"It is not drafty," Alan lied. "We can be very comfort- able here."

"With no fire?"

Alan shrugged wearily. "So we will be cold. I dare say you had your reasons."

"I don't know my reasons!" Hal shouted, flinging down his rag. "I don't know my own mind anymore!"

"Well, if you must shout," Alan soothed crossly, "that is reason enough."

Hal sighed and went back to his plinset, cleaning and polishing, bringing the rich lights out of the dark golden wood. His frowning face softened, and he whistled tune- lessly, lost in some happy dream, Alan thought, of the lady perhaps? It was seldom that Alan saw him so content.

Late that night Alan started awake at the sound of a muffled, inarticulate cry. Hal was sitting up, staring at nothingness, with teeth clenched and sweat beading his forehead, trembling and straining against invisible bonds.

Alan reached for him in alarm, and felt all the muscles tensed like steel bands beneath his skin. "Hal!" he cried.

shaking him. "What is it?"

The spell broke, and Hal went limp as a snapped string, though quivering worse than ever. "Oh, Alan!" he gasped, covering his face, torn between relief and an- guish. Alan held his shoulders, and in a moment his trem- bling stopped. He lay back, breathing heavily.

"What happened?" Alan asked gently.

"Nothing. A bad dream."

"Hal, you are impossible," Alan sighed. "Did you know this was coming, then?"

Hal was silent so long that Alan thought he was asleep.

"I know nothing," he said hollowly at last. "Not even the names of my fears."

The next day, Hal took his plinset and walked to the keep to see his lady.

The weeks passed quickly. Hal and Alan almost forgot there was a world beyond the castle island. Late fruit was still being gathered from the sheltered trees within

100 THE SILVER SUN.

the walls: sorb, pear, quince, apricot and apple. While Alan helped with the work, Hal and Rosemary would set- tle themselves with the plinset at the sunny roots of a red- tipped tree. Hal's greatest pleasure was the daily music lesson. Rosemary, daughter of Rowana, was a beautiful girl, bright, blooming and sunloving as the plants around her. She was very fond of both Hal and Alan; they were like brothers for her, and perhaps Hal was her best friend.

Hal was content to leave it that way, or so he told himself. It would hardly be worthy of him to make the lady love him, only to leave her on a harebrained quest after a distant throne! But his heart and his loins would not listen to this reasoning, and Hal ached for her every waking hour, so that sometimes he thought he would go mad if he did not speak. And at these times the thought whispered in the back of his mind: why struggle? Why not throw off his burden, settle in this peaceful forest clearing, marry, and be happy? He knew well enough that such happi- ness was only a dream; but the dream gnawed at him.

Sometimes when he was away from her. Hal could forget the struggle within him. But at night it harrowed him with worse dreams. Leuin of Laueroc's tortured face would call to him through the smoke and glare of burning towers, through screams of men and horses, through drip- ping veils of blood. Sometimes Hal thought that the lord of Laueroc was still dying in torment, never to rest. The nightmares were almost unbearable, and to avoid them he would pace the courtyard until late at night, like a feral creature courting the moon. Even there Leuin's gentle voice reached him: "Hal, be bravel"

Another thing troubled Hal's rest: the continuing prob- lem with Rafe. To Alan, the situation seemed more ludi- crous than painful. Throughout his youth he had known the love of family and friends, and the animosity of one person did not trouble him. But to Hal, who had known only the hostility of the King's court. Rate's dislike was a painful reminder of the past. Often he wondered how he inspired such hatred.

One fine sunny day in the middle of November, Hal and Alan paired off in the practice yard. Others worked out at a distance. Rafe joined the group and greeted Ha]

with a sardonic comment; suddenly the day turned tense and bleak- When Rafe challenged Ha! to a bout at the

Celydon 101

quarterstaff, Hal glanced at Alan with a wry half-smile as he accepted. The others, instead of continuing their ex- ercise, clustered around the combatants. From whispered conversations, Alan realized that bets had been placed on the outcome.

The fight, however, went much as usual. Rafe attacked Hal furiously, and Hal calmly parried his blows, giving not even an inch of ground, biding his time. As the bout pro- gressed and Rate's frenzied thrusts continued unavailing, Alan could see that he was beginning to weep with fury.

The group of spectators, which earlier had been in merry spirit, now stood silent and abashed.

