Hearts in Cups (18 page)

"And what of his
wishes?"

Dinea looked at him in
some surprise. "You think that he would refuse?"

"I don't know what
he wants to do, or will do, when he is told he is a free man. Being expelled
from Pentarin and any chance of furthering his ambitions to become a bard will
go hard with him. Not that I disagree with Percamber's sentence; I think that
he was remarkably fair considering everyone involved. Daffyd made the decisions
that brought him to this. He is a man and must decide his own course."

"Then you refuse
to take him?"

"No, I don't
refuse to take him. What I am saying is that he might refuse to come."

Dinea came around
behind him, placed her arms about his neck and asked sweetly, "But if I
receive permission from the duchess, will you talk to him?"

Twisting his head to
look at her, he grinned. "You are a very determined woman, Dinea Caterin
de Rommel." She nodded complacently. "All right. If you can get the
duchess' consent, I will offer the option to him. "

Chapter 8

The
day slated for the departure of the royal embassy was auspiciously beautiful. The
main entourage, one hundred and fifty hand-picked soldiers, sat mounted and
ready outside the city gates under their respective House banners. Assembled
within the confines of the palace's main courtyard were a handful of the
Duchess of Langstraad's personal men-at-arms and attendants, all under the
watchful eye of Sir Benedict, who had asked to be allowed to come. The saddled
horses of the duchess and her commanding officers waited in the hands of their
grooms. All of the members of the Great and Minor Houses still residing within
Pentarin Palace had come to wish the travelers a safe and successful journey.
Hollin, attired in her green and gold riding dress, stood suffering the well
intentioned advice from a host of well-wishers before the doors of the Great
Hall. There was a tap on her arm from Lord Gerard which freed her from further
long-winded admonishments of the Duke of Tuenth. Taking her leave formally of
Percamber, she allowed Lord Gerard Cradoch, commander of this enterprise, to
escort her to her horse. Behind her, Colin squeezed his wife's hand once more
in farewell and followed the duchess.

Sitting on her big roan
horse, Hollin looked over the assembled people on the steps and along the
portico encircling the courtyard. Lord Percamber, his old face brightened by
the intent of her mission, raised his hand in farewell. Flanking him were the
Dukes of Tuenth and Creon: Gunnar, with his wife clutching his arm, and
Branwilde with his eldest son behind him. Hywell waved cheerfully from the
pillar against which he was leaning. The Duke and Duchess of Mirvanovir stood
aloof from the others. Dinea watched from the top step, her face betraying
little of the grave concern which she felt. The other two remaining Minor House
lords, Thurin and Gresha, mingled with the palace nobles who congregated on the
surrounding steps. Lady Laurin of Pentarell, called back to settle a land
dispute, had left earlier in the week. There was a movement in the shadows
within the portico and Hollin discerned the figure of Tuenth's other son,
Blaise, coming forward to lean on the opposite side of Hywell's pillar, like a
pair of bookends. Lady Clowen, joined by her son, waved enthusiastically.
Beside her, Inara was more restrained in her farewells. Inara, who did not ride
horseback, was being left behind with Lady Clowen while Celia, who could ride,
was taking her place as her mistress' chief lady-in-waiting. Hollin could read
in Inara's face how far she trusted Celia's abilities.

Lord Gerard urged his
horse forward and Hollin did the same. With the calls of good wishes at their
backs, they clattered out of the courtyard and down through the center of the
city. There was much commotion as they rode through the streets, but the way
was kept open and the city's northern gates were soon behind them. She felt a
dizzying sensation of relief as she urged her horse into a canter and felt his
long strides carrying her away from the confinement of the city. A strong
breeze whipped the multi-hued standards, and the sun was bright on the lances and
burnished mail of the honour-guard clad in the livery of their respective
liege-lords.

