Bloodflower Read online
Bloodflower
Bloodflower
CHRISTINE HINWOOD
First published in 2009
Copyright © Text, Christine Hinwood 2009
Copyright © Illustrations, Elise Hurst 2009
www.elisehurst.com
All rights reserved. No part of this hook may he reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or ten per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to Copyright Agency Limited (CAL) under the Act.
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National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication entry:
Hinwood, Christine, 1962–.
Bloodflower / Christine Hinwood.
ISBN: 978 1 74175 471 1 (pbk.)
For secondary school age.
A823.4
Cover and text design by Ruth Grüner
Cover photographs: warrior by Getty Images/Ron Koeberer;
fabric images by iStockphoto/Tom Hahn and Jamie Carroll
Set in 10.5 pt Figurai Book by Ruth Grüner
Printed in Australia by McPherson’s Printing Group
1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
TO NATALIE GOSLETT
CONTENTS
MAPS
The South
Kayfort
CHARACTER LIST
SNAIL HUNT
GRACEFUL FENISTER
BOY AND DOG
BAN COVERLAST COURTS
COCK HORSE
THE SEA
CAM’S WAR
DIIDO’S REVENGE
GOING SOUTH
GYAAR’S WAR
KOI–BOI
GYAAR’S DOWNLANDER
HANDFAST
THE WOMEN’S TIME
THE GREEN TIME
UP AT THE BIG HOUSE
CHARACTER LIST
People of Kayfort
ANKERTON
Abenestor b. 371
Ellaner b. 383
ATTLING
Da (Gavrin) b. 364
Mam b. 369
Cam (Vercamer) b. 391
Hughar b. 398
Edord b. 398
Pin (Appin) b. 401
CAROSS
Master (Garrad) b. 354
Mistress b. 373
Isla b. 394
COVERLAST
Da b.355
Mam b. 362
Dance b. 379
Dinster b. 381
Fallon b. 382
Minnan b. 383
Calister b. 383
Tobian b. 385
Marrister b. 386
Jerric b. 387
Ardow b. 389
Hale b. 391
Ban b. 392
FARMER
Da (Corban) b. 360
Brae b. 380 d. 403
Oda b. 382 d. 403
FENISTER
Father (Arno) b. 362 d. 415
Mother b. 375 d. 396
Stepmother (Vivrain) b. 388
Graceful b. 396
GARAMAN
Pelister, Lord of Dorn-Lannet b. 349 d. 408
GORLANCE
Da b. 362 d. 409
Mam b. 367 d. 408
Layne b. 387 d. 408
Grove b. 393
Farrow b. 396
GOST
Master b. 369
Mistress b. 369
Raene b. 389
Minnet b. 395
HORNSLOE
Grett b. 327 d. 407
KEYSTONE
Master (Royed) b. 370
Mistress b. 375
Graine b. 395
Nariet b. 400
MANSOR
Davin b. 392
Dallon b. 394
MANSTO
Mam b. 376 d. 396
Da (Callen) b. 378 d. 408
Acton b. 396
MATTOW
Da, village Headman b. 347
Mam b. 359
Roan b. 389
NELSAN
Bailey b. 383 d. 404
Big Bubbo b. 392
PACENOT
Mistress (Carin) b. 374
Finnlay b. 392
Samlin b. 397
Posey b. 404
PALFREYMAN
Da, village Headman b. 333 d. 412
SANDERLIN
Master b. 380
Caldo b. 400
SMITHSON
Gillert b. 390
People of the North
THE CAMP
Selena b. 354
Giitan b. 389
Gaida b. 389
Diido b. 395
RYUU FAMILY
Mother, Lady Ryuu b. 350
Father, Lord Ryuu / Lord of Dorn-Lannet b. 354 d. 417
Shi-chi b. 375 d. 377
Gyushin b. 378 d. 378
Gyurama b. 379 d. 379
Gyodan b. 384 d. 403
Gyaar b. 387
Shi-ryuu b. 390
Shi-mii b. 391
Shi-karu b. 395
RYUU HOUSEHOLD
Jak-jak, Tutor b. 342 d. 401
Old Sow, senior Lady in Waiting b. 353
Tseri, Koi-master b. 357
Urasu, Captain of the Guard b. 378
Tse-tsa, Servant in Charge of Clothes Folding b. 385
Ii-yo (Puss-faced Bit), Lady in Waiting b. 397
DORN–LANNET
Landlady of the White Mule b. 370
Siasen b. 372
SNAIL HUNT
Pin and Cam were grinding wheat for flour when Da came in, his arms full of lettuces.
‘Eh-oh.’ Da straightened his arms and the lettuces tumbled onto the table. ‘Do you look at this.’
Pin looked – ‘Euuw!’ – and moved back. The outer leaves were full of holes. When Da peeled them back, inside were tiny, baby snails, smaller than Pin’s little fingernail. ‘Look at the mess they’ve made.’
The lettuces, thought Pin, looked like tattered green lace.
