Chapter 1.7

Lord Reinard sat in his favorite chair in the solar watching as a harried cleaning maid scrubbed the hearth. On the wall behind him hung a silvered mirror, and I could see what the washing women had done to me. My smooth, dark hair had been cut Christian-short, well above my shoulders and away from my earth-brown eyes. I still had my lump of a nose and my broad face, the features of my people, which no Christian could take away with mere water.

I am a small man, but thick-set, and my fists speak for themselves when my sword cannot. But could I handle my lord’s temper? Nervously I bowed to him.

"Gerard?" he asked lightly.

His mood was better. I relaxed, and wove my hands through the air. "Yes, my lord."

"I almost didn’t recognize you."

I bowed. "My lord, I feel properly chastised for having taken upon myself to clean your hearth."

He laughed out loud. "You have a sharp wit, good friend. May we share it for many a winter’s night to come."

Of course we will, I thought. I have no choice.

"Gerard," he said, somber again. "I need your help. I need you to deliver a message to Rockridge Castle."

Foreboding made my gestures more curt than they should have been. "Why are you sending me?"

"I think you can best handle the task," he said.

"And what is this message?" As if I didn’t know. I just wanted to confirm the uneasiness which sat on my shoulders.

"My marriage to the Lady Laurice, Lord Guerney’s daughter."

I knew it.

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