Darkspell - Katharine Kerr [114]
“Will hell turn warm and grow flowers? I’ve come to haggle with your lord myself. Will you let me pass by?”
“Ah, we’ll escort you back. You’ll find our lord a good sight more generous than Marclew, but I’ll warn you: he’s short up for coin right now.”
Although Jill stayed on her guard at first, the six of them treated her gallantly, commiserating with her on her difficult situation. The war had yet to reach the stage when men rape as casually as they kill. She had to admit to herself, too, that she was glad of the armed guard, even though she couldn’t say why she knew that she needed one.
Another four miles on, Ynryc’s dun perched at the crest of a hill. Behind the walls rose a massive stone broch almost as wide as it was high, a thing Jill had never seen before, and the usual collection of huts and sheds. Horses, tied up outside for want of enough stables, filled the cobbled ward. At the edge of the herd Jill saw Rhodry’s blood-bay warhorse, haltered off to one side as if a silver dagger’s horse shared his shame.
One of Jill’s impromptu guards, a stocky blond named Arddyr, took her into the great hall, as crowded as a town on market day. Among extra tables and piles of bedrolls, nearly two hundred warriors stood or sat, drinking ale and talking over the fighting to come. At the table of honor four men in the plaid brigga of the noble-born sat studying a parchment map. When Jill followed Arddyr over, a paunchy, grizzled lord turned their way.
“Lord Ynryc?” Arddyr said. “May this lass trouble you for a moment? Do you remember Rhodry, the silver dagger? This is his wife, and Marclew’s refusing to ransom him for her.”
“The old pig’s turd!” Ynryc turned to another lord. “Well, Maryl, I’ve won our wager and you owe me a silver piece.”
“So I do. My faith that Marclew might have a scrap of honor left has just cost me dear. But here, lass, I’ve never heard of a silver dagger with a wife before.”
“Doubtless I’m the only lass in the kingdom stupid enough to ride off with one, my lord, but he means the world to me. I don’t have five silver pieces, but I’ll give you every copper I’ve got to have him back.”
Ynryc hesitated, chewing on the edge of his mustache, then shrugged.
“A copper as a token,” he said. “And naught more.”
“If I were a bard, my lord, I’d praise your name as it deserves in the best verse I could sing.”
In some little while, Arddyr led in Rhodry, who was carrying his saddlebags slung over one shoulder and his bedroll tucked under his arm. He dropped his gear onto the floor and knelt at the lord’s feet. When Jill handed over the token copper, Ynryc gave Rhodry back his sword and bade him rise.
“You’re a lucky man to have a brave woman like this,” Ynryc said. “Promise me you’ll never ride against me in this war.”
“With all my heart,” Rhodry said. “Do you think I’m stupid enough to ride for Marclew again?”
All the lords laughed aloud.
Since Ynryc was as generous as a lord should be, he let Jill and Rhodry eat among his servants that night and gave them shelter in his dun. After much searching through the crowded fort, a servant found them a place to sleep in a storage shed. Among strings of onions and barrels of ale Jill spread out their blankets while Rhodry held his sword up to the lantern light and examined every inch of it.
“It’s not nicked, is it?” she said.
“It’s not, thanks be to the gods of war.” He sheathed it and laid the sheath down beside him. “Oh, my love, you’re too good for a dishonored man like me.”
“I know it, but I love you anyway.”
Grinning, he put his hands on her shoulders, stroking her, drawing her close.
“I’ve never even thanked you properly for my ransom,” he whispered. “Come lie down with me.”
As soon as his mouth touched hers, Jill could think of nothing but him, but later, when she lay clasped in his arms, both of them half-asleep, she felt fear ripple through her mind again. She was glad that they were safely inside a dun, with a small army around them.
“As far as I can tell,” Alastyr said thoughtfully, “they’re about a day