“The lady of the hall,” Lady Luned murmured in my ear, “more than just a ceremonial role.”
Only politeness kept me from rolling my eyes. You’d think the woman was trying to sell me a horse! Yet as I watched Cerwen nervously smoothing down her dress while the hall slowly quieted, I couldn’t help picturing myself in her place. She needed to push back her shoulders and project more confidence, even if she didn’t particularly relish her role.
As if reading my mind, Lady Luned leant over again. “She’ll be fine in her own home. It’s different when you have a husband to back you up.” She looked a little sad, and I realised that once it would have been her standing there. No doubt she had held the men in the palm of her hand with a single, mischievous smile.
Once quiet ensued, Cerwen addressed a few formal words of welcome to the hall. Next a servant handed her a jug, and she stepped up to the high table to offer the first ceremonial drink. Rhys held out a drinking horn fashioned from beaten gold, which she filled to the brim before moving down the table.
When all the guests at the high table had been served, more servants carrying jugs gathered at the foot of the dais. Around me chairs scraped, and to my surprise Owena and some of the other ladies got up and joined Cerwen.
“Aren’t you going to help?” Lady Luned asked.
“Help with what?”
“All the noble born maidens assist the lady of the hall in offering the welcoming draught.”
“I’m Sikhandi,” I pointed out the obvious. After what had happened at Glynhir Castle, surely they would not fancy me filling their goblets?
“Oh nonsense,” Lady Luned snapped. “You’re noble and a maid, aren’t you? And pretty to boot, so they won’t object.”
Would it besmirch my reputation if I didn’t join Cerwen? Well, I wouldn’t give Lady Enit that satisfaction. So I pushed back my chair and went over as well, just as Cerwen assigned a servant to each lady fanning out across the hall. She delegated the housekeeper, Bethan, as my assistant, probably in recognition of my complete ignorance of my role.
“What do I have to do?” I whispered to the woman.
She handed me one of her jugs and gave me a gentle push in the direction of the tables where Rhys’s men sat. “Just say some words to praise their prowess and make them feel welcome. And make sure to fill the cups generously.”
What should I say to them? I could hardly extol their virtues as warriors, when they were going to face my own people in battle so soon. My mind had gone blank, so the first man just got an uninspired welcome to the hall. He didn’t seem to mind though, and I smiled at him to make up for my lack of eloquence. Also the jug weighed heavy, making it more difficult than it looked to fill the cups without spilling any drink. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that some of the other ladies had already moved halfway down their tables, dispensing the mead with routine ease. Well, I would not take it as a race.
Instead I looked each man in the face, giving him my full attention and my best smile. The words came to me easily in the end. “Welcome, warrior, to this hall. May peace walk with you.” A traditional Sikhandi greeting that last, but it seemed appropriate.
To my relief none of them refused to accept the mead, indeed many thanked me or returned my greetings. Perhaps it was my imagination, but it almost seemed as if despite me making a statement and wearing Sikhandi robes, they thought of me as one of theirs. Men – I would never understand them.
When I got to Wynn, he held out his cup proudly and beamed when I called him a warrior. “Lady Arisha, will you grant me your first dance?” he asked.
There was going to be dancing? “I’m not sure,” I stuttered, surprised. “I don’t know any Aneiry dances.”
“They’re easy,” he assured me. “Please? It’s the first time I’ve been invited to a feast.”
The request seemed simple enough, and the puppy eyes he made at me were difficult to resist. “I would be honoured, Hawk,” I answered, making his chest swell.
Yet as I moved down the table to serve the next man, one of the others leant over to whisper in the lad’s ear. “Wynn, are you out of your mind?”
I didn’t catch the rest of the conversation and decided to ignore it, but felt slightly offended. Did they think me so poor a dancer?
With Bethan faithfully resupplying me with mead, I finally finished serving the two tables allotted to me, and though I was the last lady to make her way back to her seat, I felt satisfied with the way I had managed.
