“Stand up to him for your rights, lad, you don’t have to be treated like a child,” said one of the men, who had drunk more than enough wine, “You’re no servant to the Hastur-pup!”
Romilly said, relieved at this solution, “Indeed I would as soon stay here; I am a cristoforo and have no taste for such adventures.”
“Oh ah, a cristoforo bound to the Creed of Chastity,” jeered Alaric, “Well, I did my best for ye, boy, if ye’d rather be a little boy hiding behind the skirts of the holy Bearer of Burdens, that’s for you to say! Come along! Who’s for the bath-house, men?”
One after another, they rose and went, not too steadily, into the street. Romilly took Caryl upstairs and sent for the promised bath; when the serving-woman brought it, she would have bathed him as she had done with Rael, but he turned on her, his face pink.
“I won’t say anything before the men,” he said, “but I know you’re a girl, and I’m too big for my mother or my sister, even, to wash me, and I can bathe myself! Go away, mistress Romilly. I’ll have them send you a bath too, shall I? Lord Orain is away and doubtless hell be at the baths half the night, he may be looking for a woman too – see, I’m old enough to know about such things. So you can bathe in his room and go to your own bed afterward.”
Romilly could not help but laugh. She said “As you will, my lord.”
“And don’t make fun of me!”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Romilly said, trying to keep her face straight. “But Lord Orain charged me with the task of seeing that you wash your feet well.”
“I have been bathing myself in the monastery for more than a year,” said Caryl, exasperated, “Go away, mistress Romilly, before my bath water gets cold, and I will have them send a bathtub to you in Lord Orain’s room.”
Romilly was grateful for this solution – indeed she had longed for a hot bath, and went to the stable for her saddlebags while the bath – women were hauling the wooden tub into the room and pouring out steaming water into it, laying out great fluffy towels and a wooden cask of soapweed. One of the bath-women lingered, widening her eyes at Romilly and saying in a suggestive voice, “Would you like me to stay and help you, young sir? Indeed, it would be a pleasure to wash your feet and scrub your back, and for half a silver bit I will stay as long as you like, and share your bed as well.”
Romilly had to struggle again to hide a smile; this was embarrassing. Was she such a handsome young man as that, or was the woman only looking for her silver bit? She shook her head and said, “I am tired with riding; I want to wash and sleep.”
“Shall I send you a masseur, then, young sir?”
“No, no, nothing – go away and leave me to bathe,” Romilly said sternly, but she gave the woman a small coin and thanked her for her trouble. “You can come and take the tub away in an hour.”
Assured at last of privacy, she stripped and climbed into the tub, scrubbing herself vigorously with soapweed, lying back in the hot water with a sigh of luxurious content. She had last washed herself all over in the old woman’s cabin, when she was pretending she would be married to Rory. At Nevarsin she had washed as best she could, but had not, of course, dared to use the bath-house in the monastery, nor had she dared to try and find a woman’s bath-house in Nevarsin, though there must have been some of them, lest she be seen coming from the place.
What a splendid thing a bath was! She lay in the hot water, soaking and enjoying it, till the water finally cooled and she got out, dried her hair carefully, and put on her cleanest underclothing. She looked longingly at Orain’s bed, spread up for him by the maids; no doubt he was finished at the bathhouse and had found a woman somewhere for the night, and this good bed would be wasted, while he slept in some street-woman’s bed. She realized that she felt a twinge of jealousy – she remembered her dream, where Orain had caressed her, sleeping, and she had been happy that he should touch her – did she really envy the unknown woman in whose bed he was spending this night?