“We’ll pray so, too,” Babryan said. “And we’ll leave you to your work.”
Arm in arm, the girls wandered out into the ward, where they found a page searching for them.
“There’s a silver dagger at the gate, asking for Lady Sevinna. Should I have the captain chase him away?”
“It’s a her, silly!” Sevinna said. “I’ll bet it’s Jill, anyway.”
The girls followed the page down to the gates, where, indeed, Jill was lounging against the wall in her dirty men’s clothes. Sevinna ran to her and caught her arm.
“Jill dearest,” Sevinna said, “it truly gladdens my heart to see you.”
“My thanks, but what’s wrong? You look so worried.”
Only then did Sevinna realize that indeed, she did feel that something was wrong, and maybe badly so. Before she could say so, Babryan and Wbridda ran up, calling out greetings, to sweep Jill along with them up to the broch. They took Jill up to their chamber above the women’s hall, then sent a maidservant with a message to Lady Davylla. Jill started to ask after their mother, but Babryan was too excited to have time for pleasantries.
“Oh, Jill, we’ve met Lady Taurra, and she’s not ill at all. The poor woman! What a tale it is.”
“Indeed?” Jill said, all wide eyes. “Tell me.”
As Babryan rattled off the story, Jill listened, feigning a little squeal of amazement every now and then. Sevinna was sure the squeals were feigned, anyway. She wondered how she ever could have thought that Jill was just an ordinary lass like they were. She realized that meeting Lady Taurra had put her on her guard, like a doe who hears one hound barking and begins testing the wind to smell out the pack.
“Do you know this Lord Gwell?” Jill said.
“We don’t,” Babryan said. “But there’s lots and lots of lords in the kingdom, aren’t there? Why?”
“Just an idle wondering.” Jill gave them all an impartial bright smile. “But does she truly know the Old Lore?”
They were happily discussing love charms when Lady Davylla came to their chambers and brought Lady Taurra with her. After Babryan introduced Jill, Davylla took them all down to the woman’s hall where they’d be more comfortable and sent a servant for a plate of dried fruit dipped in crystalized honey. They all sat down on cushions by the open windows, where the sun came in pleasantly with a bit of cool breeze.
“Now, Jill dearest,” Davylla said, “I’ve actually met your Rhodry down at court. I wonder if he’d remember me?”
“Oh, he does, my lady. When I told him where I was going, he said to give you his regards, if you’d take them from a shamed man and a silver dagger.”
“Well, I will, but it’s rather naughty of me.” Davylla flashed a grin. “Rhodry was always so charming.”
For a while, they chatted about Rhodry and his mother, the Lady Lovyan, who was trying to get the king to intervene and recall her son from exile. Sevinna noticed Taurra watching Jill with a pleasant enough smile, but she would glance Jill’s way and then somewhere else, as if she didn’t want anyone to catch her doing it. The maidservant came in and began to hand the dried fruit round, offering the plate to Lady Davylla first, then the lasses, and finally Taurra and Jill.
“Just put that down on the table,” Davylla said. “And you may leave us.”
The servant put the fruit on a low table near at hand, then curtsied, and left. Sevinna nibbled on a dried apricot and listened to the others talk; she was too uncomfortable to say much herself. Lady Taurra seemed to have little to say, either, although once or twice she made some comment to Davylla. Sevinna supposed that she would have little in common with the young lasses. She supposed. Babryan got up once and passed the plate of honeyed fruit round again. Gradually, the talk drifted from Rhodry and court gossip to the real interest of this little group: the Old Lore.
“Baba and Bry showed me the little knife your Wise Woman made them,” Jill said. “I hope that wasn’t naughty of them, but I was awfully interested.”
“Not naughty at all. Poor Clamodda can’t do that fine work anymore, you know, with her eyes. Fortunately, she trained a lass out in the countryside to do it. It’s just amazing what some of these simple farm folk know!”
With a small smile, Taurra got up and fetched the dried fruit, offering it around the circle. By the time it came to Jill, there was only one piece left.
“Odd,” Davylla said vaguely. “I thought there was lots more. Eat that up, Jill darling, and I’ll send someone for more.”
