From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [168]
He turned his blue-eyed gaze to her and held up the sword Averella had taken from the Mahanaim guard. “My sword. It is lost. I’ve had it since my manhood ceremony. It was taken in Allowntown.”
“I am sorry.”
He winced. “I know it’s only a hunk of steel and wood. Still… Keseel felt like a friend.”
“I can imagine the bond a man must have with his weapon, especially when it has served faithfully for so long.”
He smiled, still handsome even in filth. “That’s it exactly, my lady. You don’t think me petty?”
“Of course not. I had to leave Kopay, my horse. It is natural to cling to what is familiar.”
“Which is why so many marry a friend.” He gazed into the flames again. “Ah, if only I could wed my sword. Keseel and I would make a fierce pair. No one could cross us.”
Gren giggled, startling Averella, for she thought only she and Sir Rigil had been awake.
Sir Rigil groaned. “Now you too will think I’m petty, Madam Hoff. Or odd, at least.”
Gren lay just behind Averella. “Do you mind my asking, sir? Bran and I have not been friends long. Do you think that would make us a poor match?”
A crooked grin stretched across his grubby face. “Not because of your friendship or lack thereof. I’ve other reasons for thinking you and Master Rennan are a poor match.”
“Because I’m a peasant and a widow and pregnant with another man’s child, and he—”
“No.” Sir Rigil raised an eyebrow. “Because you’re the most argumentative woman I’ve ever known. More so than even Lady Averella, and you see what happened with her and Master Rennan.”
Gren frowned at Averella. “What’s wrong with a woman who speaks her mind? That’s not argumentative. Just honest.”
Sir Rigil merely raised an eyebrow.
“And I didn’t see what happened with Lady Averella and Master Rennan.”
Averella sighed, glancing to where Bran lay sleeping on the other side of the campfire, his bandaged arm resting on his chest. “I hardly know that myself, and I supposedly lived it.”
Sir Rigil cocked his eyebrow Averella’s way. “I’ll tell you what happened, my lady. The two of you fought yourselves right out of love with one another. Both so bossy the other couldn’t stand it.”
Averella clicked her tongue. “Really, Sir Rigil.”
He batted a moth away from his face. “’Tis true. I swear it upon my good name.”
Gren sat up, scowling at Sir Rigil. “Master Rennan has never bossed me.”
Sir Rigil laughed. “Only because the two of you have done nothing but walk in circles. He was on duty, Madam Hoff. To keep you safe, not to debate life, not to court you.”
“But he said he cares for me.”
“I’m sure he does. But Rennan is too wise to pledge his heart to a woman he barely knows.”
Gren turned red and opened her mouth to retort.
But Sir Rigil held up his hands, which the campfire shadowed on the cave wall behind him. “Peace! I will tell you what you must know. When his betrothal to Lady Averella ended, he asked me about you, Madam Hoff. To see if I thought you a wise choice to pursue. So take heart that he does have interest to see whether you and he are compatible. After the war. That is not a proposal, Madam, so do not mistake it as such. It is merely a statement that a good man wishes to know you better.”
“And you told him I’m a poor choice?”
Sir Rigil sighed, met Averella’s gaze, and grinned. “Madam Hoff, I have already given my answer. You need a man you can have charge of. A man with little will of his own. And take it from me as Bran Rennan’s master these past seventeen years, he does not like to be yoked.”
For reasons Averella could not explain, this brought a smile to her lips.
Not so with Gren. “How dare you say such things! That I would yoke my husband to my side like a mule. Even if you are highborn, and I’m only a—”
“Shh, woman!” Sir Rigil waved. “You will wake the whole camp and call the wolves with your wailing.”
Averella met Gren’s scowling expression. “Do not let Sir Rigil bore under your skin, Gren. He thinks himself a shrewd elder, though he is only thirty-two years.”
Sir Rigil faked a wounded gasp. “Wicked lady! Leave it to you to proclaim my age to all who may hear. If only