Gwenhwyfar_ The White Spirit - Mercedes Lackey [32]
But mostly Gwen did the chores that her warrior band did—endless wood chopping for the cook fires and ovens, the hauling of water, which was regarded by their trainers as yet another fine way to build their strength, building temporary paddocks for the visitors’ mounts, and a thorough cleaning out of the stables down to the bare earth, which was then sprinkled with lime to sweeten it before sand was brought in to cover the lime, and straw laid down over that.
The castle underwent a thorough cleaning too, with the winters’ rushes hauled out, the stone floor scrubbed, and new rushes brought in, but that was mostly the work of the servants.
And Gwen had learned that for her, at least, the time of the celebration itself was going to mean still more work.
Peder ap Duach, Gwen’s chief instructor and one of her father’s most trusted captains, called all of his particular charges together just before the first visitors were to arrive. “I’ve assignments for some of ye,” he said, shortly, looking them all over with a stern eye. “And no whinging do I want to be hearing. Not all the king’s honored guests will be bringin’ their own pages and squires, and that’ll be the job ye’ll be doin’. ’Tis a great honor to be chosen, an’ a great trust. So here now. Here’ll be the ones that’ll be servin’.”
Never in a thousand years would Gwen have thought she’d be picked, but to her astonishment, she heard her name called; she would be serving Hydd ap Kei, Braith’s lord.
She didn’t question the assignment, however, nor did she complain about being put to work when some of the others were free to enjoy the relative freedom they’d have while the celebrations were afoot. For one thing, it gave her rather a thrill to have been picked over those older than she. For another, well, this was Braith’s liege lord, which meant that she would almost certainly be spending a lot of time in the company of the real warriors and chariot drivers, without needing an excuse to try to hang about.
So as soon as it was possible to do so, once Hydd had arrived, she presented herself to him as his page. Since the weather was fine, he’d set up a tent, as had many of the lords and captains. She didn’t blame them; sleeping conditions in the Great Hall were beyond “crowded.” His bodyguard nodded at her and pulled the canvas flap aside for her.
“Lord Hydd, I am to be your page,” she said, as the man turned away from something he had been unpacking from a small chest to look at her.
“Peder sent ye?” he asked. She bowed, as was proper, and kept her eyes on her toes, as was also proper. The king’s daughter could look boldly into the face of a High Lord and one of the king’s favored captains, but a page had to be respectful and show humility. “Then go to the king and give him my compliments, an’ ask when he wishes me t’ attend him. Bring me back his answer. Is Lord Gwyddian here yet?”
“Aye, milord, I will,” she replied immediately. “I don’t know about Lord Gwyddian, my lord.”
“Then unless the king wants me urgent, go to him and tell him we need to speak about that handfasting at his leisure. Find out about Lord Gwyddian. Then return with the king’s word; I’ll have more work for ye then.”
She bowed again, and ran off at high speed; she suspected sending her to her father was on the order of a test; if she hadn’t been sent by Peder, and was only trying to find a way to lurk about and eavesdrop on the adults, this would uncover the ruse. But of course, she had been; so she’d pass the test, if test it was.
Her father returned the compliments, as impassively as if she had been anyone but his daughter. There was no urgency, he would gladly receive Hydd at supper. Lord Gwyddian was not