"Aye, it would seem so."
Derek sighed and scratched at his ear. "You make my point for me, Merlyn, confirming my judgment. Here you are, less than a day in Ravenglass, and already trouble follows you. Will you still be able to dine with us tonight?"
"Aye, where?"
"In my house, beneath the thatch." He saw my blank expression. "I roofed the central space in there, too, just like the court of the administration building. It's not as high a roof, or as big as the one next door, but it keeps the rain and snow out of the house and provides me with high storage and drying racks. And it's mine alone, not a public space."
"I'll be there. Put your mind at ease, Derek. We have made arrangements to sail come morning."
"I know. Connor told me. I'll see you at dinner."
Derek had barely left the room when Shelagh entered, her face twisted in a scowl of concern. I had not seen her since leaving the dock with Derek earlier that day. Now she stopped on the threshold and stared at me. I glanced down at the bandages that swathed my hands and waited for her to speak.
"Why?" she asked. "Who was it?"
I raised my head to meet her gaze. "Didn't Donuil tell you? I don't know who they were. Nor do I know why they chose to attack me."
She stepped into the room, looked around to find a chair, then dragged it to where I sat by the brazier. She leaned close, assessing the extent of my injuries.
"Lucanus told me what happened. I haven't seen Donuil since I got back. We waited for him at the market, and when it finally became clear he was not coming, I sent the children home with Turga. Since then I've been with Logan, down at the wharf. Tell me about it."
I told her, omitting nothing, and when I had done she frowned and reached out to touch the tips Of her fingers gently to the, swelling on my cheek, wincing in sympathy with me as I flinched. "Is it that bad?"
"No " I admitted, "but it is painful. It'll mend."
"You really don't know who these people were, or why they attacked you?"
I shook my head. "Donuil told me they were Liam's men, because he recognized their clothing. It was obvious they were outsiders, since, like us, they had no weapons. Other than that, I have no idea who they were, or why they were there at that time."
"Hmm." She stood up. "Here, take this." She reached behind her back to the waistline of her skirt and pulled out one of her throwing-knives, a wickedly sharp weapon with a heavy blade a handspan long. I gasped at the sight of it. 'Take it," she insisted.
"How—? What—? "
"Oh, for the love of Lud, man, will you take it? Hide it behind your waist, the way I did. No one will know it's there but you, and if you need it you'll be glad of it."
"Shelagh, it's against Derek's law to carry weapons in Ravenglass, and we are his guests."
"We are, but we are also responsible for the safety of others, some of them children. You would not dream of crossing Camulod without a sword. Are you really stupid enough to think you might not have need of a blade in Ravenglass, swarming as it is with strangers, some of whom have already attacked you? Take it!"
I took the knife and weighed it in my hand. "How come you to have this?"
"Because it takes more than the threats of a foolish man to make me part with it, or any of the others," she snapped, her eyes flashing. Then she smiled. "Appearances, Merlyn—everything in the world of men is concerned with appearances. You're far worse than women. When Connor told me of this damnable requirement to surrender our weapons, I removed my belt and strapped it about my waist, covering it with a shawl. Then I bared my breasts a little more. No one here sees me as a warrior, and no one thought to ask me for my knives."
I shook my head in admiration, but I held the knife out to her again, hilt first. "My thanks, Shelagh, but I can't take this. There is honour involved."
"Och, a curse on you strutting men and your stupid notions of honour. I am telling you there's danger involved, too, Merlyn! Why won't you believe me? I can feel it, smell it, in the air of the place."
I nodded, my eyes on the knife I yet held. "I believe you, Shelagh, but this knife would change nothing, even could I accept it. It's a throwing-knife and I lack the skill' to throw it. Nevertheless, if it will make you happier, I'll keep it here in my room, beside me when I sleep. I' won't carry it abroad, but the only time I won't be here between now and tomorrow morning will be while I'm at dinner beneath Derek's thatch tonight. There I'll have a dagger at table, as will everyone else. Nothing will happen there, and we'll be leaving in the morning."
I stood up and crossed to my cot, slipping the knife beneath my pillow. She watched me, pink-faced with suppressed anger and scorn, then turned and left. I returned to sit by the brazier, fingering my scratches gently and smiling to myself at the temper of the women Donuil had wed.
THREE
There were almost a hundred people beneath Derek's thatch that night for dinner, some twenty of them women, the wives and sweethearts of the senior men of Ravenglass, and all of them had been fed by the time trouble broke out. This was no banquet, butan ordinary meal, although on a large scale. Drink had been flowing freely for hours, however, and many of the guests were already sprawled head down across the littered tables. My swollen eye was causing me difficulties, watering annoyingly and smarting painfully from the drifting smoke that filled the hall, much of it blown downward by the contrary winds that were' supposed to vent the upper roof space. As Derek himself had told me, his roof was neither as high nor as large as the one in the administrative building next door, and the reduction in scale seemed to me to have entailed a reduction in the efficiency of the ventilating system, trapping and re-circulating much of the smoke that should have been dispersed high above the diners. The place, as it functioned now, provided an object lesson in why the Romans had left their central courtyards open to the skies.
It had been an uncomfortable dinner for me, involving much twisting about, since my injury made it impossible for me to see any of the people seated on my left without turning my head completely around. I was sitting on Derek's left, however, so I could see him clearly, and Blundyl sat next to me on my left. I had found him to be a pleasant companion during the meal, akin in temperament and outlook to our own Dedalus.
Lucanus sat on Blundyl's left, between him and Derek's eldest son, Owen, with whom he had been deep in discussion since sitting down. On Derek's right sat Connor, flanked by another of Derek's people whom I did not know, and next to him sat Tearlach, Connor's boatmaster. Donuil and Shelagh sat at the closest table in front of us, to my right and beneath the level of our table on its dais, and with them were Feargus and Logan, Dedalus and Rufio, Sean the navigator and several others of Connor's senior crewmen.
Others of our following sat scattered throughout the hall, although not all were present. The ordinary crewmen were abroad, finding their own pleasure in the hostelries. Those who were here, however, senior crewmen and minor officers, mingled with Derek's own. Liam, son of Condran, was not present, nor were any of his people. They had shared the hall with Derek after their arrival the previous night, according to custom, and now fended for themselves.
We had discussed my misadventure of the early afternoon, dealing with it briefly. Blundyl and his men had questioned my attackers after releasing me, without discovering anything about the reasons underlying the attack on me, and had then thrown them into the cells where they would be held overnight. From there, the conversation had gone on to talk about fighting and brawling in general, with Blundyl admitting that, even in a rigidly controlled location such as Ravenglass, there were times when a brawling fist-fight could not be avoided. From there, Derek had drifted into detailing his experiences in what he called Lot's wars, eating mightily throughout and talking much of the time with a full mouth. I had stopped eating long before, and sat watching him in awe as he consumed enough to last me for a week. He bent forward again, digging into the depths of the heavy, black iron skillet that had been used to roast an enormous rack of ribs with herbs and vegetables and had been brought to our table for his personal consumption. He pulled out the last remaining piece and ripped it in half, one thick, meat-covered rib in each hand.