The Bristling Wood - Katharine Kerr [9]
“The war hasn’t started yet, and I’m going to do my cursed best to make sure it doesn’t.”
Yet he looked so weary that she was suddenly frightened. Even though he was the most powerful dweomerman in the kingdom, he was still only one man. He was also caught up in political intrigue that—or so it seemed to her—his magical calling would ill equip him to handle.
“Ah well,” she said at last. “At least the child himself was born with good omens. They always say it’s a lucky lad who’s born the first day of spring.”
“So they do, and let’s hope this spring is as well omened for us all.”
The absent way he spoke made her realize that he very much doubted it would be. She was hesitating, half wanting to ask more, half afraid to hear the truth if he should tell her, when a page came over to her. The young lad looked utterly confused.
“Your Grace? There’s a noble lord at the gates. Should I ask you what to do, or go find Lord Garedd?”
“You may ask me, because I’m of higher rank. If I were of the same rank as Garedd, you’d have to go find him. Now. Which noble lord is it?”
“Talidd of Belglaedd, Your Grace. He said the strangest thing. He asked if he was welcome in the dun that should have been his.”
Beside her Nevyn swore under his breath.
“Oh ye gods,” Lovyan said feebly. “He would turn up right now! Well, lad, run and tell him that indeed he’s welcome in the dun called Bruddlyn. Tell him that exactly and not a word more.”
As soon as the page was on his way, Nevyn turned to her with the lift of a quizzical eyebrow.
“It all goes back to Loddlaen’s war,” she said, her voice heavy with weariness. “Talidd’s sister was Corbyn’s wife. She went back to her brother before the war even started, because having Loddlaen in the dun was driving her daft, and I can’t say I blame her for that, frankly. But then, after Corbyn was killed, I attainted this demesne because she’d left her husband. All my loyal men would have grumbled if I hadn’t. I offered her a settlement of coin and horses, but Talidd refused to let her take a copper or a filly of it.”
She broke off because the subject of this explanation was striding into the great hall, stripping off his cloak and riding gloves as he did so. Talidd of Belglaedd was a heavyset man of forty, with gray hair still streaked with blond, and shrewd green eyes. Tossing his cloak to the page, he came over and made the tieryn a deep bow. His bland smile revealed nothing at all.
“I’m surprised to see you here, my lord,” Lovyan said.
“I came to congratulate Garedd on the birth of a child. The page tells me it’s a lad.”
“It is, and a healthy one.”
“Then Dun Bruddlyn has yet another heir, does it?” Talidd paused to take a tankard of ale from a serving lass. “Well, the gods may witness the justice of that.”
Lovyan debated challenging him then and there. If she’d been a man, and thus able to fight her own duels, she might well have done it, but as it was, she would have to call for a champion. Answering that call would be the captain of her warband, Cullyn of Cerrmor, who was without doubt the best swordsman in all Deverry. It seemed rather unfair to sentence Talidd to certain death for a few nasty remarks.
“I choose to ignore that, my lord,” Lovyan said, and she put ice in her voice. “If you feel injured, you may put your case before the gwerbret, and I shall come to court at his order.”
“The gwerbret. Your Grace, happens to be your son.”
“So he is, and I scrupulously raised him to be a fair-minded man.”
At that Talidd looked down abruptly at the table, and he had the decency to blush. In the duel of words, Lovyan had scored the first touch.
“I’m surprised you’d come here just to pour vinegar in an old wound,” she said.
“The matter’s of great moment for the gwerbretrhyn, isn’t it? You forget, Your Grace, that I hold a seat on the Council of Electors.”
Lovyan had forgotten, and she cursed herself mentally for the lapse. Talidd had a sip of ale and smiled his bland, secretive smile at her and Nevyn impartially.
“I was hoping I’d be in time to