‘You ought to see it out there. It’s a plague of them. Aye, even the thrushes cannot keep up. No one minds a bit of meat to their greens but we’ll have no greens left for market soon, and then how will we pay the new Lord’s taxes?’
‘Well,’ said Mam. ‘I have a crock of beer put by that’ll do. And there’ve always been taxes, new Lord or old.’
Da picked the snails off the lettuces and threw them out the door for the birds. ‘Torches, we’ll need, as there’s no moon. Who’ll help me?’
The twins pushed up to Da’s side.
‘Can I?’ said Edord.
Hughar jostled him. ‘Can we!’
Aye, if you do as you’re told.’ In the doorway Da stopped and tweaked Pin’s bare toes. ‘Make certain you’re wearing your pattens after tea.’
Pin looked at her feet. Pattens were for mud and snow, to keep your shoes dry. Not for mid-spring. ‘Why, Da?’
Da put his finger alongside his nose and closed one eye.
‘Mam? Why have I to wear my pattens tonight?’
‘You’ll see,’ said Mam.
Pin sat on the doorstep, where the sun nosed into the cottage, and thought of a dress of green lettuce-lace; of what it might be like to have your house on you
r back.
‘Stop sulking,’ said Mam, after a time.
‘I wasn’t.’
‘Sitting there with a face on you to turn the milk!’
‘She’s not sulking, she’s thinking,’ said Cam. Pin wondered how he knew
Cam had gone to war when Pin was very small, and it was as if she’d never met him; not until after the war had ended and he’d come riding in with the warm spring winds, on his fine tall horse, with his sword and his spear and his stories of the North.
He picked Pin up and flung her in the air, caught her between his arm and his side. ‘Oof! You are getting heavy. Thin as a pin, my backside! Plump as a pin.’
Pin screeched with laughter. When Cam sat down, she climbed onto his lap.
‘Well,’ said Mam. ‘How’s that! She never likes to be held.’
Cam jogged her up and down. ‘Does she not?’ He tipped his head sideways and down and looked into her face, his own all funny and upside down. ‘The new Lord of Dorn-Lannet, he does have a snail keep, little Pin-sister.’
Pin felt her skin lift up in goose bumps.
‘On an island. It’s in a lake, this island (and the lake in the garden, and the garden in the castle, so fine), so as the snails cannot escape. And he does feed them on milk and grain and grape juice, until they grow too fat to get back into their shells.’
Pin’s stomach felt funny. Spiders were fine, and beetles, but snails and slugs and all those wet worming things, they gave Pin shivers down her back.
‘Then you know what he does? No? His cooks do fry them up and serve them to the Lord.’
‘Leave be,’ said Mam. ‘Do you want her sick all over you?’
‘Sick!’ said her stranger-brother, his laughter rocking Pin forward and back. ‘The Lord, he does think them a great delicacy.’
‘Well, they’ve their own ways, those Uplanders.’
‘Aye, Mam, they do.’
‘Eh then,’ said Mam. ‘Do you think to be all afternoon milling a bit of grain?’
Cam winked at Pin, hefted the millstone in his hand. ‘You feed, I’ll grind.’
Pin trickled grain through the bottom of her fist, and Cam worked the stone in circles.
‘How did you know, that I was only thinking?’
‘And not sulking? Mam did used to say it to me too.’ Cam ground slowly using his knees to steady the bowl.
‘You grind faster now.’ Pin fed more grain for him to mill.
‘I’m learning, how to make the left hand do for the right.’
Pin had heard people call Cam a cripple, but a cripple couldn’t mill wheat, couldn’t lift Pin into the air. ‘It’s people have to learn you, with your one arm doing for both.’
‘Clever Pin.’
‘Why have I to wear my pattens after tea?’
‘Ah,’ said Cam, and just as Da had done, he winked.
The wheat was milled, and Mam had turned it into dough that now sat rising by the fire. Cam paced out the four walls of the cot, picking things up, putting them down again.
‘I’ll bother Da for something to do.’
‘Do that,’ said Mam.
‘Glad to see the back of me.’ Cam spoke in that sort of loud whisper that was meant to be heard.
‘Get on with you.’ Mam flapped her hands at Cam as he went out the door.
Pin trotted after him – trotted because Cam walked very fast – from cot to shed to terrace. Da was ploughing the lower terrace, hot and heavy work. He stopped when he saw them and leaned on the plough.
‘You’ve a very little shadow, for such a great strong fellow.’ Da spoke to Cam, but he winked at Pin.
Cam turned, and Pin ran to stay behind him. ‘I’ve come to help.’
‘I don’t need help, lad.’ Da’s face was red and sweat-shiny. ‘But I could do with a drink. There – no, there, Pin-little. In the shade of the hedge.’
Pin found the flask and lugged it over to Da.
‘If you won’t have my help,’ said Cam, ‘at least hitch the grey to the plough.’
Da shook his head. ‘Not that beast. A lord’s horse, that.’
‘And I a Kayforl farmer’s son.’
‘Ah, you rest. You’ve done enough.’
