Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [124]
The lords grinned and saluted her with their goblets. Caradoc ran to the table with a young silver dagger in tow.
“Messages, my lady, from Lord Rhodry.”
The silver dagger knelt and drew the message out of his shirt. As she took them, Lovyan noticed his smooth face and wondered how one so young could have earned the ill-omened dagger.
“Carro, take this lad over to the men and get him some food, then fetch the scribe.”
Although Lovyan was perfectly capable of reading the message herself, it would have hurt the scribe’s feelings. He snappily shook out the rolled parchment and cleared his throat several times as the lords leaned onto the table to listen. Rhodry described in terse detail the battle at the ruined dun, then ordered the reinforcements to ride northwest to meet him. He was making for a little tributary of the Brog while he tried to circle round Corbyn’s army.
With a clatter of chairs being shoved back and the jingle of swords at their sides, the lords rose to do his bidding. The scribe leaned over to whisper.
“A private note at the end, Your Grace. From Nevyn.”
Lovyan snatched the parchment.
“My dear Lovva,” the note ran. “Although the situation is grave, I have cause for hope. Our dweomer enemy is so daft that it’s a marvel he presents any threat at all. Aderyn and I will keep Rhodry safe, I’ll wager. May I beg you for a boon? The silver dagger who rode this message is not the lad she seems, but a lass, and someone dear to me. Would you give her proper shelter? Your humble servant, Nevyn.”
“Oh, by the gods!” Lovyan laughed aloud. “Carro, run and fetch that silver dagger to me. Tell her to bring her meal and finish it here.”
“Her, Your Grace?”
“Just that. I must be going blind or suchlike.”
When the silver dagger brought her trencher of bread and meat to the table, Lovyan could see that, indeed, she was female and quite pretty at that. She introduced herself as Jill, the daughter of Cullyn of Cerrmor.
“Well, isn’t this interesting? So you’re the daughter of a famous man. Have you known Nevyn long, child?”
“Only a few days, Your Grace, but truly, I never met a man I like more, for all his dweomer.”
“I felt much the same, when first we met. Now, finish your meal. After we see the warbands off, we’ll get you a bath and find you a chamber up in the women’s quarters.”
When they came out to the ward, the riders were already bringing their horses into line, and the carters were hitching their teams to the carts. Every lord in the tierynrhyn owed Lovyan his fully provisioned warband for forty days a year—and not one day more. Her heart was heavy as she wondered if Corbyn would make the war drag on beyond that just so she would have to pay the lords to serve longer. Sligyn, of course, would fight at his own expense for as long as necessary. She doubted the others, even though they gathered around her with every show of respect.
“Until you join up with Rhodry, my lords,” Lovyan said, “Edar will be your cadvridoc.”
“My thanks for the honor, Your Grace,” Edar said with a bow. “I’ll send a man back with a message as soon as we’ve found them. Let’s hope it’s quick.”
“Indeed. May the gods ride with you.”
Lovyan and Jill stood in the doorway of the broch and watched as the army slowly got itself into a line of march and filed out the gates of the dun.
“If you’ve been riding with your father, you must have seen this many a time.”
“I have, Your Grace, and every time, I’m half sick with fear, wondering if I’ll see Da again.”
Lovyan was suddenly struck by what life would be like out on the roads with no family to turn to if her father were slain. It gave her a sick feeling. No matter what had happened to her husband, she herself would always have been safe, an important member of her vast clan. She caught Jill’s filthy hand and squeezed it.
“Well, here, child. You’ve come to a safe place now. For Nevyn’s sake alone I’d offer you my shelter, but I’d be a poor excuse for a noble-born woman if I couldn’t care for the orphan of a man who died in my service. No matter what happens, you’ll have a