“Aye, we were. Old Charles was a proper devil, mean and evil and hard, but we both survived to become mean and evil and hard. I’ve not heard from Roland in five years.”
“He went with Edward to go crusading, as did I. I didn’t see him much in the Holy Land, but he survived, thankfully.”
“I wonder how he does and what he wants with you.”
“I am to meet him at Wolffeton in two weeks’ time. He will tell me then. I was told that he used his talents spying for Edward whilst in the Holy Land. A Muslim he was, becoming so like them they never guessed he was an Englishman. He was an intimate of the sultan himself, so it was said.”
“He’s a dark-skinned bastard, looks like a heathen.”
Graelam shrugged. “Aye, and his eyes are as black as a fanatical priest’s and his tongue as smooth as an asp’s.”
Dienwald was thoughtful, then said without thinking, “I should like to see him. Mayhap I could bring the wench with me. She would enjoy—” The instant it was out of his mouth, Dienwald wanted to kick hims
elf.
Graelam, a man of subtlety when he so wished, inquired mildly, “Who is the wench, Dienwald? She was the one astride you, I gather? Sporting in the mud with you?”
“Aye.”
“No more? No explanations? Is she clean? Where is she now?”
“She has no clothes, not a stitch, the muddy gown was old—it belonged to my first wife—and it was the last one. The wench is wearing a blanket now, and is in my bedchamber.”
Kassia cocked her head to one side. “Wench? What is her name?”
“Morgan,” Dienwald said without hesitation, then nearly swallowed his tongue. Well, he’d said it. He said it again, looking Graelam right in his eye. “Her name’s Morgan and she’s my mistress.”
“She’s a villein?”
He shook his head vigorously, and said, “Yes.”
Graelam snorted. “What goes on here, Dienwald? Don’t try to lie to me, I’ll know it. You’re clear as a spring pond.”
“You said I was a fine liar just a moment ago.”
“I exaggerated.”
“Both of you relieve your minds and shut your mouths! Now, the female we saw, her name is Morgan, you say. An odd name, but no matter. I shall go visit her. I have no extra clothing with me, but I can have gowns and other things sent to her.”
“She is a maypole, a giant of a girl. Nothing you own would fit her big body.”
Kassia merely frowned at him, shook out the skirt of her finely woven pale pink gown, smoothed the sleeves of the delicate white overtunic, and walked slowly from the great wall. It was then that Dienwald saw her big belly.
He was suddenly very afraid. He turned to Graelam and saw his friend nodding.
“I shield her as best I can. She is so small, and the child grows large in her belly. She insisted upon coming to St. Erth today. She grows bored and restless at Wolffeton—the women won’t let her do a thing within the castle, and even my men hover about her when she is in the bailey—and I couldn’t deny her. You should see Blount, my steward—he feels a quill is beyond her strength. She frets.”
“How much longer before the babe comes?”
“Not until June. I die each day with the thought of it.” Graelam then cursed luridly, and Dienwald, looking hopeful and thoughtful, said, “She appears well and is beautiful and laughing.”
“Aye,” Graelam said, and drained his flagon. He eyed Dienwald. “I wish you wouldn’t speak of my wife as though you were her lover. It irks me. Now, ‘tis true you didn’t steal the wine from Kassia’s father? You didn’t have the ship wrecked with false warning lights from the point?”
“I wish I’d thought of it,” Dienwald said, his voice gloomy with regret.
“Roland, then,” Graelam said, nodding in satisfaction at his conclusion. “I’ll break two of his ribs for his impertinence.”
“That I should like to see,” Dienwald said.