I crossed the dais, suddenly rather self-conscious of the way everybody seemed to follow my progress. The hall fell quiet except for the soft rustle of my silken robes, yet what bothered me most were the brooding grey eyes of Rhys that I felt upon me. I looked down, but sensed his presence as if I were a needle drawn by a lodestone. A disquieting sensation, but at the same time a strange flutter arose deep in my stomach.
When I had gained my place, he waited a moment more before getting up. The whole hall followed his lead as he raised his golden drinking horn.
“Friends, let us be well!” he called in a voice that carried to the last corner of the hall and took a deep draught.
I tasted the mead carefully, for I suspected it to be much more potent than the wine I was used to. Sweet but powerful, a dangerous combination. Rhys now welcomed the most important lords, yet too soon the moment that I had dreaded came.
“Noble guests, we are gathered here on the eve of a momentous day,” he began, his voice serious. Like ripples across a pond, silence spread. The men put down their cups, their complete attention on Rhys. “As you all know, I have always worked towards a single goal,” he continued, then paused, the quiet intensity of his words holding the men mesmerised. “Too long have the Sikhandi claimed what is not theirs, have held our lands, eaten our grain, taken our horses. But that will end. Yes, it will end here and now! The time has come to take back our own.”
The men cheered his words wildly, and he lifted his hand. “My friends, I give you a chance! Join me in this fight to free our lands from foreign oppression and one day, sitting in the circle of your sons and your sons’ sons, you can say: yes, I was there. I fought at the birth of a free Aneirion.” His voice dropped to a whisper, but the hall had gone so quiet, it was heard in every corner. “I am the Eagle of Aneirion. Will you pledge me your swords?”
The answering roar shook the rafters.
I clenched my fists and looked down. Rhys had not even mentioned Glynhir. He did not have to stir up old hatreds to have men follow him, they did that of their own volition.
That moment he held out his hands. “Friends, I thank you! We will march tomorrow at dawn.” After taking another draught of mead, he passed the drinking horn to Pellyn sitting on his right.
I studied him while the servants began to serve the first course. His face was serious, holding none of the triumph of finally having achieved his aim. But nobody knew better than him what price still had to be paid. Paid in blood and pain by the men feasting so cheerfully.
The golden horn was handed down the high table, then made the rounds of the men. Some just took a drink, others rose and offered a toast, boasting of the deeds they would do on the battlefield, but luckily it seemed acceptable for the ladies to pass it on, so I did just that when it came my way.
The servants brought in one course after another, but they did not forget Lady Luned and me and supplied us with a tasty array of pastries stuffed with spinach and cheese, lentil soup and baked carrots and leeks. The drinking horn meanwhile kept circling and the toasts got more belligerent. I tried to ignore them, but as the sweet course was served, Pellyn himself rose and raised the horn.
Not having Rhys’s gift to quiet the whole hall with a single gesture, instead he pitched his voice to carry. “Friends!” he yelled, his face flushed with drink. “Let us give the Sikhandi dogs such a hiding that they will run back to their master with their tails between their legs!”
His men acclaimed the words with banging their cups on the table, and
he took a deep draught of mead – a waste of good drink in my opinion. However, he hadn’t finished yet. “May those animals choke on their own blood when we slit their throats!” he shouted.
Anger welled up within me. How easily he denied his enemies their humanity. That Lady Enit applauded her son’s words loudly, while staring pointedly at me, did not improve my mood either. As I watched the horn circulate amongst the lower tables, all of a sudden an idea blossomed in my mind.
Soon my chance arrived. The horn returned to the high table, and in due course Kestrel sitting next to me passed it on. Only this time, instead of handing it on straight away to Lady Luned, I rose from my seat.
“Friends!” I called the traditional greeting. My voice might not carry as well as Pellyn’s, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t just sit there and say nothing! But to my surprise, at my words an instant hush descended on the hall.
Taken aback, I hesitated. Not all the faces lifted to me were friendly. Yet as Rastam tal Nasar had said, victory might not always go to the bold, but defeat always went to the timid. I remembered something else he had said.
