The Black Raven - Katharine Kerr [101]
“No good, no doubt,” Branoic said.
“I’ve not trusted the man since I caught him out over those weevily oats he gave our horses.”
“I remember that, truly. You should make a song about him, Maddo.”
“There’s a thought.” Maddyn suddenly grinned. “I wouldn’t mention his name of course. An animal song, mayhap.” He hummed a few notes of a tune. “Oh, the fox went to the henhouse once too often, he found a wolf on guard. That kind of song.”
“Sounds like a splendid idea!”
Across the hall Oggyn rose, bowed, and hurried out.
“Tell me somewhat, Maddo,” Branoic said. “Can the prince settle land upon a man now or will he have to wait till he’s proclaimed king?”
“I’ve not the slightest idea. You’ll have to ask Nevyn when he gets back. But here, are you that eager to leave the silver daggers?”
“It’s not the leaving of the troop, you dolt. It’s the gaining of the wife.”
“Oh. Well, I suppose so. I’ve never cared that much about a woman in my life.”
“Huh!” Branoic gave him a grin. “Don’t brag where the gods can hear you, Maddo lad. You’ll tempt them.”
Maddyn laughed.
“Scoff all you want,” Branoic went on. “But as for me, I’m looking forward to settling down, like, with my lady.”
On the morrow, Branoic got the answers he needed from the prince himself. He was walking rather aimlessly through the ward when he chanced upon Maryn, doing much the same though with two pages and Councillor Oggyn in attendance. Branoic bowed low, then went down on one knee to let him pass, but the prince stopped and hailed him.
“Good morrow, Branno. Are things well with you?”
“They are, Your Highness,” Branoic said.
“Splendid! When are you going to ask me for that boon?”
The prince was smiling, as if perhaps he were making a small jest, but Branoic decided that he might as well test his Wyrd right there and then.
“I’ve been thinking about that, Your Highness,” Branoic said. “I’ve just not been sure when the fit time to ask you might be.”
“Now, if you’d like.” Maryn turned solemn. “I gave my word, and I meant it.”
“Very well, then, Your Highness.” Branoic took a deep breath. “I’d like a holding with enough land to support a wife, Your Highness, if that’s not too much to be asking for.”
“Not in the least! The gods all know there are plenty of demesnes that have lost their lords in the wars, and I see no reason why you shouldn’t have one and the title to go with it.”
Branoic tried to speak, but the words failed him. He could feel himself grinning like a half-wit. Maryn laughed and gave him a friendly cuff on the shoulder.
“Tell you what, Branno,” Maryn said, “when you get that title, we’ll give you your eagle device back.”
“Ye gods! You remember that, Your Highness?”
“How could I not, with Owaen ragging you about it for all these years?”
Had protocol allowed, Branoic would have grabbed the prince’s hand and kissed it. It’s the little things, he told himself, the things like this, that made us all willing to risk our necks for him!
“Oggyn?” Maryn went on. “I charge you with finding a solid demesne and a lordship for our Branoic here. Once I’m truly the king, we’ll bestow it upon him right and proper.”
“Very well, my liege.” Oggyn looked sour but resigned.
“Tell me, Branno,” Maryn said, grinning. “You must have the wife in mind to be asking me for the land. Who is she?”
“Well, begging your pardon, Your Highness, but I’d like to keep her name to myself until I’m sure she’ll have me.”
Maryn laughed, and Oggyn smiled, doubtless because the prince had and for no other reason.
“A wise policy,” the prince said. “Done, then. I’ll get you the land, and you get yourself the lass, and that will be that.”
“My thanks, Your Highness. I—ah ye gods! My humble thanks!”
The next few days Branoic spent mostly pacing back and forth, wondering when Lilli would arrive. He took to going down to the town walls, where he could climb to the catwalks and watch the river road that ran to Cerrmor. On the fourth day after Maryn granted his boon, his patience paid off, late on a golden afternoon, when he saw a cloud of dust coming up from