dark granite.
“But you will leave them here with your men.”
“You think my men will harm them?”
Nils didn’t bother to answer, for none was needed. Lord Renald had built his troop around a core of men belonging to his friend FitzRoger of Cleeve. As he’d been the Lord of Cleeve’s lieutenant for many years, these men knew him well. The rest were as new as Nils was, however. It had been… interesting to watch them being turned, in a matter of days, during a grueling storm-battered journey, into a household.
These men would do exactly as their lord wished, as he would himself, though for different reasons.
He returned to watching the servants carry the women through the small pond that had formed at the end of the bridge. Certainly, drainage was a priority, and Nils wondered at the previous lord who’d let such a matter go unattended. From what he’d heard, Lord Clarence had been a charming man with a gift for storytelling and riddles. But clearly, as a landholder he had been somewhat lacking.
“Who do you think’s coming?” asked Josce, Lord Renald’s squire. Also new. “Or rather, who do you think’s staying?”
Josce of Gillingford thought this business of marrying a fair damsel romantic. Nils had at first but now, as they waited to find out who would be the bride, he was imagining all the women in the world he wouldn’t want to be tied to. He wondered how Lord Renald could appear so unconcerned. Marriage was for life, after all. He could have lined them up and taken his pick. It might have been wiser.
But as Lord Renald had pointed out, Nils was neither his conscience nor his adviser., except perhaps on matters to do with estate management and administration.
Since Lord Renald hadn’t answered, Josce went on: “I’ll bet it’s the aunts. They’d want to stick together.”
“The Ladies Felice and Amice,” supplied Nils, since it was his business to keep track of such details. “The daughter is called Claire.”
“Happiness, Love, and Light.” Lord Renald gave a dry laugh. “All rather unlikely brides in the circumstances. Well, let’s find out.”
The servants had reached the rocky ground where the tents were set, and had put their burdens on their feet. Huddled in their cloaks, raising their skirts, the two ladies picked their way toward the big tent outside which the men stood waiting.
“My ladies,” said Lord Renald, “here is my tent. I think you will find it has the essentials for comfort.”
At a command, a man by the test flap raised it and the women hurried into shelter and pushed back their hoods. Both were revealed to be fine-boned beauties, with damp, golden hair.
“Mmmm,” said Josce to Nils. “Not bad.”
“Don’t forget, lad, these are the ones who
won’t
be Lord Renald’s bride.”
They were very alike, though one looked haughty, the other terrified. Almost certainly the twins.
“I am Renald de Lisle, my ladies. And you are?”
“The Ladies Felice and Amice of Summerbourne. ”The haughty one glared down a long, straight nose. “It is intolerable that you drag us out here to live like pigs in a sty.”
“We will make you as comfortable—”
“Comfortable! Only beasts could be comfortable here.”
“It is—”
“It is evidence of lowly birth, sirrah!”
Nils winced. It was a true accusation in a way. Lord Renald came only from the petty nobility of France, and from a family dispossessed into poverty. This sudden rise in fortune was unexpected.
The woman was continuing her harangue. “What arrogance makes you think you are
worthy
to marry into our family?”
“Oh, Felice, take care!”The other had eyes swollen and red with weeping and she flinched as if expecting a blow. As well she might.
“Don’t let him cow you, Amice. I insist that—”
Lord Renald turned and walked away, gesturing for Nils and Josce to follow. They headed for the horses, pursued by screamed complaints.
“If that was Happiness and Love,” said Nils’s
“But you will leave them here with your men.”
“You think my men will harm them?”
Nils didn’t bother to answer, for none was needed. Lord Renald had built his troop around a core of men belonging to his friend FitzRoger of Cleeve. As he’d been the Lord of Cleeve’s lieutenant for many years, these men knew him well. The rest were as new as Nils was, however. It had been… interesting to watch them being turned, in a matter of days, during a grueling storm-battered journey, into a household.
These men would do exactly as their lord wished, as he would himself, though for different reasons.
He returned to watching the servants carry the women through the small pond that had formed at the end of the bridge. Certainly, drainage was a priority, and Nils wondered at the previous lord who’d let such a matter go unattended. From what he’d heard, Lord Clarence had been a charming man with a gift for storytelling and riddles. But clearly, as a landholder he had been somewhat lacking.
“Who do you think’s coming?” asked Josce, Lord Renald’s squire. Also new. “Or rather, who do you think’s staying?”
Josce of Gillingford thought this business of marrying a fair damsel romantic. Nils had at first but now, as they waited to find out who would be the bride, he was imagining all the women in the world he wouldn’t want to be tied to. He wondered how Lord Renald could appear so unconcerned. Marriage was for life, after all. He could have lined them up and taken his pick. It might have been wiser.
But as Lord Renald had pointed out, Nils was neither his conscience nor his adviser., except perhaps on matters to do with estate management and administration.
Since Lord Renald hadn’t answered, Josce went on: “I’ll bet it’s the aunts. They’d want to stick together.”
“The Ladies Felice and Amice,” supplied Nils, since it was his business to keep track of such details. “The daughter is called Claire.”
“Happiness, Love, and Light.” Lord Renald gave a dry laugh. “All rather unlikely brides in the circumstances. Well, let’s find out.”
The servants had reached the rocky ground where the tents were set, and had put their burdens on their feet. Huddled in their cloaks, raising their skirts, the two ladies picked their way toward the big tent outside which the men stood waiting.
“My ladies,” said Lord Renald, “here is my tent. I think you will find it has the essentials for comfort.”
At a command, a man by the test flap raised it and the women hurried into shelter and pushed back their hoods. Both were revealed to be fine-boned beauties, with damp, golden hair.
“Mmmm,” said Josce to Nils. “Not bad.”
“Don’t forget, lad, these are the ones who
won’t
be Lord Renald’s bride.”
They were very alike, though one looked haughty, the other terrified. Almost certainly the twins.
“I am Renald de Lisle, my ladies. And you are?”
“The Ladies Felice and Amice of Summerbourne. ”The haughty one glared down a long, straight nose. “It is intolerable that you drag us out here to live like pigs in a sty.”
“We will make you as comfortable—”
“Comfortable! Only beasts could be comfortable here.”
“It is—”
“It is evidence of lowly birth, sirrah!”
Nils winced. It was a true accusation in a way. Lord Renald came only from the petty nobility of France, and from a family dispossessed into poverty. This sudden rise in fortune was unexpected.
The woman was continuing her harangue. “What arrogance makes you think you are
worthy
to marry into our family?”
“Oh, Felice, take care!”The other had eyes swollen and red with weeping and she flinched as if expecting a blow. As well she might.
“Don’t let him cow you, Amice. I insist that—”
Lord Renald turned and walked away, gesturing for Nils and Josce to follow. They headed for the horses, pursued by screamed complaints.
“If that was Happiness and Love,” said Nils’s
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