Days of Air and Darkness - Katharine Kerr [16]
Jill left the kitchen hut to find a battle brewing. A pair of kitchen maids were standing by the well, their buckets forgotten beside them while they took turns sneering at a blond lass who had her hands set on her hips and her mouth twisted in sheer rage.
“You’ve got a man in the village,” said one of the mockers.
“And what business is it of yours?”
“None, I’m sure, but you’d best be careful, you with one bastard already.”
“You’re naught but a slut, Vyna,” the other mocker joined in, and she was a severe sort with squinty eyes at that. “I don’t see how you can carry on like that, with never a thought for the consequences.”
“Don’t you call me a slut.” Vyna’s voice was dangerously level.
“I will!” said Squinty Eyes. “Slut! Slut! Slut! Leaving your baby behind you!”
Scarlet with rage, Vyna charged, grabbed her hair with one hand, and slapped her across the mouth with the other. Shrieking, the third lass joined in, all of them pulling each other’s hair and scrabbling with their nails at each other’s faces. Jill ran forward and intervened just as the cook came waddling and yelling out of the kitchen. While the cook bellowed for peace, Jill grabbed the pair of lasses and knocked them apart so hard that they cowered back by the wall. Vyna stood sobbing, her dress torn, the tears running down her face.
“My thanks, Silver Dagger,” the cook said. “As for you two, get on with your work. You’ve tormented the lass enough, and I’m sick to my guts of hearing it.”
Jill caught Vyna’s arm and led her to a private spot among the various huts and storage sheds. Sniveling, the lass wiped her face on her apron and stammered out thanks.
“Most welcome. I hate seeing two against one in a fight.”
“They’ve been on me and on me ever since I came here. Don’t they know how much it ached my heart to give up my baby? I miss him every day, but I had no choice.”
“Where did you leave him? With your kin?”
“I didn’t. My Mam wouldn’t take me in.” Vyna stared down at the ground, and her voice dropped. “But I was lucky, I suppose. I used to work in another dun, and the lady gave me the coin to put my baby in fosterage to a farmer’s wife she knew.”
“I see. It wasn’t Cadlew’s dun, was it?”
“It wasn’t. What made you think so?”
“Oh, just an idle wondering. He and the tieryn seem such close friends.”
“They are, but they’d never notice the likes of me. Here, my thanks again, but I’ve got to get back to my work.”
She turned and ran across the ward, dodging among the huts as if to hide from Jill and the world as well.
Jill went upstairs to the women’s hall, which filled half of the second floor of the broch, a spacious sunny room with two Bardek carpets on the polished wood floor and a profusion of chairs and cushions scattered about. Ylaena and the dowager Slaecca sat together near a window, sewing on an embroidered coverlet that draped both their knees—part of Ylaena’s dowry, Jill assumed. Jill bowed to the dowager and knelt beside her chair.
“Now you’re not to trouble your heart, my lady. Lady Ylaena can tell you that I don’t carry a sword just for the pretty scabbard, so no one’s going to harm you.”
Slaecca whispered out a thanks so faint that her daughter leaned forward and squeezed her hand for reassurance.
“Come now, Mam, Lord Cadlew’s promised me that he’ll guard our Dwaen, too. I’ll just wager the gwerbret puts a stop to all of this as soon as he finds out.”
“I’ll pray so,” Slaecca said. “Oh, by the Goddess! I don’t want things coming to a war.”
At dinner that night, Dwaen found out how seriously Rhodry took his post as bodyguard when a page brought them each a tankard of ale. Just as the tieryn went to drink, the silver dagger grabbed his wrist and snatched the tankard.