Surrounded by her
personal retinue, Hollin took her place at the head of the procession, with
Gerard immediately behind her leading the bulk of the company. It was with
pleasure that Hollin saw Viscount Treves wheel his horse in so that he might
ride at her side. Her horse playfully struck out and danced a few steps as she
brought him back under her control.

"I'm afraid that
Farion is not yet used to the side-saddle, and neither am I," she
commented blithely.

Colin chuckled.
"At home, it is frequently my wife's wont to toss her lady's saddle aside
when no one is looking. Your horse has rather unusual colouring; is he
home-bred?"

"Yes, my father
was interested in the raising and training of horses. Of course, he was brought
up in the Medicat barony, which is better suited to horses than the mountains
around Lir. This horse is the get of one of his cross-bred stallions. Actually,
he's very well-mannered and quite intelligent for a horse," she chatted
comfortably to the lord at her side.

"He looks as if he
could be a handful of trouble if crossed," Colin remarked as the horse
again struck out in play.

"Ah yes; but then,
couldn't we all, my lord." At that, he laughed out loud.

The company traveled
the same road that Hollin had come down only a few short weeks before. Now the
grass had grown deep and lush and the early blossoms had fled the trees. The
sun was warm on their backs and the road, being smooth and well-maintained, made
this first leg of the journey quick and comfortable.

The plan of travel
called for them to follow the Silvarluin Valley north until they came to the
range of mountains called the Ward's Girdle, which was the boundary between the
Duchy of Sandovar and the Earldom of the Inner Ward. There was a well-used pass
through the mountains which would slow them down somewhat, but Gerard assured
her that this late in the spring the mountain snows in the pass should be
melted. At the other end of the pass was Greystone Fortress, home to Lord
Brescom. The Earl of the Inner Ward had left Pentarin over a week ago, so that
he might ride ahead and prepare to welcome the company on its way through his
lands.

As they proceeded
northwards the air took on a chilly aspect and Hollin rewrapped her heavy wool
cloak about her. Celia had suffered several days of sore muscles, but was now
riding more comfortably on her sturdy bay cob. There were a few other women
riding with the contingent of servants, and though they helped Celia care for
the duchess, most of the responsibility was on Celia's shoulders. She had only
been in the duchess' service for a year and, while she was greatly honoured to
be with her mistress on this journey, she was worried about the adequacy of her
abilities in comparison to Inara or Lady Clowen. The duchess herself voiced no
complaint. Indeed, she seemed to be quite capable of taking care of herself.
Celia huddled down into her saddle with her cloak pulled tightly about her and
gazed at the mountains that had started to rise around the company as they rode
into the pass.

That night, they made
camp. A tent was pitched for the duchess and her lady-in-waiting in between the
small tent reserved for Lord Gerard and Lord Colin's slightly larger one. The
wind that snaked its way down the mountain pass was frigid and it came through
the thin walls of the tent as if they served no barrier at all. A brazier,
heaped with coals, stood in the center of Hollin's tent, sending out its
glowing warmth only a few feet. Gerard, who was familiar with the pass,
informed her that the wind would die down during the night and rise again with
the dawn. She and Celia ate alone in their tent and slept in furs next to the
brazier. This pattern continued for the next few days. They awoke to the chill
wind and broke camp. Midmorning, the wind would vanish only to return in the
late afternoon when they stopped to set up their tents. Then, on the morning of
the day that they were to reach Greystone Fortress, misfortune struck.

They were wending their
way through a particularly rocky portion of the road when Colin's horse
stumbled, could not recover, and pitched both himself and his rider down into a
shallow stream that ran alongside the road. Several men were off their horses
and scrambling down to the lord's aid within seconds of the accident. The horse
had risen and stood looking with confusion at his rider who lay at his feet,
half-in and half-out of the icy water. Colin was gently lifted from the stream
and carried up to the trail while his horse, limping painfully, followed.

