“Good! Good!” Henry responded. Then he sighed. “And you, Hugh? You are in good health, too?” Damn Agnes, he thought, as he asked it. If this old man who was Rosamund’s husband should die before he had another son, he would surely lose Friarsgate.
“My health would appear to be excellent, Henry,” Hugh said blandly, knowing exactly what was on his companion’s mind and struggling not to laugh aloud.
“I must marry again,” Henry burst out.
“Aye,” Hugh agreed. “’Twould be wise.”
“Agnes’ brother says Otterly must be returned to him,” Henry told Hugh.
“Nay, it is yours. It was a gift to Agnes when she wed you. It was hers to do with as she pleased. Tell Robert that I have said so, for I was the one who drew up the papers transferring the manor to her. Look among her things, Henry. You will find those papers. Robert Lindsay has the same papers. He knows Otterly belongs to you. He only seeks to see if he can steal it back. I will testify for you before any manor court. If you tell your brother-in-law that, he will not pursue the issue further.”
“Thank you,” Henry Bolton said, grateful.
“So after your year’s mourning is completed you will seek another wife,” Hugh said cheerfully. “She was a good woman, my cousin Agnes. It will be difficult to find another as fine.”
“I’ve the new one already picked. I cannot mourn Agnes for a year’s time. You will not live forever, Hugh. You know I mean for my next son to marry with my niece. The lad should at least be out of leading reins when it is done,” Henry Bolton said bluntly.
“Indeed,” Hugh replied, not knowing whether to be angry at his companion’s callousness or amused by it. So poor Agnes would not be mourned decently.
“She’s the daughter of a freedman with a small holding that borders Otterly. There are two siblings and little chance of Mavis finding a husband as good as me, so her father has given her a third of his lands, the ones matching mine, for a dowry. We’ll marry after Lamastide. She’s young and should prove a good breeder.”
“Yet she is only one of three,” Hugh noted astutely.
“Her brother has fathered half a dozen sons already, and their father has several more on his mistress. Mavis’ mam was a cold woman, but she is not,” Henry said, chuckling. “I’ve already been up her skirts, and she was more than eager for it.”
“She was a virgin, of course,” Hugh said. “You would be certain, Henry, that your firstborn is indeed your blood.”
“Aye, she was a virgin,” Henry responded. “I put my finger inside her to make certain before I first used her. Her father encouraged it.”
“You will bring your bride to meet Rosamund, I hope, before you get her with child,” Hugh remarked.
“Aye, I will,” Henry agreed. Then he said, “Friarsgate thrives?”
Hugh nodded. “It does. We had a goodly lambing in late winter, and many cattle born, too. The fields are doing well, and the orchards are heavy with fruit. It will be a good year, Henry. A prosperous year.”
“And the Scots?”
“They keep to their side of the border,” Hugh replied.
“Good! Good! I have been told that they avoid Friarsgate because the land about us is steep and difficult to run stolen animals over, but with the Scots one cannot be too certain, Hugh. Keep a sharp eye out,” Henry advised pompously.
“I will, Henry. I certainly will,” Hugh agreed.
The following morning Henry Bolton departed. Rosamund came to bid her uncle farewell. He looked her over carefully a final time. Aye, she was a healthy little bitch, he thought. She had surely grown taller since he had last seen her. Her auburn hair shone with golden lights. The amber eyes looked him in the face briefly before lowering modestly as she curtsied to him.
“Well, girl, I do not know when I shall come again,” Henry said to her. “Next time I shall bring your new aunt, eh?”
“You are always welcome at Friarsgate, uncle,” Rosamund replied. Then she handed him a small wrapped bit of wool tied with a thread.
“What’s this?” he demanded of her.
“It is a cake of soap, scented with heather, that I have made for your bride, uncle,” Rosamund told him.
Henry Bolton was surprised. He was not so insensitive that he did not realize he was not his niece’s favorite person. A gift for Mavis was a surprising gesture on the child’s part. “I shall take it to her, and you have my thanks, Rosamund. I cannot fault your manners, and it pleases me that you learn womanly skills.”
“The mistress of Friarsgate should know many things, uncle. I am young, but I am capable of learning them,” Rosamund responded. Then she curtsied to him again, and moved to stand by her husband.
“Rosamund made soap to keep us clean the winter long,” Hugh quickly said before Henry Bolton could consider his niece’s words. Discretion, he thought. We must teach Rosamund not to display her tactics so openly. Then he smiled at Henry. “Godspeed,” he said.
