Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [197]
“I figured that,” Cullyn said.
“Do we ride today, captain?”
“It depends on Her Grace.” Cullyn shot an anxious glance at the closed door to the bedchamber. “If we do stay, I don’t want brawling and suchlike tonight at table. Remember that.”
“Then, captain, we’d best eat in the barracks.”
Amyr dumped Rhodry’s gear on a table, then hurried off before a servant wandered in and found him there. Cullyn picked up Rhodry’s sword and drew it half out of the scabbard so that Jill could see the double device, the dragon of Aberwyn and the lion of his adopted clan, both engraved on the blade.
“May the gods blast me if I let Rhys hang it up in his chamber of justice as a mark of Rhodry’s shame! The thing is, how are we going to smuggle it out?”
“Easily, Da. I’ll wear it out.”
“What?”
“If I put on my old clothes, and Dann trims my hair short, and I ride with the warband with a sword in an old scabbard, who’s going to notice?”
Cullyn laughed, his soft mutter of a chuckle.
“No one. And I don’t mean the herbman, either. Well and good, my sweet. You’re my daughter, sure enough.”
Eventually Nevyn came out with the news that Lovyan was too exhausted to ride that day. When Cullyn pointed out that it would be best to get Rhodry’s warband away from Rhys’s men, Nevyn immediately agreed.
“And I’ve got to get out of here myself. Soon enough everyone will remember that little show I put on in the malover. I’ll have a word with Dannyan, and you get the men ready to ride before we have a brawl on our hands.”
“I will. And Jill, change your clothes.”
Since everyone in the dun had known Jill only as Rhodry’s beautiful mistress, no one noticed the scruffy young silver dagger who rode out with the Clw Coc men. As they clattered along the north-running road out of Aberwyn, Jill turned in the saddle for a last glimpse of the silver-and-blue dragon pennant, flying high over the broch.
“And may I never see Rhys’s ugly face again!”
“Once more,” Amyr said. “When he has to stand there in full malover and announce Lord Rhodry’s recall.”
It was a beautiful fall day, as warm as summer, with a bluish haze hanging over the distant fields of ripe gold wheat. As they rode north, the River Gwyn sparkled as white as its name as it ran fast beside the road. Jill felt like singing. She wondered what was wrong with her, that she’d feel nothing but joy; then she realized what she should have known all along, from that first horrible moment when Rhodry got to his feet in the chamber of justice. The door to her cage was standing open—-if she had the courage to fly.
• • •
As soon as he was outside the city, Rhodry kicked his horse to a canter for the first couple of miles, then let it slow to a brisk walk. As they headed east, he kept up a walk-trot pace, making all the speed he could while the horse was fresh. By law, an exile was under the gwerbret’s special protection until he left the rhan, but that law had been broken more than once. Some of Rhys’s men were likely to decide to curry favor from their lord by following and murdering the man who’d mocked him in his very chamber of justice. Every now and then, Rhodry turned in the saddle to look back. The only weapon he had was his half-elven eyesight, which could pick out from a long distance away the telltale plume of dust that his pursuers would raise on the road.
The road between Aberwyn and Abernaudd ran straight while the seacoast curved in and out, sometimes close to the road, sometimes a good mile away. As he jogged along, Rhodry kept an eye out for places to hide if he had to, but mostly he saw small farms, whose owners would doubtless refuse shelter to a man pursued by the gwerbret’s riders. Here and there, though, were stands of woodland. If he hid in one of them, his murderers would have to dismount to find him, and he’d have a chance to kill one with his dagger before the others cut him to shreds.
At times, he considered merely stopping and letting Rhys’s men catch him, or perhaps turning his horse loose