Gerard called for one
of his men who was skilled at healing, and both men knelt before Colin's prone
body. Colin was unconscious and there was blood seeping from a variety of cuts and
gashes, but the major injury was to his arm, which hung at an awkward angle,
signaling a broken bone. As the man began tending to Colin's various hurts,
Gerard went to ask about the horse, and then came to where Hollin sat with a
troubled face.

"How is he?"
she asked.

"Once he comes
round he'll hurt, but he'll be all right, your grace. That was a nasty fall.
He's got a broken arm, but my man says that the rest of the wounds are none too
serious. The horse, though, has wrenched his leg and won't be carrying anyone
soon." He looked back to where the fallen man was being cared for.
"The Fortress is not far from here. I'll send men to have a litter brought
back to carry him. You'd best go on with them; no use for you to sit here when
there's a comfortable room waiting for you."

Hollin looked
doubtfully at him. "I'd rather stay with Lord Colin."

"Pardon me your
grace, if you could do him any good then staying here would be fine, but there
being nothing you can do to help him; you should go on. I'll send the bulk of
the company on with you; there's no reason for them to stay. Don't worry, we'll
start a fire to keep him warm while waiting for better transport for him,"
he assured her.

"You may be right,
but I will see him before I leave," she said, kicking her feet free of the
stirrups and sliding to the ground. She handed Farion's reins to one of her own
men and imperiously strode off with the discomfited commander at her heels.

Colin lay with his
upper body supported on the thighs of a man kneeling behind him. The viscount's
flaxen hair was smeared with blood and his face was very white when Hollin
looked down at him. The healer had stanched the minor wounds and was preparing
to set the useless forearm.  As his arm was moved, he moaned and feebly
tried to protect the injured limb. Hollin knelt and, to the surprise of the
attending soldiers, placed the fingertips of her left hand on his temple. Using
the ring on her right hand as a focus, she breathed slowly, letting her mind
settle and come into another state of awareness. Developing the image of
silvery-grey light, she willed this image to transfer itself to the prone
figure. By the relaxed expression that Colin's face lapsed into, Hollin saw
that she had succeeded. The healer was watching her inquisitively but said
nothing; as she stood up, he returned his attention to binding the arm.

"I will leave
now," she told Gerard, offering no other explanation of her behaviour as
she walked back to her horse. Bowing, he gave the order to one of his
lieutenants and the man who had held the duchess' horse gave her a hand up.
Within a few moments she rode on up the trail, followed by the major portion of
the escort.

Lord Larth Brescom,
Earl of the Inner Ward, was waiting for them when they reached his castle in the
early part of the afternoon. Informed of the accident, he immediately sent the
required litter and his own physician to retrieve the injured lord. In the
meantime, Hollin was graciously made welcome and conducted to the rooms
prepared for her. Several women had been assigned to care for the traveling
duchess and she soon found herself being almost intolerably pampered by them.
She was hardly able to eject them all from her bedchamber when she finally
pleaded the need for a nap.

Greystone Fortress was
exactly what the name conjured to mind: a huge square edifice of stone built to
withstand assault. It was located on a small hill in a large ravine at the head
of the mountain pass. Looking up at its blind walls pierced at the heights by
low, narrow sights for archers, Hollin found it a remarkably gloomy building.
Even the ravine in which it was built was bare of trees, the green grass and
wildflowers offering the only variation from the incessant dun and grey rocks.
The far end of the ravine opened onto the Inner Ward proper, a beautiful valley
of orchards and grasslands, but the Earl preferred to live here within the grim
but safe walls of his castle.

He was a widower with
several full-grown children, one of whom presided as hostess that evening at
dinner. A dour, plain-faced woman who said little, she turned out to be his
eldest daughter. The earl, being a taciturn man who spoke only to some direct
purpose, spent the evening asking questions about the specifics of their
journey and their immediate future plans. Most of his talk was directed towards
Gerard, and Hollin found herself covering yawns of boredom. Grateful for the
end of the meal, she went in search of the viscount before retiring to her own
rooms.