Fire Dragon - Katharine Kerr [67]
“Just so,” Nevyn said. “She's married to the man who's the younger son of Gwerbret Ammerwdd's wife's sister. I think I've got that right, anyhow.”
“Any connection with Yvrodur will do.” Maryn grinned at him. “Tenuous though it may be. I'll call him to court once I've been proclaimed high king.”
“That will be soon, won't it, Your Highness?” Oggyn leaned forward. “I trust the priests won't be raising new obstacles to your kingship.”
“None,” Nevyn said. “They've even found a white mare. Just like dweomer, it was, how fast they found her once Braemys had taken himself away.”
All three of them laughed.
“Then the omens are all good,” Oggyn said. “I'm so pleased. I was afeared that some dark thing might blight them.”
“Such as?” Maryn said. “The well-known greed of priests?”
“Just that, Your Highness.” Suddenly Oggyn looked away, as if he'd had a troubling thought. He paused for a long moment before he said, “Just that. Naught more.”
Maryn's eyes grew narrow as he considered the councillor. Nevyn felt a touch of cold run down his back: danger.
“What troubles you?” Maryn said. “Somewhat does.”
“Er, naught, naught.” Oggyn was looking at the far wall. “Just an idle fancy. I'm sure it means nothing at all.”
“What?” Maryn snapped.
“Uh er, well, the gossip—and I'm sure that's all it is, Your Highness. The silly gossip of women who envy your wife.”
“What about my wife?”
“Naught, Your Highness. Not a wrong word about her, truly. But that bard, the silver dagger—well, I've heard that he aims above himself, hanging around her all the time as he does.”
“I asked him to guard her myself.” Maryn's voice had grown dangerously low. “If you've forgotten that.”
“Not at all, Your Highness, and I beg your pardon. It's just that I hear things, his being so much in her company and all. That perhaps he has it in mind to take liberties.”
“I can't believe it,” Maryn snapped. “Not Maddyn! He's the most loyal man I've ever met.”
“I'd not believe it of the princess, either.” Nevyn felt himself shaking with sheer rage. “Councillor Oggyn, you'd best have proof of these statements.”
“I never meant a word against the princess!”
“Indeed?” Maryn got up from his chair. “Then why have you even brought the matter up?”
Oggyn went dead-white and sat gulping for breath.
Abruptly Maryn stepped forward and leaned over him, braced himself on the arms of the chair, and leaned the more until his face was a few scant inches from the councillor's.
“What made you bring it up?” Maryn growled.
“There was one night.” Oggyn was gasping for each word. “Her serving women couldn't find her. They looked all over. No sign of the bard, either. Finally, your lady turned up out in the ward, carrying a lantern, but she wouldn't say where she'd been.”
Maryn let go the chair and straightened up, considered Oggyn for a moment, then slapped him so hard across the face that the councillor squealed and writhed.
“I'll ask you again,” Maryn said. “Do you swear this is true?”
Tears filled Oggyn's eyes, but he nodded. “I swear it,” he whispered.
“Very well.” Maryn turned to Nevyn. “Let's have this out right now. Fetch my pages. Get my lady and her women down to the great hall. I want to know the truth of this.”
“You're making a grave mistake,” Nevyn said. “I'd judge this thing in private if I were you.”
“You're not me,” Maryn said. “Tell me, is Oggyn lying about this tale?”
Nevyn hesitated, tempted to the very heart of him. He could lie and dismiss Oggyn's story right there and then. Oggyn had slumped down in his chair and was snivelling as if he feared that very thing. But the gossip won't end, Nevyn thought. “Your Highness,” Nevyn said. “He's telling the truth that he heard it. This says naught about the truth of the tale itself.”
“Very well, then, we'll thrash this out right now. I won't have gossip spreading about my wife. The great hall will witness the true or false of this, and