“Now then,” Otho said. “Your Highness, I was working on a gift for you—for you, I repeat—when the lady came in, much distracted. She couldn't sleep, she said. The silver dagger there came hurrying after her, afraid she'd lost her wits or suchlike, from the pain of birthing your—I repeat, your third son. Or are you daft enough, Your Highness, to think she was dallying with me, four times her age and ten times as ugly?”
“Not in the least.” Maryn sounded as if he was choking. “Not in the least.”
“Good.” Otho paused, thinking. “One more thing, Your Highness. That you'd suspect your lady—ye gods! If this is the kind of wits you have, a fine king you're going to make.”
Everyone in the great hall gasped, flinched, so that the crowd seemed like a field of grain, bowing and rustling in a sudden gust of wind. Maryn stared speechless, his mouth a little open. Otho turned his back on him and clambered down from the table. He paused in front of Bellyra and bowed, but he said nothing.
“My thanks,” Bellyra whispered, but her dry mouth refused to form any more words.
Otho turned to look at the prince. “Well, Your Highness?” Otho said. “And what is your royal judgment on the matter?”
The hall went dead-silent again. For a long moment Maryn stared at Otho with eyes that revealed nothing. Otho scowled and kept looking him full in the face. At last Maryn smiled, a crooked sort of smile.
“My judgment?” Prince Maryn said. “That I've done my lady a great disservice by listening to foul gossip about her.”
Riders, servants, court people—everyone leapt to their feet and cheered. Maddyn sat back on his heels and wiped his eyes on one sleeve. Bellyra felt tears gather, but she forced them under control and looked squarely at her husband. The booming noise, cheer after cheer, sudden laughter, talk and the clapping of hands, rolled around them both like thunder—but of a departing storm. As the noise began to still, Maryn held out his hand to her.
“My lady, can you forgive me?”
Bellyra wanted to blurt, to say “of course” or “I already have,” but she forced herself to keep quiet for a long, haughty moment.
“I shall try, my lord,” she said at last. “Out of the love I bear you.”
“I deserve no better. Let me escort you upstairs.”
Bellyra nodded and took his offered arm. Councillor Oggyn stood at the door, plastered against the jamb, half in and half out of the hall. When she caught his glance he turned and rushed outside, disappearing among the clutter of the ward. You swine! she thought. Her anger kept her strong up to the top of the stairs, but there her terror caught up with her. She stumbled, nearly fell, let Maryn put an arm around her shoulders to steady her. She could feel herself trembling, and once again the dim light of the corridor seemed to rise until she could barely see.
“Here,” Maryn said, “let's get you to the women's hall, where you can sit down. I've been the biggest fool in all of Deverry, and ye gods, I'll beg you again to forgive me.”
She merely nodded, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. But I'm safe, she told herself. I'm safe now. Maryn opened the door to the hall and helped her inside. She collapsed in the first chair she came to.
“I'll kneel in front of you,” Maryn said and did so, sitting back on his heels. “I don't think you realize what envy you bring out in people.”
“Envy of me?” Bellyra said. “They've lost their wits, then.”
“Nah, nah, nah, you're about to become the queen, aren't you? And truly, if it weren't for that, I'd not have dragged you down to the great hall. The entire kingdom has to know that you're above reproach.”
“I'm tempted to ask why, but I shan't. Don't you see, Marro, why I'm so frightened? I thought you were going to put me aside. The shame of it—ah Goddess, it would be the worst thing in the world.”
“Well, I'm certainly not going to do that. But I think you should leave court for a while.”
She could not speak, no matter how hard she tried. She raised one hand as if to reach out to him, but her strength failed her, and the hand refused to move.
“Now hear me out,” Maryn said. “This scandal—it's no longer deadly but it's not dead, either. I've been thinking. I'm going to send you back to Cerrmor for a while.” He held up a hand flat for silence. “Just a little while, mind.”
“What? Why? I thought you believed me and Otho if not me.”
“Of course I believe you! That's not the point.”
“It is for me.” Bellyra felt herself tremble again. “Oh by all the gods! Don't send me away!”
