Chapter 11.2

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At the end of the evening, the dishes were cleared and the tables put away, so that soldiers and servants could lay down in the great hall. I headed toward the stables, a place of greater warmth and privacy, but Sharp stopped me. He guided me toward a dark corner, then pressed his hands to his chest. “Dear Brother, I must confess my heart, or it will shatter from anguish.”

“Heathens don’t confess and we don’t have hearts,” I signed back, but I do not know that he understood me.

“Hear me, please. My very heart has been shattered by the pains of love.”

Perhaps he should learn not to be so casual with his heart. I held out my hands and bowed my head.

Behind me, servants moved, but perhaps not as quickly as they could have.

“I once loved a lady, one so fair and so fine that the birds would sing at the mention of her name. She was sweet as nectar, as beautiful as the summer sky, as gentle as a lamb. Freely I gave her my love, and freely she returned it. Then, and for this sin I beat upon my breast and call upon the gods for mercy, I freely left her. Now I have returned, but she will not have me. She has taken a new lover, a soldier who is constant of heart and will, strong in body, weak in mind. She will not have me, and I am unconsolable.”

He did not looked grieved, not then nor when he was accepting his dinner from the fair fingers of maidens – but his message bothered me. How were we to persuade the Lady Victoria to help us now?

“Who is her new lover?” I signed slowly. “Will he help?”

“She lies under the spell of the captain of the Guard.”

Ouch.

I thought, then signed, “I will approach Lady Laurice myself.”

“How?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “She stays in her tower, with only the company of her ladies.”

“And Silent Monks, remember?”

The darkness of his expression showed me that he did, and only too well.