Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [187]
Everywhere writhed the open-jawed dragon of Aberwyn, carved onto the outer gates, displayed on the blue-and-silver banners hanging from the brochs, sculpted in marble in the center of the fountain, carved again on the doors into the broch, inlaid in blue slate on the floor of the great hall, blazoned on the shirts of every rider and servant, embroidered into the bed hangings and cushions of the luxurious chamber that Jill was going to share with Dannyan. On the mantel over their hearth there was even a small silver statuette of the dragon. Jill picked it up and studied it.
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” Dannyan said. “The Maelwaedds have always collected fine silver.”
“It is. It must have been quite a wrench for you to leave all this splendor when Her Grace retired to Cannobaen.”
“It was. I’ll admit to being just the least bit glad when Lovyan’s brother got himself killed. Terrible of me, but there you are.” Dannyan dismissed the subject with a little shrug. “Now, Jill, you’ll have to be very careful while we’re here.”
“Oh, I’m sure of that. Dann, I’m terrified.”
“Now, people will make some allowances, but follow what I do. Stick as close to me as possible, and please, don’t say horsedung and suchlike. You’re not in the barracks anymore. Now let’s have a bit of a wash, and then get you out of those nasty brigga and into a proper dress.”
Since Jill had never ridden sidesaddle in her life—and an untrained woman was in real danger—she’d been allowed to wear her old clothes on the ride to Aberwyn. She was surprised at how good they felt and how much she hated to take them off again. Once she was dressed to Dannyan’s satisfaction, Dannyan took her to the women’s hall to present her to the gwerbret’s wife. Donilla was a lovely woman, with fine dark eyes, a wealth of chestnut hair, and a figure as slender as a lass’s. She seated them graciously, and had a servant bring wine in real glass goblets, but she was distracted as she and Dannyan chatted, and all the time, she twisted and untwisted a silk handkerchief between her fingers. Jill was glad when they left.
“Dann,” Jill said as soon as they were back in the privacy of their chamber. “Is Her Grace ill or suchlike?”
“She’s not. Rhys is about to put her aside for being barren. My heart truly aches for her.”
“And what will happen to her?”
“Our lady’s going to make her a marriage with a widowed cousin of hers. He has heirs already, so he’ll be glad of a beautiful new wife. If it weren’t for that, she’d have to go back shamed to her brother. I doubt me if he’d receive her well.”
Jill felt honestly sick. She had never realized before just how dependent on their men noble-born women were. There was no chance for them to work a farm with the help of their sons, or to marry their dead husband’s apprentice and keep his shop, much less open a shop of their own. Suddenly she wondered what was going to become of her. Would she someday be reduced to cringing and fawning around Rhodry to make sure she still had his favor?
“Donilla will ride back with us when we leave,” Dannyan went on. “We’ll all have to be very kind to her. The worst thing of all is that she has to be there when Rhys publicly denounces her.”
“Oh, by the black ass of the Lord of Hell! Is His Grace as hardhearted as that?”
“Jill, lamb, do watch