The Red Wyvern - Katharine Kerr [6]
Yet in the event Lord Douglas himself, riding at the head of his men, found him and well before sunset. Domnall was just climbing a low rise when he heard the sound of horses and horns, blaring from the other side. He whooped, he yelled, he screamed out his lord’s name, and sure enough, in a flurry of answering calls they crested the rise and pulled up, waiting for him to flounder through the snow and reach them.
“My lord!” Domnall called out. “Never have I been so glad to see a man as you!”
With a toss of his head Lord Douglas laughed. A rider led forward a fresh horse and threw Domnall the reins. Calling out his thanks, Domnall mounted, then made a half-bow to his lord from the saddle. As the warband started off down the road, Douglas motioned him up to ride beside him.
“How did you live through the night?” Lord Douglas said.
To lie to his lord galled him, but breaking a sworn promise would have galled more.
“I hardly know. I prayed to every saint I could think of, and I found a hut of sorts. It stank of shepherd and sheep dung, but it was so small that I stayed warm. Well, warm enough.”
“Good. We give the saints and their priests enough in tithes. I’m glad to see they keep their side of the bargain.”
“My thanks for riding out after me, my lord. I thought you’d have given me up for dead.”
“I did, but you’re one of my men, and damned if I’d leave you out here without so much as a hunt.” Douglas paused, considering something with an odd look on his face. “Besides, Jehan would have sent me to Hell herself if I hadn’t ridden out. You should have heard her, weeping and cursing and carrying on.”
“Your daughter, my lord?” Domnall felt himself blushing and stammering. “But I never would have thought—I mean, uh er, my lord, I—”
“Hold your tongue, Domnall Breich. Her mother’s a strong-minded woman, and so is she, and I’ve spent all I’ve a mind to on her sister’s dowry. There’s not much left for hers, but you’d not be asking for much, would you?”
“My lord, if she would have me, I’d ask for naught but her and count myself the richest man alive.”
“Good. Then if you can provide for her, you can have her. What about that, eh?”
“My father promised me a steading if I were to marry. It’s not a great lord’s lands, but we’ll make do.”
“And I can spare you some milk cows and suchlike.” Lord Douglas considered, frowning. “How long have the pair of you been hiding this secret?”
“My lord, I swear to you that I never knew she favored me. I held her too far above me.”
“I believe you. She told me that she never knew she loved you until she thought you dead. ‘It was my grief that made me see,’ she said.”
Remembering Evandar, Domnall found himself speechless. Had Jehan loved him at all until the night just past? But who was he to question this splendid miracle, this gift beyond hoping for?
“Then, my lord,” Domnall said, “I’ll count the night I just spent the luckiest of my life, for all that I thought I was a doomed man.”
When they rode back to the castle, Lady Jehan stood waiting for them on the steps of the keep. As soon as Domnall dismounted, she rushed to him and flung herself into his arms. He held her tight, laid his face against her auburn hair, and thought himself the happiest man in God’s world. Yet even in his joy he remembered the lady of Haen Marn, mourning her lost lord. That night he went into the chapel and prayed for her, that someday Lord Jesu might let her see her Rhodry Maelwaedd again.
PART ONE
The
North Country
AUTUMN 1116
Ah, the beginnings of things! In another place have I discoursed upon the complexities that weave the