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She hesitated as Rudi came to his feet and bowed slightly to her. "Thank you, Lady dAth," he said, his treble loud and steady. "I also honor the Lady of Ath for her care of me in: ummm: difficult circumstances. I swear by: " He cocked an eye at the priest. ": by my holy things and by hers that I will not try to escape from her lands until the war ends, or my people come for me, so long as I stay here with the princess."
There was silence and a murmur after that; Tiphaine bowed, but the pale gray eyes narrowed slightly in the strong-boned impassive face; he knew she'd noticed the careful reservations in his oath.
"Thank you, young lord. As you mentioned, there is unfortunately war between the Association and the Clan and its allies at present. Therefore our other guest will be treated with all respect, but let no man allow Rudi Mackenzie beyond the gates of this castle, save with my immediate leave on each occasion, and with such escort as I order."
But I bet I'd wouldn't have been allowed out of the tower at all if I hadn't promised, Rudi thought, keeping any satisfaction off his face.
Tiphaine inclined her head again, beckoning to a guard and murmuring in his ear before she raised her glass and went on: "To the Portland Protective Association, to the Lord Protector, to my liege the Lady Sandra. May God and the Saints have them in their keeping. And to our spiritual father, Pope Leo, and to Holy Mother Church, our guides on the path of salvation."
Everyone rose and lifted their glasses; except Rudi, of course, who politely stood but left the small glass by his plate. Tiphaine raised one pale brow and shrugged very slightly as she saw the untouched wine.
Ruffin's voice boomed out in the pause that followed the toast: "And to our noble liege and good leader, Tiphaine d'Ath, God bless her!"
"And on that note, let's eat," Tiphaine said, and sat down to cheers.
A hum of conversation followed, and the steward's voice: "My lady, here we have a soup of pickled clams, black cod, and smoked dried shrimp with seal-lions, mushrooms and ginger," he a
"Mmm, thanks!" Rudi said to the servant who put the bowl before him. He blew on a spoonful and swallowed; Dun Juniper wasn't well placed for fish, except mountain trout. "That's good."
The server was a friendly looking girl in her late teens, slender, with long black hair and clear blue eyes and freckles across high cheekbones above a tip-tilted nose; she seemed a little surprised that he'd talk to her, and gave him a broad white smile before she moved on. She wore a double t-tunic, the longer green one to her ankles and the shorter russet-colored over-tunic to her thighs, both of good wool woven in a herringbone pattern, and over both a black linen tabard embroidered with the new arms of the Lady d'Ath. The belt under it was embroidered cloth as well, and skillfully done.
Tiphaine noticed the clothing as the servant ladled soup into her bowl, glancing aside and then up at her face, and then at the tabard again.
"That's fine needlework, girl," she said. "Your own hand?"
Rudi listened without seeming to. That was a trick his mother had taught him; you just let the information flow in, without straining or trying to stop it in your head. And he was in a place where he had to know everything he could, for his life's sake.
"Yes, my lady, thank you," she said, casting her eyes down after meeting the landholder's for a moment.
"And done quickly, to get my arms on the tabard with only a few days' notice."
The girl looked up again and smiled shyly. "People are always telling me I should slow down, so they'll be something weft when old age looms. But I just needle them more, so they lose the thread."
Tiphaine d'Ath gave a snort of startled laughter, then looked at the tunics. "The pun's bad but the weaving's good. Is that yours as well?"
"My own and my sisters', my lady. My mother wove before the Change, and she taught us."
"What's your name? Are you with the castle staff?"
"I'm Delia Mercer, my lady; my father keeps your mill in Montinore village as free tenant, and I serve three days a week for half the year as part of my family's boon-work. Usually in the manor house there."
Tiphaine made a noncommittal sound and nodded, and the girl moved on. When she had, the Association noble turned to the cleric on her left.
"Having that girl serving at table is a waste, Father Peter," she said. "I noticed that some of the bond-tenants and a lot of the peons here don't have enough to wear, if they're in rags when the new lord shows up. We grow enough flax and shear enough wool, from the books; I want every family to have enough to wash and dry a set while they're wearing one. Two sets of working clothes and a best outfit for Church or weddings or funerals; nothing fancy, but not rags either. And underdrawers. Filth breeds disease and I won't tolerate it on my land. Men without warm clothing can't work as well in bad weather, either."
"Very true, my lady. The free-tenants and many of the bond-tenants already do well enough, but the rest, and the peons: The, ah, policy of the steward was to sell most of the demesne yield of wool and flax to realize the profit to the domain in cash."
That meant it had been the Lord Protector's policy, probably, unless the steward wanted the sales to produce a cash flow so he could subtract a share. Tiphaine ate a biscuit and then crumbled another in her fingers as she thought.
"False economy, and against the Association's local self-sufficiency policy. Plus, typhus is no respecter of persons, and besides, it's a waste not to have the peon girls working at something in the slack seasons. I'll buy the extra spi
"I'm afraid she's dead, poor soul. Late last year. I think it was cancer, but I'm not sure. It was a hard passing. Her father borrowed more than they could afford for drugs-for the pain, you see." The priest crossed himself. Tiphaine repeated the gesture; there wasn't much anyone could do about cancer these days, except pray.
The priest went on: "And: the family is not the most pious in the domain. Not that I have anything specific to say against them, but I sense mental reservations."
"Is there much dissent here, then?"
"No, no, nothing too bad-I don't think there's a coven or anything of that nature. A little grumbling now and then. I think it's a wonderful idea, my lady, but perhaps some other: "
Tiphaine shrugged. "Father, the cure of souls in my villages is your business, and the parish priests' under your guidance. But the worldly welfare of this land and its people is now my concern. We could have her and her sisters give the lessons in weaving and spi
Rudi didn't follow all of that, but it was interesting. The soup plates were taken away. The steward's voice boomed out again, and they were replaced by plates of small skewers of chicken and duck, grilled with a spicy-sweet plum glaze and served over noodles in a spicy cream sauce, and on the side fresh bread spread with garlic-butter paste and lightly flame-grilled. The carvers' great knives flashed down in the center of the hall, almost long enough to be shortswords and sharper, since they didn't have to worry about turning an edge on bone. The plates came by with meat and steamed vegetables and potatoes, and the same girl served him.