“Absent?” Lord Hamilton raised an eyebrow. “Why would she beabsent? Where else should she be? She is the daughter of a lord, so we will find her in his castle. Has this ever not been true?”
“No, of course, Milord, you are correct. I mean, she could be anywhere, being tutored in Spain for all we know, or Paris. I seek only to make your Lordship’s journey more comfortable.”
“Well, I thank you for such kind consideration,” Lord Hamilton said, leaning back once more against the bench to take a long drink of wine. “Simon, throw him out.”
“Right away, Milord,” Simon said, grabbing sudden hold of Walter’s clothes and hauling him toward the carriage door.
“Milord! No!” Walter cried, going red in the face. “Wait!”
“Stop!” Lord Hamilton bellowed. Simon stopped. “Bring him round.” Simon spun Walter’s small face around to stare Lord Hamilton straight in the eye. “Without me, you are nothing,” Lord Hamilton whispered. “To you, I am God. Have I ever been wrong about anything before? Hm? Tell me. Tell me once when I was wrong, go on.”
“I cannot remember such a time, Milord,” Walter squeaked.
“That’s correct,” Lord Hamilton hissed. “There has never been a time. So, while you are useful, Walter, I will not put up with the questioning of my decisions, is that clear?”
“Very clear, Milord,” Walter gasped out from between Simon’s iron grip.
“Good,” Lord Hamilton said, nodding to Simon. Simon dropped Walter on the carriage floor, and he gave a little grunt as he picked himself back up. Gout stung in Lord Hamilton’s leg as Walter hit the floor, and he winced.
“Without me, you’re a rat in the street,” Lord Hamilton breathed, his eyes drifting back out the window at York passing by around him. As they rounded a corner down the main thoroughfare, he caught sight of a young boy staring straight ahead at the litter. He had a splotch of mud on his face and looked thin as if he were underfed. “They’re all just rats in the street.”
