A Time of Omens - Katharine Kerr [122]
Irritably she broke the vision and got up to pace back and forth in front of the dying fire. So far, the tavernman’s vague report of Lord Adry’s feud was the only clue she had, but if all the lords in this part of the province were about to be drawn into it, Rhodry could be riding for any one of ten different men. At least a siege will keep him put in one place, she thought, and by the gods of both my people and of men, everyone for miles around will be talking about the thing!
After Lord Erddyr led his men out, his wife took over the command of the dun and the fort guard. Lady Melynda, a stout woman, was as gray as her husband, with quick-humored blue eyes. Whenever she smiled, she kept her lips tight together, a gesture that made her seem supercilious. When Yraen got to know the lady better, he realized that Melynda was simply missing the teeth in the front of her mouth and hated to show it. During the evening, the lady sat at the head of the table of honor, with her two serving women to either side of her. Across the great hall, the fort guard ate quietly, minding their manners in deference to the lady. The days passed as slowly and silently as water running in a full stream, while the fort guard divided their time between keeping watch on the walls and exercising their horses, riding round and round the dun. Every now and then they would go perhaps a quarter of a mile down the main road, then gallop back fast for a bit of excitement.
After three days, the first messenger rode in, told Lady Melynda that the siege was going quietly, then rode out that same night on a fresh horse. The lady began an elaborate piece of needlework—a set of bed hangings, covered with interlaced tendrils and the red rose blazon of her husband’s clan. Up at the honor table, she and her serving women marked out the vast stretches of linen in silence and sewed on them grimly and steadily for hours at a time. Yraen found himself thinking about his mother, even though he was ashamed of himself for doing it, and her own needlework projects, so like the Lady Melynda’s, that helped her put griefs and disappointments aside. Most likely she’d started some new bed hangings or suchlike when the chamberlain had reported him gone.
On the fifth day, Rhodry rode back to the dun as Erddyr’s messenger. He was so clean and well-shaven that Yraen and everyone else could figure out that the siege was dragging on without incident. While he ate a hasty meal at one of the riders’ tables, the fort guard clustered round him and asked for news. There was none.
“Sieges are always tedious,” Rhodry said. “I wonder what’s happened to old Tewdyr and his lads?”
“Gathering allies, most like.” Yraen hoped that he was saying something knowledgeable. “Doesn’t Erddyr have any spies?”
“Probably, but no one tells me that sort of thing.”
The fort guard all sighed in agreement.
When he was done eating, Yraen walked him down to the gate and saw him off, just for something to do. Rhodry started to mount up, then hesitated, running one hand over his saddlebags.
“I’m thinking of leaving these here with you,” Rhodry said.
“Hum? Won’t you need—Oh, ye gods, the whistle.”
“Just that. It’s getting to be a nuisance, having to stay on watch every moment for thieves, and there we are, packed cheek by jowl into the camp, where everyone can hear every word I say, so I can’t even swear at the evil beast when I see him prowling round. But I don’t want to hand you a curse to guard for me.”
“How will these, uh, creatures know I’ve got the rotten thing?”
“Just so, but still, I hate to put you at risk.”
“I doubt me that I’ll be at one, and if I’m your apprentice, then it’s part of my labor to guard your possessions.”
“Well and good, then.” Rhodry began unlacing them from the saddle peak. “If you’re certain?”
“I am.”
Rhodry handed over the saddlebags, then mounted and rode out the gates.