Days of Blood and Fire - Katharine Kerr [66]
She’d never had so much company or entertainment, either. If either the gwerbret or the prince were in attendance in the hall—and they could only enter with their wives’ permission—a bard was allowed to join them as well, either to sing or to perform tales in the form known as “Conversations.” When the women were alone, Labanna would devote herself to her work. She had the entire dun to administer, with all its problems of managing servants and supplies. The other women, and Labanna herself when she had time, occupied themselves with their perpetual sewing, since every piece of clothing that anyone wore in the dun was made there as well. Being as she’d always loved to sew, Carra was perfectly happy to do her share. She’d never had such a choice of fine cloths in her life before, either, nor so many colors of thread.
Carra had come to Cengarn only a few weeks before, fleeing a marriage to a rich but ugly old lord that her brother had arranged, all unknowing that she was already pregnant by her elven prince. Since the journey had been anything but easy, she’d arrived utterly exhausted. At first, sitting in a sunny chair and basking in the attention of other women had been the greatest luxury of all. Yet soon enough she’d recovered her strength, and with the recovery she began to realize how greatly her marriage had changed her life.
Back when she’d been living in her brother’s dun, a useless third sister dumped onto his care by the death of his father, Carra had had a great deal more freedom to go about alone and on her whims. Now, whenever she announced she wanted to go for a walk in the ward, Labanna summoned pages to attend her. Whenever she wanted to leave the dun, vast consultations occurred, and the equerry or chamberlain, if not both, along with several men from her husband’s war-band, escorted her. If Labanna had orders to give, such as to the cook in the kitchen hut, then Carra was allowed to go with her, but again, the two women were never alone, always moving in a crowd of pages, servants, and the noble-born servitors themselves.
“I used to love to go riding,” she remarked one day. “Just me, you know. Or maybe I’d take a couple of dogs, and we’d just go trotting round my brother’s lands. Naught evil ever happened to me, really it didn’t.”
The three older women merely smiled, leaving her wondering if she’d actually spoken aloud or not.
“Well,” Carra went on. “Soon I’m going to be really pregnant, and I won’t be able to ride then. So that’s why I want to go now.”
“My dear child,” Labanna said at last. “You’re not some scruffy younger daughter anymore, but a married woman and a princess. Soon you’ll be traveling to your husband’s country, and that will simply have to be enough adventure for you.”
“Which reminds me,” Ocradda broke in. As the elder of the two serving women, she was Labanna’s main confidante in the dun. “Is it really wise to allow the princess to ride so far in her condition?”
“I feel fine,” Carra said. “And I rode all the way here, didn’t I?”
“A good point, Occa.” Again, Labanna spoke as if Carra had said not a word. “But I’m afraid her place lies with Tier husband’s people. When he rides out, she’ll have to ride with him.”
Carra decided that she hated hearing about her “place.” She felt that she’d become a treasured plate or goblet, put safely on a shelf where none could harm it.
Her mood wasn’t helped any by her husband’s attitude. Every evening Dar appeared at the door of the hail to escort her down to dinner, and he spent of course his nights in the chamber they shared, but by and large he seemed to be leaving her alone as much as he could. She did