Chapter Thirteen

W alter was ready to pull hairs. He had been at it for nigh an hour, and although Ranulf had not lost his patience yet, was still listening to his arguments, he was not changing his mind.

They sat before the fire near Ranulf’s tent, forcing down the last of the unappetizing camp food that had been quickly prepared. The lady under discussion was across the camp at another fire, Searle and Eric both sent to guard her under the guise of keeping her company. Even so, Walter noticed Ranulf’s eyes going to her repeatedly as they spoke, though she had not once looked their way.

If he thought there was something there that was attracting Ranulf, he would change his tactics. But although he might himself find the lady quite comely with her powdery blue eyes and delicate features, he knew his friend was drawn to more stunning wenches, certainly more robust ones. But mayhap he should change his tactics after all, though he had a few more things to say yet in Clydon’s favor.

“I do not understand you, Ranulf. I know of no other man who would not leap on this incredible chance, none who would not hesitate to wed the lady even by force, and you can have her willing. Have you not considered the power behind the annual income Clydon has? One hundred knights’ service! Imagine how many fiefs she must have besides Clydon Castle, to allow for that much income.”

“I am surprised you did not ask for an exact accounting while you were at it.”

Walter flushed. Ranulf had not been pleased at all that he had approached the lady, especially for the reason he had. Walter had related to him everything she had to say, except about her offer if they would simply return her to Clydon, but it did no good. Ranulf was simply not interested.

“Do you realize Clydon is like to equal your father’s lands?” Walter threw in, then quickly added before Ranulf could react to mention of his father, “And have you considered that you would only need swear fealty to Shefford? You would have had to swear to King Richard for Farring Cross. Better an earl than a king, especially a king who so loves war. The demands would be much less—”

“From my overlord, mayhap, but what of the extra demands in holding such a large fief? Did you ask her how greatly subinfeudated it is? How many vassals she has? How many people she is responsible for? All I wanted was a small fief to farm and settle on, Walter. I never entertained the idea of becoming as powerful as my father.”

“Because it was an impossible notion. You could sell your sword the rest of your life and still never earn enough to buy a fief like Clydon. But here ’tis being given to you, costing you naught but the taking of a wife. You do not even have to fight for it.”

“Nay? Think you Rothwell will just give up, that he still will not come a-calling? She also has neighbors who visit with drawn swords, if you did not notice.”

Walter shrugged aside that sarcasm. “But you will no longer be only thirty men strong, Ranulf. You will have your own army, and another to draw on from Shefford should you need it. And there is another thing. ’Tis easier getting aid from an earl than from a king.”

“Be that as it may, there is naught that could compensate for the headaches I would have from the lady and her ladies. Christ’s toes, Walter, did you count how many she has in her care?”

“Is that what you object to?”

“ She is what I object to. I want no lady in my life, least of all a tiny one who thinks she is seven feet tall and has not the sense to know when to push a man no more.”

Walter almost grinned, for he knew now that Ranulf could be brought around, that he was only still smarting under the insults the lady had heaped on him. “She may be a mite big on audacity, but she has long been in control of all around her. She only needs a husband to put her in her place.” At Ranulf’s grunt, he opted for his last arguments. “Did you never intend to take a wife once you had Farring Cross?”

“Aye, a lusty village wench will do nicely.”

Walter stared at him aghast for a moment, but he now had the ammunition he needed. “And who would see to your household, to the making of cloth, to the cleaning, the cooking? Think you the servants will work just because there is work to do, or that they will take direction from one of their own just because you elevate her to wife?”

“If I say—”

“Ranulf, my friend, that is your stubbornness speaking through the mouth of a fool. Nay, hear me out,” he added quickly at Ranulf’s scowl. “Can you hand a villein a sword and call him a knight?”

“Do not be stupid,” Ranulf growled.

“Aye, it takes years of training to make a knight. But so, too, does it take years to make a lady. She has no skills from the cradle, Ranulf. She is trained to her duties just as we were. Will you live like a pig for years whilst your village wench learns the skills of a lady? And who will teach her if not a lady? And what lady would condescend to do so for any price?”

“Enough, Walter!”

“Aye, enough, de Breaute,” came a new voice as Lady Reina stepped into the circle of their fire, Searle and Eric not far behind her. “If you have not an agreement by now, you are not like to get one, and I do not need to be forced on any man. This was your idea—not mine, and certainly not his. I agreed for only one reason. You painted a better picture of him than you did of Rothwell. But Rothwell is obviously the better man, at least a man who feels himself capable of being Lord of Clydon, whereas your friend must doubt his own ability to rule so great a fief.”

Walter groaned aloud. She could not have said anything worse if she had tried. To compare Ranulf with Rothwell was had enough, but to say Rothwell was the better man! To question not only Ranulf’s ability but his courage as well, implying he was afraid of the challenge that Clydon presented!

Ranulf shot to his feet well before she had finished speaking, and Walter would not be surprised to see him throttle the lady for these newest insults. He was so angry he could not speak at once, his eyes dark indigo as they glared at her, and heaven help her, she did not seem the least bit afraid, dared to taunt him even more.

“If I am wrong, Fitz Hugh, say so. Or do you want me to believe that you would refuse Clydon because I frighten you?”

The air came hissing through Ranulf’s teeth. “Saddle her a horse, Walter! We ride for the abbey now!”

As Ranulf stalked off to fetch his own mount, Walter looked at the lady incredulously, to see her smiling at him. “You did that apurpose!”

She shrugged. “You appeared to need some help. As you said, better him than Rothwell.”

“But he is not like to ever forgive you for what you just implied, lady.”

Again she shrugged. “If he is too stupid to realize he was goaded into making the right decision, for his own benefit, mind you, then that is his problem.”

“’Tis more like to be your problem,” Searle said softly from behind her.

Eric was quick to agree. “Are you certain you want him, lady?”

“Ask me instead if I want Rothwell, whom you were all so eager to give me to.”

She left the three flushed faces behind and went to find a horse for herself.