“Lady’s grace on you, Maerin,” Dorrin said. “For your kind thought, and on you, Sennet, and the rest of you.” Their faces relaxed and a murmur passed through the crowd. She dismounted; Sennet pushed a boy forward to hold her horse.

A lane opened in the little crowd: they had placed a board across two sections of tree trunk for a bench, and gathered flowers to decorate it. Dorrin sat down; the board tipped only a little.

“If you permit, my lord,” Sennet said. A little girl held a wreath of flowers and field herbs, some drooping already with the heat. “A Lady’s Day crown.”

Dorrin bent her head; the child, barefoot and with a strong smell of pig about her, put the crown on her head; Dorrin felt the stiff stems of wild rosemary prickle through her hair. “Thank you,” Dorrin said to the child. In that face, she saw no hint of Verrakai cunning; the girl smiled and stared until Sennet touched her shoulder and guided her back to her mother.

“And now,” Sennet said, “Cheers for our Duke and best wishes for her life—the Lady’s grace to her!” The crowd gave cheers, somewhat raggedly, and when that trailed away another child’s voice could be heard.

“Kin we eat now?”

“Hush, Larn! Be still. The Duke will speak.”

Without that cue, she would not have known what came next. “Sennet, Maerin, you have surprised me very well. You wanted to thank me for the very little I have done; I must thank you all, every one of you, for the great things you have done. You have done your work in the shadow of terror; you have welcomed one you had reason to fear. Who could do more? I shall try to be as good a duke to you as you deserve.” The faces of those nearest her were intent, hopeful.

From the back of the ground, the child’s voice came again. “But Ma … I’m hungry!”

Dorrin laughed. “And right now, you need your duke to say the best way to celebrate a Lady’s Day is with her bounty—let us eat!”

They had brought out their poor best for her; when she saw the little meant to feed them all, she felt ashamed to take one bite. She had seen them tending flocks and herds, these past tendays.

“Them’s your sheep, my lord,” Sennet said, when she asked. “Your sheep and cows. We didn’t have no right to take one of them.”

“Is it not Alyanya’s rule that guests and hosts share the wealth of both? Send someone, Sennet, and bring back a sheep, or two—enough to roast on the fire and give everyone enough and more.” She thought a moment. “And if there are fruit trees or berries, outside the house garden, that you thought reserved for my use—use them now.”

“Does the Duke want to choose the sheep?” Sennet asked. “The flock’s penned just outside there—” He pointed beyond the houses.

“Nay,” Dorrin said. “I trust you, as you trust me. Alyanya’s blessing on it, and be sure there is plenty. Let the children eat, meanwhile.”