Katharine Kerr - Daggerspell

That morning Nevyn came to the women’s hall, which was open to him because of his great age and, while she worked, entertained her with tales of Bardek, that mysterious country far across the Southern Sea. From the wealth of details, it was plain that he’d spent much time there.

“Studying physick, truly,” Nevyn admitted when she asked him. “They have much curious lore in Bardek, and most of it’s worth knowing. It’s a cursed strange place.”

“So it sounds. I wish I could see it someday, but it’s not likely now.”

“Here, child, you sound very unhappy.”

“I am, and I feel like the most ungrateful wretch in the world, too. Here Her Grace has been so generous to me, and I’m living in more luxury than I ever dreamt of, but I feel like a falcon in a cage.”

“Well, in a way, you are trapped.”

It was such a relief to hear someone agree with her that Jill nearly wept. Irritably she threw the sewing into her wicker workbasket.

“Well, if you truly hate this kind of life,” Nevyn went on, “perhaps you should leave it.”

“What can I do? Ride the roads as a silver dagger?”

“I should think not, but many a woman has a craft. If I spoke to the tieryn, she’d pay the prentice fee for you.”

“Oh, and what sort of thing would I do? I’d hate to spin or sew or suchlike, and no armorer or weaponmaster would take a woman as an apprentice, not even if the tieryn asked them.”

“There are all sorts of crafts.”

All at once, Jill remembered that he was dweomer. He was so kind to her, so bent on winning her friendship, that at times she forgot this frightening truth. The gray gnome looked up from the floor, where he’d been amusing himself by tangling her embroidery threads, and gave her a gaping grin.

“My lord,” Jill said, her voice shaking. “You honor me too highly if you think I could take up your craft.”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t, but it’s a closed issue if you don’t want it. I was merely thinking about herbcraft, the plain and simple medicine I know. I’ve learned a lot in my long years, and it would be a pity to let the knowledge die with me.”

“Well, so it would.” Suddenly Jill felt her first real hope in days. “And you travel everywhere and live the way you want.”

“Just that, and you’re bright enough to learn the lore. Lovyan will understand, truly, if you want to leave. She’ll know you’ll be safe with me.”

“But what about Da? I doubt me if he’d let me go with you, and truly, we’ve been through so much together, him and me, that I’d hate to leave him, too.”

“No doubt, but at some time you have to leave him.”

Although Nevyn spoke quietly, his words cut like a knife.

“Well, why?” Jill snapped. “If I stay here—”

“And aren’t you the one who was just telling me you’re miserable?”

“Oh, so I was.”

“Just think about it. You don’t have to decide straightaway.”

Nevyn left her to the tedious task of untangling the skeins that the gnome had ruined. As she worked, Jill thought over his offer. Oddly enough, she could see herself wandering the roads with a mule and dispensing herbs to farmers much more easily than marrying some minor lord and living in comfort. While it would hurt to leave Cullyn, she could always come back and see him whenever she felt like it. It would hurt much less than being shut up in the dun with Rhodry and his new wife, seeing him every day and knowing that another woman had what was beyond her reach.

Or so Jill thought of him that morning, as beyond her reach. Toward evening, she went out in the ward just for some fresh air, and Rhodry followed her, catching her out by the wall among the storage sheds.

“My lord should be more careful about chasing after me,” Jill said. “What if someone saw you?”

“I don’t give a pig’s fart if they did or not. I’ve got to talk with you. Let’s find a place where we can be alone.”

“Oh, indeed? It’s not talk that’s on your mind.”

“It is, and it isn’t. What of it?”

Rhodry smiled at her so softly that Jill followed him when he went round to a shed to a private place in the curve of the wall.

“This will do for now,” Rhodry said. “I, uh—”

The words seemed to stick in his throat.

“Uh, well,” he started again. “You see, I had a—I mean, that sounds so cursed cold.”

“You haven’t said much yet that sounded like anything.”

“I know. Well, it’s about that bargain we made, truly.”

“I thought as much. I meant what I said, curse you.”

“Things have changed somewhat. I—”

And he stuck there again, looking at her with a feeble, foolish smile. In sheer irritation Jill started to walk away, but he grabbed her by the shoulders. When she swung round to break his hold, she tripped over the hem of her dress and nearly fell into his arms. He laughed and kissed her, held her tight when she tried to squirm away, and kissed her again so sweetly that she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, clung to him, while she remembered all the pleasure his kisses promised.

“Leave your chamber door unbarred tonight,” Rhodry said.

“You dolt! If someone catches you, the news will be all over the dun.”

“Who’s going to be up in the middle of the night but me?” He kissed her softly, letting his mouth linger on hers. “Just leave the door unbarred.”

When Jill shoved him away, he grinned at her.

“I know you’ll do it,” Rhodry said. “Till tonight, my lady.”

In a fury of lust and rage both, Jill hiked up her skirts and ran, turning round the shed and nearly running straight into Cullyn. She yelped aloud in terror. He must have heard, must have seen. He set his hands on his hips and looked at her so mildly that she was sure she was in for the worst beating of her life.

“Da, I’m sorry!” Jill stammered.

“And so you might be, carrying on like a serving wench where anyone might see you.”

“I won’t do it again. Promise.”

“Good. You’ve got a chamber for that sort of thing, don’t you?”

Jill’s head reeled as badly as if he had slapped her. Cullyn gave her the barest sort of smile and walked past, calling out to Rhodry to wait for him. The two of them went off together, discussing some new men for the warband.

“So that’s what Rhodry wanted to tell me. Oh, by the Goddess herself!”

She felt betrayed. Jill stood there for a long time and considered it, that where she might have been pleased, she felt betrayed. Cullyn had handed her over to Rhodry to be his mistress, just handed her over like a horse, and she wanted Rhodry too much to protest. At that moment, she saw clearly what her life would become, caught between the two of them, loving them both, yet kept away from both. Rhodry would have his wife, and Cullyn, the warband. She would be important to them, in her way, rather like a valuable sword that they would never use in battle, only hang on a chamber wall to be taken down and admired once in a while. I can’t do that, she told herself, I won’t! Yet she knew that she could, and that she would. The bars of her cage were made out of love, and they would keep her in for all her gnawing at them.

All evening, Jill debated the question of whether Rhodry would find her door open or barred. She decided that she should hold out and make him realize that he would have to court her, that she wasn’t a bit of battle loot to be distributed by her father. When she went to bed that night, she barred the door, but she couldn’t sleep, and slowly, a bit at a time, her resolve wore away like sand under a storm tide. She cursed herself for a slut or worse, then got up and lifted the wooden bar free of the staples. She stood there for a moment, barred it again, then lifted it off and left it off. She stripped off her nightdress, lay down, and felt her heart pounding in the darkness. Not more than a few moments later, he came to her, as sure-footed and silent as a thief.