Aye, he remembered that incident all too well.
The other knight’s steady gaze made Mowbray uneasy. Did he imagine that Mowbray might have been complicit in that distant tragedy?
“And so many guests?” he asked, hoping to change the subject.
“Some of the lady’s family, already arrived for the wedding.” Talbot lifted a brow. “I believe they are more content with the new intended bridegroom than the last.”
Then he would not be with allies if he lingered.
Still, he was tired after the day’s ride and the charming company in the meadow, feasting and laughing, offered considerable temptation.
Mowbray smiled. “Ah. I have not seen Rufus these ten years and thought only to offer my congratulations on what one might expect to be a joyous day.”
The glint in Talbot’s eyes hinting that he was not deceived. “Ten years? Truly? I was certain you were in Champagne two years ago, when Rufus bested Ramsay and that maiden, Lady Alienor, died so suddenly.”
“I knew naught of that,” Mowbray said too hastily. “I was in Calais.”
“Ah. My mistake.” Their gazes locked and held for a long moment for there was no conviction in Talbot’s tone. Mowbray knew his lie had been discerned. He had naught to do with that unfortunate business, though, naught at all, save that he had not stopped Rufus, if even that could have been done. ’Twas no crime to witness a crime, was it? Mowbray thought not. And who would insist otherwise, with Rufus dead?
Yet he could fairly feel the disapproval of those who rode with him and knew their suspicions would not be easily forgotten. A curse upon Talbot Everard!
“Has the Lord of Dunhaven’s betrothed claimed the seal?” he asked, belatedly recalling his responsibilities.
The knight before him shook his head. “She does not desire it and, in fact, declines to even enter the keep again. Perhaps you should take it in trust and deliver it to the king?”
Mowbray nodded agreement. He did not mind undertaking any task that might show him as a dutiful vassal, sharing his king’s concerns.
“I should like to pay my respects to my former companion,” he said, and Talbot stepped back, gesturing to the keep and village in silent invitation. There was a challenge in his posture, as well.
Mowbray noticed then that the gates stood open and that the feast for the company of guests in the meadow was being provided from the kitchens of the keep. The villagers danced to the minstrels’ tune, keeping their distance from this joyous company but evidently not mourning the loss of Rufus overmuch.
Perhaps once he had said a prayer for Rufus, he would return to the last village they had passed. He doubted the lady’s family would welcome him and in truth, there was little at Dunhaven to keep him there for the night.
The music changed to a dance and Talbot turned to look back at the gathering, his toe fairly tapping. The knight straightened with interest. He granted a curt farewell to Mowbray, then speedily returned to the festivities, where he bowed low before an older lady in gules and argent. She giggled at the younger man’s attentions, but rose to join him willingly in the dance.
There were no whores in this company, only wives, daughters and nieces, all under the watchful eyes of their spouses, fathers and uncles. Mowbray knew he would not find the entertainment he desired in this gathering on this night.
Perhaps someone else could pray for Rufus. Mowbray doubted any would mourn him.
Perhaps an earlier departure would be prudent.
Mowbray turned his steed adroitly, dispatching a minion to collect the seal of Dunhaven while he sought appropriate shelter for the night.
* * *
A tentin the meadow beneath the stars.
The Hawk of Inverfyre shook his head as he progressed toward his destination, Ahearn on his one side and Aileen on the other. He leaned on his ebony cane, but a little less than he had in recent months. The ride south had been good for him, against every expectation, perhaps because he hoped to discover that his beloved daughter was well-matched.
It was not the marriage he would have arranged for her, but the one he and Nigel had arranged had proven to be a poor choice. He wagered she would pick better for herself. By Ahearn’s tale, Evangeline had done as much.
She had always been one to know her own will.
The three of them paused outside the light spilling from the tent in Dunhaven’s meadow. Beneath its shelter, a table was surrounded by a small party, an array of lanterns on the board casting a golden light upon the group. Evangeline sat there, close beside a man whose face was hidden from view. An older couple in red and white listened avidly as a young man with fair hair and a neat beard regaled them with a tale, an older man with a bald head smiling and nodding as he listened.
“His comrades, Talbot Everard and a mentor, name of Otto,” Ahearn supplied in an undertone. “The couple are Lord and Lady Haynesdale and appear to have a connection with him.”
The Hawk nodded, impressed that the rebellious MacLaren lad should have such friends.