Hal felt Rate's discomfiture, though he was hardly to blame for it. To bring the bout to an end, he shifted his feet and raised his staff for the attack. At that moment Rafe, with all the force in his body, swung his booted foot into Hal's midsection. Hal doubled over and fell. But as Rafe, beside himself with passion, was aiming a second kick at Hal's head, he was hauled off bodily by those who had once been his friends and followers. Such foul play as they had just seen was unforgivable. They said nothing, but held him against the wall while tall, quiet Will stripped him of his captain's badge. Then without a word they left him and turned to Hal.

Alan's had gone white with anger. He wanted to kill Rafe, but first he bad to care for his friend. Still, as Hal started to breathe easier, the blood-red fury gradually cleared from Alan's mind. The volunteers gathered around anxiously, and Alan realized that no physical punishment he could inflict on Rafe would be as severe as the mental anguish he now felt, knowing he had lost the respect of his men.

"How are you, Hal?" asked Will.

"I'll live," Hal managed to reply.

Will hesitated. The others seemed to be looking to him to voice their thoughts. "Hal, Alan," he said, "I think we are much to blame for this."

But Hal silenced him lightly. The young men crowded around him while, leaning on Alan, he hobbled inside.

Rafe was left alone in the corner of the practice yard.

From that time on, Hal and Alan were welcomed by the volunteers, and Rafe was shunned. The night of the incident, the young men elected Will as their new captain.

102 THE SILVER SUN.

None of them would speak to Rafe, even if spoken to, for he had disgraced the unit. Hal and Alan were lionized, and found their new, false popularity almost as unpleasant as their former state. After a few days, however, things settled down. But Rafe no longer came to the practice yard.

Chapter Three.

It was near the end of November when the first snow fell.

Hal and Alan were helping with the evening cleanup and rubdowa at the stables when the news came. Every- body turned out into the courtyard to watch the big, downy flakes dropping through the dusk. The bit of a child in each of them stirred with excitement, and a fes- tive mood prevailed.

Then came a new cause for stir, as the gates opened for a stranger, a trader of horses with his string of nags in tow. One look, and Flann's happy face twisted into a scowl. The trader was an unwashed, rough-looking rascal, and his horses were listless and half starved. But as he drew his wares toward the stable to see if he could drum up some trade, there was one pair of bright eyes to be seen, one lifted head. Third from the end of the line was a pretty little filly-or at least she could be pretty, once the dirt was cleaned off her and some flesh put back on her bones. Something in the intelligent eyes, the flaring nos- trils and the small, beautifully shaped head reminded Alan of Arundel. He heard Hal catch his breath sharply between his teeth, and glanced at him. Hal's face was fearsome.

"An elwedeyn horse," Hal breathed, "here, and in such

103.

104 THE SILVER SUN.

a state! I must help her. If I cannot buy her, I will steal her."

With a hard hand, the horse trader showed off his nags one by one. but got no offers. As he came to the little filly, he seized her roughly by the forelock. Her eyes blazed as she bared her teeth and snapped at him, and he struck her with his fist on her tender nose. "Stop that!"

Hal cried, starting forward.

The filly plunged and reared, breaking her leather har- ness. It seemed impossible that such power could be in her emaciated body, but somehow she fought her way clear. As the horse trader backed away in fright, she darted and circled about, searching for a way out of the crowded courtyard. Folk fled from before her, but Hal stepped into the clear. He spoke to her softly in his strange tongue, and she froze in her tracks, trembling, staring at him with astonished hope beginning to replace her fright and despair.

Hal spoke to her again: "Mir hoime, Asfala, niton tha riste." ["Come to me, Asfala, no one will hurt you."]

She ran to him like a beaten child, hiding her head under his arm as he whispered to her and gently stroked her heaving flanks.

The stable hands slowly ventured from their retreat against the courtyard walls, staring in wonder. The horse trader once again began to bluster. Alan bit his lip and began to unbuckle his sword; it was the only thing he had to bargain with. But FIann saw the gesture and stopped him with a touch and a jaunty wink. Then he strode toward the horse dealer with a swagger quite unlike his usual gait.

"Saucy little piece of horseflesh ye have there,** he re- marked.

The fellow boasted of the trouble he bad had with her. He had traded for her because of her looks, sure he could tame her. He had tried force and starvation, but to no avail.

"I might take her off yer hands," said Flann casually.