“Fuckington Castle. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Flora was off on a giggling jag and even the soldiers were starting to grin. But Lista didn’t find anything amusing in the boorish reference to her beloved home.
“Call it what you will,” she said. “But whatever you call it,youlive there on our good graces, so I would not speak so rudely of it.”
Flora stopped giggling and glared at her. “Do you let your daughter speak so terribly to me, Meadow?” she demanded. “Tell her that she must respect me.”
Lista answered for her mother. “I’ll respect you when you behave in a manner that warrants it,” she said, ignoring Flora when the woman snarled at her. Instead, she was looking at her mother. “Well, Mama? Should we stop at the fish man?”
Meadow was a bit dull, a bit dazed. Whatever the apothecary had given her was beginning to take effect. She looked at her daughter as if startled by the fact that the woman was addressing her.
“Fish man?” she repeated as if she’d never heard it before. Then, she quickly nodded her head. “Aye, the fish man. I want the fish that he brines in the wine.”
“I know, Mama.”
“Let’s get a hogshead of the stuff.”
“I agree. Let’s.”
Flora, forgetting about Lista’s lack of respect, eyed her sister. “We can eat the fish and drink the wine,” she said, snorting. “Is garlic fish-wine any good?”
The fungus they’d chewed up at the apothecary’s shop was finally having an impact on Flora, as well. Meadow threw up her hands.
“Who cares?” she said. “I’ll drink the smelly fish-brine or fish-wine and be quite happy with it.Wait!We must return to the apothecary!”
Abruptly, she turned on her heel and began to race back down the small avenue with Flora shuffling after her. Meadow was short and rather round, while Flora was tall and slender, with trembling hands because of too much drink and the other things she ingested all day long. She moved faster than Meadow, but she didn’t move in a straight line. She traversed a crooked path all the way back to the apothecary as Lista simply stood there and watched.
She didn’t even try to go with them.
An armored body moved up beside her.
“Shall I go with them, my lady?”
Lista turned to see the captain of Felkington’s guard, Sir Amaury de Varreville. He was a little younger than Lista’s father would have been had he still been alive, a handsome and seasoned man who had lived in Northumberland his entire life and he’d served Felkington for over half of those years. He’d seen the de la Mere family go from a relatively normal, if not a little eccentric family, to the talk of the county because of the behavior of Lista’s mother and aunt.
But it was so much more complicated than that.
“Nay,” Lista said after a moment. “They know where they are going and they know where to return if they want an escort home. Let us go to the fish man and purchase the barrel ofbrined fish. Mayhap that will be our only food store purchase for the day because I have a feeling my mother will spend the rest of the money on her… comfort.”
Amaury glanced at Lista, sympathy and resignation in his expression. Using the word “comfort” when it came to Lady Meadow’s addictions was putting it kindly. But Amaury didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. As he turned for the escort, he caught sight of a rather large group coming down Silver Street, heading in their direction.
“The garrison must be out on this day,” he muttered.
Lista heard him. Distracted from her mother and aunt for the moment, she turned to see what had his attention. “What garrison?” she said.
Amaury pointed down the avenue. “See the standards?”
“Aye.”
“That’s de Velt,” he said. “The red and black standards with the boar’s head. De Velt holds Berwick Castle, so the garrison is moving into town. More than likely the garrison commander with that kind of escort. See the wagon?”
Lista strained to catch a glimpse of what he was talking about. She could see the party down the avenue, soldiers with their black and red tunics. She could also see mounted knights, warriors of the highest order, and there were at least three that she could count, possibly more. Felkington’s small army and single knight didn’t have nearly the clout or presence that de Velt’s army had as they entered the bustling city center. It was crowded and people naturally moved out of their way, something they’d not done for de la Mere’s paltry escort.
De Velt was on a whole different level.
“I do not think we’ve seen the garrison come into town for quite some time,” she said. “Simon used to know the garrison commander, I think. What’s his name?”
“Cole de Velt,” Amaury said. “The eldest son of Ajax de Velt, the most feared warlord in England in his youth. I remember being terrified of that name when I was young.”
