The Dog of the North Read Online Free

she’d agreed to marry him. Arren set himself to be equally patient until Eilla should arrive – providing she wasn’t caught. Or did she intend to leave him
there on his own to get into trouble sneaking back into the city? He wouldn’t put it past her. He sat down at a table in the corner of the bustling courtyard.
    Precisely as The Patient Suitor’s bell chimed for midday, however, Eilla appeared on the cobbles. He could see that she had been successful in securing her third item of plunder; it would
have been hard to miss: a live cow strolling at the end of a long rope. As the patrons thronging the courtyard eased aside, she led the cow over to the table.
    ‘Eilla! What have you got?’ said Arren, in mingled awe, bafflement and suspicion.
    ‘What does it look like to you? In my house we call this a cow. I have three items. I am Queen of the Raiders. My items are better than yours, because they’re bigger.’
    ‘Where did you get it?’ Arren nodded at the cow.
    ‘I thought the King of the Raiders had to be intelligent. It was in the cattle pen at the market. I opened the gate, took hold of the rope and walked out. No one stopped me. Now we can
have our feast. Look, an apple, a nice cheese, and a cow.’
    Arren folded his arms and sat back. ‘The cow doesn’t count. You can’t eat it.’
    Eilla screwed her face up. ‘Of course you can eat a cow. It’s called beef.’
    ‘You can’t eat it now, stupid. It’s alive.’
    ‘Well then, what about milk? Find me a pail, and I’ll milk it. Anyway, what have you got?’
    Arren brought his items out and laid them on the smooth heavy wood beside Eilla’s. ‘First, a lemon. Rare and very tasty! Next, a crisp fresh loaf. Feel, it’s still warm. Last,
a necklace, with red and blue beads.’
    ‘Ha! If you can’t eat a cow, you surely can’t eat a necklace. Although I’ll have it anyway: it should go on the neck of the Raider Queen.’
    Arren handed it over. At ten years old he had no sweetheart in mind to give it to. The only girls worth playing with were the ones who thought they were boys, like Eilla.
    Eilla nonetheless displayed a feminine delicacy in arranging the trophy around her neck. ‘Have you ever eaten a lemon, Arren?’ she asked with a smile.
    ‘Of course! My father is always bringing home titbits from Lord Thaume’s castle. We’ve had oranges, lemons and limes, redders, all the fruits you could imagine.’
    ‘And how do lemons and oranges differ?’
    ‘You really are a stupid girl, Eilla. A lemon is yellow, an orange is orange. And redders are red.’
    ‘I don’t believe I’ve ever eaten a lemon. Will you show me how?’
    ‘Of course.’ Arren pulled out his pocket-knife and deftly removed the peel. A little knowledge could go a long way, and the lemon appeared identical in every respect except colour to
the oranges Darrien often bought home. He carefully split the lemon into two equal portions, offering one to Eilla. ‘Here, you just eat it now.’
    Eilla weighed the lemon in her hand and looked at Arren. ‘Do you eat it all in one? Or cut it into little pieces?’
    ‘Oh! Some Raider Queen you are! Look! One mouthful – like this! Uuurgh! Ohhhh! Pah!’
    ‘Arren! Dear me! Here, have mine too . . .’
    By the time they returned to the city, with the cow in tow, and only partly fortified by a lunch of bread, cheese and apple, Arren suspected that trouble waited. Eilla had
hidden the necklace away in her pocket: Arren wondered whether it was worth the whipping Jandille would give her.
    Darrien and Jandille waited by the gate. Jandille grabbed Eilla by the hair and hauled her off home for punishment. Darrien said nothing, indicating his wishes with a jerk of his head.
    They walked back from the gate to Darrien’s cottage near the East Walls in silence. The crowds were gone. Once home, Ierwen was waiting. Matten sat on a chair, his eyes red. He fidgeted
and shot Arren a reproachful glance.
    ‘Before I beat you, Arren, have you