Page 23 of Fortress of Snow

She was heading toward the small stand of trees next to the stable to look for a good-sized stick when she heard someone crying. Stepping around the side of the stable, she came upon Roger sitting with his back against the wooden building, his head down and almost resting on his knees.

“Roger? Are you hurt?”

He quickly scrubbed his face with his hands and sniffed. “No.”

“It’s all right. I was about to go for a walk. Would you want to go with me?”

He shook his head, then wiped his nose on his sleeve.

Mazy picked a leaf off a low-hanging branch and studied it, tracing the veins with her fingernail. “Is there anything you want to talk to me about?”

Roger shook his head, then after a short pause, he said, “Do you like music?”

“Yes. Do you?”

“I heard a song once on Midsummer’s Eve that was about a boy who gave a flower to a girl and she wore it in her hair. Do you know that song?”

“I know the very one.”

“I know that song too.”

They both turned to find Sir Berenger standing a few feet behind Mazy. He strode forward, joining them.

“I was just thinking,” Roger said, sniffing again, his facedried but his eyelashes still dark and wet, “I would sure like to hear that song again. I wonder when the duke will hire some players to come back to Strachleigh.”

“I could play it for you if I had a lute.”

Sir Berenger and Roger both stared at her.

“You can play the lute?” Sir Berenger asked.

“I can.”

“Delia has a lute. I’ll borrow it from her if you will play a song for us.”

“Would you?” Roger asked excitedly.

“Of course.” She would probably not get to go on her solitary walk today, as playing a lute always drew a crowd, but it would be worth it if it distracted Roger from his unhappy thoughts.

A few minutes later Sir Berenger was striding toward them with a beautiful lute, painted with brightly colored flowers. And sure enough, there was already a small crowd following him.

Sir Berenger found a stump for her to sit on. She sat and started strumming, reminding herself of how the song went. Was she brave enough to play and sing, too, with all these people around her, especially in front of Sir Berenger?

“I will play the song, but you all have to help me sing it. Roger? That means you.”

The boy smiled. “I will help!”

Mazy started to play the song and then to sing. Several people in the crowd joined in. Some knew slightly different words to the song, but it sounded quite nice, Mazy thought. The best part was the way Roger looked—so happy and content as they all sang the song he had requested.

When the song was over—or, rather, when no one could remember any more of the verses—Mazy asked, “Does anyone else know how to play an instrument?”

Sir Berenger had such a guilty look on his face that she asked, “Do you know an instrument, Sir Berenger?”

“I play the pipe, but I’m not very good at it.”

“Go get it! You must play with me.” Mazy and the rest of the crowd, which had grown quite large, began shouting for Sir Berenger to get his pipe.

He good-naturedly gave in, and a few minutes later he came back with a pipe, which looked very small in his large hand.