Chapter 11.4.1

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Morning came with a dull yellow light that struggled through snow-filled clouds and failed to penetrate the darkness of the castle. Shrouded in shadows, I easily passed the guards and entered the forbidden cloister of the ladies tower. This time my quarry filled the workroom. Some spun, some wove, and some embroidered, all beneath braces of candles. At first the Lady Laurice was out of sight, but then I found her reclining on a bench strewn with pillows. She held a small one against her belly.

“The child, the child!” she cried out, rocking the pillow. “I feel it move!”

The room echoed with laughter.

“Tell me,” said the Lady Victoria, perching on a cushion beside the bench. “Have you named a father for your child?”

Lady laurice wrinkled her petite nose. “How about that sweet boy of yours? Father would believe that.”

“Please, my Lady, no. Lord Guerney would have him flayed and gutted, then used for target practice.”

I doubted that she was joking.

Lady Laurice shrugged. “Only if he finds the boy. Didn’t he leave months ago to sing his songs for Lord Reinard?”

“Sing? Oh, you mean the singer?”

Singer? Who was this whore, to call a third-string bard a singer?

To her credit, Lady Laurice gave her handmaiden a hard look. “I thought he was a Bard.”

The Lady Victoria shrugged.

“He’s come back for you,” cackled Auld Martha. A shuttlecock flew between her fingers. “He sang for supper, just last night.”

Lady Victoria sat up sharply. “Back? Oh, my Lady, you must name him the father, and quickly, before he comes to bother me. Besides, if Lord Reinard has heard about the child, and decided to marry you regardless, learning that the father was a Bard should certainly change his mind.”

“What was his name?”

Lady Victoria screwed up her delicate face in thought. “I think...”

Sharp, I thought. And he was in trouble.

“Sharp,” Auld Martha said for her. “He has an apprentice with him – not a bad looking creature, for a Heathen.”

The Lady Victoria rose. “I’ll have to try him out.”

No, I thought firmly. As much as I wanted my lord to give up his false lady, he did not need to replace her with a fickle one.

Auld Martha threw the shuttlecock. “Ah, but if you want a man with muscle, then he’s not for you. His face is strong, but he could hide behind a post. And he wears the poorest excuse for a beard that I have yet seen on a man.”

“Oh.” Lady Victoria sat back down.

Lady Laurice sat up, and spied me. “Is that our monk? Brother Peter, is that you?”

“Not unless he’s lost some height,” Lady Victoria replied. She knew her men – but fortunately, she did not dwell on my feet.

“No matter, he’ll still hold our secrets. Come to me, brother, and rub my back. The child has made it hurt.” She threw the pillow to the floor and rolled over.