character of hers,” he gasped out, “might well be our undoing. Fat lot of good her fine qualities will do her—or me—if we end up begging in the streets.”
“That’s ridiculous. You can always go back to Périgeaux and live with Peter.”
“Never!” Milo proclaimed with startling vehemence. “Nothing could make me return to that house.”
“Easy.” Alex sauntered over to the tree and leaned against it again. The sun had set, drawing with it a dusky veil of twilight studded with innumerable winking stars, yet the heat was as oppressive as ever. The river lapped softly; frogs grunted the lazy chant of a summer evening. “If not Peter, then there must be relatives somewhere who’d take you in.”
“You don’t understand,” Milo spat out. “It’s not just Peter. I couldn’t bear living that way again, an interloper in someone else’s home, someone who’s tolerated—as long as he makes himself inconspicuous and submits to his host’s will in all things. At best, it’s like being a child under the rule of his parents. I may not be much of a man anymore, but at least I’ve got my own home, and I damn well intend to keep it.”
“Even at the expense of your wife’s honor?”
Milo sneered. “You sound like Nicolette. Claims to be just as anxious as I am to keep Peverell, but refuses to barter her precious virtue for it. She came up with some idiotic scheme to keep us on as stewards after the Church takes title, but—”
“Why is that idiotic?” Alex challenged. “Seems a sensible solution if the Church would agree to it.”
“‘Tis the abbot of St. Clair who’d have to agree to it, and he’s a spiteful gelding who feels that sots such as I are undeserving of such earthly rewards as Peverell.”
“The lady Nicolette must feel she can sway him.”
“She can’t. To the good Father Octavian, all women, especially beautiful ones, are but the Devil’s handmaidens. He’d never let us stay on, and even if he did, I hardly care to spend the rest of my life as a bloody caretaker for what I was once lord and master of. I’ve forbidden her to pursue the matter. ‘Twould do naught but compound our humiliation.”
“Well, then.” Alex shrugged. “Perhaps some convent would take in the lady Nicolette. And if you could accommodate yourself to monastic life—”
“Jesu!” Milo slammed his cane against the boulder. “If I had a spiritual bone in my body, I would have taken Holy Orders twenty years ago and avoided this whole bloody mess! You’re not listening to me, Alex. I won’t give up Peverell! Not while there’s a breath left in my body.”
Alex sighed. “Then I advise you to find yourself a nice little tin cup for collecting alms after you’ve been tossed out onto the street. The cane should prove helpful, but you might consider putting an eye out, or chopping off a limb or two.”
“How can you make light of my dilemma? Mine and Nicolette’s. She’ll be ruined same as me.”
“Come.” Alex crossed to his cousin and held out his hand. “Night is falling, and you’re soused. We’d best be getting back.”
Alex tried to help Milo off the boulder, but his cousin jerked out of his grip, throwing himself off balance. Grabbing him and standing him upright, Alex said, “Can you make it back all right?”
“I made it here, I’ll make it back.” The drunker Milo got, the slower his speech became. Alex supported him with a hand on his shoulder as they set off for the castle. “I’ll pay you a hundred marks.”
“What use have I of your money?”
“Does William the Bastard compensate his Lone Wolf so well for his services?”
“As a matter of fact, he does.” Since Alex refused to accept land, King William insisted on rewarding him with gold, and generously. He earned more in the recent Scottish campaign than the most capable mercenary might amass during an entire military career.
“I thought this all through, you know,” Milo said thickly. “And I was sure
“That’s ridiculous. You can always go back to Périgeaux and live with Peter.”
“Never!” Milo proclaimed with startling vehemence. “Nothing could make me return to that house.”
“Easy.” Alex sauntered over to the tree and leaned against it again. The sun had set, drawing with it a dusky veil of twilight studded with innumerable winking stars, yet the heat was as oppressive as ever. The river lapped softly; frogs grunted the lazy chant of a summer evening. “If not Peter, then there must be relatives somewhere who’d take you in.”
“You don’t understand,” Milo spat out. “It’s not just Peter. I couldn’t bear living that way again, an interloper in someone else’s home, someone who’s tolerated—as long as he makes himself inconspicuous and submits to his host’s will in all things. At best, it’s like being a child under the rule of his parents. I may not be much of a man anymore, but at least I’ve got my own home, and I damn well intend to keep it.”
“Even at the expense of your wife’s honor?”
Milo sneered. “You sound like Nicolette. Claims to be just as anxious as I am to keep Peverell, but refuses to barter her precious virtue for it. She came up with some idiotic scheme to keep us on as stewards after the Church takes title, but—”
“Why is that idiotic?” Alex challenged. “Seems a sensible solution if the Church would agree to it.”
“‘Tis the abbot of St. Clair who’d have to agree to it, and he’s a spiteful gelding who feels that sots such as I are undeserving of such earthly rewards as Peverell.”
“The lady Nicolette must feel she can sway him.”
“She can’t. To the good Father Octavian, all women, especially beautiful ones, are but the Devil’s handmaidens. He’d never let us stay on, and even if he did, I hardly care to spend the rest of my life as a bloody caretaker for what I was once lord and master of. I’ve forbidden her to pursue the matter. ‘Twould do naught but compound our humiliation.”
“Well, then.” Alex shrugged. “Perhaps some convent would take in the lady Nicolette. And if you could accommodate yourself to monastic life—”
“Jesu!” Milo slammed his cane against the boulder. “If I had a spiritual bone in my body, I would have taken Holy Orders twenty years ago and avoided this whole bloody mess! You’re not listening to me, Alex. I won’t give up Peverell! Not while there’s a breath left in my body.”
Alex sighed. “Then I advise you to find yourself a nice little tin cup for collecting alms after you’ve been tossed out onto the street. The cane should prove helpful, but you might consider putting an eye out, or chopping off a limb or two.”
“How can you make light of my dilemma? Mine and Nicolette’s. She’ll be ruined same as me.”
“Come.” Alex crossed to his cousin and held out his hand. “Night is falling, and you’re soused. We’d best be getting back.”
Alex tried to help Milo off the boulder, but his cousin jerked out of his grip, throwing himself off balance. Grabbing him and standing him upright, Alex said, “Can you make it back all right?”
“I made it here, I’ll make it back.” The drunker Milo got, the slower his speech became. Alex supported him with a hand on his shoulder as they set off for the castle. “I’ll pay you a hundred marks.”
“What use have I of your money?”
“Does William the Bastard compensate his Lone Wolf so well for his services?”
“As a matter of fact, he does.” Since Alex refused to accept land, King William insisted on rewarding him with gold, and generously. He earned more in the recent Scottish campaign than the most capable mercenary might amass during an entire military career.
“I thought this all through, you know,” Milo said thickly. “And I was sure
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