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Authors: Tale Prioress'
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the same deft-wristed skill he had shown as a squire serving at her father’s table, raising and lowering the pitcher so the wine fell in long curves, ruby-glinting in the firelight. The goblets filled, he set down the pitcher, and taking up two of them, turned to Alys, asking as he held one out to her, “Will you drink with me, cousin? Despite you’re angry with me?”
She knew what he was doing—trying to buy her off with gold and charm. It would not work, she knew him too well. But that did not mean she would turn down the coins or good wine either, and she held out her hand, saying grudgingly, to show she was not giving ground, “I’ll drink with you.”
“There’s my girl!” said Reynold. “Angry but not unforgiving.” He came to hand her a goblet, and she took it, saying at Father Henry, “Take yours and go sit at the window, Father. Katerin, you stand by the door.” They were here for propriety’s sake, but they did not need to be near enough to hear what passed between her and Reynold. Father Henry understood as much and went where he was told. Katerin had no thought about it at all and obeyed as simply. Reynold pulled up the other chair to hers and the fire but did not sit, instead raised his goblet to her and declared, “To us, whatever comes of it!”
That was none so bad a wish and Alys drank to it, only to find when she lowered the goblet that he was looking down at her with a semblance of solemnity but a dimple showing beside his mouth, betraying him the way it always had when they were young and he was trying to deny a mischief.
“So, I’m forgiven?” he asked.
“Not yet nor by a long way,” Alys snapped. “Sit down.” Her head still ached. She refused to think about it, but that did not mean she wanted to crane her head back looking at him.
He sat and they eyed each other, their wine-warmed goblets between their hands, until Reynold leaned back in his chair with a deep sigh she did not believe came from as near the heart as he made it sound, and said, “So, what can we agree on about this girl?”
“Probably very little,” Alys returned without hesitation.
“It could be simple, if you’ll just let it be.”
“Simple for whom?” She did not wait for his answer but gave him her own. “She’s made clear she doesn’t want Benet, and beyond that she’s asked the priory’s protection. I can’t give her over to you or him.”
Reynold leaned forward earnestly. “Alys, be reasonable. If you keep her, there’s going to be trouble when her people and the Fenners find she’s here.”
“And that’s the real way of it, isn’t it? It’s not helping Benet to a bride you’re interested in, so much as doing down the Fenners.” But that was something she could understand and, more than understand, agree with. The Fenners had given the Godfreys trouble more than once over the years. Lord Fenner still held Godfrey property he had seized ten years ago, and neither force of arms nor law had been able to pry him loose from it. “It isn’t what you’ve done but that you’ve caught me in the middle.” She set her goblet down on the chair’s wide arm with exasperated force. “You shouldn’t have brought her here!”
“But I
have
brought her here.” Reynold spread his hands, appealing to her to see it his way. “Now let’s take the simple way out of it. If she’s fully married to Benet past redress before they find her here, there won’t be any trouble worth mentioning, from the Fenners or her family.”
“But she doesn’t want to marry Benet and I’ve given her the priory’s protection,” Alys repeated with what she meant for him to understand was dangerous quietness.
He did not. “The priory’s protection is yours to give or take as you choose, and what’s her wanting or not wanting Benet have to do with anything? She’s rich, Benet wants her, and if she’s married to him, no Fenner can have her. Give her over to Benet tonight—let your priest even marry
She knew what he was doing—trying to buy her off with gold and charm. It would not work, she knew him too well. But that did not mean she would turn down the coins or good wine either, and she held out her hand, saying grudgingly, to show she was not giving ground, “I’ll drink with you.”
“There’s my girl!” said Reynold. “Angry but not unforgiving.” He came to hand her a goblet, and she took it, saying at Father Henry, “Take yours and go sit at the window, Father. Katerin, you stand by the door.” They were here for propriety’s sake, but they did not need to be near enough to hear what passed between her and Reynold. Father Henry understood as much and went where he was told. Katerin had no thought about it at all and obeyed as simply. Reynold pulled up the other chair to hers and the fire but did not sit, instead raised his goblet to her and declared, “To us, whatever comes of it!”
That was none so bad a wish and Alys drank to it, only to find when she lowered the goblet that he was looking down at her with a semblance of solemnity but a dimple showing beside his mouth, betraying him the way it always had when they were young and he was trying to deny a mischief.
“So, I’m forgiven?” he asked.
“Not yet nor by a long way,” Alys snapped. “Sit down.” Her head still ached. She refused to think about it, but that did not mean she wanted to crane her head back looking at him.
He sat and they eyed each other, their wine-warmed goblets between their hands, until Reynold leaned back in his chair with a deep sigh she did not believe came from as near the heart as he made it sound, and said, “So, what can we agree on about this girl?”
“Probably very little,” Alys returned without hesitation.
“It could be simple, if you’ll just let it be.”
“Simple for whom?” She did not wait for his answer but gave him her own. “She’s made clear she doesn’t want Benet, and beyond that she’s asked the priory’s protection. I can’t give her over to you or him.”
Reynold leaned forward earnestly. “Alys, be reasonable. If you keep her, there’s going to be trouble when her people and the Fenners find she’s here.”
“And that’s the real way of it, isn’t it? It’s not helping Benet to a bride you’re interested in, so much as doing down the Fenners.” But that was something she could understand and, more than understand, agree with. The Fenners had given the Godfreys trouble more than once over the years. Lord Fenner still held Godfrey property he had seized ten years ago, and neither force of arms nor law had been able to pry him loose from it. “It isn’t what you’ve done but that you’ve caught me in the middle.” She set her goblet down on the chair’s wide arm with exasperated force. “You shouldn’t have brought her here!”
“But I
have
brought her here.” Reynold spread his hands, appealing to her to see it his way. “Now let’s take the simple way out of it. If she’s fully married to Benet past redress before they find her here, there won’t be any trouble worth mentioning, from the Fenners or her family.”
“But she doesn’t want to marry Benet and I’ve given her the priory’s protection,” Alys repeated with what she meant for him to understand was dangerous quietness.
He did not. “The priory’s protection is yours to give or take as you choose, and what’s her wanting or not wanting Benet have to do with anything? She’s rich, Benet wants her, and if she’s married to him, no Fenner can have her. Give her over to Benet tonight—let your priest even marry
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