one will know who I am. Cannot I stay here and see the fairings?”
Three powerful and conflicting emotions struck Telor at once. An immediate response to the slight quaver in her voice that drove him to agree to anything she desired was instantly blocked by his conviction that the moment she appeared alone in the outer bailey, she would be seized and absorbed into a troupe of players. He did not stop to consider why he should object to so desirable a solution to the problem, but fixed on a more present, although equally improbable, danger.
“I cannot leave you here,” Telor snapped. “You will not know where we are and likely will not be permitted to enter the inner bailey if you have not been marked by the guard. No, do not argue. You can hardly walk, and you know nothing of the workings of a great keep. How are you to find food and a place to sleep?”
“Never mind him, Carys,” Deri said, smiling up at her from the back of his pony, which was a few steps behind Teithiwr and just alongside her. “He is right about being marked by the guards, but they all know Deri Longarms, and I know the workings of these places well enough. When he goes in to perform, I will come down to the stable and take you to see whatever you like.”
“Yes,” Telor agreed. “I have no objection if you go with Deri and obey him.”
“I will,” Carys said fervently, eyeing with trepidation the iron fangs of the raised portcullis.
Deri fell behind, the passage being too narrow for two horses abreast, and Carys tried to shrink into invisibility behind Telor. She did not want to pass below those threatening points nor the second set which she could see in outline against the light of the inner bailey at the other end of the dark passage through the walls. The inner bailey was quiet, with none of the cheerful hubbub she loved, and as they came out under that second set of teeth she could see that much of the open space was filled with the bright pavilions of those noblemen who had decided they preferred the privacy of their own quarters in the mild weather of early summer to the crowded conditions in the great hall of the keep. That frightened her even more, and she had to bite her lips to keep from crying out and begging to be allowed to go back when a guard raised a hand to block Telor from passing.
“Luteplayer,” the guard said, “there will be no place for you in the great hall among the noble guests.”
“Is that by the lord of Combe’s order, Tam Will’s son?” Telor asked. “He summoned me himself to sing to his guests at evensong this day, and as you see by my dress, we have come from afar through rain and over bad roads. If you send me down to the outer bailey and I must find a place in the crowd to wash and dress and then must walk back, I will not be in place at evensong. The lord of Combe will be ill pleased with me if I am not ready, but I think he will be even more ill pleased with you when I tell him why I was late in coming to him.”
The guard, who had received no specific orders about Telor, knew Telor stayed in the keep when he came at other times. He had acted on his general contempt for players, feeling that de Dunstanville would not want one of them to mix with his guests. But Telor was special—other players were never allowed to stay in the keep—and, in any case, there were higher officers who could deny the minstrel a place if he was not to have one.
“Go, then,” he said.
“Thank you.” Telor nodded. “Behind me is my apprentice, Caron. I will leave him in the stable. Deri will take him down to the outer bailey later—he is all agog to see the fairings.” On the last words, Telor’s voice was amused and indulgent.
“A pretty boy,” the guard said, smiling suddenly. “But he looks a little battered.”
Telor’s expression changed to level-eyed threat. “Not from learning his new craft, Tarn Will’s son. Being new to riding, he slipped from my horse on a hill and fell. He sings by
Three powerful and conflicting emotions struck Telor at once. An immediate response to the slight quaver in her voice that drove him to agree to anything she desired was instantly blocked by his conviction that the moment she appeared alone in the outer bailey, she would be seized and absorbed into a troupe of players. He did not stop to consider why he should object to so desirable a solution to the problem, but fixed on a more present, although equally improbable, danger.
“I cannot leave you here,” Telor snapped. “You will not know where we are and likely will not be permitted to enter the inner bailey if you have not been marked by the guard. No, do not argue. You can hardly walk, and you know nothing of the workings of a great keep. How are you to find food and a place to sleep?”
“Never mind him, Carys,” Deri said, smiling up at her from the back of his pony, which was a few steps behind Teithiwr and just alongside her. “He is right about being marked by the guards, but they all know Deri Longarms, and I know the workings of these places well enough. When he goes in to perform, I will come down to the stable and take you to see whatever you like.”
“Yes,” Telor agreed. “I have no objection if you go with Deri and obey him.”
“I will,” Carys said fervently, eyeing with trepidation the iron fangs of the raised portcullis.
Deri fell behind, the passage being too narrow for two horses abreast, and Carys tried to shrink into invisibility behind Telor. She did not want to pass below those threatening points nor the second set which she could see in outline against the light of the inner bailey at the other end of the dark passage through the walls. The inner bailey was quiet, with none of the cheerful hubbub she loved, and as they came out under that second set of teeth she could see that much of the open space was filled with the bright pavilions of those noblemen who had decided they preferred the privacy of their own quarters in the mild weather of early summer to the crowded conditions in the great hall of the keep. That frightened her even more, and she had to bite her lips to keep from crying out and begging to be allowed to go back when a guard raised a hand to block Telor from passing.
“Luteplayer,” the guard said, “there will be no place for you in the great hall among the noble guests.”
“Is that by the lord of Combe’s order, Tam Will’s son?” Telor asked. “He summoned me himself to sing to his guests at evensong this day, and as you see by my dress, we have come from afar through rain and over bad roads. If you send me down to the outer bailey and I must find a place in the crowd to wash and dress and then must walk back, I will not be in place at evensong. The lord of Combe will be ill pleased with me if I am not ready, but I think he will be even more ill pleased with you when I tell him why I was late in coming to him.”
The guard, who had received no specific orders about Telor, knew Telor stayed in the keep when he came at other times. He had acted on his general contempt for players, feeling that de Dunstanville would not want one of them to mix with his guests. But Telor was special—other players were never allowed to stay in the keep—and, in any case, there were higher officers who could deny the minstrel a place if he was not to have one.
“Go, then,” he said.
“Thank you.” Telor nodded. “Behind me is my apprentice, Caron. I will leave him in the stable. Deri will take him down to the outer bailey later—he is all agog to see the fairings.” On the last words, Telor’s voice was amused and indulgent.
“A pretty boy,” the guard said, smiling suddenly. “But he looks a little battered.”
Telor’s expression changed to level-eyed threat. “Not from learning his new craft, Tarn Will’s son. Being new to riding, he slipped from my horse on a hill and fell. He sings by
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