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Page 427
to riding the distance the men-at-arms had walked and then riding around the camp on a tour of inspection. He had just been considering whether he should go up to the keep for a little male companionship or send his squire out to procure a woman for him when Rhiannon was brought to his tent.
He listened to her story with creased brows. "Take the men away and get an interpreter to question them. No torture yet. And you, my lady, get down from that horse."
Rhiannon did so without comment, only turning to unlash Math's basket before the horse could be led away. Hands grabbed the basket from her and fastened on the lid. "No! Do not!" she cried. So, naturally, the lid was pulled off at once. Math's yowl and the shriek of the man who had opened the basket mingled and were loud enough to drown the single choke of laughter she could not restrain.
"I told you not to open it," she said, still choking and hoping her mirth would be mistaken for grief. "Now my cat is lost."
"Cat?" de Guisnes repeated, looking at the slashes which had torn the unwise man-at-arm's forehead, nose, and jaw so that blood was pouring down his face. "That looks like the work of a lion."
Then he transferred his eyes to Rhiannon's face, which he could see more clearly now that she had dismounted. In a moment all thought of riding up to the keep or using a camp follower disappeared from his mind. He reviewed the story he had heard. No claim of influential friends or relatives. Who did she say her husband was? Pwyll of Dyfedd? He had never heard that nameor had he? It was vaguely familiar. But the father's name, Heffydd Hen, he had never heard that. No male relative he need worry about offending. She was a nobodybut a very pretty nobody.
"I do not understand how you came to be so conveniently lost right here," de Guisnes said. "It is

 
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