Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [148]
Remembering Montrève and how the old Siovalese lords made it a point to labor side by side with their holders, I was determined to spend time acquainting myself with the various tasks involved in running the estate.
One of the first things I did was to consult with Urist regarding the security measures he'd taken. Clunderry was a sizable holding, some three thousand hectares, and it was impossible to maintain a constant patrol on its borders. But we spent two days riding the length and breadth of the estate, following the patrol routes he'd established, and he pointed out the places where he'd thought it best to establish permanent sentry posts. Somewhat to my surprise, he considered the estate of Briclaedh to the north one of the greatest threats.
"What about…" I hesitated. "…the Old Ones?”
Urist looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "If those ones come, they'll travel the taisgaidh ways, Prince Imriel. 'Tis a hard thing to post sentries in the forest. We'll keep watch on the verges, but we'd be better served by poachers and foragers in its depths. I've put out word that there's a reward for anyone who spots aught amiss in the woods." He coughed into his fist. "And, mayhap, forgiveness of any fine they might have incurred.”
"All right." I thought about it. "Wise enough. But why Briclaedh?”
"Ah, well." Urist grinned. "Ask your lady wife.”
My ramble with Urist aside, days and evenings at Clunderry were beginning to settle into a calm rhythm. In the mornings, Dorelei and I consulted with the castle steward, discussing important matters such as the day's menu and the necessity of repairing a leaking roof in the stables. The steward was a quiet, competent fellow named Murghan, who had lost his sword-arm in battle in his younger days. One-armed or no, he'd once been a formidable warrior and he was admired more than pitied. It was well known that he'd shared the Lady Breidaia's bed for many years since her husband's death, but he made no presumptions because of it, and I thought well enough of him.
In the afternoon, three times a week, the reeve of Clunderry made his report to us. His job, for which we paid him an annual stipend, was to supervise the daily workings of the estate and adjudicate minor disputes. At every meeting, he provided us with a litany of Clunderry's progress and problems. The reeve, Trevedic, was a young man, earnest and eager. He'd learned his job at his father's knee, and he was anxious to make a good name for himself. We reviewed his decisions, and any more complicated claims for which we might be expected to hold audience.
Beyond these responsibilities, our time was our own. While I explored the workings of Clunderry, Dorelei spent a good deal of time in the pleasant, sunlit salon I'd seen in Hyacinthe's sea-mirror, where the women of the household gathered to spin and sew and converse. Although it was early yet, the babe she carried made her fatigued and betimes queasy, which the older women assured us, laughing, was normal.
In the evenings, we gathered in the great hall to dine. The atmosphere was warm and relaxed, and more often than not, we were joined by other members of the household; the steward Murghan; Kinada, who served as a lady-in-waiting to the Lady Breidaia, her daughter Kerys and son Kinadius.
"So," I said the evening I'd returned from my excursion with Urist. "Unless I am mistaken, I recall that Leodan mab Nonna of Briclaedh attended our nuptials and presented us with a silver salt cellar. Tell me. Why does Urist want to post a guard to the north?”
The Lady Breidaia rolled her eyes. Kinadius winked at Dorelei.
"Oh, well." Dorelei colored slightly. "He did make an offer for my hand before our betrothal was announced.