The Dragon Lord's Daughters Read Online Free PDF Page A

matches can be made for Junia and Brynn.”
    â€œOf course,” Ysbail said slowly. Then she added, “Our good lord had best work quickly, for Averil is really getting too old to match. I want to see Junia wed at thirteen.”
    â€œAveril’s beauty will make up for her age,” Gorawen said through gritted teeth.
    â€œAveril is the perfect age to wed,” Argel noted quietly. “But Gorawen is correct. The girls are well versed in housekeeping, but know little of common hospitality or courtesy towards a guest. This lack must be remedied quickly.”
    â€œWe’ll have to use Brynn,” Gorawen said.
    Argel and Ysbail burst out laughing.
    â€œI know, I know,” Gorawen said with a grin, “but we have no one else, do we?”
    â€œNay, we do not,” Argel said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “We will begin this evening. I shall have the large oak tub set up in the hall, and they can begin to learn. Junia may also take part in these lessons. She is not too young for that.”
    â€œPoor Brynn,” Ysbail said.
    â€œHe will survive,” Argel said dryly. “And who knows what we will find beneath those several layers of dirt. They’ll have to pick the nits from his head.”
    â€œThere is much to learn,” Gorawen said, “as our daughters will soon find out.”
    In early evening the tub was brought into the hall and set before a fireplace to be filled with hot water. Cloths for scrubbing, brushes, cloths for drying, and soap were placed on a small table that had been set at the tub’s edge. Averil, Maia and Junia, long aprons over their chemises, were waiting for their brother to be brought into the hall. They looked at each other, and began to giggle as he was dragged in forcibly, howling with his outrage. At eight years of age, Brynn Pendragon was the image of his father. He was tall for a boy of nine, with long gangly limbs, and thick black hair.
    Seeing the tub he struggled all the harder. “I’m not taking a bath!” he raged. “Bathing is for weaklings and Norman coxcombs!”
    â€œShut your gob!” his father roared at him, and he cuffed the boy sharply, stilling his outrage and struggles. “A proper chatelaine of the house always bathes her guests. Your sisters have had no experience in this art as we rarely receive visitors. You and I are the only men of rank here, and I don’t intend on allowing my daughters to wash me. I am not yet that feeble. So ’tis you, my son, who will submit with good grace, or I’ll beat the hide off of you. I am about to seek a husband for Averil and then Maia. Would you have them disgrace the name of Pendragon by being ill-mannered in matters of hospitality?”
    Brynn said nothing, but he was still now. He had received one or two beatings from his father in recent years. It wasn’t an experience he wanted to repeat.
    â€œDo you never change your clothing?” Averil said as she came up to him, and began to peel his garments from the boy’s frame. “Ewww! And you stink, little brother! For shame! You are a noble’s son, and should have more care of your person.” She handed the boy’s clothing to Maia and Junia, instructing them to toss them in the fire.
    â€œThat’s my favorite sherte!” the boy protested.
    â€œYou could poison soup with it, you heathen,” Averil scolded him.
    Their father and his women chuckled, but made no move to stop her.
    When the lad was brought naked Argel said, “He should stand in the tub, lasses, while he is thoroughly washed. Then he is to sit in the water while the nits are picked from his head prior to washing his hair.”
    The three girls set about to bathe their brother, scrubbing him vigorously until his skin was pink again.
    â€œDo we wash all of him?” Maia inquired nervously.
    â€œAll!” the three mothers chorused.
    Maia looked at her little brother’s masculine