"Kerr,.Katharine.-.Westlands.04.-.A.Time.Of.Justice" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragon Stories)

'It's not indeed! On the other hand, I'm not in much of a hurry to have my uncle get here. I do hope he doesn't beat me.’
'Well, he won't as long as Rhodry can talk to him first and explain things. Tell me, Sewi, what do you think of the tieryn?'
'Dwaen? I've heard of him, of course, just from cousins and suchlike. They all said he was daft, talking about the gods all the time.’
'I suppose they did, but what do you think of him?'
'I rather like him. He seems a decent sort, and he's not bad-looking.’
'Good. Because if your uncle is unreasonable, you're going to have to marry him.’
'Oh by the Goddess!' Sevinna felt suddenly short of breath. 'You're right, aren't you?'
‘I’ll wager the scandal's spreading already. My apologies. I never thought of what it might mean to your honour when I came up with this idea.'
'Better dishonoured than dead. Don't trouble your heart about it for a moment'
And yet, of course, it did trouble her own heart, that after the love charms and Old Lore, after the assessing of suitors and the scheming of female relatives, her marriage might well come down to a stranger chance-met on the road, and all because of scandal and Lord Rhannyr's sense of humour. To her surprise, she found that Dwaen had been thinking along the same lines. After the noon meal, when she sat alone by a little window in the great hall, he sought her out, fetching a stool so that he could sit beside her chair like a page.
'Er well,’ he said. 'I thought I'd best tell you about my dun and lands.'
'Why? I mean, I'm always glad of his lordship's conversation, but uh well, I -'
'Please, my lady. There's no need for us to cross swords and spar. We both know that the gods have placed you in an awkward situation. Well, they've placed me in one, too. Here I am, tieryn in my own right, with no wife and no heirs, because the lass that I always thought I'd marry, from the time we were children, truly, well, she died of a winter fever.'
'Oh! My heart aches for your grief.'
Dwaen shrugged and looked away, brushing his dark hair back from his forehead with a broad hand.
'It was over two years ago now. You wouldn't be living with another woman's ghost or suchlike. I'll never mention her again, I promise you, but I thought you should know.'
Sevinna suddenly wondered if there were another lord in the kingdom who would be so scrupulous about his lady's feelings. Dwaen looked back at her and smiled.
‘I’ve got rather a lot of land, actually. You could live well in my dun.'
'But my lord, this is so sudden -'
Their eyes met, and they burst out laughing.
'Sudden, indeed,' said Dwaen. 'But here we blasted well are. The thing is, I know somewhat of your uncle and your father, and I doubt me that I bring the kind of alliances they need.'
'Oh.’ Sevinna considered, chewing on her lower lip. 'Well, it's kind of a nasty problem, then. But if the scandal spreads, then no one will marry me.'
'Exactly. I suppose we could always pretend that we really did elope.'
'I suppose. We'd probably best wait and sec what my uncle thinks about it all.'
Nothing very good, as it turned out. They all spent an uncomfortable day and night waiting at Rhannyr's willing if overextended hospitality before Gwerbret Tudvulc and half his warband charged in. Sevinna was up in her guest chamber, talking with Jill, when they heard the clattering and cursing out in the ward.
'Oh, Goddess defend me!' Sevinna said, looking heavenward. That must be my uncle.'
They rushed downstairs and outside to find the ward mobbed with men and horses. Not only was Tudvulc there but Lord Elyc as well, met on the road home, apparently, and swept along by the gwerbret. Just outside the door to the great hall stood Rhannyr and Dwaen, with Rhodry behind them. Sevinna would have run out, but Jill caught her arm.
'Let's stay in the doorway,’ she whispered. 'They'll see us soon enough.'
Red-faced and growling, Tudvulc dismounted and strode over to Dwaen and Rhannyr, both of whom bowed as deep as they could bend. A last few chickens fled squawking at his approach.
'You I know.' Tudvulc waved a hand at Rhannyr, then turned on Dwaen. 'You! What are you doing with my niece?'
'Protecting her from harm and naught more, Your Grace.'
'Hah! What do you think I am, a half-wit?'
'Never, Your Grace. If you feel her honour's been in the least degree besmirched, then I'll marry her gladly.'
'Cursed right you will!' Tudvulc looked round, saw Sevinna, and growled again. 'Ye gods! As bad as your blasted mother!'
And that was Sevinna's betrothal ceremony. When she caught Dwaen's eye, he shrugged and grinned. In spite of everything, she found herself smiling in return.
'Now then,' Tudvulc bellowed. 'Elyc, where are you? We've got to ride straight to Belgwerger.'
On the edge of the crowd, Elyc turned his mount in the gwerbret's direction.
'What about the horses? They're tired, and Rhannyr can't remount us all.'
'Too cursed bad! Your wife and my daughters are in that dun with a poisoner.'
Since Rhannyr’s vastly pregnant wife had no need of them, Sevinna rode back on that lady's palfrey and in her proper side-saddle. Tudvulc and Elyc headed the march, with Sevinna and Dwaen riding side by side just behind them, leaving the silver daggers and the warbands to sort themselves out however they wanted. Chivvying and growling, Tudvulc kept them moving at a good pace, too, marching his improvised army up to the city gates well before sunset. As they hurried through the town, the citizens fled out of the way like Rhannyr's chickens.
They trotted into the dun, where pages and servants rushed to greet them and sort out this plethora of unexpected guests. When she looked up at the broch tower, Sevinna saw figures in the window of the women's quarters. One of them had to be Taurra, she assumed, watching and wondering at the uproar below. Once they were close to the broch and out of the worst confusion, Dwaen swung down and helped her dismount.
'My thanks, my lord.'
'Most welcome, my lady.'
When they exchanged a smile, the events of the past few days suddenly became real to her. Oh by the Goddess! she thought. This man is going to be my husband, and I barely know him. She turned away with a scatter of tears.
When she'd got herself under control, Dwaen slipped his arm through hers and escorted her into the great hall, where frantic servants were dragging extra benches up to tables. Yelling for ale, Elyc grabbed a page and sent him upstairs to fetch Lady Davylla and her womenfolk down to the hall. Sevinna allowed Dwaen to seat her at the table of honour, then looked round for Jill, who was standing with Rhodry beside Tudvulc and talking intently to the gwerbret. Every now and then, Tudvulc grunted in agreement. At the far side of the hall, the weary riders were sorting out who would sit where as quietly as they could. Elyc sat himself down at the head of the table of honour with a long yawn.
'We're going to clear this wretched mess up right away. While we were riding to Rhannyr's dun, Tudvulc was telling me about this poisoner. If this Taurra's her, then she's no guest of mine.'
By the time the ladies came down, the men were all seated, drinking ale in grim silence. In a rustle of silks and a flash of jewels, the women hurried into the hall, Lady Davylla and Wbridda in the lead, Babryan and Taurra just behind. Taurra had put on a plain dress, dark-coloured, shabby from mending, and swept her dark hair back in a simple copper clasp, the very picture of a humble bewildered penitent, but she walked in proudly, head held high, her eyes calm, as if she were sure of her innocence before the gods. Sevinna felt a ripple of fear mixed with awe, as if she were going to see a wild boar brought to bay.
Taurra glanced round and saw Dwaen. She stiffened, her eyes flashing rage, her hands clasping as if she would claw him. Dwaen rose and made her a bow.
'Well met, Lady Mallona. I doubt me if you truly want news of your husband, Lord Beryn, but I'll offer it to you.'
'What?' A bewildered Davylla turned this way and that between them. 'Who is this man? Elyc -'