Fire Dragon - Katharine Kerr [70]
“Now then,” Otho said. “Your Highness, I was working on a gift for you—for you, I repeat—when the lady came in, much distracted. She couldn't sleep, she said. The silver dagger there came hurrying after her, afraid she'd lost her wits or suchlike, from the pain of birthing your—I repeat, your third son. Or are you daft enough, Your Highness, to think she was dallying with me, four times her age and ten times as ugly?”
“Not in the least.” Maryn sounded as if he was choking. “Not in the least.”
“Good.” Otho paused, thinking. “One more thing, Your Highness. That you'd suspect your lady—ye gods! If this is the kind of wits you have, a fine king you're going to make.”
Everyone in the great hall gasped, flinched, so that the crowd seemed like a field of grain, bowing and rustling in a sudden gust of wind. Maryn stared speechless, his mouth a little open. Otho turned his back on him and clambered down from the table. He paused in front of Bellyra and bowed, but he said nothing.
“My thanks,” Bellyra whispered, but her dry mouth refused to form any more words.
Otho turned to look at the prince. “Well, Your Highness?” Otho said. “And what is your royal judgment on the matter?”
The hall went dead-silent again. For a long moment Maryn stared at Otho with eyes that revealed nothing. Otho scowled and kept looking him full in the face. At last Maryn smiled, a crooked sort of smile.
“My judgment?” Prince Maryn said. “That I've done my lady a great disservice by listening to foul gossip about her.”
Riders, servants, court people—everyone leapt to their feet and cheered. Maddyn sat back on his heels and wiped his eyes on one sleeve. Bellyra felt tears gather, but she forced them under control and looked squarely at her husband. The booming noise, cheer after cheer, sudden laughter, talk and the clapping of hands, rolled around them both like thunder—but of a departing storm. As the noise began to still, Maryn held out his hand to her.
“My lady, can you forgive me?”
Bellyra wanted to blurt, to say “of course” or “I already have,” but she forced herself to keep quiet for a long, haughty moment.
“I shall try, my lord,” she said at last. “Out of the love I bear you.”
“I deserve no better. Let me escort you upstairs.”
Bellyra nodded and took his offered arm. Councillor Oggyn stood at the door, plastered against the jamb, half in and half out of the hall. When she caught his glance he turned and rushed outside, disappearing among the clutter of the ward. You swine! she thought. Her anger kept her strong up to the top of the stairs, but there her terror caught up with her. She stumbled, nearly fell, let Maryn put an arm around her shoulders to steady her. She could feel herself trembling, and once again the dim light of the corridor seemed to rise until she could barely see.
“Here,” Maryn said, “let's get you to the women's hall, where you can sit down. I've been the biggest fool in all of Deverry, and ye gods, I'll beg you again to forgive me.”
She merely nodded, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. But I'm safe, she told herself. I'm safe now. Maryn opened the door to the hall and helped her inside. She collapsed in the first chair she came to.
“I'll kneel in front of you,” Maryn said and did so, sitting back on his heels. “I don't think you realize what envy you bring out in people.”
“Envy of me?” Bellyra said. “They've lost their wits, then.”
“Nah, nah, nah, you're about to become the queen, aren't you? And truly, if it weren't for that, I'd not have dragged you down to the great hall. The entire kingdom has to know that you're above reproach.”
“I'm tempted to ask why, but I shan't. Don't you see, Marro, why I'm so frightened? I thought you were going to put me aside. The shame of it—ah Goddess, it would be the worst thing in the world.”
“Well, I'm certainly not going to do that. But I think you should leave court for a while.”
She could not speak, no matter how hard she tried. She raised one hand as if to reach out to him, but her strength