The Dragon Revenant - Katharine Kerr [80]
“It’s Cullyn’s daughter that’s off with young Rhodry.”
“Oh! I hadn’t realized that.”
“It’s true, and I don’t know how the poor little lass manages, riding all over the kingdom like that.”
“It would be awful, sure enough. I do hope the King finds the lad soon, though. Our poor Lady Lovyan is eating herself away with worry.”
“Well, so she is. Rhodry’s always been a spoiled little beast, if you ask me. Look at him, seducing Rhodda’s mother first and then poor Jill! But truly, I’d rather have him in the gwerbret’s chair than some interloper who isn’t even a Maelwaedd. My mother was head cook here in Aberwyn before me, and her mother before her, and we’ve always served the Maelwaedds. I wouldn’t like to see some other clan come in here. What if they were mingy, like, or nasty tempered? You just never know with the noble-born.”
About an hour later, Nevyn turned up at the door of the kitchen hut with Rhodda and the captain both trailing after.
“I’ve got to go attend upon the tieryn, Tewa,” the old man said. “But Rhodda’s nowhere near ready for her nap yet.”
“We’ll have a bit of a walk, then. I see our bodyguard’s with you.”
Cullyn shot her a wry smile. She was surprised at herself, realizing just how much difference the cook’s news had made. Somehow knowing that the captain had a daughter made him seem like a human being. And what did I think he was before? she asked herself in some annoyance. A fiend from Hell?
As they made their way to the garden, they collected the equerry’s four-year-old son, a leather ball, and a pair of curved sticks that would do for a pretend hurley game. As the children ran around and swatted at the ball, Tevylla and Cullyn perched on the low brick wall and watched. Although the lawn was still green that time of year, it had a sad, thin look, and the western breeze made Tevylla shiver inside her wool cloak. When she looked off to the south, she could see dark clouds massing on the horizon for an assault on the dun.
“The kitchen gardener was telling me that he thinks we’re going to get a bad frost tonight,” Tevylla said. “Or maybe even a bit of snow. He says the omens are right for it.”
“Are they now? That’ll be a cursed nuisance.” All at once he laughed. “Listen to me. I’ve gotten soft and spoiled, living on the coast again. The few dribbles of snow we have down here are naught in a place like Cerrgonney.”
“So I’ve heard. You truly did travel all over before you took the tieryn’s service, didn’t you?”
“Oh, a fair bit.”
Suddenly he was silent again, staring absently across the lawn with eyes that seemed to see another view entirely.
“Did I offend you? My apologies.”
“What?” He turned, his lips twitching in the gesture that did him for a smile. “You didn’t, at that. I was just remembering the long road, and being cursed glad I was off it.”
“I see. You must be worried about Jill now.”
“I was worried from the wretched day she rode off with our young lord, but what could I do? She was always too headstrong for me to handle.” This time he gave her a proper grin. “Know what my woman used to say? Jill was as stubborn as I was and twice as nasty when she wanted to be.”
They shared a quiet laugh, but Tevylla felt suddenly sad, thinking of her husband, dead these long years now. At moments like these it seemed more odd than painful that at thirty, when most women were thinking of making a match for their eldest daughter, she had nothing left but one son, and him gone from her into the male world of a warband. Back when she’d been the miller’s pretty daughter, life had seemed to offer so much more than the scraps it had finally thrown her way.
“Somewhat wrong?” Cullyn said abruptly.
“Oh, just thinking of my man.”
“What did he die of, anyway? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“A fever in the blood. He stepped on a nail out in the stables, and not even Nevyn could save him.”
“My wife died of a fever, too. I was riding a war, miles away, and I couldn’t even be there with her.”
The old pain in his voice was like the scar on his face,