Her voice went even colder. “So after all we’ve gone through together, you’re getting rid of me?”
“No, I’ll be providing for you as best I can. You’re a clever, capable girl. I’m sure you’ll do well.”
“I’m not a girl,” she said, stamping her foot. “I’m a woman.”
“And you have a life to live.”
“So do you.”
He groaned. “I’m Lyf’s number one enemy — and high on the chancellor’s list as well. Whoever wins, they’ll come after my head and they’ll probably get it.”
“But you’re all I have left,” said Glynnie. “I can’t bear to lose you too.”
CHAPTER 18
Three days had passed. Today was the day. Glynnie sank ever lower in the saddle of her stolen horse and refused to meet Rix’s eye.
“It’s for the best,” he said. “What else can I do?”
She did not reply.
“It wouldn’t be right to take you with me.”
“Which is why you’re casting me off like a worn-out pair of trews.”
“I’m not casting you off. I’m setting you up for your future.”
“Whether I like it or not.”
“I’m responsible for you. You’re not — ”
“Will you shut up! I’ve been looking after myself since I was twelve and I don’t want to be set up for my future. Damn you. You can go to hell.”
Glynnie stared at him for thirty seconds, her fists clenched, then the ferocity drained out of her. Her face took on the resigned look he had seen all too often on the faces of the house servants — that this was her lot and she had no option but to accept it. A look he could not bear to see on her.
“All right, Lord,” she said. “I can’t fight you any more.”
“I’m not a lord. I’m just Rix.”
“You’re disposing of me. That makes you my lord.”
“What else can I do? I’ve lost everything and I’m probably going to die.”
“You still have allies, and a belt full of gold. And now you’ve rejected me, no one in the world cares if I exist — or if I die.”
“I’m not rejecting you. I do care!”
“Then take me with you.” She said it dully, knowing the answer before he spoke.
“I — can’t!”
She bent her head to him, servant to master. “All I had was you. You were my family. Now I’m alone in the world.”
Rix’s mouth tasted of ashes.
“Where are you dumping me?” said Glynnie as they approached the situation Rix had picked out for her.
“Canticleer Manor. A friend of mine, Jondo Canty, stands to inherit it when his father dies. He may already have done; the old man was ailing ten years ago. Jondo was the youngest,” Rix reflected. “He’s got five older sisters, but they’re an old, traditional family. Daughters only inherit when there are no sons, can you believe it?”
“I can believe it,” she muttered.
It occurred to Rix, for the first time, that the Cantys might be Herovian. Inheritance through the male line was a Herovian custom, he recalled. And since Rix was descended from the great Axil Grandys, they would certainly want to keep his favour.
The track was winding, potholed and the wagon ruts almost axle deep. Had Canticleer fallen on hard times? It might not be a bad thing — it made the place less of a target.
It was drizzling as they turned the corner and rode up to the gate, which was sagging on its hinges. Weeds sprouted along the wall to either side. The manor was small, square and very plain. Rix’s heart sank as he studied the tiny windows, the mean, nail-studded front door and the dozen squat chimneys. It was a miserably cold day yet only one chimney was smoking. Canticleer did not look welcoming.
He pounded on the gate, and shortly a thin, slatternly young woman appeared on the other side. Her clothes were grimy and so was her hair. She looked him over. “What do you want?”
“Good day to you,” said Rix. “I’ve come to see Jondo.”
“What name?”
“Rixium Ricinus.”
She stiffened and went back inside. Several minutes passed. Rix studied Glynnie from the corner of an eye. The reins were twisted around her hands so tightly that they scored purple marks across the backs. He could imagine what she was thinking. He would not want to be left here either.
The young woman returned with a matron of perhaps fifty years. She was short and stout, with a purple, jowled face and plump fingers, and her grey hair was draggled and stringy. Rix had been looking at her for some moments before he recognised Jondo’s mother, whom he had not seen in ten years. She had not aged well.
“Good day to you, Madam Canty,” he said politely. “You may not remember — ”
“I remember your bitch of a mother,” said Madam Canty. “And how she mocked my son for his old-fashioned manners and rustic dress.”
Rix had not expected such naked hostility. “But — ”
“Our living may have been meagre, but at least it was earned honestly.”
“My mother is dead, and so is my father,” said Rix. “And I — ”
“Executed for high treason and murder! And now your house has collapsed like a rotten melon, you dare come begging at my door?”
“I am no beggar, Madam. I am riding to war to defend my country. I have a maidservant, a clever, hardworking girl who would be an asset to any household. As I have none, I’m seeking a place for her.”
Madam Canty’s hard little eyes surveyed Glynnie, then flicked back to Rix. “Knowing Ricinus’s way with maids, I cannot believe she is one.”
Glynnie flushed the colour of her hair.
Rix dared not speak his rage. “She is an excellent maidservant, Madam. Will you have her?”
“I have five daughters, no husband and no son. I have no need of servants.”
“Ah, I’m sorry. Was Jondo killed in the war?”
Her mouth turned down, became a savage gash. “He was put to death in Caulderon, five days ago. Would that they had done the same to you.” She looked him up and down, her contempt deepening. “Though being your mother’s son, Lord Ricinus, I dare say you bought your freedom with the blood of those more scrupulous and less fortunate.”
Fury was rising in Rix but he clamped down on it. Madam Canty had much to be bitter about and he could not blame her for speaking her mind. He nodded stiffly and was turning away when Glynnie let out a cry of fury.
“How dare you speak about Lord Rixium like that, you ugly old cow! He’s a good and noble man — ”
“Who betrayed his treacherous mother to her death,” Madam Canty said icily. “He’s just as foul as she was.” She met Rix’s eyes. “Begone, Lord Ricinus, and take your leman with you, before I set the dogs on you both.”
They rode away with as much dignity as they could manage. Glynnie was shaking and almost incoherent with fury. “How. Dare. She?” she finally ground out.
“She’s lost her only son,” he said mildly, “and she’s wondering how they’ll survive the war — or if they will.”
“You didn’t buy your freedom. And… and…”
She was flushing again, and he felt an urge to tease her, gently. “What are you trying to say?”
“You’re a gentleman. You would never take advantage of… of…”
“Of a maidservant who had no one to protect her? Ah, Glynnie, if you only knew what gentlemen are really like. Taking advantage of innocent maids is one of their principal sports.”
“I know exactly what those gentlemen are like,” she said hotly. “And I also know you. I trust you with my life, Lord. My life and… and everything.”
She jabbed the horse with her heels and it trotted ahead. Her head was held high and she wore a faint, enigmatic smile. Glynnie was not altogether displeased with the way things had turned out.
Rix felt a slight heat in his cheeks. Someone should remind her that it was possible to trust too much.
“I’m sure we’ll have better luck at Corkyle Manor,” Rix said that afternoon. “Tyne is an old friend.”
Glynnie went pale. “Better luck at what?”
“Finding you a place.”
“But… I thought you’d given up on that.”