“And she tried to steal them,” Calum put in from the other side of his wife. “The man brought five dogs. The next morning, I woke up and four of those dogs were in my bed sleeping peacefully.”
Everyone at the table grinned to varying degrees except Celesse; she frowned at her husband. “I told you that I do not know how they got there.”
“Lies.”
Across the table, Kenan and Mayne chortled, their mouths full of food. “Are you sure it is not one of those dogs that is the father of your wife’s child?” Kenan asked.
Mayne burst into guffaws as Calum threw a bread crust at Kenan, hitting the man in the forehead. “At least Ihavea wife, de Poyer,” he said.
The insults began to fly but Margaretha suddenly slammed her pewter cup on the table two or three times, breaking up the building argument with her banging.
“I will not listen to your filthy conversation this night,” she said pointedly, looking at Kenan. “Not only are we close to theday of the Christmas celebration, but we have guests. If you cannot behave yourself, then you can eat out in the stable with the rest of the animals. Is this in any way unclear?”
Kenan was instantly rebuked. Lady Margaretha wielded more power than her son in times like this. “It is clear, my lady,” he said, lowering his head back to his food.
Satisfied that the knights would behave, Margaretha’s gaze moved over her son and the lovely young woman sitting next to him. She’d not seen the woman clearly when she arrived for the sheer fact that she had been wearing a cloak. But now she could see the woman plainly– a beautiful creature with high cheekbones and silken hair.
Now, Margaretha was coming to see the real reason behind Val’s invitation to these guests–a beautiful woman. Her son had always had an eye for lovely women, much as his father had. Now, she understood everything perfectly. It wasn’t so much an old friend he’d invited to sup but his old friend’s beautiful daughter.
Now, it all makes sense….
The truth was that Margaretha resented the intrusion of her son’s friends and she hardly said a word to McCloud since she went to escort the man to sup. But now with Val present, she thought to, perhaps, amend that attitude. She thought to prove a point to her son about this man he had called his friend, a man who dressed in rags and who had commented about the richness of Selborne. Not all men, regardless of the beauty of their daughters, were worthy to be at Val de Nerra’s table.
Perhaps it was time for Val to realize he needed to be more careful when it came to befriending men. She’d been stewing about it ever since their arrival; aye, perhaps it was time to teach her son a lesson.
“Val,” she said, her focus on her food. “I was hoping that your friend would tell us about himself. Since you have not seen himin so long, mayhap there is a good deal to tell of his peace and prosperity.”
Val looked at McCloud, who was seated down the bench from his mother. It was as if Margaretha was deliberately isolating herself from the others, sitting off as she was. It was his mother’s way of disapproving of his guests.
“McCloud,” Val said politely. “My mother wants to know why you have come to Selborne. She believes you are plotting to marry me and inherit my property. Will you please tell her you are not plotting anything?”
McCloud’s head snapped up from his food, looking at Val in shock as Margaretha’s manner turned sour.
“I said nothing of the kind,” she hissed. “Val, you will apologize for slandering me in front of your guests!”
Val was fighting off a grin. He could see that Calum and the other knights had their faces turned away from him, no doubt fighting smiles of their own. It was always great fun to rib Margaretha until she began throwing things, in which case it was all fun and games until someone lost an eye. But nothing was thrown as of yet, so Val was still confident in jesting with his mother. Lazily, he sighed.
“My apologies, Mother,” he said, sounding as if he didn’t mean it at all. “McCloud, my mother said nothing of the kind. But I would still like to hear of your life since last I saw you. Surely you have seen great adventure and prosperity.”
McCloud swallowed the food in his mouth. He’d been steadily stuffing his belly since they’d arrived in the hall, starving as he was. It had been years since he’d so much to eat at one time. He was loathed to take the time to converse, but he did so out of courtesy.
“There is not much to tell, truthfully,” he said, realizing they were on what could be a very sensitive subject. “Durley is my home and, although I do not believe you have ever been there,it is a farm. It has been in my family since before the Normans came to our shores. We have apple and pear trees and flocks of sheep. At least, we did. I will admit that times have been difficult the past few years.”
Val was listening with interest. “I am sorry to hear that,” he said, putting bread in his mouth. “What happened?”
McCloud shook his head. “Truthfully, I do not know. The orchards had a blight move through them. It has been difficult for them to bear fruit. But I do not complain. We have food in our bellies and a roof over our head. God sees to our needs.”
Considering the state of his friend’s clothing and the fact that he had no horses for transportation, Val wondered if that was really the truth but he didn’t question the man further. He would leave the man with some semblance of pride and not force him to bear his soul in front of strangers, even if Val was asking the questions out of concern. He forced a smile.
“Then I am happy to hear that God has shown you such fortune,” he said. “In speaking with Lady Vesper, she mentioned your son. Why did he not travel with you to Eynsford?”
McCloud held a steady expression even though he was shocked to hear that Vesper had mentioned Mat. “Because… because someone must remain at the farm to tend it,” he said. “My son does not like to leave home. He prefers to remain there.”
It was a reasonable explanation, one that Val believed. He had no reason not to. “I hope to meet him someday,” he said.
McCloud forced a smile, vastly uncomfortable on the subject of his son. “He is not very sociable, unfortunately,” he said. “But… but we would, of course, be honored with your visit.”
Val was chewing on his pork now, using a broad knife to shovel it into his mouth. “Durley,” he said thoughtfully. “Did you tell me once that it was near Southampton?”
