The Bristling Wood - Katharine Kerr [64]
“By all means, but how?”
“Just watch. Find me one of those wretched pages.”
Suitably bribed, a page was quite willing to take the prince a message asking for an audience. After some minutes’ wait, the boy returned and took them to one of the royal reception chambers, a sumptuous room with carved oak furniture, thick Bardek carpets in blue and green, and real glass in the windows. Cadlew was standing by the hearth with a golden goblet of mead in his hand. When Maddyn and Caradoc knelt at his feet, he nodded pleasantly to them.
“Rise. You have our leave to speak.”
“My humble thanks, Your Highness,” Caradoc said. “A long time ago, in the middle of summer, you made me promise of a boon, whenever I should ask for it.”
“And so I did. I remember the charge you led very well indeed. I’ve plenty of fine horses for a reward, or a jeweled sheath, perhaps, for that dagger you carry. Or here, there are those new swords from Bardek. The steel is particularly fine.”
“Well, my liege, I want somewhat of far less value than that, and cursed if I don’t think I’m daft for wasting a boon on it.”
“Indeed?” The prince smiled briefly. “It’s pleasant to see that even silver daggers have whims. Ask away.”
“Then, my liege, give me young Owaen’s life. Don’t hang the lad.”
Honestly startled, the prince raised his goblet and had a small sip, then made a courtly, indifferent shrug.
“Done, then, on one condition: you take him into your warband and out of mine. I want no more of this trouble.”
“My humble thanks, Your Highness. Don’t worry your royal heart. I’ll beat the lad into shape sooner or later.”
“I’ve no doubt, Captain, that you could beat the Lord of Hell into shape, and sooner rather than later. Let me summon a guard. I’ve no idea where they put the lad.”
Guards with torches took Maddyn and Caradoc around to the back of the ward, where a cluster of round, stone storage sheds stood by the outer wall. Another guard was lounging against a tiny shed with no windows and an iron-barred door. At the news, he stepped aside gladly.
“Didn’t truly seem fair. Glad you changed our liege’s mind, Captain.”
With a shrug, Caradoc lifted the bar and opened the door. Inside Owaen was sitting on a pile of dirty straw, his arms clasped around his knees, his face stained with tears. At the sight of them he scrambled to his feet and stood at stiff attention, head held high.
“Come to hang me already?” Owaen’s voice was perfectly level. “I’ll be glad to have it over and done with.”
“You’re not going to hang at all, you young dolt,” Caradoc said. “I’ve bought your pardon. Now get out here.”
Staring at the captain all the while, Owaen took a few slow, cautious steps to the door, as if he were afraid of waking himself from this wonderful dream. Caradoc grabbed his arm with one hand and slapped him across the face with the other.
“That’s for forgetting you were in the king’s hall.” Caradoc slapped him again, even harder. “And that’s for striking twice. One more slip like this, and I’ll slit your throat, not twist it. Understand me?”
“I do.” Owaen could barely whisper; doubtless his mouth was stinging from the slap. “But why pardon me?”
“I want you in my troop. You’ll have a short enough life anyway as a silver dagger.”
Owaen nodded, trembling, turning to stare at the ward as if it were the most beautiful sight in the world. He rode close enough to the Otherlands, Maddyn thought, and it wouldn’t have been a pretty way to die.
“Now listen,” Caradoc went on. “I gave up a chance at one of those Bardek blades for you, so you’d blasted well better fight like a son of a bitch and earn your hire. Now come along. I’ll send someone else to get your gear from the guardsmen’s barracks. I don’t want your behind anywhere near your old companions.”
Owaen nodded again, still trembling; words were beyond him, apparently. Maddyn laid a hand on his shoulder.
“There isn’t a man in the troop who hasn’t disgraced himself as badly as you have,” Maddyn said. “Lots of us are a cursed sight worse. Come along, lad.