CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The bowl, withthe porridge in it, went sailing across the room. The servants shrieked and fled the room as it hit the wall and splattered on the fine chair nearby.
“I told you that I did not want porridge!” Tad shouted after them. “The next fool who brings me porridge shall feel my hand to their backside!”
Goring Hall was in an uproar. Nine days after the ambush that seriously injured him, Tad was feeling infinitely better thanks to the finest physics his father could employ. One man had come from London and the other all the way from York. The chest wound had been deftly sewed and, most fortunately, no poison had set in. It had truly been a miracle.
Tad had recovered quickly, thanks to his youth and good health, but now the physics had a more seriously problem on their hands. The young man did not want to stay still.
“My lord, you are still recovering,” the first physic, a skinny man with wild red hair, tried to remain calm. “It is in your best interest to keep your diet without fatty foods. Porridge is easily digestible and….”
Tad was sitting on the edge of his bed, a little paler and thinner than usual, but certainly looking healthy enough. He interrupted the physic’s prattle.
“I want meat,” he stressed angrily. “Breads and sweets. Give me something more than this… thisrubbish.”
The physic sighed heavily, looking to his shorter, rounder associate for support. As he prepared to deny the young man, Ovid entered the room.
The man was thrilled that his son had recovered so quickly, so much so that he had the entire family saying prayers three times a day in thanks. His son’s mood was foul but he didn’t seem to mind; he entered the room happily, greeting his son with a kiss to each cheek as the young man pushed him away.
“Tell them to bring me meat,” Tad demanded. “I want beef pie. Kidney pie. Anything but this slop they are trying to feed me.”
Ovid wouldn’t dare deny his son’s request. He looked to the physics as they huddled a few feet away. They were the same men who had saved his son’s life so he tried to be somewhat respectful to them.
“The boy requires meat,” he pleaded. “Can you not see how much better he’s feeling? Meat will do him a world of good.”
The skinny physic tried to deter him. “But, my lord, his body cannot….”
Ovid cut him off, though not entirely unkindly. “Please,” he said, although it was a command and not a request. “Go and select something appropriate for him to eat that does not include food you would feed infants. I implore you.”
The physics looked at each other, shrugged, and quit the room in a manner suggesting they were not at all pleased. They knew best, but the spoiled young man always got what he wanted. His father saw to that. Ovid watched them go before returning his attention to his son.
“They are only doing what they feel best,” he said. “You could try to be more cooperative.”
Tad shrugged and looked away. “What news have you brought me today?”
He was changing the subject to the one and only thing that had held his interest for the past nine days. He would hardly speak of anything else and Ovid, still hell-bent on vengeance against Richmond le Bec, was more than willing to indulge him.
“It is as we suspected,” he said. “Le Bec left Lambourn the morning after the battle and took Lady Arissa with him. I have paid people well to glean information to this regard and from what they have been told, le Bec is taking the girl straight to Whitby.”
“Do we know this for certain?” Tad stood up, stiffly, rubbing at his tender torso. “We have been hearing these rumors for days now. This is not new information.”
“But it has been confirmed,” Ovid insisted. “I paid a man well whose wife works in the kitchens of Lambourn. This woman has confirmed that le Bec left with Lady Arissa and is taking her to Whitby. That is what de Lohr is telling everyone. Oddly, he does not seem to be too heartbroken about it.”
Tad moved about gingerly. “What do you plan to do?”
Ovid fell silent a moment, his manner turning from doting father to conniving enemy. “My fury against le Bec has not abated,” he said quietly. “By the grace of God you have healed, but that does not end my sense of vengeance. The man will pay.”
Tad turned to him. “So I will ask you again; what do you plan to do?”
Ovid began to pace just as his son was, his demeanor pensive. “If le Bec is heading to Whitby, then we can catch him outside the walls of a fortress where the odds will be even,” he said, then looked at his son. “I will send my army after him and destroy him.”
Tad cocked in an eyebrow. “What about Lady Arissa?”
Ovid’s gaze was intense. “If she’s not yet made it to the abbey, then perhaps we shall claim her. You are attracted to her, are you not?”
Tad thought a moment before nodding. He had a rather dirty look about him. “She’s beautiful, no doubt. Perhaps she would make a splendid Lady de Rydal.”
“Perfect vengeance against le Bec,” Ovid wriggled his eyebrows suggestively. “It is said he’s a fondness for the girl that goes beyond mere concern. His attack upon you is evidence of that.”
