THE WARLORD (21 page)

Helen's, it was comical. Still, it was one of precious few dresses and she'd learned to make do. Two hours later, the torn hem and other small tears were nearly repaired when Kenric began to stir, with a long, low groan.

"Are you going to be sick again?"

"Nay."
He sounded tired, but his eyes weren't so badly bloodshot anymore as he looked her over, his gaze coming to rest on the dress spread across her lap. "You have godawful taste in clothing, wife. That gown nearly hurts my eyes."

Tess pressed her lips together in a tight line, refusing to respond to the insult, wishing she had left him the moment he started retching.
Ungrateful cur.

Kenric closed his eyes again and took several deep breaths, testing the state of his stomach. Queasy but controllable, he decided as he sat up. The dizziness wasn't so bad but it was still annoying. A bad brew, he decided, conveniently forgetting the number of pitchers he and Fitz Alan shared. His gaze moved to Tess, still seated by the bed, and he eyed her speculatively. If learning he was a bastard hadn't disgusted her completely, this surely had.
So much for teaching her a lesson.

"I would have thought you long gone by now. You stayed to watch me sleep?"

"I thought you might become ill again."

"Ah, you were hoping for more entertainment." Kenric missed her disgusted scowl. "What was in the tonic you gave me?"

"Chamomile, mint, and several other herbs meant to calm your stomach and ease the ache in your head."

Kenric realized his headache had indeed disappeared. Even his stomach was beginning to feel better. Sore, but better. "Why?"

Tess looked up at the ceiling, as if at the end of her patience. "I daresay because you drank enough ale to souse half an army."

"Nay, I meant why would you give me the potion? It must have pleased you to see me suffering. Why would you do anything to ease my pains?"

"It does not please me to see anyone suffer, though you and Fitz Alan surely earned your sore heads. The two of you could scarce stand up last night. In fact, you both landed in a heap by the fireplace. I would have left you there, had I not worried your hair would catch fire."

"I did nothing of the sort." Kenric's brows drew together in a puzzled frown.

Tess smiled. "Then you do not remember apologizing to me?"

"For what?"
Kenric was appalled by the possibility. The question sparked a memory of Fitz Alan asking something along the same lines the night before. He ran a hand through his hair, silently cursing the ale, all men who brewed it, and most especially, their ancestors.

"Why, for failing to appreciate everything I did in your absence."

Kenric eyed the hand that was busy twisting her braid and his mouth drew to a grim line. "You are a poor liar, wife."

Tess sighed in defeat. "I know."

"Now that you have brought up the subject, I might as well tell you that I have learned more since we last spoke. Simon sought me out last night, determined that I know the full extent of your meddling with the bailiff." Kenric tossed back the covers and rose carefully from the bed to get dressed. "I told him, and I will tell you. If ever you encounter a situation that serious, I will be the first to be notified. Through luck alone, a tragedy was avoided at Montague."

Kenric looked up from the laces he'd been tying when he heard Tess's snort of disagreement; yet she sat quietly with her head bowed.

"If you thought I would be pleased to learn the full story, you were wrong," he continued, donning a clean linen shirt. He refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing he was secretly pleased she had so skillfully averted a disaster. "You took foolish risks and involved yourself in concerns that were none of your business. In future you will confine yourself to the duties required of you by this household and your husband. Is everything I have told you clear in your mind, Tess? Do you understand exactly what I require of you, and what I will not tolerate?"

"Aye, but there is one more thing I should warn you of," she began hesitantly, bowing her head again. "I asked Cook to prepare a feast the day after your return. He was instructed to have everything ready by midday. I realize you will not feel like celebrating today, yet the food is surely near ready and will only go to waste if you do not put in an appearance in the hall and encourage your men to enjoy the festivities."

Kenric
sighed
his relief, realizing he'd been prepared for far worse news. He was actually starting to feel hungry again. Whatever Tess put in her tonic was effective.

"My men are doubtless ready to celebrate the fact that their lord has returned and put an end to his wife's reign of terror. I am not such a weakling that I will fail to attend a feast in my honor. Come, wife. We will go down together."

Kenric held out his hand, but as she walked toward him, he held it up to stop her. "Before joining me in the great hall, you will go to my sister's chamber and request her presence at this feast as well. You may tell her that I have a few words for her that will be best spoken in the company of others, where I will not be tempted to give her the beating she deserves."

Tess swallowed nervously,
then
nodded.

The sight that met Kenric in the great hall soured his mood. The meal was already in progress, though the servants should not have placed food on the tables until the lord and lady were present. Several of his men called out their greeting even as they tossed greasy bones and scraps over their shoulders. Kenric hadn't thought it possible, but the food actually looked worse than it did before he left for Penhaligon.

His men were testing him, appearing very certain their leader would not support his wife's new rules. If the food was any indication, the kitchen staff was also looking to find their limits with the new lord. He had no doubt that one and all knew the reason for his early return and of his anger with Tess.
Very little to do with the lord and lady of a castle escaped notice.
Now all of Montague waited to see how the wind blew.

