Page 255 of The Daughters of Avalon
Wilhelm waited until the innkeeper turned the corner before he exploded. “Are ye daft, brother? What in the name of Christ makes you believe I’ll shut my eyes in this den of wolves?”
Giles lifted a single finger to his lips as the innkeeper paused at the top of the staircase, the boards creaking beneath his feet. “Later,” he mouthed, inclining his head toward the stairwell. Out loud, he said clearly, “Never. Again. Speak so insolently to mein the company of strangers.” He cuffed Wilhelm atop his head, hard enough that he knew the sound carried to the man’s ears.
“Ouch!” said Wilhelm, glaring at him.
“Brother or nay, I’ll horsewhip you myself,” Giles added, as he reached out to grasp his brother’s arm to prevent him from punching him. “Now, go settle our horses, and bring in the packs,” he demanded.
Snorting, clearly amused, the innkeeper hurried down the steps, his footfalls far lighter than they should have been for a man his weight and size.
After he was gone, Giles reassured his brother. “Don’t worry; I don’t intend to sleep in this Godforsaken hellhole,” he said, whispering. “Rather, I mean to see what that drudge does to call for his benefactress.”
“Horsewhipped?” said Wilhelm, shaking his head. And then, he added, “Please, don’t tell me you’re going to pay that idiot another silver mark?”
Giles grinned, then clapped his brother lightly on the shoulder. “Why not? ’Tis a small price to pay when I’ve suddenly found myself with another month’s worth of your wages.”
“Bloody bastard,” said Wilhelm, though without much heat. “I’ll double my wager right now if you’ll let me rack the bugger, and Eustace as well once we find him. And, by the by, if you do, I’ll ignore the shite you were saying about me. Else I’ll gi’ ye a trouncing when you least expect it.”
Giles shook his head, smiling. “What a vicious mongrel you’ve become.”
“Clearly not vicious enough!” countered his brother. “You’ve bloody sharp knuckles and the next time you do that to me, I don’t care what the cost, I’ll break your fingers one by one.”
Halfheartedly, the brothers elbowed one another, then started down the stairs. Once outside, Giles spied the innkeeper’s brownsherteas he disappeared into a garner.
Halting with a hand to his brother’s chest, he eyed the nondescript, windowless shack, realizing that they’d somehow missed it before, hidden as it was amidst woody shrubs. “What is it, Giles?”
“Go on… do as I said… make ready to ride,” he demanded, hitching his chin in the direction of the garner. “I’ll go give a gander inside.”
But it wasn’t necessary; before Wilhelm could move to comply, the man re-emerged from his storehouse with a large black raven perched upon his arm. Without the least concern for an audience, he removed the bird’s black hood, then unshackled its talon. He spoke to the bird, then dispatched it, and the raven spread its long, blue-black wings and took flight… displaying a patch of white at its neck as it turned to clear the trees.
A chill rushed down Giles’s spine. “Let’s go,” he said.
“What about our pretense?”
“We have what we need. We’ll follow the raven.”
Chapter
Nine
Atalented trio of musicians performed in the center of the room—one with a lute, one with a harp, one with two reeds betwixt his lips. Rhiannon would dearly love to steal one of those reeds and shove it none-too-gently down her mother’s throat, silencing her once and for all. Her nerves were stretched taut as the strings of the minstrel’s lute, and every word Morwen uttered plucked them raw.
Clearly, her mother’s rudeness was not reserved for the prelate. Rhiannon had no choice but to sit and wait as the Golden Hour came and went. By now, her sense of anticipation had long dimmed, and she was beginning to fear that Cael’s offer of freedom was nothing but a cruel jest—or worse, that he and her mother were secretly amusing themselves at her expense.
Moreover, he was behaving very strangely.
No doubt these two had been planning this wedding for quite some time. That became more than apparent as trays laden with foodstuffs whizzed past from the kitchen and fresh pitchers of ale and mead swept through the hall. There was no way—not even throughmagik—that they could have baked so many trenchers to serve so many guests, not without time andplanning. Doubtless, they had been scheming now for weeks, and Cael never once deigned to warn her.
Had he presumed she would balk and hadn’t wished to invite argument when they both knew very well that she hadn’t any choice?
Or perhaps he’d always known he would offer her this bargain she couldn’t refuse?
If, indeed, it was a bargain at all.
“Somehow you’ve managed to win his trust, even with your foul mouth and temper,” said Morwen, the instant her husband quit the dais to approach a young woman Rhiannon didn’t recognize. Morwen watched them both with an undisguised look of disgust, all the while clicking her nails on the chair.
Who can it be?
Whoever it was, her husband was quite pleased to see her, Morwen not so much…
