Thornhold - Elaine Cunningham [63]
Knights, they called themselves. They were a bunch of smug-faced meddlers who kept themselves busy tidying up the area of trolls and bugbears and so forth, reminding Ebenezer of dwarf grannies fussing about the clanhold, forever straightening up the furniture and dusting off the what-nots.
If there were answers to be found, Ebenezer was certain that the nest of those troll-hunting, minding-the-world’s-business, pain-in-the-back-of-the-lap humans was a reasonable place to start looking.
* * * * *
Bronwyn followed her father down the tower stairs back into the bailey. The first signs of real animation crept into Hronulf’s voice as he described the fortress to her, its history its defenses, and the good work that the paladins did for travelers who passed by. He stopped here and there to chat with the servants and exchanged bluff greetings with the other knights. To each knight, he introduced her pointedly and proudly as his lost daughter. Oddly enough, that did little to warm Bronwyn’s heart or make her feel wanted. It was almost as if he felt a need to justify her presence here. But Bronwyn noticed the deep affection and respect that all the fortress inhabitants showed their commander. Those who knew Hronulf, clearly held him in highest regard. This reminded her of the knight who had sent her here.
“I met Sir Gareth Cormaeril in Waterdeep,” she said. “He sends his regards.”
Hronulf’s face lit up. “You have seen him? And he knows who you are? This news must have brought him great joy!”
“I told him my name, but he did not seem to connect me with you in any way, not even when I told him I was seeking you out in hope that you might have information about my lost family” Bronwyn said. “He commented that you had lost family, too, and would most likely be willing to give me whatever aid you could, but he did not put the pieces together.”
“Sir Gareth was a great knight and a good friend,” Hronulf stated. His eyes suddenly went bleak. “It was he who found you, or so he thought-a child slain when goblins overran a southbound caravan. Perhaps his affection blinded him, then and now. He was afraid for me, so great was my grief. Although beholding your dead child is a terrible thing, not knowing what has become of her is much worse. Having settled my mind and his that you were dead, he was not looking for Bronwyn Caradoon when he beheld your face.”
“That’s possible,” she admitted, though she was disturbed at the possibility that she might have been found, had not Sir Gareth been so quick to pronounce her dead. Something else occurred to her. “Did Gareth know my mother?”
“Oh, yes. Gwenidale was a woman of good family, and her brother was a paladin, Gareth’s comrade and mine. He fell before his twenty-third year, but he was a great knight. But it has been many years since any living man has gazed upon fair Gwenidale’s face. Do not fault Gareth in this matter.” Hronulf smiled faintly. “He and I are aged men. The eyes fail, and even the fondest memories do not always come to our command.”
As they talked, they continued their tour of the fortress. Hronulf led her through the chapel, and pointed to the stairs that led up on either side of the back wall. They climbed the stairs on the right and emerged on the walkway that encircled the wall. Her father’s pride in his domain, his obvious concern for all those under his care, made one thing perfectly clear to Bronwyn. Thornhold was truly his home, not the village she could barely remember. This place, these men, had always been first with him.
That made her curious and angrier than she liked to admit. She decided to prod a bit. “There are no women here,” she observed.
“A traveler, from time to time,” Hronulf said. “I believe that there is a female hire-sword with the caravan currently under hospitality.”
“So the knights don’t bring their families here.” That bothered her deeply, especially in light of her own history.
“Few knights have families,” the paladin said, then hesitated. “It is a hard life, and full of danger. There are often matters of fealty-sworn service to god