Even a monthly sweeping would have kept this room habitable.
He did manage to clean the floor before Fax and his entourage arrived. Then he was hauled by the scruff of his neck out into the hall and sent down to help stable Fax’s runner-beasts.
The main Hall had survived the concerted attack by the drudges, and looked slightly better. There were damp spots here and there, and no one had been able to reach the crawlers or their filmy webs which hung in tatters from the ceiling. There was huge confusion, yells, shrieks, and the excited barking of the spit canines coming from the kitchen, and Robinton was just as happy to be sent to care for the runner-beasts. He just hoped that someone had cleaned up the beasthold. He saw Fax scowling fiercely, beating his boot with a heavy baton-whip. He saw Lady Gemma, great with child, being lifted off her mount by two of Fax’s strongest men. He could see her wincing, although the men were handling her with great care.
Several of the ladies in this very mixed group rushed to her assistance once she was on the ground, supporting her as she waddled up the steps and into the Hold. He felt immense pity for her, and hoped that the quarters she was to inhabit had not been in such bad condition as the one he had tried to clean. Was Fax trying to kill the woman? Probably, if some of Nip’s earlier reports bore any truth – and they undoubtedly did.
Robinton was prodded to take several beasts at once, which was awkward, given the infirmities he was affecting. Two of Fax’s bullies came along to oversee him and the other hastily organized drudges who were to tend to the mounts. Ruathan-bred, Robinton thought drolly, come back full circle. The two scrawny beasts which had inhabited the Hold were gone. Probably they were what would be offered the Lord Holder tonight, and would be tough as old boots.
He did no more than the others, despite being cuffed and kicked to “do a proper job of it’. He felt sorry for the tired runner-beasts, though he was almost as tired as they before he and the others were given sickles and sent to cut fresh fodder. His limp and his groans were heartfelt by now. With nothing to eat so far this long day …
and if what he suspected were true, there was unlikely to be enough food in the Hold to feed the visitors, much less the residents. He wondered if the dragonriders had brought their own provisions.
And how was he to reach C’gan if he spent the entire livelong day drudging? It was too bad that he had never established as much of a contact with Tagath as he had had with Simanith.
Although he knew very well that the drudges in the Harper Hall and Fort Hold were well cared for, he had discovered a heretofore unexpected sympathy for those whom life had deprived of the wit or energy to achieve more than such lowly positions.
When the armsmen finally allowed that the beasts had been properly cared for, Robinton followed the other five men back to the Hold. They were muttering about their expectations of food.
Darkness had set in and, as an additional mark of the poverty of the Hold, the glowbaskets gave glum illumination.
“Bread, if we’re lucky,” one said, trudging along.
“When’s luck got anything’ to do wiv us?” another demanded. “I’d be anywheres but here.”
“Yes, always the gripe, never the go,” the first one said. “Who’re you?” he suddenly asked Robinton, peering up at him.
“Came wiv dem,” the MasterHarper said, jerking a thumb at the soldiers striding along in front of them. He wanted to straighten up, to relieve the ache in his back, but doubted it would help and, besides, he daren’t unbend. Even bent, he was still a good head taller than his erstwhile companions.
The first man made an inarticulate sound in his throat that was half snarl. “Goin’ on wiv “em then?”
“Not going’ nowhere but here,” Robinton said in a dour voice.
They made for the kitchen entrance and the first man recoiled, startled at the chaos within, the slamming and clanging of pots and the screams as a drudge was hit. One male voice rose above the others, giving orders, yelling if the response wasn’t immediate.