The Black Raven - Katharine Kerr [124]
“You’d best not walk about alone, Your Highness,” Maddyn said. “We’ll keep well back if you’d rather not be overheard and all.”
“Of course,” Bellyra said. “Silly of me to forget. We’re not in Cerrmor anymore, where things were safe.”
“That’s true.” Degwa looked around nervously, as if she expected to see bandits in every bush and garden. “Oh, I’ll be so glad to be inside a proper dun!”
Safely escorted they headed for the river again, the royal women first, the nursemaids and the silver daggers trailing after. As Bellyra watched the water, flowing fast here and churning toward the south, it occurred to her that she might never see Cerrmor again. Somehow she’d not allowed herself that thought. In letters Maryn had told her of his plan to give Cerrmor to his half brother, an idea so clever that she assumed Nevyn had thought of it. Occasionally, she supposed, Gwerbret Riddmar would invite the royal family to take his hospitality. Otherwise, her life would belong to Dun Deverry rather than the city where she’d been born and raised. She shivered, glancing around. Trees rustled in the cool wind, and already their north-facing leaves were turning yellow.
“Mama?” Prince Casso said suddenly. “I want down.”
“Do you, love?” Bellyra turned to the nursemaid. “I’ll take him for a bit.”
When Arda set the young prince down, Bellyra grabbed his hand fast before he could run off. She let him lead her a little ways downstream. Maddyn and four silver daggers hurriedly followed.
“Oh really, Maddo!” Bellyra said. “What do you think will happen? That someone will seize us for ransom or suchlike?”
“Don’t mock, Your Highness. The lords hereabouts haven’t been the prince’s vassals for long.”
“True spoken.” It seemed to her that the wind had turned even colder. “Very well. Come along, Casso. Let’s go back and join the others.”
After an uncomfortable night in a shabby dun, they set out early on the morrow morning. Some of the silver daggers rode ahead of the women, some rode behind, and a few rode off to either side, scouting down the side lanes for possible dangers. The carts, creaking and complaining, brought up the rear. Bellyra took Casso from his nursemaid and let him sit in front of her on the saddle. Baby Marro and his nursemaid rode in one of the carts, which made Casso feel quite grown-up and important. In a few more months he’d be three years old, she realized. She would have to have Maryn’s equerry find him a pony and begin teaching him to ride.
Since the carts were so slow, and wheels broke with tedious regularity, they travelled only some twelve miles a day. They were making about the same speed, Maddyn told her, as the army had over this same route. She was just thankful that the weather held cool but sunny, sparing them a ride in the rain. At night they imposed themselves on one or another of Maryn’s new vassals, who, it struck her, were much more interested in pleasing the new Marked Prince than kidnapping his wife. The lords and their womenfolk grovelled and spared no hospitality to show their gratitude for Maryn’s pardon. Still, Bellyra was always aware of the silver daggers, standing nearby, hands on their sword hilts, ready for the least sign of treachery.
Every day’s journey seemed an eightnight long to Bellyra, but finally the dawn came when Maddyn could tell her with confidence that Dun Deverry lay only a few days away. Toward noon one of the carts laden with taxes broke a wheel, and Bellyra decided that they all might as well eat while the carters were repairing it. Maddyn had just helped her dismount when, distantly, she heard horses coming and the jingling of tack and mail that implied armed men. Maddyn swore and rushed away, yelling to the silver daggers to mount up.
“Take shelter,” Bellyra shouted to the servants. “Decci, Lyss, all of you! Get in among the carts!”
She scooped up a terrified Casso and