But Margaretha soon began to realize that the royal appointment was not an easy thing, at least the way Val carried out his duties. Never one to delegate tasks, he was in the middle of whatever was happening that fell under his jurisdiction–chasing down outlaws, holding judgment over them, and even executing them. Val took his duties very seriously and, with that diligence, his reputation in the area grew.
Valor de Nerra was a man to be reckoned with.
Now, he was the most powerful man from Basingstoke to the sea, a vast area where he had several men in patrols that kept order in a lawless time. Margaretha was still hugely proud of her son but she was afraid that his attention to duty was causing him to lack foresight into his future.Maritalfuture. As his mother, it was her duty to make sure he understood the importance of it. But after two years of her trying to beat it into his head, she was afraid she wasn’t making much of an impression on him.
“I am not hen-pecking you,” she said as she put butter on her bread. “It seems to me that you fail to understand the importance of your future. You are the last of your father’s line, Valor, not to mention the last of my line. In fact, my line is far more important. You understand that it must be continued.”
Val was quickly growing exhausted of the conversation. When the servant poured him watered wine, he down the entire cup and demanded more.
“I understand,” he said with exaggerated patience. “I understand that your family line can be traced back to Pontius Pilate when the man was brought by Roman galley to Porchester, whereupon he fathered a child with a local Saxon woman, a child who happened to be your forbearer on your mother’s side. I also understand that there is Wessex royalty in your blood, Mother, and I give thanks to God daily that you did not name me after the wyvern in your family crest. Instead of Wyvern, you named me Valor because that is what you wished for me. How could a man with the name Valor be anything other than valorous? Therefore, I understand clearly what you have been telling me for thirty-four years.”
Now, his irritation was showing and Margaretha was feeling scolded. Still, she had her pride and that meant her son would never see her in the throes of submission or defeat. Even if what he said was true. She eyed him before returning to her meal.
“I do not think I like your attitude this morning,” she said. “I sense disrespect.”
“And I sense the same.”
She looked at him, surprised and confused. “What do you mean?”
He sighed. “Evidently, you do not respect my judgement or intelligence enough to know that I realize I must take a wife at some point. We have had this conversation so many times that my head is swimming with your expectations. I know them all too well, Mother. Therefore, may we drop the subject, at least for this meal?”
Margaretha returned her focus to her food, trying not to sound hurt. “If that is your wish.”
“It is.”
Margaretha took a bite of her bread with butter as a servant spooned out an egg dish onto her trencher. Val, too, delved into his bread, eyeing his mother and feeling some remorse for the turn of the conversation.
She meant well; he knew she did. She wasn’t really the harpy that she seemed to be at times. In truth, she could be very wise and generous. But the situation with his lack of a wife was starting to create tension between them and, for that, he was, indeed, sorry. But, as he’d told her many times, she was going to have to let him make his own decisions where that was concerned.
The meal continued in silence for a few minutes until another man entered the hall and Val found himself looking up at his second in command. Sir Calum de Morville had been on patrol the evening before, for whenever Val wasn’t out attending to hisduties, Calum was there in his place. Still in his mail breeches and still armed, Calum smiled wearily at Val.
“Good morn,” he said. Then, he looked to Margaretha. “Good morn to you, Lady de Nerra. It ’tis a fine morning. In fact, I passed a woman on the road who gave me some bulbs for your flower garden when the spring comes. I have left them at the door for you to inspect.”
Margaretha seemed pleased. “How fine,” she said. “My thanks, Calum. Will you eat with us? My son and I were just discussing my lack of grandchildren. Since you have a wife, mayhap you can stress to him how pleasant it is to have a woman in your bed every night.”
So much for keeping her mouth shut. Val, who had a knife in his hand that he’d been eating with, suddenly flipped it to the dull side and sawed it back and forth across the inside of his wrist, evidently trying to kill himself. Calum caught the gesture and struggled not to laugh.
“We have discussed the issue many times, Lady de Nerra,” he said, biting off a smile. “I am confident that Val will select a fine wife someday. You must be patient.”
Margaretha cocked an eyebrow at the knight. “Bah,” she said. “He had better do it before I die or I will not be able to rest in peace. With my bad heart, there is the very real possibility that I shall not live to see the morrow. Do you hear, Valor? If you do not marry before I die, then I shall be forced to haunt you.”
Unable to slit his wrists with the dull side of the knife, Val gave up and stabbed a piece of boiled apple, plopping it into his mouth. “It cannot be any worse than the way you haunt me right now,” he said, chewing. He looked at Calum. “Sit down and eat. Give her another target to aim for so she will leave me alone.”
Calum couldn’t help the laughter then. “I cannot,” he said, chuckling. “I have come with news, Val. Do you recall themissive we received from Lord Horsham about the knight who had killed one of his sons?”
Val nodded. “Latham de Wyck was the name, I believe,” he said. “He’d come to court one of Horsham’s daughters. When the girl’s brother tried to intervene, de Wyck killed him.”
Calum nodded. “Indeed,” he said. “We have reason to believe that de Wyck is in Whitehill. One of our patrols sent word about the horse that Horsham described as belonging to the knight being in the livery in Whitehill. I thought you would want to see for yourself.”
Val nodded. “I do,” he said, quickly downing the rest of his watered wine and rising to his feet. “We will take a full contingent of men with us. Forty men, fully armed. If this is the knight, then he will more than likely fight to the death rather than be captured alive. I want the men prepared and protected. Gather them now and I shall meet you in the bailey.”
Calum nodded and, begging leave from Margaretha, fled the small hall. Val wasn’t so quick to leave; he rounded the table and kissed his mother on her smooth cheek.
“I will return when I can,” he said.
He was halfway to the door when Margaretha called after him. “Valor,” she said. She was the only one who ever called him by his full name. “You will take care.”
He winked at her. “I always do, love.”
