Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [116]
Finally, Arcolin and Stammel rode north, carrying with them the royal warrants of Arcolin’s title. At Burningmeed, his subjects gathered to hear the proclamation of his title in the grange; they cheered him loudly. Vestin paraded the southern cohort for his inspection. The veterans stared at Stammel, but said nothing, and cheered Arcolin after the inspection.
The next day the two rode on into lowering clouds, a miserable cold drizzle sifting through the trees. Sodden leaves quieted the horses’ hooves, and the bare fields of farmsteads, with cattle huddled together but still steadily grazing, suggested endurance more than abundance. Arcolin looked at each, noting the soundness of the buildings, the condition of fences, the apparent management of fields and orchards, the condition of the road itself. Here and there it was clear the cohort had done roadwork; and in some places he could see where work needed to be done. He let himself imagine how it could be in two hands of years … four … as he continued the work Kieri had begun. Sound roads, passable in all seasons. Sturdy houses, ample barns filled with grain and fodder, fat cattle, heavy-fleeced sheep, trees loaded with fruit or nuts … his horse stumbled a little and jolted him back to the present.
“Sir?” Stammel asked. He had heard the horse stumble, no doubt. He was sitting his horse upright as always and had no doubt felt the downward slope Arcolin had missed by daydreaming.
“I was thinking,” Arcolin said, “when I should have been watching the road. We should reach Duke’s East later today.”
As he came in sight of Duke’s East, he reined in. A sharp wind blew from the north through trees bare but for a few stubborn leaves. They had ridden through heavier cold rain earlier, but those clouds were behind them now. Ahead was the hard blue of a winter sky.
“We’re close, aren’t we?” Stammel asked.
“Yes. Looking down at Duke’s East—I can see Kolya’s orchard—leafless now—her cottage—the bridge over the stream—” He glanced over at Stammel, who looked gray and pinched. “Are you all right?”
“I can see it in my mind,” Stammel said. “But what I see is not what other men see.” He cleared his throat. “Does it look different, now that it’s yours?”
“I was thinking how familiar it was,” Arcolin said. “A comfort to come back and see this shape of land, those trees, the village … but yes, in a way it does look different.” It had been Kieri’s worry, and now it was his.
“It will always look the same to me, if … sorry, sir. Let’s get on.”
They rode down the slope. Kolya’s cottage had a plume of smoke out the chimney, and several people gleaning late apples in her orchard turned to look at the riders. Waving, they ran toward the lane; Arcolin reined in.
Kolya was first to speak. “Sir, we heard you were the new duke—is it true?”
“Not duke,” Arcolin said. “Count only, at this time.”
“Did you see—” She stopped abruptly, staring at Stammel. He sat his horse with the same composure he had shown from the beginning. Someone else started to speak; Kolya’s gesture was emphatic and hushed them all.
“We need to get out to the stronghold,” Arcolin said. “I’ll want to meet with the Councils of both Duke’s East and Duke’s West tomorrow; you need to see the new warrants, and we’ll talk then. If you could let Mayor Fontaine know, and send a messenger to Duke’s West. Right now—we’re still damp from the past few days and could use a hot fire and dry clothes.”
“Yes, sir. Of course.” Her eyes never left Stammel’s face; his expression never changed. “Welcome home, both of you.”
Stammel nodded at that, then legged his horse into a quick walk. Arcolin caught up with him and led the way over the bridge, through the village—waving at those who waved, but not slowing.
He heard the trumpet’s call borne on the north wind when they were in sight of the stronghold; he could just see the sun glinting from helmets. He was home … his