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Authors: Judith B. Glad
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thereabouts. Is he a large
man? Strong?"
"He was, but these past few years have taken their toll on
him. That was one reason we felt Alanna should remain there." She
twisted her fingers together as she heard her own words and
realized how she had lied to herself. "She did not want to come here
with me, you see. It was her suggestion that she remain at Ackerslea,
in the event that Tumos encounter problems."
His brows, which had been drawn ferociously together,
raised. "Why did you allow it?"
"My lord, I am the best judge of what is good for Ackerslea
Farm, and I agreed with Alanna that it would be unwise to leave the
manor without someone in a position of responsibility."
"I see." Guillemot grimaced and shifted in the chair. "My
dear, might I trouble you to bring something for me to rest my foot
upon?"
She sprang to her feet. "Oh, I am sorry. Here. Let me--" She
scooted the hassock into its usual place. "There. Do you need
help?"
"No, not at all." Once his foot was resting on the hassock, he
seemed to relax, but the brackets about his mouth did not soften. "I
regret that I must ask, but could you also bring a chair close enough
for us to both be seated while conversing?"
While she fussed, he rested his head against the chair back
and closed his eyes. Lisanor knew that the improvement in his
mobility had not been accompanied by a lessening of pain in his
buttock. Elmer Snead, who had taught her all that she knew about
animal husbandry, had once said that muscle injuries always took
four times as long to mend as broken bones. Of course, he'd been
speaking of livestock, but still...
"My lord?"
His eyes opened. "I must apologize, my dear. I did not intend
to scold, but you must admit that a girl of your sister's tender years
is hardly qualified to oversee a holding like Ackerslea. And it seems
to me that your bailiff should have an assistant, or perhaps even two.
I cannot imagine how he has coped."
"Oh, I have been acting his assistant for these six years, ever
since Grandfather's rheumatism made riding difficult. Hights have
always overseen all activities at Ackerslea," she said, with no little
pride.
At that his eyes widened. "I believe you are two and
twenty?"
"That is correct. I--" His upraised hand caused her to bite off
what she had intended to say.
"So you were sixteen when you became the bailiff's
assistant?" He shook his head, clearly lacking words to describe his
amazement.
"That is correct." She leaned forward, determined to make
him understand how different life at Ackerslea was from that on an
estate like Guillemot Burn. "We Hights have always prided ourselves
on our heritage. We are proud of our yeoman ancestry and have
never sought to rise above our station. We are farmers--"
"Very wealthy farmers."
"Well, yes, but only because for hundreds of years we Hights
have cared more for our land, for our livestock, than we care for the
trappings of wealth. We are not afraid to bend our backs in the fields
nor to dirty our hands in the pens. Our wealth was earned by the
sweat of our brows, not inherited, nor won at the gaming
tables."
"As was ours."
"Ackerslea began as a small holding granted Hugh Hight, an
archer, in-- I beg your pardon?"
"Guillemot Burn was empty land granted Eustache
Guillelmus, a squire to a minor knight in William of Normandy's
army. He came from good peasant stock, and he and his sons began a
small farm, one which gradually grew through the labor of
subsequent generations. The title came later, after an ancestor of
mine saved Edward's life at the battle of Towton."
"So we are hereditary enemies. You Norman, I Saxon."
"I hope not, for the sake of this marriage we have entered
into. Now, then, my dear, let us discuss this situation at Ackerslea.
You must see that your sister, competent though she may be--and I
am not entirely convinced of that--cannot remain there,
unchaperoned, unprotected."
Stung at having her judgment questioned, Lisanor said, "I
assure you that no one who
man? Strong?"
"He was, but these past few years have taken their toll on
him. That was one reason we felt Alanna should remain there." She
twisted her fingers together as she heard her own words and
realized how she had lied to herself. "She did not want to come here
with me, you see. It was her suggestion that she remain at Ackerslea,
in the event that Tumos encounter problems."
His brows, which had been drawn ferociously together,
raised. "Why did you allow it?"
"My lord, I am the best judge of what is good for Ackerslea
Farm, and I agreed with Alanna that it would be unwise to leave the
manor without someone in a position of responsibility."
"I see." Guillemot grimaced and shifted in the chair. "My
dear, might I trouble you to bring something for me to rest my foot
upon?"
She sprang to her feet. "Oh, I am sorry. Here. Let me--" She
scooted the hassock into its usual place. "There. Do you need
help?"
"No, not at all." Once his foot was resting on the hassock, he
seemed to relax, but the brackets about his mouth did not soften. "I
regret that I must ask, but could you also bring a chair close enough
for us to both be seated while conversing?"
While she fussed, he rested his head against the chair back
and closed his eyes. Lisanor knew that the improvement in his
mobility had not been accompanied by a lessening of pain in his
buttock. Elmer Snead, who had taught her all that she knew about
animal husbandry, had once said that muscle injuries always took
four times as long to mend as broken bones. Of course, he'd been
speaking of livestock, but still...
"My lord?"
His eyes opened. "I must apologize, my dear. I did not intend
to scold, but you must admit that a girl of your sister's tender years
is hardly qualified to oversee a holding like Ackerslea. And it seems
to me that your bailiff should have an assistant, or perhaps even two.
I cannot imagine how he has coped."
"Oh, I have been acting his assistant for these six years, ever
since Grandfather's rheumatism made riding difficult. Hights have
always overseen all activities at Ackerslea," she said, with no little
pride.
At that his eyes widened. "I believe you are two and
twenty?"
"That is correct. I--" His upraised hand caused her to bite off
what she had intended to say.
"So you were sixteen when you became the bailiff's
assistant?" He shook his head, clearly lacking words to describe his
amazement.
"That is correct." She leaned forward, determined to make
him understand how different life at Ackerslea was from that on an
estate like Guillemot Burn. "We Hights have always prided ourselves
on our heritage. We are proud of our yeoman ancestry and have
never sought to rise above our station. We are farmers--"
"Very wealthy farmers."
"Well, yes, but only because for hundreds of years we Hights
have cared more for our land, for our livestock, than we care for the
trappings of wealth. We are not afraid to bend our backs in the fields
nor to dirty our hands in the pens. Our wealth was earned by the
sweat of our brows, not inherited, nor won at the gaming
tables."
"As was ours."
"Ackerslea began as a small holding granted Hugh Hight, an
archer, in-- I beg your pardon?"
"Guillemot Burn was empty land granted Eustache
Guillelmus, a squire to a minor knight in William of Normandy's
army. He came from good peasant stock, and he and his sons began a
small farm, one which gradually grew through the labor of
subsequent generations. The title came later, after an ancestor of
mine saved Edward's life at the battle of Towton."
"So we are hereditary enemies. You Norman, I Saxon."
"I hope not, for the sake of this marriage we have entered
into. Now, then, my dear, let us discuss this situation at Ackerslea.
You must see that your sister, competent though she may be--and I
am not entirely convinced of that--cannot remain there,
unchaperoned, unprotected."
Stung at having her judgment questioned, Lisanor said, "I
assure you that no one who
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