If Tess saw this mess, Kenric was certain she would lay the blame at his feet. She'd doubtless hurl another insult about duty and neglect in his face. Frowning over that thought, Kenric motioned Evard forward with a crook of his finger. "Tell Cook I wish to see him immediately."

Cook appeared and hurried forward to stand before the baron, looking around nervously as he came to a halt. The noise in the hall disappeared as each man strained to listen to the conversation, their curiosity evident in their expressions.

"Remove your shoes." Kenric's voice was deceptively calm. When the cook complied, Kenric removed a small dagger from his belt and began toying with the weapon, flipping it over and over in one hand. "I see your toes remain in their proper numbers."

Cook swayed.
"Aye, milord."

Kenric's gaze came to rest on a platter of food so congealed with grease as to be unrecognizable. "I suggest that will not be the case when my wife discovers you have served my men pig swill."

"A-aye, milord."

"Being a fair man, I would give you and your staff a choice," Kenric drawled, turning the point of the dagger into one of the table's knotholes.

"A choice, milord?"

"Of which toes to remove."

Cook's face drained of color. .

"On the other hand, my lady has been delayed for a short time." Kenric tapped the point of his dagger against his lips, as if pondering a weighty decision. "Your staff may yet be able to clear away this mess before she arrives."

Cook nearly stumbled to his knees, whispering his gratitude in a hoarse voice as he bowed low to his lord. "It shall be done, milord. The dishes Baroness Montague requested for your arrival are near ready."

Cook looked ready to offer an excuse for the slops on the table,
then
seemed to decide against the idea. Kenric waved his dismissal, waiting until Cook was nearly out of the hall before halting the man's flight with another disturbing question.

"Did you agree to prepare this feast my wife ordered?"

"Ah…
Aye, milord."

"Then you would be well advised that my wife's punishments are those devised by a gently bred lady. I cut out the tongues of liars so they will
lie
no more. You have half an hour to keep your promise."

Cook's mouth dropped open but snapped shut a moment later, as if to protect his tongue behind his teeth. Kenric turned then to address his men.

"Each of you would do well to heed my advice to Cook," he said, looking pointedly at several piles of bones. The men dropped their food almost in unison, scrambling to retrieve their garbage from the floor. He crooked his finger at Evard.

"Find and delay my lady for at least half of an hour."

"What shall I tell her?" Evard asked.

"That is your problem," Kenric snapped.

"Aye, milord," Evard groaned, bowing to Kenric before hurrying away.

The allotted time had nearly passed when Tess entered the hall, a pale-faced Helen to her right, a red-faced Evard to her left. Simon trailed behind the trio, his grin stretched from ear to ear.

"Are you sure you are feeling better?" she asked Evard. "You still appear quite flushed."

"I am fine, milady." Evard's answer was terse, his lips tightly compressed.

"What's this about not feeling well?" Kenric gave Tess a barely civil nod of greeting and had her seated before returning his attention to Evard. "Evard, you have not answered my question."

"He fainted!" Simon coughed loudly to cover his laughter.

"How unfortunate."
Kenric gave Evard a sympathetic look. "But you are feeling better now?"

"I am in perfect health," Evard said through clenched teeth, his glare directed at Simon. He gave Kenric a stilted bow then walked stiffly to his seat.

Simon claimed a stool next to Evard, whistling a tuneless ditty. Fitz Alan's chair remained conspicuously empty.

Cook entered the hall leading a parade of kitchen servants, each bearing steaming dishes, platters, or bowls. Tess worked hard to contain the urge to clap her hands in delight. She had suspected Cook was talented, but the food
laid
before them surpassed her expectations. A platter of fowl nestled in a delicate cream sauce was followed by glazed beets, roasted corn, spiced apples, and thick slabs of roast beef. Two servants placed a table in the center of the hall,
then
six servants came in bearing an entire roast pig.

The squires entered the hall
next,
each dressed in their finest garments, most recently repaired or stitched by Lady Helen's seamstresses. The young men waited until Thomas filled a trencher for Kenric and Tess before they began filling trenchers for the knights they served.

Kenric carved a portion of roast beef and gallantly offered the choice morsel to his lady. Tess's eyes sparkled with suspicion, but she accepted the offering graciously.

"Did you think I lacked courtly manners?" he asked sardonically. "Even bastards can be taught to dine with kings."

Tess's pleasure over the meal evaporated. She leaned forward so none other would overhear her remark "As you are a king's
bastard, that
hardly seems surprising."

They glared at each other until Fitz Alan settled onto the stool next to Kenric, murmuring an excuse for his tardiness.

"My apologies, Baron.
I was delayed by an unavoidable… inconvenience." Fitz Alan gave the food a dubious glance while one of the squires hurried forward to fill his trencher with the hearty fare and his goblet with wine. Fitz Alan stared at the goblet as if it contained a serpent.

"My wife is possessed of a potion that will cure what ails you," Kenric told him. Fitz Alan looked hopeful over the possibility. "See that you take it after this meal has ended. You have duties today that do not involve chamber pots."

"Aye, milord," Fitz Alan murmured, continuing to stare dolefully at the food.

Kenric turned his attention to his sister. "Helen, you will stand before me."

Helen kept her gaze lowered as she walked around the tables to stand before her brother.

