The Gold Falcon - Katharine Kerr [135]
“And my thanks, Aunt Galla,” Branna said, “and you, too, Uncle Cadryc.”
With the dun as crowded as a Beltane temple, the only private place that Neb and Branna could find was her bedchamber. Branna barred the door, then sat on the edge of the bed while Neb hovered near the window.
“Oh, do come sit.” Branna patted the mattress beside her. “After all, we are betrothed.”
Neb stared at her for a long moment, then smiled and sat down, facing her. Branna felt impossibly solemn, a little shy, now that the moment they’d both longed for had finally arrived. Neb took her hand in both of his and kissed her fingers.
“My heart’s like a fountain,” he said, “overflowing with love for you.” He drew her close and bent his head to kiss her.
Out in the hall someone pushed on the door, then banged on it. “My lady?” It was Midda. “Are you in there?”
Neb muttered something foul under his breath.
“I am,” Branna called back. “What is it?”
“I need to get that extra linen we brought along. Lady Solla needs to borrow it for some guests.”
“I’ll get it. Hang on a moment.”
The sheets were neatly stacked on a rickety chair in the curve of the wall. Branna fetched them, then unbarred the door and opened it just wide enough to slip the sheets into Midda’s hands. Midda was glowering at her.
“I suppose your wretched betrothed is in there with you,” Midda said.
“You’ve heard about our betrothal?”
“News travels fast in a dun like this.” Midda snorted profoundly. “Well, I’d hoped for better for you, but you never would listen to your elders.”
“True enough.” Branna paused for a smile. “I can’t deny it.”
Midda snorted and slammed the door. Branna replaced the bar and hurried back to join Neb on the edge of the bed.
“You were saying?” She grinned at him.
They shared a laugh; then he caught her by the shoulders. She slipped her arms around his waist and drew him close as he kissed her. They lay down together, sprawled across the bed. In her mind ran words like the best music in the world: at last, at last we’re together!
“Gerran!” Lord Blethry hailed him. “Captain! Wait up!”
Gerran, who was on his way to the barracks, stopped walking and turned to wait. The equerry dodged his way through a mob of horses and servants and reached him at last. His heavy squarish face was flushed from mead and exertion both.
“I want to thank you for agreeing to take your men down to the meadow,” Blethry said. “The chamberlain’s sent a squad of servants down with the largest pavilion. It’s a wretchedly clumsy thing to set up, so there’ll be a bit of a wait.”
“There’s no hurry, my lord,” Gerran said. “I’ve got to collect my men and horses, and that’ll take me a fair while, too.”
“True-spoken. The pages you brought with you—how good are they around horses?”
“Coryn’s a good rider, but Clae’s just learning. Ynedd’s too young and scrawny to control a warhorse.”
“Can he lead a haltered horse? I don’t have enough grooms to tend all these cursed mounts, even with the Red Wolf horses gone.”
“Ah, I see. All three lads are good enough at raking hay and watering stock. Tell your head groom to come to me if there’s any trouble with them.”
“I shall, and my thanks.”
By the time that the Red Wolf warband was settled in their improvised new quarters, down by the ford across the river, the afternoon was turning toward evening. Out in the meadows a breeze sprang up to blow the flies away, and the hobbled horses grazed peacefully among the long shadows of the trees. As the sun sank low, it gilded the dun, towering over them on its cliff.
“It’s a long way to walk for dinner,” Daumyr said. “But aside from that, this is a good bit better than being crammed into the barracks with everyone else.”
“It is at that,” Gerran said. “Have you finished digging that latrine?”
“I have, and well downstream. I’ve stowed the shovel in the pavilion.”
“Good.” Gerran hesitated, considering. “We’d best leave someone here to watch over the horses. You never know who might take a fancy to them.”
Sorting out