Lord of Midnight (45 page)

The king raised Renald and kissed him. “We thank you for your service in defense of justice in our realm.” Then he turned and left, his great lords following. FitzRoger raised Claire and led her to Renald, who was pushing back his coif and looking remarkably unaffected.

“I definitely must get myself one of those swords,” said FitzRoger, passing Claire over.

“I’ll escort the Lady Felice back to the keep. Walter of Daventry, you suggested?”

“He’s big and in the king’s favor. He has children from his first marriage, but only girls. Felice would have the chance to provide the heir. And he’s fair but won’t put up with nonsense.”

When FitzRoger had left with Felice, Renald wrapped a mailed arm around Claire and they followed. “I’m sorry you had to witness that, love.”

She was shaking, but tried to match his tone. “At least it was quick.”

“As I said once, I’m good at killing.”

“Don’t!” But then she looked up at him. “You really don’t mind, do you?”

He grimaced. “Should I pretend otherwise? I’d have honesty between us. Killing your father was wrenching, but Eudo was no loss to the earth. Such a string of venal crimes sickens me.”

Something was bothering her. “Did he admit guilt at the end? Should he not have been offered mercy?”

“Claire, once into the ordeal, the only legal mercy would have been maiming and the loss of all his rights. There’s justice in that, but no kindness.”

Claire looked back to where Eudo’s men were taking away his body. She crossed herself. “God have mercy on his soul.”

“Amen.” He stopped to look at her. “It’s a long day’s journey back to Summerbourne, wife, but I’d like to make it. I want to be there, with you, in peace and harmony.”

“Oh yes, please!” She pulled a face. “For one thing, the queen’s demanding more riddles!”

Summerbourne sat placidly under an opalescent evening sky, thatch dry after days of sun, work over for the day. All the same, people swarmed out to welcome their lord and lady home.

The great gates stood open as they generally did, and so Claire, Renald, and their escort rode in to the dusty bailey, into a milling throng of animals and people.

Lady Agnes was sitting outside enjoying the evening air. Her sharp eyes studied them, and then she smiled. Claire slid off her horse and went over. “Yes, everything has worked out well, Gran.”

“Thought it would. What of Felice, then?”

“She’s staying for a few days. We have hopes of a certain Lord Walter of Daventry, a mighty man of middle age and lusty appetites.”

“I see. And Thomas?”

“Sniffled a bit at parting, but seems to be having a wonderful time. In between beatings.”

Lady Agnes chuckled. “And what happened to Eudo the Sheriff?”

Claire told her the story, and her grandmother nodded. “Right and proper. So, with your mother at St. Frideswide’s, and Amice doubtless soon to join Felice, you’ve just me cluttering up the place.”

Claire leaned down to kiss her. “What would I do without you, Gran? This is your home, and you’ll always have your place by the hearth.”

She looked around and saw Renald over by the pigsties. She joined him in watching a litter of piglets chase around squealing. “I hope they won’t have to meet their fate so soon.”

He turned to wink. “Perhaps I like suckling Pig.”

“Perhaps, my lord, you can be contented by merely suckling.”

His brows rose. “Such sacrifice just for pigs?”

She hooked a finger over his big belt and pulled him to her. “Who said anything about sacrifice?”

He captured her hand and freed himself. “Wife, I think it’s time we established some decorum in Summerbourne. We will wait until nightfall. There must be plenty of work to be done after our absence, especially with Felice away for days.”

“Oh, very well.” Claire looked around. “Let’s see. I believe I was intending to show you the middens…”

“Ah. On the other hand”—he took her hand and drew her toward the manor house— “I suddenly see the virtues of a very early night.”