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Authors: Flora Speer
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remarks the men-at-arms
made about her.”
“Aha!” Cadwallon exclaimed. “So, Lady
Benedicta’s conjectures have some base in fact.”
“Ewan said it was a whispered tale, which
means it is merely a rumor,” Richard objected. “Rumors can’t always
be trusted. Men-at-arms are worse gossips than washerwomen.”
“Who is the man?” Desmond asked of Ewan. “Do
you know?”
“I didn’t hear a name,” the squire answered.
“I couldn’t stay outside the armory door long enough to learn
anything more, for fear I’d be seen and questioned. This is not a
particularly friendly manor; I’d rather the other squires didn’t
take me in dislike for snooping where I shouldn’t be. Not to
mention, I didn’t want to offend the men-at-arms I was listening
to, or Lord Bertrand, either.”
“You were wise to leave before you were
caught,” Cadwallon said. “What is it, Desmond? You don’t look happy
about this news.”
“I find it perplexing.” Desmond spoke slowly,
reasoning out loud in the certain conviction that Cadwallon or the
others would correct him if they thought he was in error. Being
challenged to explain his conclusions and how he had reached them
almost always resulted in clearer thought. “From what I’ve heard of
Lady Aglise’s character, and judging by what I know of her mother’s
character, I believe Lady Irmina may have imparted her desire for
high position to her daughter, and may have taught Aglise to use
her beauty to attain her ambitions. Therefore, I doubt if Aglise
was a lady to be satisfied with a mere squire or a man-at-arms –
unless the son of a great noble is fostering under Lord Bertrand’s
tutelage?” He looked from Richard to Ewan.
“Not here,” Richard said. “Warden’s Manor is
strategically important, but it’s not the kind of place to which
great nobles send their sons. It’s too rough and ready, too much a
military stronghold. Lady Benedicta has no interest in teaching
obstreperous boys courtly manners or how to treat ladies with
gallantry. Oh, possibly a highborn lad who’s in disgrace might be
sent here for the sake of the strict training and the discipline
Lord Bertrand can provide, but I don’t know of such a squire. Ewan,
do you?”
“No,” Ewan admitted with a sigh. Then,
brightening, “What about Lord Bertrand’s sons as candidates for
Lady Aglise’s romantic interest? He has two, I believe.”
“So he has,” Desmond agreed. “Both are being
fostered in Normandy.”
“Are they near to Aglise in age?” Cadwallon
asked. “For all his austere way of life, Lord Bertrand is no minor
noble, and he does have good family connections. Then, there is his
long friendship with Royce, which gives him ready access to King
Henry. Perhaps we are wrong and Aglise isn’t dead. If she is aiming
at marriage with one of Bertrand’s sons, she may have run off to be
with him.”
“I suppose it’s possible,” Desmond said,
frowning because he couldn’t accept what Cadwallon was suggesting.
First, he firmly believed Aglise was dead. Second, he didn’t see
how she could have found the opportunity, either in Normandy or
Jersey, to bedazzle Lord Bertrand’s sons.
The third, and strongest, reason for his
doubt was the rigid propriety displayed by Lady Benedicta. Desmond
was sure she was a strict chaperone, who would not allow a
beautiful, flirtatious girl like Aglise the chance to become
involved with her sons, or with any visiting noble. Lady Benedicta
might disregard a quiet girl like Elaine, who was quick-witted and
surprisingly lovely in her own discreet way, but she’d be sure to
maintain a careful watch over someone like Aglise.
What in the name of heaven was he thinking?
Desmond sternly reminded himself to keep his thoughts away from the
subject of Elaine, and on the question of what had happened to
Aglise.
“If I ride with them today,” Elaine said to
Lady Benedicta, “I can answer their questions and lay their
curiosity to rest. Then,
made about her.”
“Aha!” Cadwallon exclaimed. “So, Lady
Benedicta’s conjectures have some base in fact.”
“Ewan said it was a whispered tale, which
means it is merely a rumor,” Richard objected. “Rumors can’t always
be trusted. Men-at-arms are worse gossips than washerwomen.”
“Who is the man?” Desmond asked of Ewan. “Do
you know?”
“I didn’t hear a name,” the squire answered.
“I couldn’t stay outside the armory door long enough to learn
anything more, for fear I’d be seen and questioned. This is not a
particularly friendly manor; I’d rather the other squires didn’t
take me in dislike for snooping where I shouldn’t be. Not to
mention, I didn’t want to offend the men-at-arms I was listening
to, or Lord Bertrand, either.”
“You were wise to leave before you were
caught,” Cadwallon said. “What is it, Desmond? You don’t look happy
about this news.”
“I find it perplexing.” Desmond spoke slowly,
reasoning out loud in the certain conviction that Cadwallon or the
others would correct him if they thought he was in error. Being
challenged to explain his conclusions and how he had reached them
almost always resulted in clearer thought. “From what I’ve heard of
Lady Aglise’s character, and judging by what I know of her mother’s
character, I believe Lady Irmina may have imparted her desire for
high position to her daughter, and may have taught Aglise to use
her beauty to attain her ambitions. Therefore, I doubt if Aglise
was a lady to be satisfied with a mere squire or a man-at-arms –
unless the son of a great noble is fostering under Lord Bertrand’s
tutelage?” He looked from Richard to Ewan.
“Not here,” Richard said. “Warden’s Manor is
strategically important, but it’s not the kind of place to which
great nobles send their sons. It’s too rough and ready, too much a
military stronghold. Lady Benedicta has no interest in teaching
obstreperous boys courtly manners or how to treat ladies with
gallantry. Oh, possibly a highborn lad who’s in disgrace might be
sent here for the sake of the strict training and the discipline
Lord Bertrand can provide, but I don’t know of such a squire. Ewan,
do you?”
“No,” Ewan admitted with a sigh. Then,
brightening, “What about Lord Bertrand’s sons as candidates for
Lady Aglise’s romantic interest? He has two, I believe.”
“So he has,” Desmond agreed. “Both are being
fostered in Normandy.”
“Are they near to Aglise in age?” Cadwallon
asked. “For all his austere way of life, Lord Bertrand is no minor
noble, and he does have good family connections. Then, there is his
long friendship with Royce, which gives him ready access to King
Henry. Perhaps we are wrong and Aglise isn’t dead. If she is aiming
at marriage with one of Bertrand’s sons, she may have run off to be
with him.”
“I suppose it’s possible,” Desmond said,
frowning because he couldn’t accept what Cadwallon was suggesting.
First, he firmly believed Aglise was dead. Second, he didn’t see
how she could have found the opportunity, either in Normandy or
Jersey, to bedazzle Lord Bertrand’s sons.
The third, and strongest, reason for his
doubt was the rigid propriety displayed by Lady Benedicta. Desmond
was sure she was a strict chaperone, who would not allow a
beautiful, flirtatious girl like Aglise the chance to become
involved with her sons, or with any visiting noble. Lady Benedicta
might disregard a quiet girl like Elaine, who was quick-witted and
surprisingly lovely in her own discreet way, but she’d be sure to
maintain a careful watch over someone like Aglise.
What in the name of heaven was he thinking?
Desmond sternly reminded himself to keep his thoughts away from the
subject of Elaine, and on the question of what had happened to
Aglise.
“If I ride with them today,” Elaine said to
Lady Benedicta, “I can answer their questions and lay their
curiosity to rest. Then,
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