“I see,” he said. “Then your apology is accepted.”
Romney cocked his head. “She said that you and Uncle Erik were friends.”
Gart nodded. “We were,” he said, eyeing the brown-haired, blue-eyed boy. “In fact, I was just thinking that you look a good deal like him. He was a great knight.”
“Mother said he died in the Holy Land for Richard’s damn crusade.”
Gart fought of a smile. “She said that?”
Romney nodded solemnly. “She said it was damn foolish and damn stupid.”
Gart bit his lip to keep from smiling. “Your uncle was a great knight on the crusade,” he said. “We fought together for almost two years.”
“How did he die?”
Gart didn’t feel like smiling anymore and the grin faded from his lips. “A Saracen arrow pierced his helm,” he said quietly. “It lodged in his eye and it killed him.”
“Oh,” Romney looked thoughtful, distressed. “Did it hurt?”
“I would imagine so.”
Romney continued to look distressed as Orin and Brendt decided the charger was more worthy of their attention. Gart saw the boys moving towards it.
“Do not touch him,” he admonished. “He will stomp you.”
The boys drew back in fear, gravitating back towards their eldest brother. Romney was still looking at Gart.
“Since we are sorry that we robbed you, will you give us money anyway?” he asked.
Gart gazed steadily at the boy. “Why?”
“Because Mother needs a present.”
“Why?”
“She is unhappy.”
Gart’s good humor faded completely. “Why is she unhappy?”
Romney seemed to lose some of his confidence. He looked at Orin and Brendt, who gazed back at him with wide eyes. Suddenly, Orin rushed Gart and grabbed the neck of his wrinkled tunic.
“Becausth,” Orin had an extremely lazy tongue and a bad lisp. He yanked at Gart’s tunic and began hitting him with his little fists. “He did thisth… and thisth… and she cries.”
Gart put his hands on the lad to both steady him and pull him off. Even Romney moved forward to pull his violent brother away from the enormous knight. But Gart didn’t miss the gist of what the boy said. In fact, he began to feel the familiar fury build in his feet again and start to work its way up.She will be lucky if he does not beat her senseless for this. He wondered if de Lohr’s prophetic words had come true.
“Who?” he had Orin by the arms but he was looking at Romney. “Who made your mother cry?”
Romney wouldn’t look at him. He was more interested in pulling Orin away from the man. “Father,” he muttered. “He hits her and she cries.”
The slow build of fury began to gain speed. Gart could feel the sweat popping out on his forehead and he struggled to control the brewing anger.
“Did he hit her last night?” he asked quietly.
Romney shook his head. “Nay,” he replied, giving Orin a good yank and sending the boy off of Gart and onto his bum. “He did it this morning. She cried and cried.”
The rage reached Gart’s head and his cheeks began to turn red. “Where is your mother now?”
Romney shrugged, either losing interest with the conversation or afraid to say much more. He fidgeted uncomfortably. “In her bed,” he said. “Father is leaving for London. Will you give us money now so we can buy her a present?”