“Friends,” I repeated. “We have a saying in our country that a good general will win you a victory. A better general will win a hundred victories. But a great general will win by fighting no battles at all.” I paused to give them a chance to work it out. “May you have the greatest general of all!” I took a deep gulp from the horn. The mead burnt in my throat.
As I sat down again and handed the horn to Lady Luned, I could see Pellyn obviously itching to reply to my toast, but he had to wait his turn. Anyway, Rastam tal Nasar had left a lot of sayings, if need be I could go on all night – unless I passed out from the drink first.
After his initial words of greeting, Rhys had not offered any more speeches, but now he slowly pushed back his chair and rose. The hubbub that had greeted my words died away, as if cut off by a knife.
“Honoured guests,” he began, “my friends. Allow me to make one final toast.” He raised the drinking horn high, the gold glinting in the light from the torches. “To honour and courage. Wherever they might be found.”
He looked straight at me as he emptied the horn in a single draught.
TWENTY-ONE
I realised that Rhys had just paid me a compliment. And unless I was very much mistaken, had also delivered a snub to Pellyn, who would now have no opportunity to reply to my challenge. The noise level in the hall reached a new climax. Were they talking about me? Belatedly I wondered if I had spoken out of turn, as except for Cerwen at the beginning no other lady had addressed any words to the assembly.
The horn being put down seemed to be some kind of signal, and the servants started to clear the tables. Some of the guests got up and strolled about the hall and out the doors.
“What happens now?” I asked Lady Luned. “Is the feast over?”
“Only the formal part,” she answered. “Many more casks of ale will be emptied before the night is over. But the dancing starts now.” She looked as if she was enjoying herself. “It should prove interesting, I think.” She craned her neck to watch Rhys.
Her grandson had risen from his chair, but Lady Enit clung to his arm, a smile fixed to her face, and engaged him in talk. I had the distinct impression he would have liked to shake her off and felt sorry for him.
Wynn bounded up the steps to the dais and came to a halt in front of my chair. “My lady, will you redeem your promise?” he asked with a deep bow, the formal words contrasting with his cheeky smile.
“Now?” I looked around. “But where? There is no room.”
That moment drums sounded from outside, immediately joined by pipes and fiddles. “Quick, they’ve started already,” Wynn exclaimed.
I let him pull me to my feet, but Lady Luned stopped me. “Child, what are you doing?”
“I’ve promised Wynn a dance.”
A truly evil smile appeared on the old lady’s face. “What a splendid idea. That will teach him to get his act together in a more timely fashion next time.” She shooed us away. “Off you go!”
My mind in a whirl, I allowed Wynn to pull me along. Did she mean Rhys? I cast a glance over my shoulder to see him looking after us with a thunderstruck expression on his face. Lady Enit standing next to him, prattling away, might as well have talked to empty air for all the attention he paid her.
We passed through the doors and into the cool evening air. A bonfire had been lit in the centre of the square, and sparks rose up into the darkening sky where the first stars blossomed. The musicians had already struck up a lively tune, and after Wynn showed me a few steps we were off.
At first his statement that I would find it easy proved to be overoptimistic, and I often stumbled. However, after a while I realised that the reel was almost identical to some of the folk dances loved by Roshni’s palace servants, in which I had taken part as a young girl. We hopped and whirled around the bonfire in a sunwise direction, my main difficulty being getting my sleeves tangled up whenever we hooked arms. In the end I simply gathered them up.
It was even fun! After the confinement of the hall I enjoyed the exercise, and Wynn beamed at me proudly. When the musicians finished with a flourish, we all clapped.
“Another one?” Wynn asked eagerly.
I found my hand claimed in a firm clasp. “I think not,” Rhys said. “You must learn, Wynn, that it’s not polite to hog a lady’s company.”
The lad snapped to attention. “Yes, my lord!” He had a decidedly worried expression on his face. “Sorry, my lord!”
