, but I thought to try one last time to dissuade him. And so I told the tale of Heart of the Heart of the Eastern Green Forest.

*****
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