Katharine Kerr - Daggerspell

“I must say I never thought I’d have to thank a lass for saving my son’s life,” Lovyan said. “But I do thank you, and from the bottom of my heart.”

“Her Grace is more than welcome, and truly, you’ve offered me more repayment than I deserve.”

“Nonsense. You have much to learn about life in a court, of course, but I’m sure you’ll do splendidly. The first thing we have to do is sew you some proper dresses.”

Jill’s dismay must have shown on her face, because the three of them laughed gently at her.

“Oh, come now,” Dannyan said. “You can’t go around dressed like a lad.”

“Besides,” Medylla broke in. “You’re so pretty, child. Once your hair grows, and we’ve gotten you all turned out, why, you’ll have lads clustering around you like bees round a rose bush.”

Jill stared blankly at her.

“Child?” Lovyan said. “Is somewhat wrong?”

“Well, Your Grace, I mean no disrespect, but don’t you all remember that I’ve killed two men?”

They went as still as if they’d been turned to stone by dweomer. Only then did Jill realize just how completely her one victorious battle had set her apart from other women. Not even the powerful Lovyan would ever know what she knew, the bitter tangled glory of wagering your life against another’s and winning.

“So you have,” Loyvan said at last. “I was assuming that you’d want to put all that behind you.”

“I do, Your Grace, but I can’t—not so easily, anyway.” Jill began to feel like a horse in a bedchamber. “I mean no insult, truly I don’t.”

“Of course not, child, and none’s taken,” Lovyan said. “But true enough, chatter about lads and pretty clothes isn’t going to amuse you the way it used to amuse the three of us. This is very interesting, Jill. Have you ever thought of marrying, by the way?”

“I haven’t, Your Grace. Who would I have married without a dowry? Some tavernman?”

“True spoken, but all that’s changed now.” Lovyan gave her a good-humored smile. “Your beauty and my favor are dowry enough for any lass. There’s many a rising young merchant who’d admire a wife with your spirit, and for that matter, many a landless noble lord who needs my goodwill. You wouldn’t be the first woman to win a title with her looks.”

“I see.”

“But if you don’t want to marry,” Dannyan broke in, “no one will force you into it, either. It’s just that most lasses do.”

“My thanks, but this is all so sudden, I don’t know what to think.”

“Of course,” Lovyan said. “There’s no hurry.”

Although all of them smiled at her, Jill realized that they were looking on her as a strange kind of invalid, a victim who needed nursing back to health. She began to feel like a falcon indeed, used to soaring at the edge of the wilderness, but now caught and brought back to hunt at a lord’s command.

Since Lovyan practically ordered her to, Jill agreed to wear women’s clothes down to dinner that night. As pleased as if they had a new daughter, Medylla and Dannyan fussed over Jill. She had a bath with perfumed soap, dried herself off on thick Bardek towels, then submitted to having Medylla comb her hair before she dressed. First came the narrow white underdress with tight sleeves, then a blue overdress, hanging full from gathered shoulders. Around her waist a kirtle of Lovyan’s plaid tucked the dress in and made pockets of a sort with its folds, enough to carry a table dagger and a handkerchief. Although Medylla offered her a tiny jeweled dagger, Jill insisted on carrying her own. In spite of all the honor of being treated this way, there were limits to what she’d put up with. She took a few steps and nearly tripped. The underdress was far too narrow for her usual stride.

“Poor Jill,” Dannyan said with honest sympathy. “Well, you’ll get used to it in a bit.”

Alternately mincing and stumbling, Jill followed them down to the great hall, where Lovyan was already seated at the head of the honor table. Since they would have to await Rhys’s final judgment on the war, all of Rhodry’s noble-born allies were there, except, of course, for the wounded Sligyn. The lords rose and bowed rather absently to Her Grace’s women; then Edar laughed aloud.

“Jill! I swear I didn’t recognize you.”

“I hardly recognize myself, my lord.”

Jill took a place at the foot of the table between Medylla and Dannyan. Although everyone was waiting for Rhodry, he never came in, and eventually a somewhat annoyed Lovyan had the meal served without him. Jill had to pay strict attention to her manners and constantly remind herself that she couldn’t wipe her hands on her borrowed dress. She aped Medylla and Dannyan and ate using only her fingertips, which she could dabble clean on the handkerchief hanging from her kirtle.

The meal was nearly finished when a page hurried to the table to announce Lord Cinvan, the first of Corbyn’s allies come to sue for peace. As befitted the ritual of the thing, he came alone and completely unarmed, with not so much as a table dagger in his belt, and he knelt before Lovyan like a common rider. The entire hall fell silent as Lovyan coolly considered him. The noble-born leaned forward, Edar with a tight twist of contempt to his mouth, the rest expressionless.

“I’ve come to beg for your forgiveness and your pardon,” Cinvan said, his voice choking on his shame. “For raising my sword in rebellion against you.”

“This is a grave thing you ask of me. What restitution do you offer?”

“Twenty horses, coin for my share of lwdd for Daumyr and all men dead, and my little son to live in your dun as hostage.”

Although Jill was thinking that this sounded a small fee for so much trouble, Lovyan nodded.

“If the gwerbret approves those terms, I shall take them. No doubt you’re hungry after your long ride. You may sit with my men, and a servant will feed you.”

Cinvan winced, but as a sign of submission, he did it, taking a place at the end of one of the riders’ tables. They all ignored him, looking through him as if he were made of glass. As the general chatter picked up again, Jill turned to whisper to Dannyan.

“Why did our lady let him off so lightly?”

“He’s a poor lord as it is. He’ll have to borrow from every cousin he has just to pay the lwdd, and if our lady made his clan destitute, they’d rise in rebellion some fine day.”

“Besides,” Medylla put in, “by being so generous, she’s shamed him good and proper. That’ll sting worse than the coin.”

The two nodded sagely at each other. Jill realized that they were going to be her guides and teachers in this new world, where intrigue was as dangerous as a thousand swords.

As soon as possible Jill left the table and went to look in on her father. As she made her way down the corridor, she heard laughter coming from his chamber, and when she opened the door, she saw Rhodry, sharing a meal with Cullyn. The sight of them together made her freeze, her hand on the open door, as they both turned to look at her. The lantern light seemed to swell into the glow of a fire, picking out the glitter of the silver dagger in Cullyn’s hand.

“Well, by the gods!” Cullyn said. “This fine lady can’t be my scruffy little silver dagger’s brat.”

“Da, don’t tease. I’m miserable enough as it is.” She allowed herself one glance at Rhodry. “I’ll leave you to your talk with your captain, my lord.”

“My thanks,” Rhodry said.

Jill stepped out and shut the door behind her. Only then did she realize that she was terrified, just from seeing Cullyn and Rhodry together, as if in some mad way, she thought they were plotting about her behind her back.

• • •

Seven days passed without a word from Gwerbret Rhys, who would have to oversee the judgments Lovyan made upon her rebel lords. Rhodry was furious, seeing the delay as a slap at him, a perception no one bothered to deny. Jill’s presence in the dun was another constant torment; he simply couldn’t keep his mind off her, and seeing her was worse, making him remember their night together, the first time he’d ever had a woman who could match him in bed. He took to spending as much time as possible alone, going for long rides or merely walking out in the ward.