The Black Raven - Katharine Kerr [146]
“If only, Your Highness,” Oggyn said, “we could give them a good accounting of the Lughcarn rhan, I suspect that some of the objections would vanish. It’s a rich prize by all accounts, and if we procure it by attainder, it will be yours alone to bestow.”
“True spoken,” Maryn said, “but several of the electors for that rhan came over to me last summer, and I intend to give them a voice in the decision.”
Oggyn set his lips tight together.
“There are times,” Maryn went on, “when generosity brings its own rewards. I want these men to stay loyal not just to me but to my heirs.”
“His Highness is most farseeing,” Oggyn said. “And doubtless correct.”
“Which reminds me.” Maryn leaned back in his chair and considered Oggyn. “I’ve had a complaint brought to me against you.”
“Indeed, my liege?” Oggyn turned white around the mouth. “I trust it’s no great matter.”
“It was to those who brought the complaint. The cook tells me that you had a talk with her.”
“My liege!” Oggyn tried to laugh, but his voice choked. “How obnoxious of the vulgar little woman, to trouble you!”
“My wife brought her to me, actually.”
“Uh, well, then, of course it would be her right—”
“Hold your tongue,” Maryn snapped. “Less flattery, more truth. She told me that you tried to extort coin and favors out of the servants for the leavings from my table.”
Oggyn went well and truly pale. Nevyn almost felt sorry for him, pinned by the prince’s cold stare as he was.
“I’ll not have any more of that,” Maryn said. “Do you understand me?”
“I do, my liege.”
“The servants are welcome to eat what they wish after the noble-born have been served. That’s how it was in Cerrmor, and that’s how it shall be here. Is this clear?”
“It is, Your Highness.”
“Splendid!” All at once Maryn laughed. “If you don’t mend your grasping ways, Oggyn lad, I’ll have Maddyn sing his little song about you to the entire great hall.”
Oggyn’s pallor vanished in a flush of red. He tried to speak, failed, swallowed hard, and finally forced out the words. “My liege, you know about that, then?”
“I do.” Maryn was grinning at him. “My lady told me of it, and I had Maddyn play it for me, but in my private quarters. Don’t look so wretched, Oggyn. Mend your ways, and I’ll never mention a word of this again.”
“I assure you, Your Highness, I will. My word—” Oggyn stopped, gulping, gasping, and at last sighing instead of speaking the more.
“Your assurance and your word are all I need.” Maryn rose, glancing Nevyn’s way. “I’ll leave you now, good Councillors. Don’t rise on my account, and stay by the fire as long as you like.”
The prince strode out of the chamber. As soon as the door closed behind him, Oggyn dropped his face to his hands and wept.
“Here, here,” Nevyn said, as gently as he could manage. “The prince will keep his word, you know. No one else will ever hear of this.”
Oggyn raised his head, snivelling. Nevyn fished in his brigga pocket, found a rag, and tossed it to him. Oggyn wiped his face and blew his nose, then crumpled the rag in one fat fist.
“It matters not,” Oggyn said. “The prince has heard of it, and that’s the worst thing of all. One of these days, I’ll find a way to settle with that wretched bard. I know not how, but I will.”
He threw the rag into the fire. It caught and flared into a sheet of ash.
“Taking revenge on a silver dagger is a dangerous thing,” Nevyn said quietly. “I think me you’d best be content with the prince’s forgiveness and let the matter die.”
Oggyn turned and looked at him with eyes that revealed nothing. “Perhaps you’re right,” the councillor said. “Indeed, no doubt you are right.”
Nevyn knew that he was lying, but he could do nothing one way or another but keep an eye on Oggyn and his scheming. He won’t dare cross me, Nevyn thought, knowing what I know. Still, later that day he had a private word with Maddyn and warned him to be on his guard.
“Oh, I’ve never trusted Slimy Oggo,” Maddyn said, “not from the day I met the man. But mayhap I’d best forget that flyting song. He may be a hound, but hounds