The Red Wyvern - Katharine Kerr [16]
Across the hall a herald called out for the men to make way. A procession of women was descending the huge stone staircase, with Queen Abrwnna at the head. Older than her royal husband, the queen was almost a woman, no longer a girl. Behind her came her retinue of maidservants and noble-born serving women, who included Lillorigga’s mother, Merodda, a widow and sister to both Tibryn, Gwerbret Cantrae, and Regent Burcan. In the flickering dim light, Merodda looked no older than the young queen. Her yellow hair lay smooth and oddly shiny, caught by a silver clasp at the nape of her neck. Her skin was the envy of every woman at court: smooth and rosy just like a lass, they said, and her with a marriageable daughter and all! She walked like a lass, too, and tossed her head and laughed with spirit. A marvel, everyone said, how beautiful she is still. If they only knew, Lilli thought bitterly. If they only knew—her and her potions!
At the bottom step Merodda paused, looking over the great hall, then turned to speak to a page before she rejoined the queen’s retinue at table. When Lilli realized that the page was heading for her, she rose, briefly considered bolting, then decided that if she angered her mother now, she’d only pay for it later. The page trotted over and made her a sketchy bow.
“Honored Lillorigga,” he said, “your mother says you’re to come to her chambers when she’s done eating.”
Lilli felt fear clutch her with cold, wet hands.
“Very well.” She just managed to arrange a smile. “Please tell her that I’ll wait upon her as she wishes.”
With barely a glance her way he turned and trotted back to the queen’s table. Lilli saw him speak to Merodda, then take up his station for serving the meal. Lilli herself was supposed to eat at one of the tables reserved for unmarried women of noble birth. Instead she grabbed a chunk of bread from a serving basket as a page carried it by and left the press and clamor of the hall.
Outside the sun was setting, dragging cold shadow over the courtyard, one of the many among the warren of brochs and outbuildings. Lilli hurried past the cookhouse, dodged between storage sheds, and slipped out a small gate into a much bigger court, the next ward out, ringed round by high stone walls that guarded pigsties, stables, cow sheds, a smithy, a pair of deep water wells—everything the dun needed to withstand a siege.
At the gates of this ward someone was shouting. When Lilli saw servants hurry past with lit torches, she drifted after them, but she kept to the shadows. Down at the wall, the torchlight glittered on chain mail and a confusion of men, arguing about who would do what, a debate the captain of the watch finally ended—he ordered his guards to man the winch that opened the enormous iron-bound gates. They creaked open a bare six feet to let an exhausted rider stumble through, leading a muddy horse.
“Messages for the king,” he croaked. “From the Gwerbret of Belgwergyr.”
Servants rushed to take his horse. Lilli trailed after the messenger and the watch captain as they hurried up to the main broch.
“Good news, I hope,” said the captain.
“Bad,” the messenger said. “His grace the gwerbret’s lost more vassals to the false king.”
Lilli felt suddenly sick.
She trailed after the messenger and his escort as they hurried to the great hall. By then all the important lords had gathered around the king. On his cushions at the table’s head Olaen, a pretty child with thick pale hair, was eating bread and honey. At either side of him Lilli’s two uncles—Tibryn, Gwerbret Cantrae, and his younger brother, Burcan, the regent—sat as a matched pair between the king and the rest of the gwerbretion and other such powerful lords who dined at this table. Both of them were handsome men, tall and warrior-straight, with the wide-set blue eyes they