“He is very tall,” Maitland said, spooning more pottage into her mouth. “I have never seen such a tall man.”
Thomas grinned. “You should see his father,” he said. “As tall as a tree. His father, Michael, served with my father many years ago when my father was the captain of Northwood’s armies. In fact, my father was the commander of ten or eleven of the best knights who ever fought in the north, and Michael was one of those knights.”
“But why did your father leave Northwood?”
“Because he received an earldom from King Henry and the gift of Castle Questing,” he said. “Of course, I was not born at the time, but my mother tells the tale. My father and Uncle Paris, and another uncle named Kieran Hage were the best of friends. When my father went to Questing, it was a very difficult decision for Paris to remain at Northwood while Kieran went with my father. It is a difficult thing to separate best friends like that.”
Maitland was listening with interest. “And your Uncle Kieran is still at Questing, with your father?”
Thomas shook his head. “He died about five years ago,” he said. “The physic said it was a bad heart. He’d been suffering for years, but he was so attached to my father, and my father to him, that he simply held on as long as he could. My father still has not gotten over his death and, at his age, I doubt he ever will. For warriors, sometimes it is easier, and there is more of a sense of closure and finality, when men die in battle. That is a glorious death. But when a man lives as long as Kieran did and dies a slow and painful death, that is very difficult for fighting men to stomach. It seems to go against the natural order of things.”
Maitland had stopped chewing, listening to the sorrow in Thomas’ voice. “He must have been a great man.”
“He was,” Thomas agreed. “One of the greatest men I have ever known. He raised great sons as well. In fact, I went to The Levant several years ago with one of his sons, a man who is now the Duke of Dorset. It is a long story how he obtained that title, but suffice it to say that I know his father would have been extremely proud of him for it.”
Maitland was quite swept up in the conversation. “I did not know you went to The Levant.”
“I did.”
“What was it like?”
He wriggled his eyebrows. “Hot,” he said. “Hot, dry, and dirty. And the fighting… brutal. Very, very brutal, but it was something that helped me grow as a warrior. It is not an experience that I would trade for anything, barbaric as it was.”
Maitland thought on a hot land that was dry. “That seems so strange to hear you speak on a land that is hot and dry,” she said. “Is it like that all year?”
“Very nearly.”
“No water at all?”
“It depends where you were. Sometimes there was water. Sometimes there was not.” He watched her face as she ponderedsuch a place with awe. “The Mamluk warriors had a name for me.”
“What was it?”
“Dhiib aleasifa.”
He said it just the way the Mamluks did, such a foreign and beautiful tongue, but before Maitland could comment, someone nearby shouted in her ear.
“What does that mean?”
It was Artus, who had snuck over to their side of the table, unnoticed by either of them because they’d been so swept up in each other. As Maitland jumped at the sound of the child’s voice and rubbed the ear he’d yelled in, Thomas laughed softly.
“It means StormWolfe,” he said. “I create my own storms when I fight.”
Artus had been listening to most of the conversation, captivated by the English warrior. “Is it true?” he asked. “Are ye a witch, then?”
Thomas shook his head. “It is only a figure of speech,” he said. “It simply means I bring strength and chaos with me when I fight.”
Artus was chewing on a big piece of bread, open-mouthed. “Can I see ye fight?”
Thomas shrugged. “There are no battles around here, lad.”
“I think I know of one,” Maitland said thoughtfully. “Tomorrow’s market also coincides with a fair and there will be games of skill for knights. I saw some in town already when I was there. I thought it would be fun to take the children so they could enjoy the festivities and, mayhap, you could come along and let the children see you fight in the contests.”
Being a great competitor, Thomas was immediately interested. “What kind of games?”
Maitland lifted her shoulders. “I am not certain, but there were several knights in town already,” she said. “I also saw a posted bill that spoke of a large purse for the winner.”
Thomas scratched his head. “A large purse, you say?” he said. “I suppose I could win it for the charity. It would be enough money to keep you supplied for a very long time.”