Cam kicked at the ground with the toe of his boot. ‘I’ve done nothing. Nothing. Since I did come home.’
‘You fought; you’ve done enough.’
‘Enough for who? For what? To rot the rest of my days?’
Pin trailed Cam back up the hill. She wasn’t ready for him, when he whirled about and picked her up.
‘Ha! Never caught my own shadow before.’ He carried her upside down through the cot door and set her on the floor by the hearth. ‘I did find a strange-looking sack of flour out there, Mam.’
‘Aye. Strange indeed.’ Mam was laughing. ‘Full of weevils, from the way it’s wriggling.’
Pin was squirming about on the floor.
‘I’m off to the tavern.’ Cam unwound Pin’s fingers from his ankle. ‘So my shadow stays here.’
Mam halted in her work and just looked at Cam.
‘At least I’ve something I can do there.’ Cam blew her a kiss, and left.
‘Snail hunt tonight,’ said Da over tea.
‘Da?’ Pin asked. ‘Where is Cam? Ow!’
Edord had kicked her under the table.
Hughar tipped his head back and mimed pouring a drink down his throat. ‘Glug, glug.’ He wobbled his head about and crossed his eyes.
Edord shoved at him. ‘Get off.’
Da cuffed them both about the ears.
‘Not fair,’ said Hughar, but in a whisper. ‘It isn’t me at the—’ Mam was looking knives at him, and that squashed Hughar’s impudence.
‘I come home from the fighting, and for what?’
Pin jumped. There was Cam, leaning in the doorway. Maybe he had been to the tavern, but his eyes weren’t crossed. Pin looked closely.
‘More slaughter.’ Cam grinned.
Hughar whacked the flat of his hand on the table. ‘Splat. It’s great!’ He looked at Pin and ground the heel of his palm against the wood. ‘Euuw. It’s squishing between my fingers. Nyer. Snail guts.’
He reached across the table, fingers wiggling. Slapping his hands away, Pin squealed.
‘You do have your pattens on, Pin?’
‘Aye Da, but why?’
‘Tell her, Hughar.’
‘Squish them snails.’
Pin thought of her nice clean pattens, the steel black and shining and the wood scrubbed pale. ‘Da?’ she said. ‘I do not want to.’
‘Fffft,’ said Da. ‘No better weapon against snails, than a small girl in pattens.’
‘But—’
‘It is them or us, and I did plant those lettuces. They do be mine, they and the barter they get us at market.’
‘Right.’ Cam opened the door wide behind him and bowed. ‘Let’s hunt.’
Mam got the crock of beer.
‘Do not waste it on pests,’ said Cam. ‘I’ll be rid of it for you, if that is what you are wanting.’
She took the saucers from under the teacups, and Da held the torches in the fire until they took and burned. He gave them to the twins to hold.
‘Don’t you two set yourselves afire.’
Outside, the sky was big; black at the edges where it touched the earth, starlight-bleached in the middle. The house sat on the side of the hill, both house and hill round and low and dumpy. In the daylight you could see the little lumpen hillocks that lifted all across the valley, each with its round cot and terraces, all of them together making up the village of Kayforl. But now only the lamps showed, like yellow, earthbound stars.
Down on the terraces of the holding, the fruit trees lifted their leafy fingers high and brushed them, hissing, together. Shadows hung under the boughs. They would not pounce tonight, because Cam was here, and Da and Mam and the boys with the torches. Pin walked at Mam’s side, her pattens clumping loud on the ground. It was fun being scared when everyone was out th
ere, not like it was going to the outhouse on her own.
Hughar and Edord were already in among the lettuces, throwing snails on the ground and squashing them. Their feet went stomp, stomp, stomp and the snails made small, wet cracks and were no more. Mam was scooping shallow holes in the ground and setting the saucers in them, and Cam and Da went around filling each one with beer.
‘One for me,’ said Cam, and swigged from the bottle. ‘One for thee.’ He held the crock out to Da. For a moment Da stood and glared at Cam, then he took the crock. ‘Did you not wet your whistle enough, earlier?’
‘Bah.’
‘By all the great gods, you’re a thorny one.’
‘What would you know about it, Old Man?’
Shaking his head, Da filled a saucer with beer.
Cam shrugged. ‘And one for they.’
Then they moved to the next saucer to do it again, and the next and the next. Pin followed them, watching it all under the uneven torchlight.
‘Snails like a beer near as much as your brother,’ said Da, at length. ‘Best way to lure them.’
‘Tcch.’ Mam’s voice came out of the dark. ‘Leave him be.’
‘You listen to my mam,’ said Cam. ‘Leave me be.’
Cam took Pin riding on his shoulders, under the trees and around. ‘They took the old Lord of Dorn-Lannet’s castle, and the old Lord himself, like this: covered both the north and south approaches and stormed it. We’d only half the garrison there so we had to run up and down that wall’ – he climbed up on the orchard wall and trotted the length of it, Pin jouncing like a rag doll – ‘and down and up it, putting arrows into them. Those at the front, they gave back, but there were always more of them, and they kept coming.’