“It's for your own good. I don't want servant lasses gossiping about my wife. And you are the queen. Your honor—”
“There's naught you can teach me about my honor, my lord. I know it better than you ever can, how it binds me like a rope of thorns.”
Maryn stared, caught speechless, for a long moment. Bellyra forced herself to stare back, and eventually he looked away.
“Riddmar will become gwerbret the moment I become king.” Maryn's voice was steady, almost calm. “He won't be able to rule there alone. I'm going to name you regent, but in truth, you'll be the gwerbret. Cerrmor should have been yours, if there were any justice in the kingdom. That you're a woman—well, I never could have given you the rhan, but at least this way you'll get the new gwerbret off to a splendid start.”
“I see.” Yet she realized that she'd barely understood his words: something about Riddmar, something about Cerrmor.
“No one will count you dishonored this way. Everyone knows the lad will need a regent at first.”
“Will you send me away before the priests make you high king?” She was surprised to find that she could form a coherent thought. “After all my long years of living in fear for your sake, I'd like to see the end of the wars.”
“I won't. You've a part to play in the ritual, and Riddmar can't be invested till after I'm proclaimed, anyway.”
“Very well. I'll tell the nursemaids and suchlike to be ready—”
“I'm keeping the children here. It's too dangerous, letting them travel to Cerrmor. We didn't fight these wars to put a man without heirs on the throne.”
But not too dangerous to send me, Bellyra thought. I've served my purpose. I've given him his litter of sons, I'll have taken my appointed place during the rituals. “You know somewhat, Maryn?” she said aloud. “It's a pity I wasn't born a broodmare. I wouldn't care if I ever saw the stud who mounted me again.”
“Oh for the gods' sake! It's only going to be for a little while. A year, say, to let the talk die down.”
She thought of saying more, of letting her anger loose like some savage dog freed from its chain, but she realized that he wanted her to be angry, so that he in turn could grow angry as well. If they fought, he would see her leaving court as a victory, and one that he had every right to claim. Instead she looked at him, kept her face as calm as she could make it, merely looked and had the satisfaction of seeing him toss his head and turn away to escape her stare.
“I've got to get back to the great hall.” Maryn got up from the floor. “I'll be back to escort you down to dinner, if you'd care to come.”
He strode to the door, strode out of it, slammed it hard behind him. Bellyra leaned back in her chair and watched the cobwebs drifting from the massive beams of the ceiling. She heard the door opening behind her, and heard Elyssa calling her name, but raising her head to look or answer seemed beyond her. Just when I thought I was safe, just when I thought it was over. She felt as if she were a stick of wood that had withstood a hundred blows of an axe, only to break on the hundredth and first.
Although Clodda had told her that the prince was dragging Bellyra into the great hall, Lilli had stayed away. She was beginning to wonder if she was starting to hate Maryn. How could he do such a thing to the wife who loved him beyond everything? Didn't he realize—then she remembered him blithely talking about their political marriage. Of course he didn't realize. He didn't want to, she supposed. She heard the
news of how things had resolved from Nevyn, who came straight up to her chamber afterwards. The old man was still angry, but by the end of his recital he managed to share a laugh with Lilli over Otho's remarks to the soon-to-be high king of all Deverry.
“Oh, how splendid of Otho!” Lilli said. “Of course, if Maryn were a less honorable man, he would have thrown Otho in prison or suchlike.”
“Perhaps,” Nevyn said, still smiling. “But I think Otho would have thought it was worth it.”
Someone knocked on the door, then banged on it.
“Lilli?” Elyssa's voice called out. “Is Nevyn there with you?
“He is.” Lilli rose from her chair. “Do come in, Lyss.”
Elyssa opened the door and stepped in, but only by one pace. “Nevyn, please, can you come attend upon the princess? Her madness—ah ye gods! I've never seen it so strong.”
“Of course I will.” Nevyn got up hastily. “I suppose this attack must be the result of what happened in the great hall.”
“That and worse. The prince is sending her away to Cerrmor. He says it's to stand as regent to young Riddmar, but I doubt me if that's the real reason.”
“The little bastard!” Nevyn snarled. “And no doubt she blames herself.”
