The Highwayman

31

The Sparkle in His Eyes Bannagran tried hard not to laugh, but his chuckles kept slipping past his tightly closed lips.

"Do not underestimate the seriousness of this," Laird Prydae warned. "Men like Prince Yeslnik do not take well to embarrassment." Despite his obvious sincerity, Prydae couldn't help but chuckle also. Prince Yeslnik's coach had rolled back to Castle Pryd. The angry young man had leaped from it, running screaming to Laird Prydae that he must capture and kill this "Highwayman beast!" Yeslnik had quickly recounted the encounter with the Highwayman, how this mysterious figure dressed in black had leaped atop his royal coach and had robbed him at sword point of all the monies Prydae had just collected.

Princess Olym had added that this robber had initially dispatched the powries who had initially stopped the coach.

"Do not forget that the prince's wife was quite smitten with the beast," Bannagran replied. "Or that Harkin, the driver, was quite grateful. Had the Highwayman not arrived, the three of them would have been slaughtered by the dwarves and Harkin's wounded friend would surely have died-I noticed that Prince Yeslnik made no mention of the powries at all."

"The man is angry."

"Wounded pride will do that to you."

"He will take that anger back to Laird Delaval. That and an additional tax exacted from Pryd."

"My liege, we cannot go back to the people for more money and goods," Bannagran warned. "They will not stand for it. Every tax collector would need a band of warriors to accompany him on his rounds, and there would be bloodshed, I warn you. Much bloodshed."

Laird Prydae considered those words carefully, knowing their truth but knowing, too, that he could not send Yeslnik back to Laird Delaval empty-handed. How he wished that the young prince had just kept going, all the way to the great river. That would have bought him some time, at least, before he needed to go and collect more revenues for his protecting Laird Delaval. Now he understood the truth, and that realization only made him even more angry at this Highwayman. He would have to take the money for Delaval out of his own riches.

"Post a reward," he told Bannagran.

"The people love the Highwayman."

"The people love money more. Post a reward, a substantial one. Promise that anyone who provides information leading to the capture of the outlaw will dine at the castle for the rest of his life. Offer a thousand gold coins. Offer complete access for the informant and his family to the brothers of Abelle and their healing gemstones."

Bannagran raised an eyebrow at that.

"Master Bathelais will not refuse me in this."

"I will spread the word through every tavern and every road," Bannagran promised.

Prydae walked over and dropped a hand on the sitting Bannagran's shoulder. "You have been my friend and companion for as long as I can remember," he said. "I need you now. I charge you with capturing and killing this outlaw. He is undermining my rule, Bannagran, and this latest theft jeopardizes the very life of Pryd Holding."

Bannagran's eyebrow arched again, showing that he thought his friend might be exaggerating a bit on that last point. There was no doubt, however, that the mere presence of this Highwayman was raising the ire of the common folk against Prydae.

"The people will not be pleased when he is dragged in and executed," Bannagran noted.

"Bernivvigar will kill him for us, I am certain. And the people will forget, soon enough. But we must get him, and soon. He has embarrassed us-could it be that he will attempt to attack me? To murder me in my sleep?"

Bannagran furrowed his brow. After all, the Highwayman had only killed one man in all of his exploits, and that with the man's own knife.

"Destroy him, my friend," Prydae ordered. "Use every soldier and every resource at our disposal. Find him and kill him, and very soon."

Bannagran nodded. "You should not be here," Cadayle said. "You should not be anywhere near the town this night. Laird Prydae's men are everywhere, searching for you."

"How do you know that I was the one who saved Prince Yeslnik this day?" Bransen asked.

"Saved? Robbed, you mean."

"Robbed? Nay, I call it a reward, my lady. First I killed all the powries that would have killed the good young prince, then I took a reward."

"That is not what they are saying."

"Do you believe that any nobleman would be brave enough to admit that he was rescued? And by an outlaw highwayman?" Bransen said with a laugh. "No, Prince Yeslnik's pride will not allow him to include that little detail in his recounting of the encounter."

Cadayle managed a smile-and her smile truly lit up Bransen's heart!-but she glanced all around nervously, as if expecting Laird Prydae's soldiers to leap upon her.

"Perhaps I should have let the powries finish him and his wife before taking my reward," Bransen went on. "But then, of course, the innocent drivers would have been slaughtered as well, and that I could not allow."

"But you would have allowed the prince to be killed?"

The Highwayman shrugged.

"And his wife?" Cadayle pressed, clearly distressed.

"Well, perhaps not, though I am not very fond of the lairds of Honce and their ignoble henchmen."

"They are our protectors."

"They protect themselves," the Highwayman argued. "I have seen Laird Prydae's castle, and I assure you, the man wants for nothing."

"He is appointed by God, so say the priests. His line is blessed, as are the lines of all the lairds."

The Highwayman laughed at her, but inside, Bransen thought her words no laughing matter. He had come to understand the "sanctity" of the lairds, anointed by both monk of Abelle and Samhaist alike, each trying to gain favor with the powerful noblemen. The Book of Jhest had told Bransen a different story. The Jhesta Tu mystics outright rejected any special relationship between the secular leaders, of tribes and kingdoms and holdings, and God. But the peasants of Honce didn't see that; not even Cadayle, whom Bransen considered very intelligent and aware-mightily so, compared to the other peasants.

"Then I suppose that God will not be pleased with me for taking…this," Bransen answered, pulling forth the jeweled necklace he had pilfered from Olym.

Cadayle sucked in her breath, and the glittering of her eyes rivaled that of the stones in the starlight.

