The Brat Page 0,73

her and all three out of breath. It seemed obvious that they had rushed to gather the things she'd asked for and hurried after her, concerned for the child. She supposed she could not blame them; they did not know her and so could not be sure she would not beat the child or perform some other equally fearsome punishment as retribution for the earlier kick. They would learn in time.

"Thank you," she said, not slowing her step. She had no desire to be kicked again.

"Would you like one of us to take Juliana to your husband for you?" Erol panted.

"Certainly not. You were there, surely you heard my husband say that I may handle the matter myself?"

"Aye," Habbie agreed. "But - "

"But nothing, sir," Murie said firmly and gave him a reassuring smile. She could handle this. She wasn't sure how, but she would handle it.

They had reached the keep by then, and Murie mounted the stairs as quickly as she'd crossed the bailey: not so fast that the girl could not keep up, but quickly enough that her attention was distracted by the effort. The men followed across the great hall and above stairs and finally into the bedchamber. They arrived just as the four men who had been fixing Murie's bed trooped out with the ragged remains of the curtains.

Murmuring her thanks for their help, Murie slipped past and into the room, drawing Juliana with her.

Murie did not pause inside, but now walked around dragging Juliana with her. She was afraid that, should she stop, the child would strike out at her again; and if her husband heard about it, he would surely take over the matter himself. It was not that Murie feared Balan would beat his sister, though she suspected he might take her over his knee. But she didn't wish to see the child punished at all. Murie found herself feeling great empathy for the girl, and all she really wanted to do was hug her and assure her she was loved and cared for and everything would be all right. But she first needed to get past the hard, defensive outer layer the child wore like armor.

She pondered the matter as she glanced over the repaired bed. It looked much better without the tattered cloth hanging around it and with the nasty old linens removed. It looked as if the men had beaten the dust out, too. Relieved, Murie turned her attention to how much progress Cecily had made with the rushes. The woman had cleared away one corner of the smelly floor covering and was still working industriously.

Noting the weariness Juliana was beginning to display, Murie slowed her steps and turned to the men. "Very well, gentlemen, thank you so much for helping me gather these things. If you would be kind enough to set them on the chests over there, Juliana and I can start making the bed."

The girl's steps had begun to falter, but this comment seemed to perk her up. She snarled, "I'll not."

"You will," Murie assured her calmly, circling the room once more.

"You cannot make me." The girl tried to tug free once more, but Murie had a firm hold on her arm.

"Godart?" Murie said as she started around the room for the third time. "Am I right in assuming that you are one of Balan's soldiers?"

"Aye," the man answered. Then he added, "We take turns manning the walls and guarding the castle, or doing the labor that needs doing around here. This week is my week for labor."

"I fear today is your day to be a guard," Murie countered.

"Please stand by the door and ensure Juliana does not leave. She will not exit this room until I say so, and I will not say so until she has done what I have asked of her."

The man nodded, and Murie released Juliana. The child hesitated the briefest moment, probably torn between kicking her again and fleeing. In the end, she chose fleeing and made a rush for the door, but Go-dart was immediately in front of it, between her and freedom. Juliana didn't slow; she charged him in a bull-like fashion, crashing into his legs and proceeding to kick and strike out at him with her small fists.

Murie winced and sent him an apologetic glance, but the man just smiled and shook his head. He wore boots and leather leggings, and apparently this was enough to protect him, for he truly did not seem to be suffering any