Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [174]
“You know,” the old man said. “There’s more than one kind of battle that a man has to fight.”
Cullyn felt shame flood him like cold water, but mercifully Nevyn left without another word. Cullyn leaned back against the shutters and felt himself shaking. As soon as he was well, he told himself, he was going to ride out and leave Jill behind under Lovyan’s protection. It was going to hurt like poison, but it was best that way. He knew he could do it when the time came, because he’d be doing it for her sake, and if he died in his next battle, somewhere far from Eldidd, she’d never even have to know he was dead.
“Cullyn?” Rhodry said.
Cullyn looked up with a start; he’d never even noticed the lord come in.
“How do you fare? I can leave.”
“I’m fine, my lord.”
Rhodry had never looked more like a lord than he did that morning, in his soft shirt embroidered with red lions, his plaid thrown back from his shoulders and pinned at one side with a jeweled ring brooch, his hand on the hilt of his finely worked sword, but Cullyn found himself thinking of him as a boy, and one he might have loved like a son. It was going to hurt to leave Rhodry behind, too.
“Will you forgive me for taking Jill off to war?” Rhodry said. “It ached my heart to let a lass do my fighting for me.”
“And who were you to argue with dweomer? You know, my lord, ever since Jill was a little lass, all she ever talked about was getting a chance at battle glory. I’m not surprised she grabbed her chance when it came. She always could lie like a little weasel when she wanted somewhat.”
“Well, maybe so.” Rhodry looked sharply away. “But you truly do forgive me? It’s been aching my heart, wondering what you thought of me.”
“Here, lad. It doesn’t become the noble-born to care one way or another what a dishonored man like me thinks of them.”
“Oh, horseshit! You must have been dishonored once, or you wouldn’t be carrying that dagger, but what do I care what you did all those years ago? I came to offer you a place in my warband, and not just any place. I want you for my captain. It’s not just me—Amyr and the lads have been dropping hints, like, about how honored they’d be to ride behind you.”
“Oh, ye gods, I can’t take that.”
“What? Why not?”
“I—uh—it’s just not fitting.”
“Nonsense!” Rhodry tossed his head. “I even asked Sligyn what he thought of the idea, and he said it was a cursed good one. You don’t need to worry about my vassals looking down their noses at you or suchlike.”
Cullyn opened his mouth, but no words came. He could never tell Rhodry the real reason he wanted to ride away from the most generous lord he’d ever met.
“Oh, by the hells, Cullyn! Are you truly going to say me nay?”
“I’m not, my lord.”
“Well and good, then. We can leave all the kneeling and fine words for when you’re better. Here, your face is white as snow. Let me help you up, captain. You’d better lie down.”
Cullyn took the offered aid and made it safely back to his bed. After Rhodry left, he lay there and stared at the ceiling. Rhodry had handed him back the honor and decency he thought he’d lost forever, but he would know that he was unworthy, that everything was poisoned at the heart. Jill, Jill, he thought, how could I—my own daughter! He turned his face to the pillow and wept for the first time since he’d lain on Seryan’s grave, and this time, too, he was weeping for her and for their daughter.
After Cullyn ordered her out of his chamber, Jill went down to the great hall in a sulk, but soon she realized that it was probably best that she be gone when Rhodry and Cullyn were together. Since the warbands were off tending their horses, and the noble-born in conference with the tieryn up in Sligyn’s sickroom, the hall was deserted except for a serving lass, desultorily wiping the tables with a wet rag. Jill dipped herself a tankard of ale, then stood by the warband’s hearth, where a peat fire smoldered against the chill. In a few minutes Rhodry came down the staircase