The Warder, his face ghastly, appeared on the steps to verify the message and then started yelling conflicting orders at those near by, grabbing the nearest drudge and propelling him towards the Hold.
"We must prepare.We must do something!There has to be food!
There has to be order in this Hold…and you are…going…to…work your nuts off!" Each pause was to allow him to kick or shove some ragged body into the Hold.
Robinton managed to evade the full force of the kick aimed at him, but he went willingly into the Hold.There he paused briefly in dismay at the sight of the once beautiful entrance hall and the Main Hall seen past the broken-hinged double doors which led to it.Then someone bumped into him, and that restored him to his character.
An old woman struggled to hand out brooms and mops; another shaggy-haired drudge distributed other cleaning equipment.They were herded up the steps to sweep and ready rooms which, to judge by the appalling condition of them, had not been used since the massacre.He was pushed into a room which had obviously had its window left open for turns: leaves, branches and dirt were piled like snowdrifts in the corners.The hearth held ashes which had hardened into rock.The bedding was soiled and damp and would have to be discarded, though what would be available to take its place, Robinton didn't know.Nor was a single cleaning going to do much more than loosen the surface of dirt thickly caking the bare floor.The steward raced from one room to another, yelling for haste, for more clean water, for more effort from each and every drudge, bestowing kicks where he felt the cleaners faltered.How any steward worth his mark could have allowed the once graceful Hold to fall into such desuetude, Robinton could not understand.
Even a monthly sweeping would have kept this room habitable.
He did manage to clean the floor before Fax and his entourage arrived.Then he was hauled by the scruff of his neck out into the hall and sent down to help stable Fax's runner-beasts.
The main Hall had survived the concerted attack by the drudges, and looked slightly better.There were damp spots here and there, and no one had been able to reach the crawlers or their filmy webs which hung in tatters from the ceiling.There was huge confusion, yells, shrieks, and the excited barking of the spit canines coming from the kitchen, and Robinton was just as happy to be sent to care for the runner-beasts.He just hoped that someone had cleaned up the beasthold. Hesaw Fax scowling fiercely, beating his boot with a heavy baton-whip.He saw Lady Gemma, great with child, being lifted off her mount by two of Fax's strongest men.He could see her wincing, although the men were handling her with great care.
Several of the ladies in this very mixed group rushed to her assistance once she was on the ground, supporting her as she waddled up the steps and into the Hold.He felt immense pity for her, and hoped that the quarters she was to inhabit had not been in such bad condition as the one he had tried to clean.Was Fax trying to kill the woman?Probably, if some of Nip's earlier reports bore any truth, and they undoubtedly did.
Robinton was prodded to take several beasts at once, which was awkward, given the infirmities he was affecting.Two of Fax's bullies came along to oversee him and the other hastily organized drudges who were to tend to the mounts.Ruathan-bred, Robinton thought drolly, come back full circle.The two scrawny beasts which had inhabited the Hold were gone.Probably they were what would be offered the Lord Holder tonight, and would be tough as old boots.
He did no more than the others, despite being cuffed and kicked to "do a proper job of it'.He felt sorry for the tired runner-beasts, though he was almost as tired as they before he and the others were given sickles and sent to cut fresh fodder.His limp and his groans were heartfelt by now.With nothing to eat so far this long day… and if what he suspected were true, there was unlikely to be enough food in the Hold to feed the visitors, much less the residents.He wondered if the dragonriders had brought their own provisions.
And how was he to reach C'gan if he spent the entire livelong day drudging?It was too bad that he had never established as much of a contact with Tagath as he had had with Simanith.
Although he knew very well that the drudges in the Harper Hall and Fort Hold were well cared for, he had discovered a heretofore unexpected sympathy for those whom life had deprived of the wit or energy to achieve more than such lowly positions.
When the armsmen finally allowed that the beasts had been properly cared for, Robinton followed the other five men back to the Hold.They were muttering about their expectations of food.
Darkness had set in and, as an additional mark of the poverty of the Hold, the glowbaskets gave glum illumination.
"Bread, if we're lucky," one said, trudging along.
"When's luck got anything' to do wiv us?" another demanded."I'd be anywhere but here."
"Yes, always the gripe, never the go," the first one said."Who're you?" he suddenly asked Robinton, peering up at him.
"Came wiv dem," the MasterHarper said, jerking a thumb at the soldiers striding along in front of them.He wanted to straighten up, to relieve the ache in his back, but doubted it would help and, besides, he daren't unbend.Even bent, he was still a good head taller than his erstwhile companions.
The first man made an inarticulate sound in his throat that was half snarl."Goin' on wiv "em then?"
"Not going' nowhere but here," Robinton said in a dour voice.
They made for the kitchen entrance and the first man recoiled, startled at the chaos within, the slamming and clanging of pots and the screams as a drudge was hit.One male voice rose above the others, giving orders, yelling if the response wasn't immediate.
"Shards, it's burned on the one side and raw on the others." That sentence was bellowed in a tone of fury and frustration.A canine yipped piteously.Robinton could hear slapping and more screams and groans as the cook evidently vented his feelings on his helpless drudges.
"Us'ns'd have it, if it's meat," the first drudge muttered to himself, wistfully licking lips.He took a deep breath.
"Smell's all we's likely to have," the other said.
Not that the smell was at all appetizing.But Robinton used their interest in the kitchen activities to cover his movements as he stealthily backed off into the shadows.He had noticed as they passed the main Hold door that there were no guards either at the door or in the Hall.He couldn't enter in his guise of a drudge, but surely he could sneak into the guard barracks and change into something…more appropriate.
He slipped in just in time to hear one of the underleaders assigning posts for the evening, and he ducked into an alcove as they tramped past him, the dim glowbaskets neatly shadowing him.
Fortunately, many of Fax's soldiers were of a generous size and they had brought several changes of clothes with them.He found the cleanest and, happily shedding his filthy, sweaty rags, put them on.A bit loose at the waist and a bit short in the leg, but he used his own belt and secured the trousers.He took the sleeve of his shirt and scrubbed at his boots, getting the worst of the stable muck off them.
"Where the shards were you."?" a harsh voice called.
Robinton whirled round to see a guard underleader in the doorway.
"Relieved me'sel," he muttered, wondering if the sudden pounding of his heart would give him away.
"Up to the Hall, then.Want every one of you up there "case those sharding dragonriders doan know theys manners." The grin suggested that the man was aching to teach dragonriders manners.
"Yuss," Robinton said.He squared his shoulders, which was not easy after a day's crouching, and passed the underleader cautiously, as if expecting a kick on his way.But no kick came.A quick look back told him that the man was bending over his saddlebags, extracting his sword-belt.