[Groin Redbeard]

The chirping song of a robin awoke Erbrand from his rest. It was early, but he always awoke early. There was only the faintest light coming through the bottom of his door, it was not yet dawn but it was beginning to come. With a great effort he got up off the floor and rolled up his blankets and skin. He slept in his workshop, a small wooden building where he kept his tools and skins for tanning. The hut was just barely large enough for him to lie down in, but it was no more than a place to keep his tools and possessions, a table and space to work were all outside. After rolling up his sack and putting it away he reached for his wool cloak—it was dreadfully cold outside. A chill blast of air met his bearded face as he opened the door. Squinting from the dull light sky and the mild wind he stepped outside. Again the robin which had woken Erbrand from his light sleep greeted him as he stepped outside, cold and wet with dew. Erbrand looked at the pitiful bird that did nothing but make beautiful music. It was too stupid to migrate for the winter. The frozen ground crunched under his boots. Thank goodness the snow had not arrived. Winter had definitely come.

Everything was quiet and empty. Drink and a late night was making it difficult for people to get up. Erbrand thought about going into the hall and see if Kara was up yet but decided against it, knowing how much stress the kitchen staff must be under. No, people were probably still sleeping anyway and he had work to do as well. Leaning back inside the door Erbrand grabbed his bow and quiver full of arrows. Nobody was a better runner or a deadlier shot in Scarburg than Erbrand, and that was a fact. He had beaten everyone in the race and the archery contest, even Thornden, back when Eodwine was lord. Since then, he had put that skill to good use and had turned into a marvelous hunter. It was an uncomfortable thought to bring Athanar, not Eodwine, venison.

So today is truly his first full day as lord. I pray it turns out better than yesterday. I still have not told him about the danger, about Oeric. When am I going to do it man? I do not know, the time is still not right. I must tell someone even if Athanar might not be the right person to tell. Very well, I will tell Saeryn to whose husband I swore allegiance to. This lord has no oath to hold me accountable. I will tell her.

With a quick pace Erbrand began to make for the hall. Smoke was coming out of the chimney, somebody had to be up. He was just about to open the door when a familiar voice said softly: “Good morning, Erbrand.”

“Lithor! I never knew you to be an early riser.”

Lithor rose and rubbed his hands through his hair. Dew trickled down his leather jerkin and he shuddered as some of the cold water absorbed in his clothing. Had he stayed out all night?

“I have a heavy heart and have had a light sleep. For nearly two hours I paced the grounds before you awoke.” Lithor’s voice was calm. He twiddled with a singly straw of hay in his hand.

“Walk with me, friend," He continued. "I would enjoy your company this morning.” Lithor asked with genuine but a nowhere near happy smile. It was a that same tone that Erbrand heard Lithor speak in last night: tired and beaten. He was not about to play on Lithor's sympathies.

“No I will not, Lithor.” Erbrand responded rather hotly. Lithor was surprised. “We are not going to start that sort of talk. You will be fine with Athanar.” Erbrand had rightly assumed what was on Athanar’s mind and he was in no mood to discuss Athanar right now.

“I feel that my trial will begin soon. I will not defend myself for I was in the wrong last night.”

“Lithor, you do not have to tell me anything,” Erbrand was still sounding agitated. “I am convinced of your innocence even if you are not.”

“I cannot ask you to understand such things, Erbrand. You are not my age and therefore have not seen what I have. You are also not a soldier and know very little of discipline. I do not fear any punishment that might bruise me, end me, or humble my pride, but I do fear banishment. Oh joyful spirit that use to keep me like good medicine, where are you now? I am not ashamed to say it to you, my broken spirit is drying up my ancient bones.”

For the first time in his life, Erbrand was frustrated with Lithor. A broken spirit (as Lithor described it) was the exact opposite of what was needed. The old man had given up too easily. Just then the door opened and two familiar figures popped out. It was Balvir and Matrim. Balvir wore his usually grim face but this time Matrim shared in the expression.

“Right glad are we to see you.” Matrim exclaimed seeing Lithor. “We were coming to find you. How do you feel this morning?”

“Like an old piece of clothing: used and subjugated to too many rough conditions.” His face was grim, but he put on a smile. “Friends, I am ashamed of myself. I am just as frightened as a dumb thief, I do not feel like a man at all. I do not mind swords, lances, or arrows, but this makes my very blood run cold.”

“As well it should,” Balvir was the next to speak. “It is only right that you should feel something and it should not be joy or excitement. What did you expect?”

Though nobody but Lithor knew it, Balvir was very near Lithor’s age. Time had been kinder to Balvir, his hair was not yet white as was Lithor’s; therefore, nobody knew that Balvir was near the age of fifty. There was a pause, but soon his words had their affect on Lithor.

“Very true, Balvir.” Lithor said. “Ever the straight talker. But no matter how much today unsettles my blood, I am right glad I have noble friends. I will fret for myself no more, courteous and merry words will be my language, nothing else.” He stood and smiled broadly and took Balvir’s hand first, then Matrim’s, and then Erbrand’s.

“You changed your mind then,” Erbrand asked. “You will defend yourself?”

“I will defend only where I am in the right. There is another matter, which you do not know of, that I will address.”

“What’s this?” Matrim asked disappointedly. “I expected at least an hour’s worth of debate and reasoning for us to cheer you up.”

“What makes you so sure reason would cheer me up?” Lithor chuckled. “I have never met anyone who can be cheered by reason. I will only get more miserable in seeing just how bad my situation is, as reason would prove. If you want to cheer someone up, what you need is understanding. Reason is best left for debates, young Matrim.”

Balvir chuckled and Erbrand began to feel hope. This was the Lithor he knew. Though even if the trial turned out in Lithor's favor (it was doubtless that Athanar would punish Lithor) Erbrand wondered if he would see much more of the soldier. Athanar's job was to bring the locals under his control and that would mean flexing Scarburg's military muscle. He expressed his thoughts to the three soldiers.

"I do not know what you mean by never seeing us." Balvir said.

"No, of course we will see each other, but it might not be as often. I know that the soldiers have a drill this morning you might be so busy training to take on Tancred and the other lords that a permanent rift might appear between soldier, peasant, and lord."

All of them looked grim at the thought. Though they knew of Athanar's talk with Erbrand, a peasant, it was clear that Athanar would not have the common men interfering with anything that was under his rule. The scolding of Lithor had taught them this. They would have to know their place.

"Nay!" Lithor said very energetically and sprang up the steps to where he stood over them. "If you are thinking that Athanar is a iron fisted tyrant then you are indeed wrong. Do not constantly blame him for my sake. I was wrong. Give him half a chance. Learn from my mistakes and be obedient soldiers and workers and today will be better."

"I hope you are right, Lithor." Erbrand nodded grimly.

After this, Balvir and Matrim went in search of a meal with the rest of the soldiers now that they saw that their friend had recovered from last night. Lithor and Erbrand watched them depart until Erbrand finally remembered that he had traps to check and headed off towards the marshes at a brisk walk, shielding his head underneath his hood from the wind. Finally alone, Lithor went inside the hall. Not to find breakfast, food would not agree with him now, but to find Thornden.