Days of Air and Darkness - Katharine Kerr [67]
“Now then,” Tudvulc bellowed. “Elyc, where are you? We’ve got to ride straight to Belgwerger.”
On the edge of the crowd, Elyc turned his mount in the gwerbret’s direction.
“What about the horses? They’re tired, and Rhannyr can’t remount us all.”
“Too cursed bad! Your wife and my daughters are in that dun with a poisoner.”
Since Rhannyr’s vastly pregnant wife had no need of them, Sevinna rode back on that lady’s palfrey and in her proper sidesaddle. Tudvulc and Elyc headed the march, with Sevinna and Dwaen riding side by side just behind them, leaving the silver daggers and the warbands to sort themselves out however they wanted. Chivvying and growling, Tudvulc kept them moving at a good pace, too, marching his improvised army up to the city gates well before sunset. As they hurried through the town, the citizens fled out of the way like Rhannyr’s chickens.
They trotted into the dun, where pages and servants rushed to greet them and sort out this plethora of unexpected guests. When she looked up at the broch tower, Sevinna saw figures in the window of the women’s quarters. One of them had to be Taurra, she assumed, watching and wondering at the uproar below. Once they were close to the broch and out of the worst confusion, Dwaen swung down and helped her dismount.
“My thanks, my lord.”
“Most welcome, my lady.”
When they exchanged a smile, the events of the past few days suddenly became real to her. Oh, by the Goddess! she thought. This man is my husband, and I barely know him. She turned away with a scatter of tears.
When she’d got herself under control, Dwaen slipped his arm through hers and escorted her into the great hall, where frantic servants were dragging extra benches up to tables. Yelling for ale, Elyc grabbed a page and sent him upstairs to fetch Lady Davylla and her womenfolk down to the hall. Sevinna allowed Dwaen to seat her at the table of honor, then looked round for Jill, who was standing with Rhodry beside Tudvulc and talking intently to the gwerbret. Every now and then, Tudvulc grunted in agreement. At the far side of the hall, the weary riders were sorting out who would sit where as quietly as they could. Elyc sat himself down at the head of the table of honor with a long yawn.
“We’re going to clear this wretched mess up right away. While we were riding to Rhannyr’s dun, Tudvulc was telling me about this poisoner. If this Taurra’s her, then she’s no guest of mine.”
By the time that the ladies came down, the men were all seated, drinking ale in grim silence. In a rustle of silks and a flash of jewels, the women hurried into the hall, Lady Davylla and Wbridda in the lead, Babryan and Taurra just behind. Taurra had put on a plain dress, dark-colored, shabby from mending, and swept her dark hair back in a simple copper clasp, the very picture of a humble bewildered penitent, but she walked in proudly, head held high, her eyes calm, as if she were sure of her innocence before the gods. Sevinna felt a ripple of fear mixed with awe, as if she were going to see a wild boar brought to bay.
Taurra glanced round and saw Dwaen. She stiffened, her eyes flashing rage, her hands clasping as if she would claw him. Dwaen rose and made her a bow.
“Well met, Lady Mallona. I doubt me if you truly want news of your husband, Lord Beryn, but I’ll offer it to you.”
“What?” A bewildered Davylla turned this way and that between them. “Who is this man? Elyc—”
“Sit down and be quiet!” Elyc snapped. “This woman’s lied to you and deceived us all, and I’m putting a stop to it right now.”
“I take it then that my lord has already judged and condemned me,” Mallona said in her quiet strong voice. “And all on the word of a man he doesn’t know.”
“I have a good bit more evidence than Tieryn Dwaen’s word. You may sit, too, while we discuss this.”
“I prefer to stand. Like the accused I am.”
Servants stepped forward with a chair for Davylla, who sank into it, gathering Babryan and Wbridda round her to huddle on the floor by her feet.