The Red Wyvern - Katharine Kerr [127]
“My liege!” Oggyn howled. “He owns a claim on your kingdom. You must kill him if there’s to be any lasting peace.”
Olaen started to sob.
“Nevyn?” Maryn looked at him with one eyebrow raised.
“Oh ye gods! I don’t know what to advise, my liege. It would ache my heart to slay a child, but—”
“But, my lord,” Oggyn broke in. “I’m right, am I not? It’s not the lad himself, my prince. It’s the factions that could form around him, that will form.”
“I know all that,” Nevyn snapped. “But give me a day at least to consult with the priests of Bel about the law of the thing. Our liege is determined to rule by law, isn’t he? Well, then, let me see what the ancient books say.”
Oggyn started to speak, but Maryn waved him silent.
“Do that, Nevyn.” The prince turned to his guards. “Take the child somewhere safe. He must have a nursemaid somewhere around here. Find her.”
It was a long while after noon before anyone remembered the captive women. By then their waterskins were long empty, and the sun beat down hard on the roof. Merodda was just considering humbling herself before their guard and begging for better shelter when another soldier climbed up through the shattered roof.
“Orders from the prince’s councillor. We’re to take the women down to the women’s hall and let them stay there. Is the king’s nursemaid up here?”
“I am.” Rwla stepped forward. “What have they done with my lad?”
“Naught, yet. The prince says I’m to take you to him.”
Rwla allowed herself a sob of relief.
“Move along, all of you,” their first guard said. “I’m sick of this duty, and it’ll be cursed good to get off this cursed roof!”
Although Merodda had been hoping that they’d be left without guards, once they were back in the women’s hall, two more soldiers appeared to stand outside the door. When she asked, however, they allowed two of the pages to go fetch water up, and the boys came back with a bucketful and a couple of loaves of stale bread as well. The women gathered around and gobbled shamelessly.
“This is so odd,” Abrwnna said at last. “Why is the prince sparing us this way?”
“I’ve no idea,” Merodda said. “To make a public spectacle of us, I suppose.”
“Maybe he’s truly merciful,” Pavva put in. “Just like everyone’s been saying.”
“To you he will be, lass. No doubt it’s only the queen and I who have the rank to interest him.” All at once Merodda felt herself smile. “That’s true, isn’t it? Here, how would you like to trade clothes with me?”
“What?” Pavva looked down at her drab dresses. “But these are so old and dirty.”
“Just so. Would the great lady Merodda of the Boar wear such things?”
Pavva laughed.
“Very well, my lady,” she said. “I’ll trade with you and gladly when the time comes.”
“We’d best do it now. They won’t be sending us a page, ever so nicely, asking us to join them at table or suchlike.” Merodda glanced at Abrwnna. “We can do the same for you, Your Highness.”
Abrwnna shook her head, then turned and walked to her favorite chair, lying on its side in front of the dead hearth. She set it upright, then flopped into it with one of her long sighs.
“I shall die with my husband,” she announced. “They shall find me here, defiant to the end.”
“Oh for the sake of the gods!” Merodda was about to say more, but she had run out of patience with the queen. “As you wish, then. Pavva, let’s get our clothes changed.”
They traded dresses, and Pavva took her baby to sit near the queen’s feet. Abrwnna leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling while the others made a halfhearted attempt to convince her to try to escape. Time, however, had run out—Merodda was just tying a dirty shawl round her waist for want of a proper kirtle when the guards flung open the door. A stout man, egg-bald but with a full, brindled beard, strode into the room with other soldiers behind him.
“The one with the red hair,” the bald fellow snapped, pointing. “That’s the queen, or so we’ve been told. Now come along, lass. No one will harm you. No one will harm any of you, for that matter, but I suggest you all stay