Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [15]
“The baseborn pusboil! He’s claiming that since the swine rights are his, he can send in his swine any time he likes, summer or fall. They say he’s planning on sending a few pigs in under armed guard.”
Except for Cullyn, the warband began cursing and slamming their tankards on the table.
“And I say he won’t set one trotter in my woods,” Braedd went on. “From now on, the full warband’s going to ride on patrol.”
The warband cheered.
“Your Grace?” Cullyn broke in. “If I may speak?”
“By all means. I value your experience in the field highly.”
“My thanks, Your Grace. Well, here, the woods are a bit long for only one patrol. The warband might be down at one end while Ynydd’s making his entry at the other. We’d best split into two patrols and ride a crisscross route. We can use the page and a servant to send messages and suchlike.”
“Well spoken! We’ll do that, and take Abryn along with us.”
“Can I go, Your Grace?” Jill burst out. “I’ve got my own pony.”
“Jill, hush!” Cullyn snapped.
“Now, there’s a lass with her father’s spirit,” Braedd said with a grin. “You may come indeed.”
Since Braedd was the tieryn and he the silver dagger, Cullyn could say nothing more, but he gave Jill a good slap later when he got her alone.
After two days of riding with the patrol, Jill regretted pressing the issue, because she found herself bored. With Cullyn and two riders, she trotted up to one end of the wood, then turned and trotted back to meet the tieryn and the rest of the warband—back and forth, from dawn to dusk. Her one solace was that she got to carry a beautiful silver horn slung over her shoulder on a leather strap. Finally, on the third day, when they’d been out on patrol no more than an hour, Jill heard a strange noise a good ways from them on the edge of the woods. She slowed her pony and fell back to listen: a clattering, grunting, snorfling sound.
“Da!” Jill called out. “I hear pigs and horses!”
The three men swung their horses around and rode back.
“So it is.” Cullyn drew his sword with a flourish. “Ride for the tieryn. We’ll hold them off.”
As she galloped, Jill blew her horn. At last she heard Abryn’s horn close at hand. Tieryn Braedd burst out of the trees to meet her.
“Your Grace!” Jill screamed. “They’re here.”
She turned her pony and raced back ahead of them, for fear of missing a single thing. As she burst out of the forest, she could hear the swine clearly, grunting their way along. There was a path crossing a wide green meadow, and Cullyn and the others were sitting on their horses to block it. Down across the meadow came a strange procession. At its head rode a lord who had to be Ynydd, carrying a green-blazoned shield with a gold boss. Seven riders, also armed and ready, rode behind him. At the rear came a herd of ten swine, accompanied by two terrified peasants poking the pigs with sticks to keep them moving.
Tieryn Braedd and his men galloped into position beside Cullyn and the others. When Braedd drew his sword, the other men did the same, screaming insults to Lord Ynydd, whose men screamed right back. Cullyn yelled at Jill and Abryn to stay out of the way, then sat quietly on his horse, his sword resting on his saddle peak.
“Lord Ynydd’s a swine himself,” Abryn said. “Bringing all his men just so he can outnumber us.”
“He is, but we’re not truly outnumbered. My da’s worth at least three men.”
Slowly the procession came on. The swine kept breaking ranks, grunting and complaining, forcing the men to wait while the peasants rounded them up again. At last Lord Ynydd pulled his horse up about ten feet in front of Tieryn Braedd. While the two lords glared at each other, the swine milled round. Even from her distance, Jill could smell the big gray boars, with a roach of dark hair down their backs and shiny tusks curling out of their snouts.
“So,” Ynydd called out. “Would you block me from