Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [177]
“I’ve come to beg for your forgiveness and your pardon,” Cinvan said, his voice choking on his shame. “For raising my sword in rebellion against you.”
“This is a grave thing you ask of me. What restitution do you offer?”
“Twenty horses, coin for my share of lwdd for Daumyr and all men dead, and my little son to live in your dun as hostage.”
Although Jill was thinking that this sounded a small fee for so much trouble, Lovyan nodded.
“If the gwerbret approves those terms, I shall take them. No doubt you’re hungry after your long ride. You may sit with my men, and a servant will feed you.”
Cinvan winced, but as a sign of submission, he did it, taking a place at the end of one of the riders’ tables. They all ignored him, looking through him as if he were made of glass. As the general chatter picked up again, Jill turned to whisper to Dannyan.
“Why did our lady let him off so lightly?”
“He’s a poor lord as it is. He’ll have to borrow from every cousin he has just to pay the lwdd, and if our lady made his clan destitute, they’d rise in rebellion some fine day.”
“Besides,” Medylla put in, “by being so generous, she’s shamed him good and proper. That’ll sting worse than the coin.”
The two nodded sagely at each other. Jill realized that they were going to be her guides and teachers in this new world, where intrigue was as dangerous as a thousand swords.
As soon as possible Jill left the table and went to look in on her father. As she made her way down the corridor, she heard laughter coming from his chamber, and when she opened the door, she saw Rhodry, sharing a meal with Cullyn. The sight of them together made her freeze, her hand on the open door, as they both turned to look at her. The lantern light seemed to swell into the glow of a fire, picking out the glitter of the silver dagger in Cullyn’s hand.
“Well, by the gods!” Cullyn said. “This fine lady can’t be my scruffy little silver dagger’s brat.”
“Da, don’t tease. I’m miserable enough as it is.” She allowed herself one glance at Rhodry. “I’ll leave you to your talk with your captain, my lord.”
“My thanks,” Rhodry said.
Jill stepped out and shut the door behind her. Only then did she realize that she was terrified, just from seeing Cullyn and Rhodry together, as if in some mad way, she thought they were plotting about her behind her back.
• • •
Seven days passed without a word from Gwerbret Rhys, who would have to oversee the judgments Lovyan made upon her rebel lords. Rhodry was furious, seeing the delay as a slap at him, a perception no one bothered to deny. Jill’s presence in the dun was another constant torment; he simply couldn’t keep his mind off her, and seeing her was worse, making him remember their night together, the first time he’d ever had a woman who could match him in bed. He took to spending as much time as possible alone, going for long rides or merely walking out in the ward.
During one of these aimless rambles he ran across Cullyn, down by the back wall of the dun. Although his left arm was still in a sling, Cullyn was working out with one of the light wooden swords used to train young boys. Moving so slowly that it was a kind of dance, Cullyn was lunging and falling back while he described a figure eight with the point of the blade in a perfect concentration that was more like a dweomer than swordplay. Even sore and weak, Cullyn was a marvel when he moved with a weapon in his hand. Finally he noticed that Rhodry was watching him and stopped to make him a bow.
“How does your arm fare?” Rhodry said.
“Not too badly, my lord. Maybe tomorrow we’ll get the splints off for a look, the herbman tells me.” Cullyn glanced around, then pointed at a second wooden sword that was leaning against the wall. “Ever tried to spar this slowly?”
“I haven’t.” Rhodry took the sword. “Looks like a good game.”
To keep things fair, Rhodry tucked his left arm behind his back. The sparring seemed like a humorous parody of real combat at first, with both of them moving like men in a trance. It was a matter of moving in slowly, catching the other