Bayard choked on a laugh.
Quinn trudged through the drift that rose as high as his own chest and reached into the hole left by Michel’s passing.He gripped the back of a tabard, then hauled the boy above the surface of the snow and gave him a shake.
Michel sneezed.
Bayard chuckled and Quinn might have smiled himself, but little Michel from the sunny south had been granted a surprise he would not soon forget.Quinn lifted Michel to his shoulders and spoke to the other boys.“Make a pathway with your steeds before you dismount,” he suggested.“Use my destrier and Bayard’s first, for they will cut a larger path.Fortitude and Caligo are accustomed to the snow.”
All three boys nodded in hasty agreement.
“Perhaps Michel could help us in the hall,” Bayard suggested.
“That was my thought exactly,” Quinn agreed.He waded back to the central rise where the snow was less deep.He set Michel on his feet and determined that the boy was no worse for wear.Michel had been born in the Holy Land and Quinn had kept a watchful eye on the boy as they traveled north.He had feared for the boy’s welfare when they rode through the Beauvoir pass, for the wind had been fiercely cold.Michel could not be said to lack in resolve, for he continued in defiance of any obstacle.Quinn feared his determination would lead him too far one day, for he was small of stature.
Bayard eyed the tower, his gaze lingering on the line of the roof, and his doubts clear.“It might not be any warmer inside.”
“There must be wood and tinder left behind.”
“Must there?”Bayard mused but Quinn ignored him.
Surely his father would have left him enough for a blaze?Quinn was less certain than he would have liked to be.Michel rushed ahead of the knights, undaunted by his experience with the snow, and the pair followed the boy.
The hall was dark and musty.Only a single shaft of light drifted into the lower hall from the open portal, but the winter sunlight was bright enough to reveal that the room was barren, save for the dust that stirred as Quinn crossed the hall.
The fire screen he remembered was gone, as were the poker and pail.The spit from the great fireplace had disappeared, as had his mother’s beautiful tapestries which had covered the walls.They had been part of her dowry and he wondered at their fate.As a boy, he had been enthralled when she told him the tales depicted upon them.
Even the trestle tables and benches had been removed.Tufts of abandoned herbs had blown into the corners but otherwise there was not even a candle stub remaining in the great hall.A glance into the kitchens revealed that every pot and knife was gone.A lantern with an increment of oil was clearly too much to expect.The solar proved to be similarly empty, with a large hole in the roof and a snowdrift beneath it.
Quinn’s characteristic optimism faltered then.
“Betrayed again,” Bayard muttered.
“Nay,” Quinn said with quiet resolve.“You cannot be betrayed by one you do not trust.”
Someone—and Quinn knew who—had made certain that there would be naught to aid him here.From his death bed, his father had probably ordered the villeins to clear out Sayerne.
It was as cold as a tomb within the hall and Quinn shivered.Of course, there was not a stick of wood to be seen.
Curse his father!Quinn kicked at the few stale rushes in frustration.A squeal made him jump, followed by the sound of little feet scratching against the flagstones.
“Fetch that, boy!”Bayard bade Michel with a terseness that commanded obedience.Michel leaped to do the knight’s bidding, then halted at his next words.“We shall need a morsel for our supper!”
The boy turned, his horrified expression enough to make Quinn smile.Bayard maintained a serious expression by some strength of will.
“My lord?”Michel asked tentatively.
“Do not worry,” Quinn counseled him.“We have not even checked the storerooms yet.”
“And they will be bountifully stocked?”Bayard responded with rare impatience.“We cannot remain here, Quinn, not even for one night.It is good that you have inherited an estate, but we cannot sustain ourselves on snow and the occasional rat.We must seek shelter elsewhere.What of your neighbors?”
“I have not gained my inheritance only to abandon it!”Quinn replied.“The château is solid and well built...”
“That roof,” Bayard said but Quinn continued.
“The property is extensive enough to support many more than we six.It will take work, I admit, but the power to return Sayerne to its former glory lies within our own hands.”
“Quinn, I see the advantages and I do not suggest that you walk away.”Bayard’s voice dropped.“I only suggest that we return in the spring, when we will not freeze to death while we sleep.Coin will not solve this alone, my friend, unless there is someone selling what you need.”
“I will stay with you, my lord Quinn, even should the others decide to go,” Michel said steadfastly and came to stand beside them.
