The Black Raven - Katharine Kerr [120]
“Oh, do stop being modest!” Bellyra said. “What about something droll? You know, those ones about the jolly tavernmen and suchlike.”
“My dear princess!” Degwa broke in. “I doubt if any of those are suitable.”
“Your doubts are quite correct, my lady,” Maddyn said. “Well, let me think. Here’s a song I made up about a fox who was too clever for his own good.”
As he sang about Farmer Owaen’s chickens and the greedy fox, the women laughed, and Elyssa even began singing harmony to the nonsense chorus. Prince Casyl favored him with a stare of intense interest as well. When he finished, Bellyra clapped.
“Very nice,” she said, smiling. “Though I wonder, truly, what inspired you, bard. That fox and his comeuppance—I think me I’ve met him. What did Oggo do to deserve this?”
Suddenly Lady Degwa folded her hands in her lap and set her mouth in a sour line.
“I trust I’ve not offended Your Ladyship,” Maddyn said.
Degwa made a small snorting sound, got up, and swept inside the wood shelter.
“Oh curse my tongue!” Bellyra muttered. “I forgot about Decci.”
“So did I,” Elyssa said. “I’ll just go speak to her.”
Maddyn waited until Elyssa had gone inside. The walls on the barge’s cabin were so thin that he could hear the women murmuring, but the words were incomprehensible.
“What have I done, Your Highness?” Maddyn said.
“Don’t blame yourself,” Bellyra said. “I should never have said anything, and then she’d have missed the point. Degwa can be a bit dense.”
“But—”
Bellyra leaned forward and lowered her voice.
“Oggyn’s courting her,” she said. “He fancies himself with a noble-born wife, and ye gods, she was widowed so young, I can’t begrudge her the pleasure she takes in his attentions.”
“Oh by the gods! I feel like the worst dolt in the world! I’d not have wounded the lady’s feelings had I known.”
“And you wouldn’t have, truly, had I held my tongue. Now don’t go troubling yourself about it.” She glanced over her shoulder. “They’ll be a while. So you absolutely must tell me what Oggyn did to earn a flyting.”
When Maddyn told her of the councillor’s bribetaking, the nursemaids leaned closer, all ears. Bellyra giggled, then turned solemn.
“I shouldn’t laugh. That was truly greedy of Oggyn, and ye gods, Owaen might have killed him.”
“I was a—feared he might, truly.”
“I’ve seen Owaen, over the years and all, in my husband’s company, and he frightens me. He looks to me like he might kill a man for one wrong word.”
“Your Highness has the right of it.”
Bellyra shuddered, turning away, looking out over the sunny meadows.
“I hope to every god that the wars will be over soon,” she said. “Do you think they will be, Maddo?”
“I do, Your Highness. Next summer there should be one good battle, and that’ll be the end of it.”
“I’ll pray you’re right, and that my husband lives to enjoy the peace. I’ve never fancied myself regent to an infant son.”
“Now here, Your Highness! The prince has men like me all round him, and we’d rather die ourselves than let the least harm come to him.”
“Would you?” She turned back, and tears glistened in her emerald eyes. “Ah Maddo!”
“We would, every last one of us.”
His hands ached from wanting to reach out and envelop hers, to hold them tight and draw her close. He looked down and began slacking the strings on his harp.
“I doubt me if I can play more today, Your Highness,” he said.
“You’ve entertained us long enough. Shall I have the bargemen put into shore? No doubt you’d prefer riding with your men, and I suppose I’d best go soothe Degwa.”
As worrisome as the curse tablet might be, the matter of the Cerrmor gwerbretrhyn presented a more direct danger to the prince’s dominion. Messages had come in from Pyrdon, finally, which lay far off to the west, a long ride even for speeded couriers. King Casyl was overjoyed that Maryn had remembered his half brother so generously.
“He wants to send Riddmar to live at my court,” Maryn said. “It seems a prudent move. If Eldidd does makes a strike on Pyrdon, then its second heir will be away and safe. And once the lad’s here, Eldidd won