Brandewyne, Rebecca Read Free Page B

within her, making her cheeks flame.
    Glimpsing
herself again in her mirror, Rhowenna turned away quickly, biting her lower
lip, her lashes sweeping down as though to veil her thoughts from her own
image. Flustered, she took up from her dressing table the gold circlet,
engraved and nielloed, that she wore as princess of Usk and clasped it about
her head. It was a reminder, however unpleasant, of her rank, of the fact that
no matter how much she hoped otherwise, her father was unlikely to choose as a
husband for his only daughter a mere kinsman, when she might command a prince— or even
a king. Rhowenna shrank from the idea of being sent away to some foreign land,
of being wedded and bedded by a man who, however royal his blood, would be a
total stranger to her. Still, even that would be better than being a captive of
the Northmen who rampaged through her nightmare.
    Glancing
once more into her mirror, she pinched her pallid cheeks hard to put some color
in them. Then, overhearing her mother asking Enid about her, Rhowenna stepped
from her sleeping chamber into the great hall, hoping fervently that Father Cadwyr
would not be there, as he often was, looking, with his dark, flowing robes and
his black, glowing eyes, like some fierce bird of prey waiting to swoop down
upon her and tear at her young flesh. To her relief, the priest was absent, as
was her father, who had gone hunting with several of the housecarls. Only a few
of the elderly warriors had remained behind. Two of them contested over a
chessboard; the rest sat around the fire in the central hearth, repairing and
cleaning armor, reminiscing about the hunts of their youth and, with cups of
mead and mulled wine, warming their old bones, glad to be inside on this dismal
winter's day. Here, too, Rhowenna dis- covered her mother, assisted by a few
of the serving maids, at the large loom that stood in one corner.
    "The
morn is well advanced. You slept late this day, daughter," Igraine
observed in greeting as she looked up from where she sat, her fine black
eyebrows arching with gentle reproof when she spoke. But there was concern,
too, upon the Queen's beautiful face. "That is the third time this week.
Are you ill, Rhowenna?"
    "Nay,
just not sleeping well, Mother."
    Which
was the truth, Rhowenna thought, casting her eyes down to hide the fact that
there was more to it than that and hoping that her mother would be satisfied by
the response. The Queen was very good at discerning a lie; beneath her steady,
dark blue-eyed gaze, many a housecarl, servant, and ceorl grew
uncomfortable and faltered during the telling of some false story and finally
confessed the true tale. Even Pendragon's earls were wary of Igraine's sharp
scrutiny; much of the King's power and many of his decisions had their roots in
the Queen's shrewd, uncanny perception.
    Now,
as though sensing there was indeed more to the matter than Rhowenna had admitted,
Igraine frowned. For a moment, it seemed she would press the issue. Then, glancing about
the great hall at the housecarls and serving women, she appeared abruptly to
change her mind. In these troubled times, only an innocent was trusting, a
fool, careless—and the Queen was neither. Words heedlessly spoken before
warriors and servants often— for a handful of coins or baubles, or to avenge a
grievance, whether real or imagined— found their way to the ears of one's
enemies, to be used against one by the ambitious and unscrupulous.
Strategically located Usk was neither a large nor a powerful kingdom. That it
was yet whole and independent owed more to its natural boundaries and to the
cleverness and diplomacy of its rulers than to the might of its army; for its
warriors, although fierce, were few compared to those of its neighbors. As a
result, Usk wisely minded its own business and did not attract attention to
itself by dabbling in the struggles and intrigues of others. Its great hall was
not ostentatious; it did not display the riches garnered from the