Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [147]
“Oh, Aderyn can ride where he likes,” Nevyn said, “But I’m going to accompany the wounded back to Dun Gwerbyn.”
“What?”
“Here, lad, I haven’t told you before, but you’ve got a worse enemy than Loddlaen at your back. I intend to do a rear-guard action, shall we say? Aderyn can deal with Loddlaen, and indeed, he has to settle this matter by himself.”
Nevyn walked off before Rhodry could argue further, and for all that he was cadvridoc, he didn’t feel like trying to order the old man around.
Getting the army fed, packed, and moving took well over an hour, which Rhodry spent in a fury of impatience. To free his servant for other things, he saddled his own horse and got his gear together, then sent for Jill. He took her over to a cart carrying the mail salvaged from the slain men. Much to his horror, she’d never worn mail before.
“Ah, ye gods, how are you going to fight if you’re not used to the weight?”
“I’ll just have to get used to it fast, my lord.”
“Let’s pray you can, but this troubles my heart. Ah, by the black hairy ass of the Lord of Hell, I wish you weren’t riding with us.”
“It’s your Wyrd, and because of that, I’ll kill Corbyn, sure enough, even if I die with him.”
Jill spoke so quietly that he wanted to weep for the shame of it, that his Wyrd would put her in danger. He left her to find a mail shirt and helm and went out to the horse herd. Among the extra horses he had a particularly fine western hunter, named Sunrise, with a coat of the palest gold. He’d been keeping this horse out of the battles just because it was so valuable, but he was determined that Jill would have him. He saddled Sunrise up with a proper war saddle, then led it back to her. Seeing her wearing mail, with the hood pushed back around her shoulders and her golden hair gleaming in the sunlight, made his heart ache all over again. She was so beautiful, and for all he knew, his Wyrd had doomed her. Jill greeted him with a wry smile.
“You’re right about the weight. Ye gods, I never realized that mail was so heavy.”
“It’s a good two stone, sure enough.” He handed her the reins. “Here, silver dagger. Here’s the horse I promised you.”
“His lordship is far too generous.”
“He’s not. If I have to ask a lass to guard me, then she’ll cursed well get the best horse in the whole army.”
Jill laid her hand softly on his cheek.
“Rhodry, if you didn’t feel dishonored by this, I’d scorn you, but if you don’t let me fight for you, then you’re a dolt.”
He turned his face against her hand and kissed her fingers.
“Then I do as my lady commands, and live.”
He walked off, leaving her speechless behind him, and his mind was torn this way and that, like leaves driven by the autumn wind, between wanting her and fearing for her life.
At last the army was ready to ride. Alone at the head, Rhodry led his allies and his men north, following the road that zigzagged through fields and woodlands, curved maddeningly around farmsteads, and rambled through villages that Rhodry in his impatience felt were placed there just to slow him down. His one comfort was that Corbyn was traveling with wounded and thus would have to travel more slowly than he could. Late in the afternoon, he saw lying by the side of the road two corpses—some of Corbyn’s men who’d died from their wounds as they tried to keep up with the forced retreat. Rhodry halted the army, and Sligyn rode up beside him.
“Poor bastards,” Sligyn remarked.
“Just that. I wonder how many more we’ll find. Corbyn’s cursed desperate.”
“He’s got every right to be, eh? We’re riding to kill him.”
For all that he wanted to make speed, Rhodry had some of his men wrap the bodies in blankets and put them into one of the carts. That night, when they made camp, they buried them properly.
It was well after sunset when a messenger from Rhodry came to Dun Cannobaen. The men on fortguard, just as anxious as Lovyan was for news, crowded round while the scribe read out the dispatches. When she heard of Daumyr’s death, Lovyan groaned aloud.
“I’m heartsick at this news. He was a good man and a true one.” She