Reina sighed as she looked about the clearing. They had stopped while the hounds sniffed through the bushes, momentarily having lost the scent of the big buck that had been spotted earlier. Her thin woolen bliaut was ideal for riding, but the weather was unseasonably warm, and trickles of sweat were annoying her temples and soaking her linen chemise. Usually she would not notice, caught up in the excitement of the hunt. Today she had too many other things on her mind.
She ignored her husband, who had stopped his horse beside hers; at least she tried to ignore him. The insufferable louthadshown the ladies that other sheet, and Reina had suffered looks of horror and pity that were likely to continue until someone bothered to recall that she had returned to Clydon in perfect health. But that was what she got for telling him to do as he liked. And he seemed to think it amusing.
She had actually got a smile from him when he joined her in the hall to break their fast. She should have suspected that smile, but at the time she was too flustered by feeling that funny fluttering in her belly again. Caused by that smile?Jesú. Better he stuck to his boarlike disposition.
“Are these not the woods where those brigands I heard mention of abide?”
Reina was forced to give him her full attention now. “You mean those terrible outlaws who attacked your camp and caused you to leave in such a hurry that night?”
Ranulf did not take the bait. He had the nerve to give her another smile at the reminder of the ruse he had used to get her out of Clydon that fateful night. Two smiles in only a few hours. His mood had definitely been improved by that incident with the sheets. Perhaps he found it perversely amusing that the women of Clydon were temporarily frightened of him, thinking he had a monstrous weapon inside his braies instead of a normal prick. Reina was not amused.
“I do believe I do mean those same terrible outlaws,” he told her in what was for him a most pleasant tone. “Think you we will see some sign of them?”
Reina decided to bridle her annoyance for now, since he did seem serious in his interest. “Mayhap you will see signs that they have been about, but you will see no sight of them. They always seem to know whenever a large group leaves Clydon or Warhurst, and they scatter east and west, leaving the woods entirely.”
“Warhurst?”
“The small town on the other side of the woods. Actually, Warhurst is more plagued by them than we are. Occasionally they steal a sack of grain or a crock of butter from my villeins—”
“What of those large thefts of cattle and sheep you mentioned before?”
“They could be responsible for that, but I do not think so. They are only outlawed villeins themselves. Who could they sell the animals to? And the woods provide all the meat they could need. Nay, the thing they do best and most frequently is rob small groups of travelers on the north road, which cuts through these woods, especially merchant caravans on their way to Warhurst. As I said, Warhurst is more plagued by them than Clydon.”
“You have not tried to rout them?”
She could not help smiling in fond remembrance. “My father used to take his men in every month or so and scour the whole area. He actually looked forward to it, enjoying the hunt, and letting off steam when he returned, cursing the brigands, for he never caught a single one. As I said, they seem to know when they are threatened. The castellan at Warhurst sends out patrols more often, but the man is an imbecile and easily outsmarted. The outlaws might be villeins, but they are clever.”
“Think you they watch both Clydon and Warhurst?”
“With the woods so near to both, ’twould not be difficult to do.”
He studied her for a moment before saying, “You do not feel them to be a true menace, do you?”
“You mistake me, my lord. They gave my father sport, and that amused me and him. But they have been more troublesome since he left. ’Tis true they have killed no one I know of, but visitors to Clydon have been set upon, one lord robbed of nigh a hundred marks, which I felt conscience-bound to replace. They are my woods, after all.”
“And so your outlaws?” he snorted.
“Aye, mine—now yours.” That got a glare from him finally, and she almost laughed. “You have to take the bad with the good, my lord.”
“There is more bad?”
“Certainly.” She grinned. “Let me see—there is Tom Smith. Every few months he drinks too much and tries to set the village afire. No one knows why, not even Tom.”
“And you have not hanged him?”
“Why would I hang him? He is a good smith, and pays for the damage he causes in ironwork. I hope hanging will not be your answer to everything.”
“And if it is?”
She stiffened, her chin going up in a challenge. “Then we are like to have many arguments.”
“Mayhap we will, but not about that. Whether I will be quick to hang anyone remains to be seen, but ’twill be my decision as lord. Is that not so, my lady?”
He had met her challenge and thrown it back at her. She stared at him for a long moment, at the implacable set features, the obvious tension in his body. What could she say?Shehad given him the power to do as he would when she married him. But she had married him to have him protect her people, not to hang them arbitrarily.
Yet she could not have been so totally wrong about him. He had to be only testing her when asking about hanging Tom Smith. How else was he to learn how she dealt with her people unless he asked questions? She should not have got upset about it.
But the upset was not quick to go away, and her tone was stilted when she answered, “Aye, most all decisions are yours as lord.”
