Read Online Blade of Fortriu by Juliet Marillier - Free Book Online
Authors: Juliet Marillier
Ads: Link
themselves,” Creisa muttered in a mutinous tone.
“Disporting?” Ana echoed. “All I want to do is get clean. What sort of impression do you think I’ll make if I walk into Briar Wood looking like this, not to mention the smell?”
Faolan’s mouth twitched; he controlled itbefore it became a smile. “I imagine you have a set of clean clothing in reserve, somewhere in that bundle that’s weighing down the packhorse,” he said. “Since we’re unlikely to encounter washerwomen between here and Briar Wood, and since we have still many days’ travel ahead of us, I suggest you wait until we’re nearly there. At that point, ask me again. You’re right, of course; this is a commercialenterprise, a fact I was in danger of forgetting. As leader, I’m responsible for delivering the goods in prime condition.”
Creisa giggled. Anger made Ana’s cheeks hot; the man’s rudeness and her own frustration made her want to scream at him like a fishwife and spit in his supercilious face. To her horror, her voice came out wobbly and pathetic, as if she were on the verge of tears. “There’sno need to be so unpleasant about it. I have tried not to make things any harder for you. This didn’t seem too much to ask.”
There was a brief silence while Faolan regarded her, his dark eyes assessing, and she did her best to meet his gaze steadily. As usual, she could glean no idea of what he was thinking. Her own face, she suspected, was flushed, filthy, and in no way evocative of new roses.
“I’m sorry,” Faolan said tightly and, turning on his heel, moved away to busy himself elsewhere. Ana stared after him. An apology was the last response she had expected.
“We could do it anyway, my lady,” Creisa whispered. “Don’t know about you, but I’d endure a tongue-lashing from that long-faced Gael for the sake of clean hair and a chance to wash my smallclothes. I could rinse a few thingsout, hang them over a bush—”
“We must do as he says.” Bad manners or not, there was no doubt in Ana’s mind that Faolan was an expert and reliable leader, and that they must trust him to know what was best. “All the same, I do have another change of undergarments in my big bag, the one on the packhorse. I may even be able to find something for you, if you have none for yourself. Let us at leastwash out our smallclothes; we’ll dry them where we can. Perhaps by the fire …”
Creisa exploded in a new fit of giggles. “That’ll give the men something to think about, my lady. I’ll fetch your bag and we can see what’s what.”
“And Creisa?”
“Yes, my lady?”
“Please don’t refer to Faolan as a long-faced Gael. It may be the truth, but it sounds less than respectful. Just because he has forgottenhis manners, there’s no need for us to do the same.”
Creisa’s white teeth flashed in a charming grin. “Yes, my lady.”
They managed to wriggle out of shifts and drawers while keeping reasonably covered. Faolan must have had a word to the men, for they remained up the hill making camp, out of sight save for a guard with his back turned. The two women washed their faces, their arms, waded in upto their knees, came as close to bathing as was possible without quite disobeying Faolan’s orders.
Creisa would not let Ana launder the smallclothes; she performed the task herself, pounding the soft linen with a smooth, round stone, working her fingers along the cloth, rinsing with such vigor that she did a good job of drenching both herself and Ana into the bargain. Ana sat on a flat stone,watching Creisa work her magic on the sweatsoaked garments. At length the small, biting insects that inhabit such places in spring and summer began to swarm, droning, around the women’s exposed flesh, and it was time to retreat.
In the newly made encampment, a meal had been prepared and someone had strung a piece of rope between bushes in readiness for drying ladies’ apparel. Creisa draped shiftsand more intimate garments over
“Disporting?” Ana echoed. “All I want to do is get clean. What sort of impression do you think I’ll make if I walk into Briar Wood looking like this, not to mention the smell?”
Faolan’s mouth twitched; he controlled itbefore it became a smile. “I imagine you have a set of clean clothing in reserve, somewhere in that bundle that’s weighing down the packhorse,” he said. “Since we’re unlikely to encounter washerwomen between here and Briar Wood, and since we have still many days’ travel ahead of us, I suggest you wait until we’re nearly there. At that point, ask me again. You’re right, of course; this is a commercialenterprise, a fact I was in danger of forgetting. As leader, I’m responsible for delivering the goods in prime condition.”
Creisa giggled. Anger made Ana’s cheeks hot; the man’s rudeness and her own frustration made her want to scream at him like a fishwife and spit in his supercilious face. To her horror, her voice came out wobbly and pathetic, as if she were on the verge of tears. “There’sno need to be so unpleasant about it. I have tried not to make things any harder for you. This didn’t seem too much to ask.”
There was a brief silence while Faolan regarded her, his dark eyes assessing, and she did her best to meet his gaze steadily. As usual, she could glean no idea of what he was thinking. Her own face, she suspected, was flushed, filthy, and in no way evocative of new roses.
“I’m sorry,” Faolan said tightly and, turning on his heel, moved away to busy himself elsewhere. Ana stared after him. An apology was the last response she had expected.
“We could do it anyway, my lady,” Creisa whispered. “Don’t know about you, but I’d endure a tongue-lashing from that long-faced Gael for the sake of clean hair and a chance to wash my smallclothes. I could rinse a few thingsout, hang them over a bush—”
“We must do as he says.” Bad manners or not, there was no doubt in Ana’s mind that Faolan was an expert and reliable leader, and that they must trust him to know what was best. “All the same, I do have another change of undergarments in my big bag, the one on the packhorse. I may even be able to find something for you, if you have none for yourself. Let us at leastwash out our smallclothes; we’ll dry them where we can. Perhaps by the fire …”
Creisa exploded in a new fit of giggles. “That’ll give the men something to think about, my lady. I’ll fetch your bag and we can see what’s what.”
“And Creisa?”
“Yes, my lady?”
“Please don’t refer to Faolan as a long-faced Gael. It may be the truth, but it sounds less than respectful. Just because he has forgottenhis manners, there’s no need for us to do the same.”
Creisa’s white teeth flashed in a charming grin. “Yes, my lady.”
They managed to wriggle out of shifts and drawers while keeping reasonably covered. Faolan must have had a word to the men, for they remained up the hill making camp, out of sight save for a guard with his back turned. The two women washed their faces, their arms, waded in upto their knees, came as close to bathing as was possible without quite disobeying Faolan’s orders.
Creisa would not let Ana launder the smallclothes; she performed the task herself, pounding the soft linen with a smooth, round stone, working her fingers along the cloth, rinsing with such vigor that she did a good job of drenching both herself and Ana into the bargain. Ana sat on a flat stone,watching Creisa work her magic on the sweatsoaked garments. At length the small, biting insects that inhabit such places in spring and summer began to swarm, droning, around the women’s exposed flesh, and it was time to retreat.
In the newly made encampment, a meal had been prepared and someone had strung a piece of rope between bushes in readiness for drying ladies’ apparel. Creisa draped shiftsand more intimate garments over
Similar Books
