Days of Blood and Fire - Katharine Kerr [92]
“If his grace orders us to stay,” the fellow was saying. “Well have to try to leave anyway. You might as well just hang us all straight off, Your Grace, and spare the dun the fighting.”
“I’ll do no such thing, lad, and I’ve not ordered you to stay, either. I asked you to consider staying, that’s all.”
“But, Your Grace, I can’t—”
“I know.” Cadmar held up a hand flat for silence. “The situation has an honor of its own, and that honor demands that you take your lordship’s men home. Here, get up.”
All at once Jill understood—the rider was Matyc’s captain, and the pack in the ward, the warband the lord had brought with him. Mentally she cursed Rhodry with every oath she could think of. The captain rose, dusting off the knees of his brigga.
“I’ve written a letter to your lord’s brother.” Cadmar held out a hand, and the chamberlain put a silver message tube into it. “Will you deliver it for me?”
“I will, Your Grace. After ail, he’s our lord now, isn’t he?” The captain glanced the chamberlain’s way. “He will inherit, won’t he?”
The chamberlain groaned and ran both hands through his thinning hair.
“That’s up to the priests. But by all rights the lands of a lord who loses a trial by combat are forfeit, to be reassigned by his overlord.”
“Well, then,” Cadmar broke in. “I’ll just see to it that the brother—”
“Your Grace!” The chamberlain tugged on his sleeve. “By tradition though not law the lands go to the temple.”
The captain threw up his hands with a jingle of mail.
“This legal wrangling’s beyond the likes of me,” he said. “Your Grace, we’ve got to ride out of your city before sunset.”
“Then go now, and with my blessing.” Cadmar handed him the message. “And for the love of every god, get this to Lord Tren straightaway, and tell him what you’ve heard here, too.”
The captain slipped the tube under his mail and into his shirt, settling it against his belt, then hurried back to the waiting troop. Yelling orders, he mounted. When a page tossed him the lead rope of a particularly fine gray gelding, Jill noticed an ominous blanket-wrapped bundle slung over its saddle. In utter silence Matyc’s men gathered round their captain and the body of their dead lord. Together they turned their horses and began filing out of the gates. Shaking his head from side to side, Cadmar watched them go.
“Your Grace?” Jill said.
The lord and his councillors yelped or swore in surprise.
“Ye gods, Jill, I didn’t even see you walk up,” Cadmar said with a grin. “You didn’t just pop out of thin air, did you now?”
“Your grace was much distracted, that’s all. How much trouble is there going to be over Matyc’s death?”
“I don’t know. It depends in large part on whether or not Lord Tren inherits his brother’s holdings, I suppose. If he does, no doubt we can smooth things over. If the priests demand the land and taxes for themselves, well, now, I don’t know what to predict.”
“I see. I’ve settled the silver dagger down in town, anyway. I figured he’d best be out of your dun.”
“I suppose so.” Cadmar glanced at the chamberlain, who nodded a yes. “But it gripes my soul to turn him out. By rights I should be honoring him at my table, just as the gods honored him on the combat ground.”
The chamberlain groaned in some distress.
“I’m not going to do it,” Cadmar snapped. “Don’t trouble your heart. Here, everybody, let’s go inside and sit down. I hate hovering round like this in doorways!”
At the table of honor Labanna stood waiting, one hand resting on the back of her husband’s empty chair. Behind her, the serving women hovered in the shadows at the foot of the spiral staircase. Cadmar raised a questioning eyebrow in her direction.
“I’ve just told the servants that there won’t be a feast after all,” she said. “It wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“Of course not, my dear, and my thanks. I’d forgot about that.” Cadmar sat down and reached back to pat her hand. “You