“My thanks.” Jill took the dried slice of apple. “Here, I’ll take the plate and fetch the servant, my lady.”
“She should be just out in the corridor.”
Sevinna surreptitiously glanced at Taurra. She could swear that there was a bulge in her kirtle, as if something were hidden in it. Jill came back and resumed her place.
“You’ve got a bit of honey on your kirtle, Lady Taurra,” Jill said.
“Oh, so I do, how messy of me!” Taurra idly dabbed at it with her forefinger. “Do you have a handkerchief, Davylla dearest? I’ve quite forgotten mine.”
Her eyes met Jill’s in a flash of dueler’s hatred.
While Taurra was busy dabbing at the spot, Jill slipped the apple slice into her brigga pocket. No one seemed to notice but Sevinna. What is going on? she thought to herself. Things seem to have turned so peculiar! Although everyone pressed her to stay, Jill insisted on leaving soon after, saying that Rhodry had told her expressly to come back early, not late. Pleading courtesy, Sevinna walked with her down to the ward. They lingered in the open door of the central broch for a moment.
“Jill,” Sevinna said, “you’ve got some game afoot, don’t you?”
“Whatever makes you think that? Tell me, Sevvi, do you like Lady Taurra?”
“I don’t. I don’t know why, but I don’t.”
“Good. You’ve got more sense than your cousins and the Lady Davylla put together. Now listen, Sevvi. Be very careful while you’re here, will you? Don’t ask me why. Just keep your eyes open and watch what you say to Lady Taurra.”
“She’s not the sort of woman I’d care to cross.”
“Good. Don’t. Now, I shan’t be able to see you again for a while, because Rhodry and I are riding out this afternoon. We’re going to Hendyr. Do tell Lady Taurra that, will you, if she asks? Rhodry can usually pick up hires guarding merchant caravans out of Hendyr.”
Although Sevinna of course agreed, she wondered why she was so sure that Jill was lying to her. When she went back into the great hall, she met Lady Taurra on the staircase. With a smile, Taurra came to greet her.
“And did you say farewell to your friend?”
“I did, indeed. She and Rhodry are riding down to Hendyr, so the gods only know when I’ll see her again.”
Taurra nodded with the first sincere smile Sevinna had seen out of her all day.
“I don’t think it’s poisoned at all,” Jill said. “I think she was just playing with me, daring me to say one word there in front of the others. Or it may not have been Mallona at all. Maybe she just took a dislike to me. I mean, I’m this common-born dirty lass, sitting among the fine ladies. Maybe I was imagining the whole bit about poisoned fruit.”
“Maybe, but I doubt it. She certainly matches the description of Mallona we’ve got.”
They were up in the chamber of their inn, kneeling on the floor and examining the slice, which lay in a patch of sunlight.
“But even if it’s not her,” Jill went on, “she’s a strange woman, anyway. Rhoddo, I know you hate it when I talk about dweomer and stuff, but I could feel danger in that room. It came pouring off her like a stink.”
Rhodry looked up, angry, but he said nothing.
“What it is, is she’s desperate,” Jill went on. “You know, when I was little, Da and I were staying in a dun where he had a hire, and one of the lord’s dogs got stepped on by a horse. It crushed his paw, and when the kennelman went to help the poor creature, the dog bit him, ever so badly, too. It
went all septic, and the kennelman lost his hand over it. I’ve never forgotten that, it was so awful.”
“And Mallona reminds you of the dog?”
“She does. Oh, I know what you’re going to say—she’s not a poor helpless animal but a murderess. You’re right, and that makes her even more dangerous.”
“I’m glad to see you realize it.”
“But we’ve got to be sure it’s her. What we need is a witness. How far are we from Dwaen?”
“Three days’ ride. Why?”
“I want you to go fetch him. He’s a justice-minded man, and I’ll wager he’ll come back with you. Look, we’ve got to have a noble-born witness. Davylla won’t have to believe a silver dagger or a servant or rider or suchlike, but she’ll have to believe a tieryn. He’ll be riding on the matter of Coryc of Caenmetyn’s justice, and so her husband will have to take him in.”
