The Return of the Dragonhawk

Chapter 40 -- Too Long in Women's Clothing

Alyn stood at the door of the house she had come to think of as home, her stomach quivering. Slowly, she pulled the mourning veil from her face.

I could not expect it to last forever.

"Whazzat?" Elekandro demanded, tugging at her skirt.

"That is your uncle Lothar."

"Go see!"

She wanted to pull her little one back into the safety of the house and slam the door. But there was no profit in that: the truth would follow her wherever she went.

She held Elekandro's hand tightly as she stepped forward to meet her fate. Gundar and Lothar were exchanging exuberant bear hugs while the other riders offered their congratulations.

"Elekandro!" Gundar shouted, picking the lad up and tossing him into the air. He introduced him to Lothar, who laughed and pounded Gundar's back.

The two Drawyns arrived on the scene at a jog trot, leading Kriss' pony with him still on it. Mouth open, the young Drawyn surveyed the visitors' equipment.

"Da, these be Northlanders!"

The elder Drawyn nodded curtly, inviting his son to keep his trap shut. He put his arm protectively around Alyn and looked uneasily towards the house.

"We have nothing to fear," Alyn said. "This is Lothar Baldursson, second son of the late king. He fought bravely for us at the siege of Praxenkyr."

"An ally, then," Drawyn said hopefully, "come to help. How many men be under his command?"

"You see them here."

Drawyn sighed. "Though a single one of 'em be worth ten ordinary men, as the tales claim, they cannot turn the tide on their own. What be his quest?"

"He comes seeking his brother Gundar."

"Our Tir?" Drawyn asked without undue amazement. "I always thought his bearing too regal fer the simple vassal he claimed to be. And you, mistress -- who be you and who yer hiding from?"

Alyn looked at the ground, fervently wishing that she had not waited so long to reveal herself. Before she could compose herself sufficently to speak, Lothar saluted her, and the social amenities began. She was soon occupied in cooking and organizing. The elder Drawyn found her asleep on a chair in the kitchen late in the night, and carried her to her bed.

When she awoke, Lothar and his men had already departed. Gundar and the Drawyns were busy in the kitchen, feeding the children breakfast.

"You and I be riding to Grisswold first thing," the elder Drawyn announced as he placed a bowl of porrige in front of Alyn, "and spending the night."

"I cannot. The children--"

"'Tis all arranged. Keri be playing the lady of the manor in yer absence," the elder Drawyn announced, "and Drawyn and Tir be helping. We needs must parley with Griss."

"Shall I bring my sword along?"

"Griss has ample patrols roundabout here, but yer better safe than sorry. I be going to seek out less cumbersome garb for you to ride in."

The leather leggings Drawyn found for her felt foreign against Alyn's flesh, as did the sword in her hand. She had lived too long in women's clothing.