“They are coming, Aodh,” he said as they burst into the lord’s chambers. “They send messengers and emissaries, but they do not commit. Oh, a few have, but not the major clans.”
Ré began lighting candles as Aodh tossed the windows open. Blue-black twilight poured in. “They are wary,” he explained, turning to the hearth, which had been set and stoked less than an hour ago. He gave the coals a push with the iron rod and tossed more fuel in, then waited for Aodh to do as he always did, stand directly beside the flames, so close he was practically in them. But he did not come.
“Why are they wary?” Aodh asked as he unbuckled his sword belt and tossed it on the table, then tugged off his tunic.
“They want to know where Katarina is.”
He reached for a washrag. “Why?”
“They think perhaps this whole thing is some trick, some ruse.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Aodh plunged the rag into the stone cistern set in the far wall, where fresh water sped down from the rooftops, then he wrapped a cake of soap inside the rag and swiftly washed his torso.
Ré dropped into a chair and put his boots up on the table. “Indeed it does. Either she has been sent away, or she has joined the rebellion. But she has, apparently, done neither. No one has seen her face, nor heard word of her leaving. I warrant that’s making them uncomfortable.”
Aodh lifted an arm and laved his armpit. “So she is respected. I knew as much.”
“Or disdained for being the queen’s paw. But in either event, she is a polarizing force. And a female, which makes a few of them more wary than if she were a viper. But no matter where they come down on the matter of female rulers, Aodh, the fact that she is here, amid us but not with us, is making them mightily uncomfortable.”
Aodh snorted as he stripped off his breeches and, splashing the soapy rag into the water again, washed between his legs.
“And there are rumors,” Ré added significantly.
Aodh paused, eyebrows up.
“That she’s been imprisoned.”
He flung the rag into a bucket and began rinsing with clean water.
“That did not sit well, Aodh, even among those who do not want a woman in command. If she stands amid us but against us…we may as well have a lit fuse in our cellar.” Their eyes met. “Or our tower.”
Aodh reached for a clean tunic and finished dressing in silence. He shoved his boots on, then, as he slid his sword belt off the table, ready to buckle it back on, he went still.
He stared straight ahead for a moment. “Where is the sword?”
Ré dropped his boots off the table. “Sword?”
“The short sword, that lay here.” He pointed to the pile of Katarina’s weapons he’d had brought back in and left in a heap on the table, a constant reminder of what he was up against. The danger of her. The fuel. The fire.
Ré shook his head. “I have not touched them, and no one else has been allowed in your chambers whilst you were gone. Only this evening was the door unlocked again.” Ré glanced at the pile of weapons, then said, “I did see her little urchin darting around the other morn, but was unable to catch him.”
Aodh turned. “Was he abovestairs?”
“That he was.”
Aodh was silent a moment, then said in a low murmur, “Oh, Katarina.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
KATARINA EYED the bathtub warily.
It was not the first bath Aodh had had sent up. There had been one a day for the last four days. But Walter had never overseen their preparations before. She shifted her wary glance to him.
Her clerk stood in the doorway, arms crossed as he directed the servants. His face was silently reproachful as buckets of water came in, hotter than any before. Even more water was being heated at the fire. Fresh soaps were laid out, and piles of folded towels.
He might be fretful, but Walter was an excellent manager.
Katarina waited until the servants finished pouring the bath, and began filing out, before she said quietly, “I see you are still at liberty, Walter.”