Page 34 of Peregrine's Call
Robin expected her to braid it, as it had been before. Irene instead brushed it and used carved wooden combs to pull back the sides, letting the rest fall freely down her back. The lightest silk cloth, also secured with a comb, served as a headdress.
“There,” Irene said, surveying her work. “You must feel so relieved to be dressed properly again.”
In fact, Robin wanted to grab her boy’s clothing and run back into the woods. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She’d have to go to supper like this, and everyone would see her in this outfit, and they’d know instantly that she had no business wearing such finery.
When supper time arrived, she stepped into the great hall, now set up with several long tables so everyone could eat the evening meal. The large chair Pierce had sat in before now occupied the center place at the high table, right in front of the fireplace.
Pierce watched her enter, and gestured for her to come forward. Octavian stood nearby, watching her with an unreadable expression.
However, it was clear that Pierce enjoyed the picture she made. His eyes raked over her with approval, lingering on her chest. Robin bit her lip. She couldn’t be rude to this man. Not now.
We just have to endure this for a little while, she told herself.Once Octavian discovers what this Govannon business is all about, we can leave.
When she reached the high table, Pierce gestured to the seat next to his. Robin sat on the wooden chair, arranging her skirts to avoid being trampled on by feet or spilled on by wine.
Octavian had the seat on the other side of Pierce, which meant that they couldn’t exchange a word or glance without Pierce knowing exactly what was going on.
She ought to be polite and boring. That was the best way to deflect attention. “I thank you for your hospitality, my lord,” she said to Pierce, keeping her gaze modestly downcast. “Your servants are very capable, and the loan of the gown was beyond expectation.”
“Anything for a lady,” he replied, with no hint that he was anything other than a gracious host. It was almost as if he’d invited them there for a hunting party and this was the supper the evening before.
But nothing about this place was normal, she reminded herself. She asked, “Where did it come from? Such a gown seems like an unnecessary expense for a man in your position, here at a keep that holds no ladies of rank.”
He shrugged. “Just a lucky chance. I was negotiating with a merchant not long ago, and he had some fine clothing I was willing to accept as part of the exchange. I’m pleased some it can be put to use…and what better use can there be than to adorn such a beautiful creature as yourself?”
She rolled her eyes at the transparent flattery, yet a little part of her enjoyed hearing it. She glanced sideways toward Tav, but he was watching the rest of the hall, as a few servants began to bring out the first dishes.
During the meal, Pierce tried to tease out who Robin was. Warned against doing so by Tav, she took refuge in a lady’s prerogative to be mysterious.
“I am afraid that I cannot tell you my full name, or where I call home,” she said in answer to Pierce’s first and most mild query. “It is a matter of honor, and I have promised to keep silent until I am done with my journey.” Inside, she felt that being mysterious might actually be rather fun.
“Did you not even tell your rescuer?” Pierce asked, pointing to Octavian.
“Just her Christian name,” Tav interjected. “And the fact that she required protection after the incident that stranded her alone on the road.”
“Oh?” Pierce raised an eyebrow and looked to Robin. “That sounds intriguing.”
“Intriguingis not the word I’d use,” Robin said, glancing toward Tav. In a flash of inspiration, she added, “Sir Octavian is better placed to tell you what happened. I scarcely remember the details because I was so upset.”
Tav nodded, with a flicker in his eyes to let Robin know he got the hint.
He then spun a story of riding along the forest road and coming upon Robin, alone amid the wreckage of a carriage and the remnants of a skirmish. The Robin in his story sounded frail and fragile, but if she weren’t, why would she need protection? Octavian provided enough detail to make the story very convincing. He told about recovering her horse, somehow abandoned in the woods nearby, and even of having a monk’s robe handy to help conceal the lady from prying eyes.
Pierce seemed to accept it all, but then asked, “And how did you end up so far from the main road?”
“That was my fault,” Octavian said easily. “After finding Lady Robin, and knowing there was a group of outlaws near, I decided we ought to leave the road for a little while. But the Ardenwood is hard to navigate, and I managed to lose my way. It was only pure chance that we happened upon your men, who brought us here.”
“Well, these are dangerous times,” Pierce replied. “I must protect what is mine.”
“Is Willesden yours by right?”
“By right of conquest,” Pierce said. “We marched in and took it…not that it was much of a battle. There was no lord here, just a few rough folk living here as squatters.”
“Did you kill them?” Robin asked.
“Certainly not. I put them to work in the grounds and in the surrounding lands. They’re happy to have a lord. The common folk crave direction. I tell them what to do, and in return I protect them from the threats of the outside world.”
Robin looked down. Her own parents had avoided the life Pierce talked about. They’d deliberately lived independently.