“That makes sense, truly. You know, our innkeep has an extra horse here in the stables. I could use some of that coin Dwaen gave us and buy him for an extra mount. Although, wait! What if the lady slips away while we’re gone?”
“Where would she go? She’ll never find a hole this comfortable again. Besides, that’s why I’ll be staying here.”
“What? Are you daft? I don’t want to bring Dwaen to Belgwerger to find you dead.”
“I’m going to be careful, don’t trouble your heart about that. But she’s right there with Davylla and the gwerbret’s daughters. For all I know, she might poison one of them for the fun of it.”
“Ah, horseshit, she wouldn’t dare! You’re not staying alone. I won’t even hear of it.”
“Rhodry, my beloved.” Jill smiled and caught his hand between both of hers. “You know I won’t if you really say so, but be sensible.”
While Rhodry haggled with the innkeep for the extra horse, Jill took the apple slice and went down to the stable, where she found the innkeep’s son, a skinny lad, all Adam’s apple and big nose.
“Tell me somewhat.” Jill held up a couple of coppers. “How do you trap rats in your stable? Do you use those little wicker cage things?”
“We do, and then I drown them when I’ve got them. Why? There’s not a rat in your chamber, is there? I’ll get a trap up right away if there is.”
“That’s not it. Here, can you keep a secret? I’ve got a rival for my man, you see, and she gave me a present of some honeyed fruit, but I don’t feel like eating it without having someone else taste it first. Can I bait one of your traps with the slice?”
“Why not? If it’s poisoned, then that’s one less rat I have to drown.”
Jill handed him the coppers, then followed him into the stable. Near bags of oats were the traps, disguised under wisps of hay and baited with cheese rind. Jill substituted the apple for the cheese and marked the trap by tying a wisp of hay around one of the withes.
When Rhodry left, he took his extra mount, so that he could make better speed by changing his weight from horse to horse. Even so, it would take him a long hard ride to reach Dwaen, and the return journey would be even longer with the tieryn and his men along. Jill walked down to the gates and waved him off, then returned to the inn with the cold chill of a dweomer warning down her back.
Despite the warning, the night passed with no trouble. At dawn, the lad brought Jill the rattrap. Inside, there was a big gray rat, squirming and biting at the withes, baring its long front teeth and scowling with little red eyes at its captors.
“He ate the whole bit, but he’s alive and nasty.”
“So he is. Here’s another copper, and my thanks.”
The lad hurried off to drown his prey in a water bucket. So, Jill thought, either the bitch was toying with me, or I’m dead wrong and it’s not Mallona. Yet despite her lack of evidence, she’d never been so sure of anything in her life, that a poisoner and murderess was living on Lady Davylla’s charity. In the rising light, the pale towers of the dun gleamed over the roofs of the town, impregnable and strong—except to a traitor within.
3
EVERY NIGHT, THE GIRLS and Lady Davylla gathered in the women’s hall, where Lady Taurra taught them strange lore—the virtues of different plants, the chants for different spells, the correct colors and metals to choose for talismans. Although Sevinna enjoyed learning about the various love charms and potions, at times they touched on things she found—not frightening, exactly—but unsavory. To curse a rival for your man’s affections, for instance, you were to catch a rat, keep it in a cage for three days while calling it by the rival’s name, then bury it alive while chanting the proper spells, and all at midnight in a lonely place. Sevinna had no love for stable rats, but still, it seemed a cruel thing to do to a beast. Much to her surprise, Wbridda and Babryan shared none of her scruples.
“Oh, honestly, Sevvi,” Babryan said. “I’d never really do such a thing, and I’ll wager Lady Taurra wouldn’t, either.”
“It’s just fun to hear about it,” Wbridda put in. “Well, not fun, exactly, but you know. Like ghosts. When the bard sings about someone walking through the great hall with his head in his hand, it’s splendid, but if you truly saw it? Oooh, how nasty!”