Rhys nodded a dismissal. “Off you go.”
“Of course, my lord! Thank you, my lord!”
Wynn’s excessive subservience surprised me, but before I could say anything, he had already melted into the crowd. “What’s the matter with him?” I asked. “He’s not in trouble about something, is he?”
“I have no idea,” Rhys replied blandly. He took my other hand. “The next dance is about to begin. Allow me?”
All thoughts of Wynn fled my mind. “If you wish,” I said, suddenly feeling stiff and awkward. “You don’t mind me treading on your feet?”
“Oh, I’ve taken worse chances.”
He pulled me into the circle of dancers. I caught a glimpse of Lady Luned ensconced in a comfortable chair to one side, watching the proceedings as if they were a performance put on for her sake.
But then I had to concentrate on my steps. Luckily Rhys gave me time and did not expect any clever conversation from me. However, the twirl and double step were familiar, and with his hand on my waist offering subtle guidance, I soon mastered the sequence.
“You’re a quick learner,” he complimented me.
I shrugged the praise away. “It’s not so different from the dances on the other side of the mountains.”
We circled each other, only our palms touching. Somehow that part of me felt more alive than the rest of me, tingling softly. “Thank you for standing up for me just now,” I said.
It was his turn to shrug. “You hardly needed it. I’m sure you could have cut Pellyn down to size with a few choice phrases.”
That made me laugh. “I did have a list of quotations ready,” I admitted.
Rhys chuckled. “The man should be grateful to me for saving his neck!” We exchanged a grin.
The dance came to an end that moment, but he made no move to release me. What had he said about hogging a lady’s company? One of the fiddlers stepped forward into the circle of light cast by the fire.
A tall, thin man like a stork, he gave an exaggerated bow. “Who is up to a challenge?”
Rhys laughed. “Come, we mustn’t miss this.” He pulled me forward. “We are!” he called.
Other couples also answered the challenge, amongst them Taren and Cerwen, but I tried to hang back. “Rhys! I have no idea what to do.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll show you,” he replied. “Besides, it doesn’t matter if we drop out early.”
And this from the man who hated to lose abo
ve all else! But I got no more chance to object. The musicians started to play, the drums beating a slow rhythm while the fiddle rose in a clear melody above them. Rhys demonstrated the steps, a couple of stately paces forward, then back, repeated three times.
“It seems simple enough,” I agreed, just as he grabbed me round the waist and lifted me up in the air to twirl me round.
“Rhys!” I squealed with surprise, which made him grin when he set me down again.
“Now a curtsy,” he instructed. The man had startled me on purpose!
“You could have warned me,” I hissed.
“What, and spoil my fun?”
I gave him an icy glare in reply, but if anything that only seemed to amuse him further to judge by the way the corners of his eyes crinkled. At least I was ready when he grabbed me by the waist the next time. He surprised no more undignified exclamations out of me.
We completed one circle of the bonfire this way, and I began to wonder why the fiddler had called it a challenge. But suddenly I noticed that the pace speeded up, only imperceptibly at first, but with every turn the drums beat faster.
The stately pacing became quick steps, the curtsy turned into a hasty bob, and my robes billowed around us whenever Rhys swung me round. It was exhilarating! I laughed out loud and met an answering smile on his face. And all the while the fiddler watched us, sweat glistening on his forehead and his fingers flying across the strings.
Faster and faster we moved, every step matched, our hands meeting and parting as if we had practised a thousand times. Other couples stumbled and dropped out, but we just avoided them neatly and continued.
The world around me faded into a blur of firelight and darkness, the racing drum beat urging us on and on, while the fiddle rose achingly sweet above it, calling us. In this maelstrom of colour and sound only Rhys’s face remained steady, his hands on my waist the only thing connecting me with reality.
Soon my breath came in hard gasps. The blood drummed in my ears so loud, it drowned out everything else. I no longer knew where I ended and Rhys began, we seemed to have melted into a single creature, our only purpose to follow the music.
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