(eng) Lloyd Alexander - Westmark 02 by The Kestrel

Author:The Kestrel [Kestrel, The]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

12

"THE MUSE is a faithless wench," said Stock "If she wants no more of me, I want no more of her Let her go to the devil."

The poet glumly swatted one of the stinging flies that swarmed in the camp as the weather had grown warmer. He took a sheaf of grubby papers from his jacket. "Do you remember, once we talked about knights and paladins? I actually started writing something of that sort, you know. It began splendidly. I was going to show you when I finished. Since I can't finish, I hereby renounce it."

He made as if to tear up the pages. Theo pulled them away "That's nonsense. I'll keep them for you. Tomorrow, you'll change your mind. You'll be glad to have them back."

"I doubt it." Stock, nevertheless, protested no further when Theo tucked the pages into his own jacket but only added, "My inspiration has fled. I simply don't feel that way anymore. Take those wretched stanzas if you like; just promise you won't read them."

The poet had not said a word about the stolen food since the night the Monkey brought it; nor had Theo. The Monkey had made other forays after that. It had become taken for granted. Theo wondered if Justin knew. He suspected he did.

More questionable, to Theo, was the next harvest. As far as he could see, there would be none. The fields had been neither plowed nor sown. In the outlying farms, the Regians had broken into stores of seed corn. The farmers themselves, in some cases, had destroyed their own grain rather than see it fall into Regian hands.

He spoke about it to Justin, who seemed untroubled. "We'll manage," he told Theo. "Everything will be dealt with. It's not your concern."

Justin's face had lost flesh; the cheekbones jutted sharply, the scar stood out like a piece of rope. "I've planned for whatever happens."

He did not say what those plans were. Theo did not raise the question again and finally put it out of his mind. Autumn was the distant future. Everything was distant except the camp itself, the ground he slept on, and the reek of his own body. The woods had come into full, rich foliage; he was glad of it only because it gave better concealment. As much as he thought of Mickle, and often dreamed of her, she was in a different, remote world. He had no idea what she was doing.

He had to believe she was safe.

He tried not to wonder if she still thought of him.

Luther had not come back. There had been no word from Florian, and few messages from Rina in Eschbach. Lack of information on the Regian troop movements hampered the raids. Often, the marauders were fought off and forced to withdraw, having done little damage, returning empty-handed. Justin hoarded what ammunition remained for his cannon and did not order the gun into action.

Their fortunes, early in July, took a turn for the better. Stock, leading one of the raiding parties, came back exultant.

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