Harald nodded. “He did,” he said. “Alfred was a good man. He may not have been the handsomest, or the wittiest, but he was wise and steady. That is why I selected him for Catalina. She needed wise and steady at the time. Oddly enough, now she is the wise and steady one. Alfred must have taught her that.”
Christopher smiled faintly. “I remember him,” he said. “A quiet man, but respected. He was close to Richard FitzRoy.”
Harald nodded again. “He served the Crown in that capacity,” he said. “FitzRoy, being the bastard son of King John, was afforded Crown support. He’s hotheaded like his father.”
“I know, all too well.”
Harald looked at him, grinning. “I forget that you know the kings and princes better than anyone alive,” he said. “I do believe Alfred was sent to watch FitzRoy more than actually serve him, but that was John’s directive. I did not hold it against him. His family came to England with the Duke of Normandy, you know. He had an uncle or a cousin that was the Duc de Saint Hilaire. He had noble blood in him, but mostly, I simply liked him. This time… this time, Catalina deserves someone more prestigious, more powerful. The blood of Mercia flows through her veins and into the veins of any sons she has. They must have a prestigious father.”
“Would a prince do?”
Harald’s expression grew curious. “You know of an eligible prince?”
Christopher did, but he wasn’t sure why he’d even said that. Perhaps it was because Catalina de Efford de Barenton brought a good deal with her, including an ancient and coveted title. In fact, the Mercia earldom had lands that surrounded Christopher’s own, and he wanted an ally or relative as a neighbor. It was true that his sons were too young for Lady de Barenton, but he knew of another trusted ally that wasn’t too young. Moreover, his royal bloodlines would be more than suitable for the Earl of Mercia title. Maybe that was why the idea came to him on a whim.
Essien al-Kort would be perfect.
“I do,” he said after a moment. “But not an English prince. Not even a French or Saxon prince. Nay, this prince comesfrom bloodlines a thousand years old, and his brother is the hereditary king of his people. He has royal blood that an English prince could only hope for, and the bride he takes should also have such impressive lines. Catalina does. She deserves a prince, don’t you think?”
Harald couldn’t contain his excitement. “Who, man,who?”
“You do know him, but you must trust me that he is a good man.”
“I believe you,” he said. “Is he a cousin?”
Christopher shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “A sworn knight who also happens to be an English lord. His brother, though king to his own people, is the Earl of Deira. The knight holds the title Lord Binchester.”
Harald absorbed the information. “Lord Binchester,” he repeated. “I do not know him.”
Christopher snorted. “Aye, you do,” he said. “You have seen him today, in fact, on the tournament field. You have heard me speak of the princes of Kitara before.”
That seemed to bring a light of recognition. “Kitara,” Harald said. Then realization dawned. “The knight with the dark hair in braids?”
Christopher nodded. “Sometimes,” he said. “But that is Addax, the older brother.”
“The king.”
“The Earl of Deira.”
“And you are speaking of the younger brother?”
“The God of Vengeance.”
Now, Harald knew who he was speaking of. His eyes widened. “The tall lad with the dark hair and dark eyes?” he said. “The big lad with the loud voice?”
Christopher snorted. “Loud, indeed,” he said. “He is at an age where he must take a wife or his brother will force him into a marriage that will more than likely not be nearly as impressiveas one with Catalina will be. He is an excellent knight, a good friend, and intelligent. He is a man of good character. I would not tell you so if it were not true. He would make a good husband for Catalina.”
Harald’s features lit up. “Think of their children,” he said. “Lads of royal blood inheriting the Earldom of Mercia. Chris, we must make this happen. We must!”
He was becoming quite eager, and Christopher held up a hand to ease him. “We shall,” he assured him. “Let me speak with his older brother, who I am certain will be agreeable. But our God of Vengeance will more than likely not be at first, so tell me of your daughter’s dowry aside from the earldom. What else shall she inherit?”
Harald was thinking quickly, so eager that he was nearly overwhelmed with it. “Her dowry is everything that comes from de Barenton,” he said. “I gave the man five hundred pounds gold for her dowry, and when he died, I received it back and more besides. There is eight hundred and seventy-three pounds gold, plus another five hundred pounds sterling. Al-Kort can have it all if he marries her.”
“Plus the earldom.”
“Plus the earldom when I die.”
Christopher nodded with satisfaction. “That will make Essien very, very rich,” he said. “I will send for his brother and we will explain it to him.”