Almost as if she had picked up Sevinna’s doubts, Lady Taurra went out of her way to be friendly to her. Often she would insist Sevinna walk with her in the garden or come to her chamber alone to see some special thing. Taurra had a way of catching one’s gaze with hers and holding it while she smiled. Her eyes seemed to hint at secrets and of power, as if she had looked upon strange things and might someday share them. After a few of these looks, Sevinna came to wonder if she were misjudging the lady. After all, she had every right to be bitter and hard after the way her husband had treated her.
No matter how thrilling all this talk of lore might be, Lady Davylla never forgot that the real purpose of this visit lay in showing Sevinna off to possible husbands. Davylla had a young cousin, Comyn, who held an honorary rank of tieryn because of his position in the royal court. She was planning on putting him forward as a candidate.
“It’s not that he’s so handsome, dearest, rather a man’s man type, you know, but he’s in a very good situation with the king’s guard and can keep a wife well.”
“What does my uncle think of him?”
“Now, I don’t believe they’ve met. I shall have to remedy that.”
“You know, Davylla dearest,” Taurra broke in, “there’s a little ritual we could do to help Sevinna choose. Sometimes a lass can even see her future husband’s face in a mirror if the Goddess is gracious enough to show her. It’s just the full moon now, so we could do it.”
“Oh, how very exciting! Let’s!”
“There’s one obstacle, though,” Taurra went on. “We really should leave the dun and go to some wild place, and at night.”
“Oh, well, don’t forget. My husband’s off with one of his allies on that matter of justice. We’ll be able to slip out easily enough.”
All that afternoon, while the others prepared the necessary implements for the rite, Sevinna was wondering if she could possibly get out of it, perhaps by feigning a headache. Her reluctance must have shown, because Taurra took her aside at one point to reassure her.
“Now, really. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of our Lady of the Cauldron.”
“Not afraid.” Sevinna lied blandly. “But one must be properly respectful, mustn’t one? I don’t want to take the Goddess’s favors too lightly.”
“Nicely spoken. You know, Sevinna dearest, I think you might have true calling for the Old Lore. Your cousins are such lovely lasses, and so earnest, but it takes someone very special indeed to serve the Goddess properly. Don’t tell them I said this, mind, but someday you could have ever so much more power than they ever will.”
It was very flattering, especially when Lady Taurra was smiling so gently and her eyes were so intense, as if she were looking deep into Sevinna’s soul.
“My lady is very kind,” Sevinna said.
Taurra gave her a little pat on the arm
and went on staring into her eyes. Suddenly, Sevinna found it hard to look away.
“We’re going to be such friends.” Taurra’s voice turned as soft and as penetrating as oil. “I simply know it, such friends. Aren’t we, dear? Tell me you’ll be my friend.”
“Of course I’ll be your friend.”
Taurra gave her one last pat on the arm, then left the chamber. Sevinna sat down on her bed and felt her head throb in earnest. When she tried to remember what Taurra had said, she found it gone from her mind.
That night, even though the chamberlain moaned and fussed, and the equerry blustered and wagged his finger, the women insisted on riding out without an escort, and since neither servitor could directly order Davylla to stay, ride out alone they did, just an hour after the moon rose. They left the city and followed the river road through the silvery night until they came to a tangled spinney of hazels growing close to the water’s edge. There they tied up the horses and walked farther on.
“This looks like a good spot,” Taurra announced. “Now, here, Sevinna dearest. You come stand where you can see the moonlight on the river.”
When Sevinna took her place, the other women stood back, but Taurra took a stone-bladed knife out of her sack and knelt. Chanting as she worked, she cut a circle in the turf round Sevinna’s feet. She took a bronze mirror out of the sack, laid that down nearby, fussing over it until it caught the moonlight, then cut a second circle round the mirror. She got up and joined the others, handing them each a bundle of herbs tied with strips of black cloth.
“Now, watch the mirror, Sevinna,” Taurra said, “while we chant.”
The women formed a ring around Sevinna and began to circle, their voices soft and light, their steps solemn as they danced gravely widdershins. Aranrhodda! Aranrhodda! The chant was like a drug, muddling Sevinna’s mind. She looked at the moonstruck mirror and tried to see something in the curved and distorted surface as the chanting went on and on.