“I don't know.” Elyssa spread her hands in a helpless gesture. “She can barely put ten words together.”
“Lilli, go to my tower room and fetch the canvas sack. It's under the table. The sack with the medicinals. Then bring it to the women's hall.”
“I will, my lord.” Lilli took a deep breath. “As fast as I can.”
Lilli hurried to the staircase and clattered down in her clogs. By then the storm had turned the sunset hour as dim as twilight, and in the murky great hall she could hope that no one would notice her. From the scraps of conversation she could overhear, everyone was still talking about Bellyra and Otho, how between them they had shown the prince a thing or two. She hurried outside and trotted across the ward to Nevyn's broch. At the entrance she paused and looked back: no one was following her. By the time she reached the top of the stairs she was gasping for breath. Although she found the sack immediately, she was forced to sit down and rest till her pounding heart stilled.
By the time she left, the rain had started. Fat cool drops spattered down, thicker and faster with every moment that passed. She wrapped her arms around the sack to keep it as dry as possible and ran for the great hall. She was so intent on keeping the herbs safe, in fact, that she nearly ran into Maryn. He caught her arm and smiled at her. She could smell mead.
“Why such a hurry, my lady?” Maryn said.
“Your wife, Your Highness, has been taken ill. Nevyn sent me for medicinals.”
Maryn let her go and stepped back. Lilli could see the men at the nearby tables turning to watch, but her anger pounded in her blood like the rain on the cobbles.
“How could you!” she hissed. “Send her away, I mean. How could you?”
Maryn froze, staring at her with eyes that revealed nothing. Lilli pushed past him and started up the stairs. Her lungs ached and burned, but she forced herself onward until she gained the safety of the landing above. She staggered down the corridor to the women's hall, pushed open the door, and staggered through it to find Degwa lighting candles with a long splint. In the dancing light tears gleamed on her cheeks.
“My lady and Nevyn are in the bedchamber,” Degwa said. “I should have listened to you, Lilli. Ah Goddess, how I wish I'd listened to you!”
“I wish you'd listened, too.” Lilli set the sack on a nearby table. “Take this in to Nevyn, will you? I don't want to add to our princess's grief by letting her see me.”
Lilli returned to her own chamber. Clodda had set on the table a plate of bread and cheese, a goblet of watered mead, and a lit candle lantern. Lilli sank into her chair and remembered Maryn, standing in the doorway with his eyes suddenly gone dead to all feeling. He sent her away for me. The realization sickened her. He sent her away so I wouldn't see her grief. Did he think I'd fall into his arms again, once Bellyra was out of sight?
“I'd rather die,” she whispered. “By the Goddess, I hope he never touches me again.”
And as she spoke, she felt an eerie cold wash over her, as if some great presence had walked into the room. She looked around and saw no one, but she knew in a wordless way that her prayer had been accepted.
Bellyra lay on her bed, propped up on pillows, and allowed Nevyn and Elyssa to fuss over her. She listened to Nevyn's talk of finding inner strength, smiled when Elyssa announced that they'd all have a more comfortable life in Cerrmor, and in general pretended that their concern was healing the wounds Maryn had given her. That she acted out lies no longer mattered. Nothing mattered anymore. Their talk went on and on, while the shutters banged at the windows and rain fell. Elyssa hurried around lighting candles. It had grown dark outside.
The nursemaid brought in the children. Bellyra kissed all three and told them she loved them—another lie. The sight of them, little Maryns, all of them, with their pale hair and little grey eyes, made her want to scream with rage. Even the newly named Prince Gwardon, so helpless in his little red blanket— perhaps she hated him most of all. That Maryn would keep the children but send her away—it was unbearable. Every decent woman in Deverry would pity her; the malicious would gloat.
The nursemaid took the children out again. Bellyra lay in a pool of candlelight and listened to the rain.
“It's slacking a bit,” she said.
“The storm's moving fast, Your Highness,” Nevyn said. “No doubt it will clear by the morning.”
“Ah. You know, you could go about your evening. I'll be fine; you don't need to sit with me.”
“There's nowhere I'd rather be than here.”
