Rich, dark earth turned for the winter. Small thatched crofts nestled between stone walls that separated rolling grassy hills. Aonghas kept his demesne well. Tarnwych lands shared the same soil, and yet they suffered like a beggar beside a lord’s table in comparison. A large herd of brown cattle cropped the grass beside the road. Travel improved across its well-maintained surface, for which his bruised ass throbbed in gratitude.
They passed through a tiny village and the road climbed toward a large, sprawling manor house. They stayed in the open, easy for watching sentries to spot. He creaked about in his saddle and faced Dunstan riding on his heels. “Do they mount no guards?”
“They have guards,” Dunstan said on a grunt. “Only they know us well.”
Or rather, they feared nothing from Tarnwych. A small party, alone on a broad expanse of land. Aye, Aonghas had no need for trepidation. The land about them offered no concealment for a force sneaking up on the manor, and as Englishmen he doubted they would find any help here.
As they approached, the manor’s studded wooden door opened and a man stepped out. Dressed only in a chemise and chausses, he faced the cart with arms outspread. “It is a fine day when a pretty wee bird flies into Aonghas’s hall.”
Braced for a burly, ginger Scot, Aonghas the Red was a bitter disappointment. Thin and wiry, he would not even reach William’s shoulder. Beneath dull brown hair, his winter pale complexion gave him a fragile air.
“I see our pretty bird has brought a visitor.” Aonghas turned and greeted him. Keen intelligence gleamed in the light blue eyes of his adversary. William’s nape tingled with anticipation.
William dismounted, gritting his teeth and forcing his numb legs to keep his ass out the mud. “Sir Aonghas.”
Aonghas threw back his head and let out a boom of laughter completely at odds with his frame. “We have no place for sir this and sir that up here, lad. Just Aonghas.”
Alice hopped from the cart. “Aonghas, allow me to present Sir William of Ang…Tarnwych.”
“ Sir William.” Aonghas rubbed his hands together. “You have found yourself a pretty English lord here, Alice, my flower.”
An invisible gauntlet whistled past William’s ear. “When I am up north, it is merely William,” he said. “I cannot have it said the new lord of Tarnwych puts his lady to the blush with his manners.”
Aonghas narrowed his eyes. “You must be chilled,” he said. “Not being accustomed to our cold. This is a hard land. It breeds hard men.”
“With frozen asses.” William threw Aonghas his most disarming smile. If the man chose to dismiss him as a soft southerner, he did so at his peril, and Aonghas would learn. Just as soon as William could feel his extremities again. William took Alice’s hand and pulled it through his arm.
“Aye, well.” Aonghas chuckled, his gaze lingering a moment on their twined arms. “I have fire enough to warm that for you.”
William kept Alice tucked against his side as they followed Aonghas into the manor.
For a hard northerner, Aonghas enjoyed surrounding himself with the trappings of luxury. Large, sumptuous tapestries adorned the walls.
Aonghas motioned them to a set of fine, carved wooden chairs resting on furs before a roaring hearth.
Seating Alice closest to the fire, William perched on the arm of her chair. Beneath his fingers the intricately carved wood felt fine enough for a king.
Clapping his hands, Aonghas shouted orders to the large number of serving folk clustered about.
“My men?” Poor bastards had nothing near as fine as the raiment of Aonghas’s people, but he would see them warm and fed.
“They are being well cared for.” Sir Aonghas lounged on the seat across from Alice, one leg flung over the chair arm. “I will wager they already have a wench in one hand and a mug of something warm in the other.”
William accepted a gleaming pewter goblet from a pretty serving wench.
The
They passed through a tiny village and the road climbed toward a large, sprawling manor house. They stayed in the open, easy for watching sentries to spot. He creaked about in his saddle and faced Dunstan riding on his heels. “Do they mount no guards?”
“They have guards,” Dunstan said on a grunt. “Only they know us well.”
Or rather, they feared nothing from Tarnwych. A small party, alone on a broad expanse of land. Aye, Aonghas had no need for trepidation. The land about them offered no concealment for a force sneaking up on the manor, and as Englishmen he doubted they would find any help here.
As they approached, the manor’s studded wooden door opened and a man stepped out. Dressed only in a chemise and chausses, he faced the cart with arms outspread. “It is a fine day when a pretty wee bird flies into Aonghas’s hall.”
Braced for a burly, ginger Scot, Aonghas the Red was a bitter disappointment. Thin and wiry, he would not even reach William’s shoulder. Beneath dull brown hair, his winter pale complexion gave him a fragile air.
“I see our pretty bird has brought a visitor.” Aonghas turned and greeted him. Keen intelligence gleamed in the light blue eyes of his adversary. William’s nape tingled with anticipation.
William dismounted, gritting his teeth and forcing his numb legs to keep his ass out the mud. “Sir Aonghas.”
Aonghas threw back his head and let out a boom of laughter completely at odds with his frame. “We have no place for sir this and sir that up here, lad. Just Aonghas.”
Alice hopped from the cart. “Aonghas, allow me to present Sir William of Ang…Tarnwych.”
“ Sir William.” Aonghas rubbed his hands together. “You have found yourself a pretty English lord here, Alice, my flower.”
An invisible gauntlet whistled past William’s ear. “When I am up north, it is merely William,” he said. “I cannot have it said the new lord of Tarnwych puts his lady to the blush with his manners.”
Aonghas narrowed his eyes. “You must be chilled,” he said. “Not being accustomed to our cold. This is a hard land. It breeds hard men.”
“With frozen asses.” William threw Aonghas his most disarming smile. If the man chose to dismiss him as a soft southerner, he did so at his peril, and Aonghas would learn. Just as soon as William could feel his extremities again. William took Alice’s hand and pulled it through his arm.
“Aye, well.” Aonghas chuckled, his gaze lingering a moment on their twined arms. “I have fire enough to warm that for you.”
William kept Alice tucked against his side as they followed Aonghas into the manor.
For a hard northerner, Aonghas enjoyed surrounding himself with the trappings of luxury. Large, sumptuous tapestries adorned the walls.
Aonghas motioned them to a set of fine, carved wooden chairs resting on furs before a roaring hearth.
Seating Alice closest to the fire, William perched on the arm of her chair. Beneath his fingers the intricately carved wood felt fine enough for a king.
Clapping his hands, Aonghas shouted orders to the large number of serving folk clustered about.
“My men?” Poor bastards had nothing near as fine as the raiment of Aonghas’s people, but he would see them warm and fed.
“They are being well cared for.” Sir Aonghas lounged on the seat across from Alice, one leg flung over the chair arm. “I will wager they already have a wench in one hand and a mug of something warm in the other.”
William accepted a gleaming pewter goblet from a pretty serving wench.
The
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