The Bristling Wood - Katharine Kerr [148]
“But I didn’t really steal them. They followed me, didn’t they?”
“Only in a manner of speaking.”
He yelped and leapt to his feet, scattering the bread into the straw. There was a man standing on the other side of the door, a pleasant-looking fellow with blond hair and blue eyes. The sheer bulk of the elaborate embroidery on his shirt proclaimed him a member of the king’s household.
“I’m Lord Madoc. Guards, bring him out.”
“Are you going to hang me right now?”
“Naught of the sort. I want a few words with you, lad.”
They bound his hands, then marched him along to the wardroom, a long, narrow chamber with an oppressively low ceiling. Down one wall was a row of sconces and lit torches; down the other, a narrow table spread with the tools of the torturer’s trade.
“I’ll confess,” Perryn bleated. “You don’t have to do anything to me.”
“Splendid, but I wasn’t planning on having you tortured. I want a look at you. Guards, tie him to the wall; then you can get back to your dinners.”
“My thanks, Your Lordship.” The guard captain made him a bow. “Do you have any idea of when he’ll go to trial?”
“Oh, he won’t be tried here. Our liege is remanding him to Rhys, Gwerbret Aberwyn. This little idiot raped the daughter of one of the gwerbret’s highly regarded subjects, and under Eldidd law her father has the right to cut him to pieces.”
Perryn’s knees buckled. If he hadn’t been tied to an iron ring attached to the wall, he would have fallen.
“Huh,” the captain snorted. “A fine figure of a noble lord he is, raping women and stealing horses!”
Once the guards were gone, Madoc turned to Perryn and considered him with eyes so cold and distant that Perryn began to sweat again.
“Do you know who Jill’s father is, lad?”
“I don’t, my lord.”
“Cullyn of Cerrmor, that’s who.”
Perryn yelped, a strangled little sob.
“Just so. They’ll give him a sword and shield, hand you a dagger to defend yourself, then turn him loose on you. Think you’ll win the ritual combat?”
Perryn shook his head no.
“I doubt me, as well. And even if you had all the gold in the world to offer as compensation, Cullyn wouldn’t take it instead of your blood. So, are you going to face him, or are you going to do as I say instead?”
“Anything, my lord. I’ll do anything. Please, I never raped her, I truly didn’t. I thought she loved me, I truly did.”
“I know, and your stupidity is the one thing that’s saving you now. If I untie you, will you give me your word of honor that you won’t try to escape?”
“Gladly. I doubt me if I could run, my lord, the way I feel.”
“No doubt.” He stepped back and considered him in a strange way, his eyes moving as if he were looking all around Perryn rather than at him. “Truly, you’re halfway to being dead, aren’t you?”
The lord’s words seemed true enough. As soon as he was untied, Perryn staggered and would have fallen if it weren’t for Madoc’s support. The equerry half led, half hauled him down the room to a low bench by a hearth, where some tinder and small sticks were laid ready for a fire. Madoc laid on a pair of logs, then snapped his fingers. Fire sprang out and danced along the wood. Perryn screamed. He clapped his hands over his mouth to force a second scream back, then swiveled around, crouching, to stare up at Madoc in terror.
“Well, you looked chilled, lad. Thought we’d have a bit of a blaze. Now, you young dolt, do you see what you’ve gotten yourself tangled up in? From now on, you’re going to do exactly what I say, or …”
“I will. Anything at all, my lord. I swear to you on the honor of the Wolf clan and the gods of my people.”
“Good. Remember that during your trip to Eldidd.”
“I’m going there? You said you wouldn’t …”
“I said I wouldn’t let Cullyn get hold of you. There’s another man there who very much wants a chat with you. My uncle.”