The Black Raven - Katharine Kerr [125]
Ahead on the road horsemen were trotting straight for them, about fifty of them, as far as Bellyra could estimate, since they travelled in a cloud of dust. Nearer and nearer—Casso suddenly laughed and pointed.
“Da!” he crowed. “It’s Da! Look! The big bird banners!”
What he always called the big bird was indeed the Red Wyvern device. Bellyra broke out laughing, and the other women joined her.
“Call off the silver daggers, Maddyn!” she shouted. “It’s my lord.”
Bellyra let Casso down, grabbed his hand, and then walked with him free of the carts. As they hurried to the roadside, Maryn kicked his horse and jogged out ahead of his men to ride first into camp. He dismounted with the fluid ease of a man who’s spent half his life on horseback and tossed the reins of his mount to a servant. Bellyra curtsied as he strode over. He was unhelmed, but despite the quiet countryside he was wearing mail, though he’d tied a tabard over it.
“Well, my lady,” he said, smiling. “Once you left the river old Nevyn could scry you out and tell me where to find you. So I thought I’d come escort you to your new home.”
“It gladdens my heart to see you, my lord.” Never had she said anything so true, or so she felt. She wished she could run to him and throw herself into his arms. “You look well.”
“I am, at that. Now, who’s this with you?”
Laughing, Bellyra let the straining Casso go. He could and did rush to his father, who scooped him up and settled him on one hip. For a moment they smiled at each other, two blond heads close together, and from the grey eyes and the profile they shared no man would ever doubt Prince Casyl’s paternity.
“And have you been brave?” Maryn said.
“I have.” Casso reached out and touched the tabard. “The big red bird.”
Everyone laughed. By then the silver daggers had dismounted, and Maddyn walked over to kneel before the prince.
“It looks like you’ve done a splendid job guarding my lady,” Maryn said. “My thanks.”
“It’s been an honor, Your Highness.”
“I’m about to repay you ill for your efforts.” Maryn smiled with a twist to his mouth. “I’m going to take her and the children and suchlike back with me and my men. You get to follow along and guard these cursed carts.” He turned to Bellyra. “That way we can reach the city on the morrow. We’ll let the taxes come creaking in whenever they get there.”
“That would be splendid, my lord,” Bellyra said. “I assume my women are included in the suchlike.”
“If you wish, certainly.” Maryn turned to look over the camp. “Maddyn, we’ll let everyone eat and then split our forces for the ride back.”
That night they sheltered with a certain Tieryn Cardomaen, or rather, his mother the regent made them welcome, since the tieryn was no older than Prince Casyl. His father had been killed the year before in the summer’s warfare, or so Maryn told her, fighting on the side of the Boar clan. That the lady Therra was now forced to feed and shelter the man who was ultimately responsible for her husband’s death made Bellyra squirm, but in truth, the lady seemed welcoming enough. During the evening meal she only referred to her husband once, and then she called him by his full name and title. They had had, Bellyra supposed, the usual marriage.
That night Lady Therra personally showed them to the dun’s best bedchamber, which sported a pair of chairs as well as a bed with a full set of embroidered hangings. The walls, however, were bare, and the windows had not so much as a tanned hide to cover them. A low fire burned in the hearth. Maryn’s page pulled off his lord’s riding boots, then hurried out to join the other servants in