Harald was looking around, too. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. “Nay,” he said. “It is definitely sparkling. Do you think God is trying to speak to me?”
“I think you would hear Him if He was.”
Harald frowned. “Chris, he appeared to Moses as a burning bush,” he pointed out. “Why can he not appear to me in a shower of sparkles?”
Christopher scratched his chin and continued to look around. “I think you are right,” he said. “Wait… I am hearing something now.”
Harald looked at him, wide-eyed. “What do you hear?”
Christopher cocked an ear. “He is saying that if we do not go into the great hall soon, my wife will come looking for us here and we shall both be in trouble,” he said. “I have an entire hall full of guests, and as much as I would like to remain here with you, I cannot, but you will not let me go.”
“That isbecause…” Harald said, using exaggerated hand gestures. “Because God wishes for me to speak to you about something most urgent. The sparkles in the room are encouraging me to do so.”
“I see,” Christopher said, grinning. “Now the sparkles are speaking to you?”
“Verily.”
“What are they saying?”
“That I wish for you to help me find a husband for my daughter.”
The light of realization came to Christopher’s face. “Ah,” he said. “The lovely Catalina.”
“That would be her.”
Christopher sat back in his chair. “Well?” he said. “What do you want from me? Suggestions on eligible husbands? I will tell you right now that my sons are too young to marry. Curtis and Roi are the only ones even remotely eligible by age, but theyare still too young. Your lovely daughter cannot have one of my sons.”
Harald waved him off impatiently. “I did not set my sights for Catalina so high that I was hoping for a de Lohr son,” he said. “But you know people. Who do you know that has eligible sons?”
Christopher poured himself more wine whilst he was thinking. “Almost everyone I know has younger sons or sons that are already married,” he said. “Does it have to be a son of an ally?”
Harald shook his head. “It only has to be a decent man with some means,” he said. “Age-appropriate, of course. My daughter has seen twenty years and six. That is very old for a bride.”
Christopher eyed him. “Very,” he said, though he didn’t really mean it. He happened to think that women in their twenties were perfectly acceptable as brides because it distressed him to see very young women being bartered as wives. “As I recall, she has two children, correct?”
Harald nodded. “She does,” she said. “Girl children, unfortunately. But given my daughter is my heir, I would like her to marry and produce a few sons.”
“Of course you would. That is reasonable.”
“Do you have anyone in mind?”
Christopher took a drink of his wine, pondering the question and hearing strains of music, very faint, coming from the great hall in the bailey. The evening around them was cold and clear, and he could see the stars in the sky through the lancet windows that had not yet been covered for the night. This wasn’t the first time Harald had brought up finding a husband for his widowed daughter, and it wouldn’t be the last unless Christopher gave the man some help. Harald spent his time at his homes, with his solitary hobbies, and tended to socialize with the old guard and old friends rather than everyone else, newcomers included,so he was pleading for Christopher’s knowledge and assistance outside of the scope of his tightly knit circle.
The truth was that Christopher did have some ideas.
“Your family descends from Cnut the Great, do they not?” he asked.
Harald nodded. “Through my mother,” he said. “The kings of Mercia are in my blood.”
“And, as I recall, your wife was from Catalonia.”
“She was,” Harald confirmed. “The House of Trastamara, though her family was from a cadet branch, the House of Antequera. My wife’s uncle ruled Catalonia for years. She married me because I held the Earldom of Mercia, or her father would not have allowed it.”
There it was. The ancient and prestigious title that the House of de Efford had held for centuries. Harald didn’t go by that, however, as it came through his mother’s family. He went by Lord Eckington because he didn’t have the army to support the Earldom of Mercia title—such an old and grand collection of ancient lands that had a history of warfare, but Harald wasn’t grand, nor was he truly a warlord. He was actually very simple, a modest man with ancient royal bloodlines and a grandiose title. Christopher held Hereford and Worcester, and he also held other titles, including Baron Magnis, an ancient title related to Mercia. But Mercia royalty wasn’t his bloodline.
ItwasHarald’s bloodline.
“When your daughter married de Barenton, did he know of the Mercia title?” Christopher asked.