They talked some more, Elyssa and Nevyn, talked and talked till Bellyra felt like ordering them away. At moments she thought they were about to mention Maddyn, but one or the other would abruptly change the subject. Finally Nevyn stood up and stretched, yawning.
“Well, I had best be off,” Nevyn said. “I'm leaving herbs here with Elyssa. They'll help you sleep. You look exhausted, and I for one don't blame you one bit.”
Bellyra nodded and smiled. She felt as if she were playing with a doll, as if she stood beside her body and moved its head and flapped its arms while she pretended it was alive.
“I'll be back later,” Nevyn continued. “Just to see how you're bearing up.”
“My thanks,” Bellyra said.
When he left, Elyssa walked him to the door. Bellyra could hear them murmuring incomprehensibly, talking about her, no doubt. It was a pity she was worrying them so, but then, the worry would end soon. Packed off to Cerrmor like a chest of unwanted clothes—she could not, she would not bear it. For one moment the idea came to her that if she did return to Cerrmor, Maddyn might follow at a decent interval, but immediately she thought of the gossip. It would reach Maryn, and then he would know that he'd been right to send her away.
Wearing a fixed smile, Elyssa returned to the bedchamber. She pulled up a high stool to sit at the bedside.
“Are you really glad to be going back to Cerrmor?” Bellyra said.
“I'd be glad if only you were happy about it.”
“Instead of shamed like this?”
“It's his shame, not yours, that he'd treat you this way.”
“Then why do I feel it? A cast-off woman, that's what I am. Oh, I know that Maryn's talked of recall. Do you truly think he'll ever want me back? It was noble of little Lilli to end their affair, but he'll find another lass, and another after that. He always does. He has his legitimate heirs now. What would he want with a mare too galled to ride?”
“Oh, don't, Lyrra! Stop it!”
“What? Don't you think it's true?”
“What? The mistresses? Of course it's true spoken, but he'll want you back. He needs your good sense. I hate to see you vexing yourself this way.”
Bellyra shrugged and considered the bed hangings. Little
red wyverns flew on one side, while the ships of Cerrmor still sailed on the other.
“I never finished the new hangings,” Bellyra said. “Oh well, his new mistress can finish the sewing. She's the one who'll be sleeping in this bed.”
Elyssa made the choking sound of someone trying to stifle tears.
“Do you remember what they called me when we were little?” Bellyra went on. “The lass who wasn't there. That's what I feel like now, someone who's not really here. The priests say that the Otherlands begin their journey to this world on the day past Beltane. This year I can feel it. It's as if this storm came from there.”
“Stop it, stop it!” Tears were running down Elyssa's face. “Please, please don't talk like that.”
“My apologies. I'll stop.”
“I'm going to wake up the pages.” Elyssa slid down from the stool. “They'll fetch water and firewood, and we'll brew you up those herbs Nevyn left to help you sleep.”
Elyssa hurried out of the chamber. As soon as the door closed, Bellyra threw back the covers and got up. Carrying her clogs, she went to the door and opened it a bare crack. Outside the dark corridor stretched silent. She left, shutting the door again to give Elyssa an extra moment's delay, and hurried down the corridor to the staircase. The great hall stretched dark; near the banked hearths servants and dogs slept in the straw. Bellyra crept through, then put on the noisy clogs once she'd reached the ward.
In the dark night, most people would have been lost immediately in the madman's maze of the huge broch complex, but Bellyra knew it better than anyone else ever had. She ducked through the servant doors, crawled past the windows of occupied chambers, dashed across internal courtyards, and found her way to the base of the east tower at last. She felt nothing, not the rain, not the night wind, not the feel of rough stone under her hands as she groped her way to the staircase.
Her shame no longer burned; it had receded to a kind of warmth, an anticipation of the pleasure she would gain by being free at last of both her shame and Maryn's coldness. She should blame herself, or so she thought, for being sent away. What man wouldn't want to escape from a woman who kept demanding love from him? It seemed true, at any rate, as she climbed up the long winding stairs, that Maryn had a perfect right to want her gone.
The Fire Dragon Page 17