"Lady Cadayle," Bransen began. "Beautiful Cadayle. If you are to try to convince me that Princess Olym Delaval's neck is more fit for this than your own, I pray you save your breath and your effort. If God has blessed any woman with the beauty to properly complement this necklace, then surely that woman is you."

She raised her gaze to match his stare, and still she said nothing.

Bransen moved forward slowly, unthreateningly. She was afraid, he could tell; she was even shivering a little, and not from the chill night air. Bransen reached up and draped the necklace about her thin neck, reaching behind with both hands, and even moving closer to look over her shoulder as he worked the clasp.

He could feel her breath on his neck, so warm, and after he had secured the clasp, he stayed in place for a while, basking in the feel and smell of Cadayle.

Finally, he leaned back so that he was right before her, his hands still upon her shoulders.

"I cannot keep this," she said, and he put a finger to her lips to silence her.

"Of course you cannot," Bransen agreed. "But wear it this night, and secretly for as long as you desire. No doubt Laird Prydae and Prince Yeslnik will offer a fine reward for the piece. When they do, say that you found it at the side of the road, and collect your due. For your mother, if not for yourself."

"I cannot."

"Of course you can," said Bransen. "I will scatter a few coins near to the oak at the forward end of this very lane. Say you found the necklace there. The fools will believe that I dropped some of the booty."

"But-"

"What else am I to do with it?" Bransen interrupted. "I have no need of coin, am well fed and well housed."

"Then why do you steal?"

"Because I know that I am among the few who can so make such a claim of health and comfort. Because I know that Laird Prydae and all the other noblemen live in luxury while the rest toil for their benefit, even die for their benefit." He wanted to add, "And because it's fun," but he thought it better to keep that a secret.

"And I do appreciate beautiful things," Bransen added, and he stared intently at Cadayle, grabbing her eyes with his own, and he would not let go. "And truly that necklace is a pale bauble beside the beauty I now see. Upon you, it shines so much the brighter."

She blushed and couldn't hide her smile, and she started to look away. But Bransen wouldn't let her. He brought his hand up beside her cheek and slowly turned her to face him directly. He couldn't resist her, then, her smell, her warm breath, her beauty in the starlight, and so he leaned forward and dared to press his lips against hers.

To his amazement, she did not pull away from him, and her arms came up around his back, pulling him closer.

For Bransen, there had never been a moment as sweet.

Cadayle pulled back after a long and lingering moment. "I should not have done that," she said, and she broke free of his embrace.

"Oh, but I want to do it again!" Bransen blurted, and Cadayle put a hand over her mouth and giggled.

"But I do," Bransen said, and it was his turn to be embarrassed.

"Have you never kissed a woman before?"

Bransen thought on that for a moment, in light of his encounter with the farm lady. "One kissed me, once."

Cadayle giggled again. "Only one? A rogue like you?"

"And how many men has Cadayle kissed?" Bransen shot right back at her.

She grew very serious suddenly. "None before like that," she said.

Bransen felt his legs go weak. "One more kiss before I go?" he asked.

"Just one, and just a kiss, and then you must be on your way, Highwayman."

Bransen came forward in a rush, but Cadayle held him back long enough to calm him. Then she kissed him, long and soft and sweet.

The taste of her followed him all the way back to Chapel Pryd, all the way back to his dark and dirty hole. Callen brought her hand to her mouth to hide her gasp, and she felt for a moment as if she would simply fall over. Never in her life had she ever seen any piece of jewelry as fabulous as the necklace Cadayle was wearing.

"You saw him again," Callen breathed.

"I found it by the side of the road," Cadayle said. "Along with these." She held out her hand, showing the few coins the Highwayman had given her to seed the story.

Callen's eyes went narrow. "You didn't find anything."

Cadayle squirmed, the observant mother noted. "Under the tree, mother. There might be more. You and I can go look in the morning's light."

"Cadayle…" Callen said in even and controlled tones, her best mother's voice. "You've not ever lied to me before."

Cadayle seemed to visibly break, then, her shoulders slumping.

"The Highwayman came to you again this night."

"Yes."

Callen took Cadayle's chin in her hand and lifted her face so that their stares locked. "And what did you give him for the necklace?"

Cadayle's eyes went wide in shock, which brought a wave of relief to the older woman.

"I did kiss him," Cadayle admitted a moment later, and Callen scowled. "But not for the necklace. I kissed him because I wanted to."

"Would you have kissed him if he hadn't given you the jewels?"

"Of course!" Cadayle blurted, and then she seemed embarrassed and lowered her gaze once more. "I mean, it wasn't the necklace that made me choose to kiss him."

Callen pulled her close for a hug, then pushed her back to arms' length. "But you cannot keep it. You know that."

"He told me to turn it over to the laird and prince for the reward they will likely offer. Still, I feel as if I'm stealing. Perhaps I should just give it back for no reward."

"You're to do no such thing!" Callen snapped, and Cadayle shot to attention. "No, you do as the Highwayman bade you. Laird Prydae and Prince Yeslnik aren't to miss any reward, and God and the Ancient Ones know that we could put the coin to better use, for our sake and for that of all our hungry neighbors."

Cadayle brought her hand up to the precious necklace and her look went wistful, revealing to the observant Callen that her daughter wasn't truly enamored of the idea of parting with the gift.

"You know that you cannot keep it," Callen said softly. "Wouldn't Bernivvigar be happy to find you wearing such a thing?"

"I know," Cadayle replied halfheartedly.

The younger woman went to the other side of the small house then and began undressing, then slipped into her bed under the blankets.

Callen noted that she was still wearing the necklace. Callen just smiled about it, however, and was both glad that her daughter had apparently found love and terribly afraid of this man who had become the object of Cadayle's affections.