be proud to call his own. The Earl secretly rejoiced that the lad had long, strong limbs, a clear gaze, and a fearless air, and nothing of his own dark, crow-like features and unimpressive build. When the time came—and now he was seven, it would come soon—the boy would leave the house of women to become a squire, a knight, and his grandfather's heir. And at that same time his dear mother, Lienore, to her great surprise, the Earl promised himself with a silent vengeful smirk, would find herself singing Hail Marys in the same nunnery as her mother, dispatched with an endowment large enough to make sure the good sisters kept her there all her life. He sighed with anticipation. Oh, it would be sweet, so sweet.
But until then… He turned back to Lienore and composed his features into a contemptuous sneer. "You call him a fine lad, when the shame he's brought on us keeps us at home? When the King has to track us down here, because we can't go and pay our respects at court?"
She played with her veil, teasing out a small curl at her temple and smoothing it down beside her full, pink cheek. "You're not shamed, Father," she said with an easy shrug. "I know you. You're just too mean to take us all to court." She pointed a sly white finger over his shoulder to the yard behind. "Which is why they have come to you."
"What—?"
The Earl whirled round. At the foot of the courtyard, a great gatehouse gave onto the forest beyond. Coming through the trees was a troop of knights on horseback, escorting a finely dressed couple in royal red, white, and gold. Behind them came another body of knights and a war band of fighting men.
"Find the chamberlain!" he shouted at the dumbstruck nursemaid. "Tell him to scare up all the servants and get ready for the King!"
The procession was emerging from the forest and making its way up the castle mount with the King in the lead. The Earl stared like a man at the stake. Arthur's tall, broad-shouldered physique was finely displayed in a scarlet tunic and a gold cloak. His Queen was a perfect foil to the great bear-like shape, a womanly figure radiant in white and gold.
Now the glittering entourage swept into the courtyard, with Guenevere riding beside Arthur, a warm smile on her lips.
"My lord Sweyn," called Arthur, "forgive our unheralded descent. A war alarm calls us to Cornwall to relieve King Mark, and we would not pass by your lands without greeting you."
"You are most welcome, sire," the Earl cried with desperate gaiety. "You and your knights."
He nodded to the King's four companions and a new danger seized his unquiet mind. The sallow, sardonic Kay and the mild Bedivere did not trouble him, but the smiling Lucan was too handsome by far, and that brute Gawain was already eyeing Lienore with open interest on his beefy face. So! Earl Sweyn's gut tightened. Not only the boy but his loose-loined mother, too, would have to be put under lock and key till the visitors had gone—
"Father—"
He felt an urgent tugging at his sleeve. "Your Majesties," he pressed on, ignoring her, "will you feast with us tonight?"
"You and your daughter, I hope," returned Arthur courteously, bowing to Lienore.
Guenevere gave a kindly smile. "And is this your grandson?"
She signaled to the maid to bring the boy forward, and both the King and Queen leaned down from their saddles to make much of him.
"Father—" came Lienore's voice again, with a raw edge of excitement this time.
"Peace, will you?" Earl Sweyn hissed. "Sire," he called, "my poor house is yours."
Arthur bowed. "For this night only, my lord, then we must be on our way." He glanced round the castle, following Guenevere's gaze. "I look forward to hearing about your estate."
The courtyard was slowly filling with excited servants, the chamberlain at their head. The Earl watched Arthur and his knights and felt the first dawnings of pride. The King and Queen here, under his roof—it was the greatest honor to the house. The cost would be terrible, of
But until then… He turned back to Lienore and composed his features into a contemptuous sneer. "You call him a fine lad, when the shame he's brought on us keeps us at home? When the King has to track us down here, because we can't go and pay our respects at court?"
She played with her veil, teasing out a small curl at her temple and smoothing it down beside her full, pink cheek. "You're not shamed, Father," she said with an easy shrug. "I know you. You're just too mean to take us all to court." She pointed a sly white finger over his shoulder to the yard behind. "Which is why they have come to you."
"What—?"
The Earl whirled round. At the foot of the courtyard, a great gatehouse gave onto the forest beyond. Coming through the trees was a troop of knights on horseback, escorting a finely dressed couple in royal red, white, and gold. Behind them came another body of knights and a war band of fighting men.
"Find the chamberlain!" he shouted at the dumbstruck nursemaid. "Tell him to scare up all the servants and get ready for the King!"
The procession was emerging from the forest and making its way up the castle mount with the King in the lead. The Earl stared like a man at the stake. Arthur's tall, broad-shouldered physique was finely displayed in a scarlet tunic and a gold cloak. His Queen was a perfect foil to the great bear-like shape, a womanly figure radiant in white and gold.
Now the glittering entourage swept into the courtyard, with Guenevere riding beside Arthur, a warm smile on her lips.
"My lord Sweyn," called Arthur, "forgive our unheralded descent. A war alarm calls us to Cornwall to relieve King Mark, and we would not pass by your lands without greeting you."
"You are most welcome, sire," the Earl cried with desperate gaiety. "You and your knights."
He nodded to the King's four companions and a new danger seized his unquiet mind. The sallow, sardonic Kay and the mild Bedivere did not trouble him, but the smiling Lucan was too handsome by far, and that brute Gawain was already eyeing Lienore with open interest on his beefy face. So! Earl Sweyn's gut tightened. Not only the boy but his loose-loined mother, too, would have to be put under lock and key till the visitors had gone—
"Father—"
He felt an urgent tugging at his sleeve. "Your Majesties," he pressed on, ignoring her, "will you feast with us tonight?"
"You and your daughter, I hope," returned Arthur courteously, bowing to Lienore.
Guenevere gave a kindly smile. "And is this your grandson?"
She signaled to the maid to bring the boy forward, and both the King and Queen leaned down from their saddles to make much of him.
"Father—" came Lienore's voice again, with a raw edge of excitement this time.
"Peace, will you?" Earl Sweyn hissed. "Sire," he called, "my poor house is yours."
Arthur bowed. "For this night only, my lord, then we must be on our way." He glanced round the castle, following Guenevere's gaze. "I look forward to hearing about your estate."
The courtyard was slowly filling with excited servants, the chamberlain at their head. The Earl watched Arthur and his knights and felt the first dawnings of pride. The King and Queen here, under his roof—it was the greatest honor to the house. The cost would be terrible, of
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