Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [97]
As soon as Rhodry dismounted to lead his horse through the narrow curving streets, he realized that he was in for the worst morning of his life. The townsfolk all bowed or curtsied as usual, but he was aware of hastily repressed smirks and snickers everywhere he went. Although he was the lord and they the commoners, satire was an injured man’s right, and apparently Ysgerryn had been exercising it to the hilt. Rhodry tied his horse up behind the house and slipped in like a thief.
Olwen was chopping turnips at the battered table in the kitchen. She was fifteen, a slender little thing with a heart-shaped face, big blue eyes, and a charming triangular smile. This morning, however, she looked up without the usual smile when Rhodry came in.
“Uh, I’ve brought you somewhat.” Rhodry laid the saddlebags on the table.
Olwen nodded and wiped her hands on her apron.
“Do the terms of the settlement please you?” Rhodry said.
She nodded again and began unlacing the bags.
“My mother sent along some honey and things like that.” Rhodry began to feel desperate. “Things that are strengthening, she said.”
She nodded a third time and began taking various pots and sacks out of the saddlebags.
“Olwen, please, won’t you talk to me?”
“And what do you want me to say?”
“Ah, by the hells, I don’t know!”
Olwen took out the small wooden box of coins, opened it, and stared at the heap of silver for a long time, her chance at a decent life. Rhodry paced around the kitchen while she counted out every coin.
“By the Goddess herself,” Olwen said at last. “Your mother’s a generous woman.”
“It’s not just her. I wanted you well provided for.”
“Truly?”
“Truly. Ye gods, what kind of a man do you think I am?”
Olwen considered the question with a weary sort of look in her eyes.
“A better one than most,” she said at last. “Are you waiting for me to weep? I’ve done all of that that I’m going to do.”
“Well and good. Will you give me one last kiss?”
“I won’t. Just go, will you?”
Rhodry took the saddlebags and headed out, pausing to glance back and see her calmly putting the coins back in the box. She looked more relieved than sad to have him gone. He mounted his horse and trotted out fast, letting the townsfolk get out of his way as best they could. His heart wasn’t lightened any when he returned to the dun and found the page waiting for him with the news that his mother wanted to speak with him straightaway. Although he wanted to make an excuse and duck out, he could never avoid the fact that Lovyan was no longer merely his mother, but his overlord, to whom he owed fealty as well as filial respect.
“I’ll wait upon her directly,” Rhodry said with a groan.
Lovyan was standing by the window in the reception chamber. The harsh morning sun brought out the wrinkles slashed across her cheeks and the gray in her once-dark hair, but she was still an imposing woman, if a bit stout from bearing four sons. She was wearing a white linen dress, kirtled with the green, silver, and blue plaid of the Maelwaedds, but thrown over the chair behind her was the red, brown, and white plaid of the Clw Coc, the symbol of the tierynrhyn. It struck Rhodry as odd that after all these years of thinking himself a Maelwaedd, one day he, too, would wear that foreign plaid.
“Well?” Lovyan said.
“I handed it all over.”
“Did the poor lass weep?”
“Frankly, I think the poor lass was cursed glad to get rid of me.”
“She might be, indeed. You’re very handsome,