intended to bear no more children. The pain of her daughter’s birth still made her grit her teeth. At least childbirthing hadn’t killed her as it had Marie, her long-dead half-sister. Blanche shook off old memories and turned away from the window. She would meet Graelam in the great hall, send the sullen serving wenches out of the way, and serve him some ale herself. She gazed one last time in her polished silver mirror, and curled an errant strand of black hair around her finger. I must please him, she thought, I must.
To her disappointment, Guy de Blasis accompanied Graelam. She was wary of Guy, despite his good looks and polite manners, for she sensed that he guessed her plans and disapproved. Still, she pasted a welcoming smile on her face and walked gracefully forward, her soft wool gown swishing over the reed-covered floor.
“Good day to you, my lord,” she said, smiling shyly up at Graelam.
Graelam pulled his attention from Guy and nodded. “I have news for you, Blanche. The Duke of Cornwall is paying us a visit next week. I do not know the extent of his retinue, but doubtless he will bring half an army with him, ’tis his way. At least,” he continued, now to Guy, “the barracks will be finished, so his men will not have to sleep in the keep. We will go hunting again before he arrives. Let us pray we bag more than a rabbit.”
“A deer at least, my lord,” Guy said, “if we divide the men into three separate hunting parties.”
“Some ale, my lord?” Blanche asked softly.
Graelam nodded, his thoughts elsewhere. “Ah, and some for Guy too, Blanche.”
Blance saw Guy grinning at her, and she frowned at him, but she nonetheless left the hall, her discomfiture kept to herself.
Guy waited until Blanche was out of hearing. “Have you heard anything from France, my lord? From Maurice de Lorris?”
“Nay, but then, what would I hear? If there is a message ever from him, it will doubtless be to inform me that Geoffrey is trying to steal Belleterre from him. I pray that de Lacy will keep his treacherous sword sheathed until Wolffeton is fully restored.”
“I doubt he would try an outright attack,” Guy said dryly. “ ’Tis more his way to sneak about and hire men to do his dirty work.” He fell silent a moment, then sighed deeply. “That poor girl,” he said at last. “I, of course, did not ever see her, as did you, my lord, but the servants talked to me of her, as did her father’smen. They all believed her a sweet child and kind and full of laughter. Aye, ’tis a pity to die so young.”
Graelam pictured Kassia’s lifeless fingers held in his hands as the priest droned out the marriage words. He had only time to nod when Blanche reappeared carrying a tray with two goblets filled with frothy ale.
“Thank you, Blanche,” Graelam said, his tone holding dismissal. Blanche saw Guy quirk a fair eyebrow at her and for a moment she glared back at him. Damn him, he guesses my very thoughts!
“Certainly, my lord,” she said sweetly. “Perhaps, Graelam, when you have finished speaking with Guy, you can spare me a few moments? To speak of the entertainment for the duke.”
Graelam. She had used his name but the week before and he had not seemed even to notice her familiarity. Perhaps she was making headway with him.
“Perhaps this evening, Blanche,” Graelam said as he wiped the white foam of the ale from his upper lip. “I have a new mare to inspect.”
Guy laughed aloud, his eyes on Blanche’s face. “Do you mean, my lord, that lovely little Arabian, or that equally enticing little two-legged filly named Nan?”
“Both, I fancy,” Graelam said, and rose from his chair. “Nan you say her name is, Guy?”
“Aye. No virgin, but again, lovely as a rose whose petals sparkle with the morning mist. And quite young, my lord,” Guy continued, knowing that Blanche was listening to their conversation. It was not that he disliked Blanche, he thought, following Graelam from the great
To her disappointment, Guy de Blasis accompanied Graelam. She was wary of Guy, despite his good looks and polite manners, for she sensed that he guessed her plans and disapproved. Still, she pasted a welcoming smile on her face and walked gracefully forward, her soft wool gown swishing over the reed-covered floor.
“Good day to you, my lord,” she said, smiling shyly up at Graelam.
Graelam pulled his attention from Guy and nodded. “I have news for you, Blanche. The Duke of Cornwall is paying us a visit next week. I do not know the extent of his retinue, but doubtless he will bring half an army with him, ’tis his way. At least,” he continued, now to Guy, “the barracks will be finished, so his men will not have to sleep in the keep. We will go hunting again before he arrives. Let us pray we bag more than a rabbit.”
“A deer at least, my lord,” Guy said, “if we divide the men into three separate hunting parties.”
“Some ale, my lord?” Blanche asked softly.
Graelam nodded, his thoughts elsewhere. “Ah, and some for Guy too, Blanche.”
Blance saw Guy grinning at her, and she frowned at him, but she nonetheless left the hall, her discomfiture kept to herself.
Guy waited until Blanche was out of hearing. “Have you heard anything from France, my lord? From Maurice de Lorris?”
“Nay, but then, what would I hear? If there is a message ever from him, it will doubtless be to inform me that Geoffrey is trying to steal Belleterre from him. I pray that de Lacy will keep his treacherous sword sheathed until Wolffeton is fully restored.”
“I doubt he would try an outright attack,” Guy said dryly. “ ’Tis more his way to sneak about and hire men to do his dirty work.” He fell silent a moment, then sighed deeply. “That poor girl,” he said at last. “I, of course, did not ever see her, as did you, my lord, but the servants talked to me of her, as did her father’smen. They all believed her a sweet child and kind and full of laughter. Aye, ’tis a pity to die so young.”
Graelam pictured Kassia’s lifeless fingers held in his hands as the priest droned out the marriage words. He had only time to nod when Blanche reappeared carrying a tray with two goblets filled with frothy ale.
“Thank you, Blanche,” Graelam said, his tone holding dismissal. Blanche saw Guy quirk a fair eyebrow at her and for a moment she glared back at him. Damn him, he guesses my very thoughts!
“Certainly, my lord,” she said sweetly. “Perhaps, Graelam, when you have finished speaking with Guy, you can spare me a few moments? To speak of the entertainment for the duke.”
Graelam. She had used his name but the week before and he had not seemed even to notice her familiarity. Perhaps she was making headway with him.
“Perhaps this evening, Blanche,” Graelam said as he wiped the white foam of the ale from his upper lip. “I have a new mare to inspect.”
Guy laughed aloud, his eyes on Blanche’s face. “Do you mean, my lord, that lovely little Arabian, or that equally enticing little two-legged filly named Nan?”
“Both, I fancy,” Graelam said, and rose from his chair. “Nan you say her name is, Guy?”
“Aye. No virgin, but again, lovely as a rose whose petals sparkle with the morning mist. And quite young, my lord,” Guy continued, knowing that Blanche was listening to their conversation. It was not that he disliked Blanche, he thought, following Graelam from the great
Similar Books
