Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [35]
“I don’t see why not.” The captain shared a grin with his men. “Is there one of your mother’s maids you fancy?”
“Do you know Mae, the golden-haired lass? She’s taken a tumble with me before this.”
“Well and good, then. We’ll do our best to smuggle her in tonight, when things are all quietlike.”
At the dinner hour, Galrion had his page bring him a flagon of mead and two goblets. He dug down into a chest and found his packets of dried herbs. Rhegor was teaching him simple herbcraft, and he’d brought his student work home mostly as a pleasant reminder of his days in the forest. Now he had a real need for that packet of valerian, the most potent soporific in an herbman’s stock. He ground up only a spare dose. He had no desire to make Mae ill with too much, and besides, the musty, thick taste of the herb could give his whole game away.
Toward midnight, Galrion heard Mae giggling in the corridor and the captain telling her to hush. He opened the door and saw that she was wearing a cloak with the hood up to hide her face, exactly as he’d hoped.
“Greetings, my sweet. How kind you are to a dishonored man.”
When Mae giggled, Galrion clapped his hand over her mouth in pretend alarm.
“Keep her quiet when you take her back, will you?” Galrion said to the captain.
“Hear that, lass?” the captain said. “Not one word out of you on the way back.”
Mae nodded, her big blue eyes as solemn as a child’s when it’s been let into a secret. Galrion ushered her inside and barred the door behind them. Mae took off her cloak, revealing a loose, flowing dress—loose enough, Galrion thought, to fit his shoulders nicely. He’d chosen her deliberately because she was tall for a lass.
“I’ve had the page bring us mead. Sit and drink with me awhile.”
“You’re always so gallant, my prince. It aches my heart to see you out of favor.”
“My thanks. And what about my marriage? Does that ache your heart, too?”
Mae merely shrugged and followed him into the bed-chamber. Galrion handed her the drugged goblet, then took a sip from his own, a gesture that automatically made her sip hers. They sat down together on the edge of the bed.
“Ah, well, we’ve had our good times, and a prince marries where the kingdom needs him to.” Mae grinned, winking. “I only hope your new wife never hears of me.”
“Oh, here—you must have a new man to be so agreeable.”
Mae had another long swallow of the mead and winked again.
“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t, but no one will find out where I’ve been tonight, and so what if he does? He won’t be arguing with the prince, I’ll wager, even if you are out of favor for now.” She had still another sip. “These bad times will pass, my prince. Your mother’s ever so upset, but she’ll talk the King round.”
“So I hope.”
Mae yawned, shaking her head, then had a sip of mead.
“This mead tastes so sweet,” she said. “It’s awfully good.”
“Only the best for you. Drink that up, and we’ll have a bit more.”
A bit more proved unnecessary. By the time she had finished that first goblet, Mae was yawning, shutting her eyes, then forcing them open. When she leaned over to set the goblet on the table beside the bed, she dropped it. Galrion grabbed her just as she fell forward into his arms.
Galrion undressed her, tucked her up comfortably into his bed, then got out the packet of herbs and left it by her goblet to make it clear that she’d been drugged, an unwilling accomplice. He paced restlessly round, letting enough time lapse to satisfy the guards. When he could bear to wait no longer, he changed into her clothes, drew the hood of the cloak around his face, and slipped out into the hall. Suspecting nothing, the guards gave him a leer and a wink, then escorted him along the dark corridors. At the door of the women’s hall, the captain gave him a friendly pat on the behind, told him that he was a good lass, and gallantly opened the door for him.
Dim moonlight filtered through the windows of the silent room. Galrion found the