A Time of Justice. Katharine KerrЧитать онлайн книгу.
hurrying over with a chunk of bread in his hand. Her head high, Vyna refused to curtsey; she stood her ground and let the lord look her over.
‘I do remember you, truly,’ Beryn said. ‘And that’s the baby, is he?’
‘He is, my lord,’ Vyna said. ‘My child.’
Beryn had a thoughtful bite of bread and went on considering her. He towered over her, a strong man still, grey hair or not, his narrow eyes utterly cold and not a trace of a smile on his face, but Vyna stared back at him with her mouth set like a warrior’s.
‘You’ll swear the child’s my son’s?’ Beryn said.
‘He’s mine first, my lord, but your son had somewhat to do with getting him.’
‘A strong-minded lass, aren’t you?’
‘I’ve had to be, my lord.’
Beryn finished most of his bread, then threw the crust away.
‘Well, you’ll be better off in a dun than you’ve been in the kitchen,’ he said. ‘After we’ve attended to this other matter I’ll ride here and fetch you and the lad.’
‘Me, my lord?’
‘Well, think, woman! What am I going to do with a babe in arms? I’d only have to find him a nurse anyway. Might as well be you.’
Lord Beryn turned on his heel and walked back to his men. Vyna covered her face with her hands and sobbed aloud.
‘Hush, hush,’ Jill said, patting her shoulder. ‘There, see? No one’s even going to take him away from you. But I don’t envy you, shut up in that dun with his lordship there.’
‘I’d put up with the Lord of Hell if I had to for my baby. He’s better than that, I suppose.’ With one last sob, she wiped her face on her sleeve. ‘I’m more afraid of what everyone’s going to say about me than I am of him.’
‘I doubt me if you’ve got much to worry about. Lord Beryn would take it as an insult if anyone mocked the mother of his heir, and I’ll wager no one insults his lordship lightly.’
Once the men had eaten, they changed horses, then rode out fast, determined to reach Beryn’s dun by sundown. A few miles down the road they met a single rider, coming fast on a grey gelding. With a yell, Lord Beryn pulled out of line and galloped to meet him with the rest of his escort streaming after. A river of men and horses surrounded the rider and swept the noble lords into the eddy as well. Rhodry, of course, stayed close to Dwaen.
‘It gladdens my heart to see you, my lord,’ the rider said to Beryn. ‘I was riding to Caenmetyn with a message for you.’
‘Indeed?’ Beryn leaned forward in his saddle. ‘Then spit it out, lad.’
‘Somewhat’s wrong with your lady. After you left, she was all upset, like, but well, we figured that she would be, with you gone off like that to face – well, trouble and suchlike.’ He gave the gwerbret a nervous sidelong glance. ‘But anyway, in the middle of the night, that merchant comes to the gates on a foundered horse. Bavydd. Do you remember him, my lord?’
‘Very well indeed. Go on.’
‘And he says he has news from Caenmetyn, and so of course we let him in. We all thought it was good of him to ride so fast with the news for your lady. So anyway, Bavydd stays for a bit, and Lady Mallona tells us not to worry, because the malover’s gone in your favour. And so we cheered the merchant and then all went to bed. In the morning, the gatekeeper tells us that Bavydd rode out not long after we left the great hall, on a horse your lady gave him, to make up for his, like. But now the Lady Mallona’s shut up in her chamber, and none of her women can get her to answer the door. So we thought about climbing up and going in through the window, but we couldn’t do that, not into your lady’s chamber, so we thought we’d better get you a message and ask what to do.’
Beryn looked Rhodry’s way with expressionless eyes. Rhodry merely shrugged, supposing, as the lord doubtless did, that the lady had chosen to cheat the gwerbret’s justice and die on her own terms. Beryn turned back to the rider.
‘Well, here I am. Let’s ride and get back there.’
Behind its low walls, Beryn’s dun was a straggly untidy place, a low squat broch, a dirt ward crammed with stables and storage sheds. When the warband streamed in through the gates, it filled the ward and turned it to a riot of confused servants and dismounting riders. Shouting his name, Beryn’s fort-guard mobbed their lord, then told him the same story all over again, while the chamberlain bowed to the gwerbret and apologized repeatedly for the humble lodgings. At a whispered order from Dwaen, Rhodry stuck close to Lord Beryn, who barely seemed to notice he was there.
‘Should we get a couple of axes and break down the door, my lord?’ a rider said. ‘Take a while, but we’ll get it in the end.’
‘My lord?’ Rhodry stepped forward. ‘I’m good at climbing. If you’ll give me permission to enter your lady’s chamber, I can go up the broch and come in through the window easy enough.’
‘My thanks, silver dagger,’ Beryn said. ‘Come round here. I’ll show you which window it is.’
As they hurried around the broch, Beryn’s narrow eyes showed no more than a flicker of distaste for the discovery that inevitably waited for them. He pointed out a window on the second floor of the rough stone broch, then ran inside to wait in front of the lady’s door. Rhodry took off his spurs and sword belt, handed them to Jill, then jumped to a windowsill and started up from there. Since little ledges and flat flints stuck out all over the wall, the rough stone was easy climbing. At the window, he found the shutters closed, but he pushed them open with one hand and clambered inside.
The dimly-lit chamber reeked with the sickly odour of vomit and some sweetish drug. On the canopied bed lay a figure, huddled up, clasping its stomach with both hands. Rhodry strode over and pulled the blanket back to find a stout man, naked, his skin bluish, his broad face contorted and blue from his last agony. He lay in a pool of vomit and urine, and his blood-shot eyes stared up sightless at the embroidered blazons on Lord Beryn’s bed. Rhodry stepped back fast.
‘Gods preserve us! She’s a ruthless little bitch!’
He ran to the door and unbarred it to let Lord Beryn and the gwerbret in. At the sight of the corpse in his bed Beryn swore aloud. He began to shake, a tremor of rage that left him speechless and scarlet-faced. Behind him came Coryc with Dwaen and Lord Cadlew, with Jill trailing behind. Coryc’s careful mask of sympathy shattered at the sight.
‘Bavydd!’ Coryc said. ‘It has to be! Oh by the hells, then where’s Lady Mallona?’
‘Your Grace, if I may speak?’ Jill broke in. ‘I’ll wager she’s wearing Bavydd’s clothes and riding one of her husband’s horses. It must have been her that the servants saw leave the dun last night.’
‘And she’s heading south for Cerrmor,’ Beryn snarled. ‘I’ll wager on that.’
‘Cerrmor?’ the gwerbret said. ‘Why would she do that?’
‘Where else can she go?’ Beryn spoke so quietly that it was frightening. ‘Her wretched brother had a wife and children there, and Bavydd must have kin. I know my wife, Your Grace. She could fool the gods themselves when she gets to lying. But she’ll never reach Cerrmor. I swear it by the Lord of Hell himself. She’ll never reach it alive.’
Yelling for fresh horses, Beryn ran down the stairs. Although the gwerbret hurried after him, Dwaen hesitated, motioning to Jill and Rhodry to wait with him.
‘Think we’ll catch her?’ the tieryn said.
‘Who knows, my lord?’ Rhodry said. ‘She’s got a day’s start on us, but only one horse. Huh. I’ll wager she can steal others. I wouldn’t put anything past her.’
‘Not after this.’ Dwaen shuddered. ‘She must have been driven mad, the poor woman. Maybe she started