Chapter 11

Voices and rich scents filled the Great Hall. I could see Charles sitting with the other soldiers, filling himself with thick soup and beer. Sharp played before Lord Guerney’s table, and accepted bites of roast venison and blood blooding from the ladies. Wallen and I crouched with the beggars at the end of the hall, waiting for leavings.

I dressed my Lord’s torn and swollen feet with ointment, wrapped them in fresh rags, and signed a blessing.

"You’re good at that," he said, his fingers too stiff to sign, thankfully.

I signed back. "I’d better be – others are watching."

Behind me, the Steward was watching with more than a casual interest.

A serving maid came by with day-old bread. Wallen took a piece, and winced as he bit into it. "Is this worth it?"

"We can leave if you are willing to give up the Easter Green Forest."

He closed his eyes and seemed to consider the choice. I held my breath, hoping.

Then with a sigh he opened his eyes and looked at the high table. "Which of those is the Lady Laurice?"

"Don’t you know your own betrothed?"

His voice fell to a whisper, thankfully. "My father made the arrangements – for himself. I inherited her."

So the Lady’s fears had not been unfounded, after all. I quickly signed, "She’s not here."

"Then where..."

I glanced back and saw the Steward looking at me with a frown. "Enough of this," I signed quickly, then moved away.

My noble Lord Reinard dropped his stubbly chin onto his rag-covered chest – obviously disillusioned with the adventure that had barely begun. By the time this was over, I realized, he would be a different man. But for better or worse, I could not say.