" 'Tis
obvious that you have been too long without a firm hand to guide you," Kenric began. "You were given plenty of time to prove your worth to Montague and to your overlord, yet I see little evidence that Montague would suffer for lack of your presence. I have no use for worthless females."

Helen's eyes grew round with fright and she shook her head.

"There are two solutions to this problem," he continued. "The promise of your dowry is enough to convince a man to find some use for you. In fact, my vassal, Roger Fitz Alan, is well known for his ability to deal with stubborn, troublesome women."

Fitz Alan choked on the sip of wine he'd finally steeled himself to taste. Simon pounded his back sympathetically. Helen's horrified gaze locked on Fitz Alan, eyeing him as if he'd turned into a repulsive toad. Kenric smiled. Fitz Alan was also a bastard, and Kenric knew his sister was aware of the fact. He recalled her every word about evil seeds and stained souls, hoping Helen's memory was just as sound. It was the perfect punishment.

"The other solution?" she whispered, her terrorized gaze returning to Kenric.

"You have managed Montague's household for many years. You are familiar with the duties required by the mistress of this place, yet my wife seems to have little knowledge of which duties belong to the chatelaine and which ones belong to her overlord. Your other choice is to make yourself useful to my wife. You will work alongside her to teach the duties of this place, accepting whatever tasks she would give you."

"I will do whatever Lady Tess requires of me," Helen said quickly.

"Know that you will have but one choice remaining if you fail in these duties." Kenric turned to Fitz Alan. "You will court my sister until she has proven herself more useful to my wife than she has been to me. You may yet find her your bride."

Fitz Alan simply nodded, looking beyond words.

Kenric dismissed Helen with a slight movement of his hand. "You may retire to your chamber until tomorrow morning to consider your new duties."

Helen stood motionless for a moment,
then
she picked up her skirts and walked slowly from the hall, her chin held at a tight, regal angle.

Tess's sympathy went out to her. Kenric had humiliated his sister as thoroughly as he'd just humiliated his wife. She pushed her trencher away, her appetite gone.

"If you have finished your meal, you may be excused to go mix a potion for Fitz Alan," Kenric told her.
" 'Tis
doubtful his taste for food will return anytime soon without it."

Tess left the great hall gladly, Fitz Alan trailing behind.
Heartless, muleheaded, arrogant, insulting.
She listed off her complaints silently as they made their way to her chamber, vowing to remain just as silent in her husband's presence from this moment on. The churl deserved it. Aye, she would never speak to him again.

Fitz Alan followed her into the bedchamber but stayed her action when she would have closed the door behind them, pushing the door wide open. "I would not have your husband suspect anything needed hiding behind this door, should he decide to join us."

Tess shrugged. She didn't care what Kenric's thoughts
were
one way or another. Rummaging through her trunk, she found the herbs and spread them on the table. A small caldron hung from a spit over the fireplace and she filled the pot with water. After sprinkling the herbs in the water, she used a poker to push the caldron over the flames.

"The potion works best when warmed," she told him, turning from the fire.
"Though it wouldn't be needed at all if some men knew how to curb their thirst."

Fitz Alan clasped his hands behind his back and stared at the floor.
" 'Tis
rare I have need of an ale cure. The baron does not approve of those who overindulge."

"I should never have guessed."

"Well, I suppose it does not exactly appear that way after last night," he conceded. "In truth, I have never seen your husband consume so much drink in one sitting."

"I daresay you felt obliged to match his amazing pace?"

"Aye, Lady. I had no great desire to keep his company sober." Fitz Alan's grin was disarming but his gaze turned speculative. "Not after Simon related the events that took place in our absence."

Tess began packing away the herbs, hoping Fitz Alan wouldn't notice her sudden tenseness. "I take it he was furious?"

"He seemed more concerned with something else he heard that day.
More precisely, your reaction to it."

"Kenric heard many things yesterday that he had little liking for," Tess replied over one shoulder. "Do be more specific, sir."

"He seemed concerned by what Helen told you."

Tess shrugged. "If you think to deny the truth, do not bother.
He as much as admitted his unspeakable crimes."

"Crimes?"
Fitz Alan echoed.

"I know he murdered innocent women and children in
Wales."

"As did I," he admitted, shaking his head. "Yet they were not the innocents Helen would doubtless have you believe."

Tess's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"There was not a child less than fourteen years in that pack of heathens and they did their own fair share of slaughtering before Kenric put an end to their savagery. That there were three women in that group as bloodthirsty as any man I've met was not your husband's doing. They decided to kill or be killed and paid the price of their decision. When word spread that women had been slain, the full story behind the deed did not spread with it." Fitz Alan's slight frown was as admonishing as any of Kenric's scowls. "That is what I mean, Lady."

"I see." Tess's relief was tempered with caution. "Your explanation does not change the fact that Kenric will slaughter my loyal retainers along with MacLeith's men when you lay siege to Remmington."

It was almost a question, though she knew Fitz Alan couldn't give her the answer she wanted. He shrugged again, without apology.
" 'Tis
a fact of war. The innocent perish with the guilty. You should take comfort from the fact that your husband will restore your lands."