the better for their souls.”
Reynold had laughed. “And next you’ll tell me that my soul needs all the bettering I can buy it.”
“You know about that better than I do,” she had answered austerely and he had laughed at her again, but he was the only person in the world who could laugh at her without rousing her anger and she had simply pressed on. “But yes, for the good of your soul, among other things, it wouldn’t harm you to help us.”
He could afford it. He had been a younger son without much to inherit, but he had found an heiress to marry and through her had come into property enough that he could lord it over the dozen or so knights and squires he liked for company. Alys, being a third daughter in a large family, had not had his chances, but she had won the gamble she had made in choosing St. Frideswide’s instead of marriage—she was prioress. But that was not going to be the end of it. There was more she wanted and she needed help to see her ambitions through to the end. Reynold’s help.
“But there won’t be an end to your ambitions,” Reynold had pointed out. “A tower now. A tiled floor later. A fountain for the garden after that. I know how it goes.”
She had not thought of a fountain until then, but all she had said was, “And is that so much when set against your soul safe in heaven instead of sent to hell?”
He had made her talk a great deal more, teasing her along, but come around to admitting she was right, that he needed heaven’s favor as much as she needed his help.
Not that it had come to much so far. So far he and his men had cost her more than he had brought in, and now he had saddled her with the problem of this girl; but at least he had brought food in today, too, as he had promised. He had done it last week, too, and once before that. It was a beginning. All she had to do was be patient at him.
She heard his laughter from below and Father Henry saying something and Katerin’s quick footfalls on the stairs as she hurried ahead to open the parlor door. Alys straightened in her chair. She would have preferred to deal with Reynold alone, but for decency’s sake Father Henry and Katerin would have to be here. By rights so should at least one of her nuns, but Dame Frevisse was undoubtedly telling them enough of what had happened in the yard this afternoon to keep their tattling tongues busy without one of them here to gather more for them.
Katerin came in smiling and stood aside to hold the door open. She did not need to but it was a skill she was proud to have and Alys let her. Reynold followed her, concentrating on carrying a fat, green-glazed pitcher with a linen towel laid over it.
“Spiced wine, cousin mine,” he said cheerfully. “To take the chill off both the evening and your humor.” He set it down on the table, crossed to her, and took her hand to kiss.
Trying to be gracious in return—you caught more flies with honey than vinegar—Alys let him and found as he stepped back with a grin, freeing her hand, that he had left a small leather purse in it.
“To show I’m sorry I’ve upset things for you,” he said.
She could feel the coins through the leather. A lot of them and goodly sized. Not gold surely?
“Only some of them,” Reynold said, as sure of her mind as if she had asked it aloud. “But some is better than none!” He swung away to the table. With Father Henry safely in, Katerin had left the door and was hurrying to fetch three of the priory’s six silver goblets from the carved aumbry against the far wall. She reached the table with them as Reynold did and he rewarded her with a smile that she returned, round-eyed and gazing up at him in a way that told Alys that even an idiot could go more idiot for a man’s smile. Why did women do that? Pleasurable it might be to have a man smile on you, but it was hardly worth giving up your wits for, though women did—even when they had no wits to give, like Katerin.
Reynold poured the wine with
Reynold had laughed. “And next you’ll tell me that my soul needs all the bettering I can buy it.”
“You know about that better than I do,” she had answered austerely and he had laughed at her again, but he was the only person in the world who could laugh at her without rousing her anger and she had simply pressed on. “But yes, for the good of your soul, among other things, it wouldn’t harm you to help us.”
He could afford it. He had been a younger son without much to inherit, but he had found an heiress to marry and through her had come into property enough that he could lord it over the dozen or so knights and squires he liked for company. Alys, being a third daughter in a large family, had not had his chances, but she had won the gamble she had made in choosing St. Frideswide’s instead of marriage—she was prioress. But that was not going to be the end of it. There was more she wanted and she needed help to see her ambitions through to the end. Reynold’s help.
“But there won’t be an end to your ambitions,” Reynold had pointed out. “A tower now. A tiled floor later. A fountain for the garden after that. I know how it goes.”
She had not thought of a fountain until then, but all she had said was, “And is that so much when set against your soul safe in heaven instead of sent to hell?”
He had made her talk a great deal more, teasing her along, but come around to admitting she was right, that he needed heaven’s favor as much as she needed his help.
Not that it had come to much so far. So far he and his men had cost her more than he had brought in, and now he had saddled her with the problem of this girl; but at least he had brought food in today, too, as he had promised. He had done it last week, too, and once before that. It was a beginning. All she had to do was be patient at him.
She heard his laughter from below and Father Henry saying something and Katerin’s quick footfalls on the stairs as she hurried ahead to open the parlor door. Alys straightened in her chair. She would have preferred to deal with Reynold alone, but for decency’s sake Father Henry and Katerin would have to be here. By rights so should at least one of her nuns, but Dame Frevisse was undoubtedly telling them enough of what had happened in the yard this afternoon to keep their tattling tongues busy without one of them here to gather more for them.
Katerin came in smiling and stood aside to hold the door open. She did not need to but it was a skill she was proud to have and Alys let her. Reynold followed her, concentrating on carrying a fat, green-glazed pitcher with a linen towel laid over it.
“Spiced wine, cousin mine,” he said cheerfully. “To take the chill off both the evening and your humor.” He set it down on the table, crossed to her, and took her hand to kiss.
Trying to be gracious in return—you caught more flies with honey than vinegar—Alys let him and found as he stepped back with a grin, freeing her hand, that he had left a small leather purse in it.
“To show I’m sorry I’ve upset things for you,” he said.
She could feel the coins through the leather. A lot of them and goodly sized. Not gold surely?
“Only some of them,” Reynold said, as sure of her mind as if she had asked it aloud. “But some is better than none!” He swung away to the table. With Father Henry safely in, Katerin had left the door and was hurrying to fetch three of the priory’s six silver goblets from the carved aumbry against the far wall. She reached the table with them as Reynold did and he rewarded her with a smile that she returned, round-eyed and gazing up at him in a way that told Alys that even an idiot could go more idiot for a man’s smile. Why did women do that? Pleasurable it might be to have a man smile on you, but it was hardly worth giving up your wits for, though women did—even when they had no wits to give, like Katerin.
Reynold poured the wine with
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