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Aldric had continued his conversation with the others seated nearby, for which Scyld was grateful. It left him free to pay attention to what everyone else in the hall was doing. (It was probably good for Aldric, too, since just about anyone else would be a more sympathetic listener than Scyld.)
When Athanar stood up to speak, Scyld paid less attention to the speech than he did to the reactions of the listeners. He did not expect any great surprises from Athanar; the grandiose and impassioned speeches had long since lost their novelty, and they all spun variations on the same theme: unity in the hall. Scyld probably could have given the speech himself; he thought he had Athanar at least that well figured out.
There were a lot of surprised looks when Athanar named Eodwine his counselor, but Scyld's was not among them. Of course Athanar would have to give Eodwine some kind of honored position, or he would risk alienating Eodwine's former household. He caught the soldiers exchanging worried or upset looks. Eodwine's expression was polite but passive. Of everyone in the hall, he was the one who seemed least disturbed by his own absence and return. His wife, on the other hand... her face now was carefully schooled, but Scyld had not missed how she had stiffened in her seat, and how she did not cheer along with the rest of the hall. Had he not been watching for it, he would have missed it, but it seemed that Aldric's gossip was good: Saeryn was not pleased with matters as they stood.
He was distracted from the head table by the kerfuffle unfolding between Scyrr, Léof, and Quin. It did not come to blows, however, which made the encounter hardly out of the ordinary. He wondered briefly how Scyrr had managed to keep his position with Athanar; the man seemed far more trouble than he was worth.
Then something interesting did happen. Saeryn rose from her table and stalked out of the hall after Scyrr. Under the guise of getting up for more mead (for Rowenna, unsurprisingly, had not come anywhere near his table and his mug had thus gone without refill), he passed close enough to the hall door to hear a snatch of their conversation:
“I am not Leof's messenger, I am lady Saeryn, Eodwine's wife. I came out myself. I don't like you bullying my men, and I have had enough, and you'll mind how you talk and act from this day forward.”
“I don't take orders from a woman. And certainly not one married to a sick man who vies for Lord Athanar's place like a dog trying to take his master's chair.”
Well. That was gutsy of her, to defend young Léof. On the other hand, it was hardly her place to discipline Athanar's riders, and Scyld suspected that it would not make the situation better for anyone involved. Perhaps Aldric was not all wrong. Maybe Eodwine did need to take a firmer hand with her. To each his own, he supposed. And now to refill his tankard.
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