His flattery brought that giddy feeling she was coming to associate with him, as if her cheeks were about to burst into flames. She took the warm, fresh bread and tore off a piece of it, popping it in her mouth.
“I remember back in the time when I fostered, the knights would yell at the squires and pages and tell them they were old women if they ate anything until the day was nearly over,” shesaid, hoping he couldn’t see the flush on her face. “That was difficult on some of the younger boys. The women were allowed to eat, but the boys were forced to work instead. There was one little boy– he was quite young– who was so hungry and would weep because he would not be fed. We used to take him food when the knights were not looking.”
Cole was watching her in the darkness. “Do you know why they refused him food?”
“Because they were cruel?”
He chuckled. “Nay,” he said. “They did it for a very good reason. When one is on a battle march, or in battle itself, there is no telling when food will be available or even feasible. When a man is traveling for his lord, it is his dedication to duty that will carry him through, not the lure of comfort and food. They do not feed the young men to toughen them, to make them focus on things they can control and not the things they cannot. It is a discipline tactic.”
She eyed him dubiously. “Withholding food from a child is a discipline tactic?” she asked. “It seems to me that there are better ways to accomplish such a thing.”
“Like what?”
She shrugged. “Like reason,” she said. “Most children are bright and willing to learn. Reason with the child, explain the way things are, help them to understand.”
Cole took a big bite of his bread. “All true,” he said. “But nothing leaves a mark more than physical distress or pain. That is why children are beaten when they are naughty. Remembering the pain will teach them not to be naughty again.”
“And you advocate beating a child?”
“Nay,” he said. “Unless the child is incorrigible, I do not see the need. I agree that reasoning can sometimes do more good than beating or starvation, but these have been discipline tacticsfor hundreds of years. They were used on me and I did not turn out too bad.”
Corisande laughed softly. “I suppose not,” she said. “Where did you foster?”
“Kenilworth and Norwich,” he said. “And you?”
“Prudhoe.”
“That is not far from here,” he said. “Have you remained in the north your entire life?”
“Mostly,” she said. “I have been to London twice with my family but, mostly, we remain in the north, where our family has lived here for many generations. Our ancestors were the Kings of Northumbria, so I am sure we will remain here for many generations to come. This land is in our blood. And you? Have you ever lived anywhere else?”
“I did when I was fostering,” he said. “But my father is the first generation of our family to live in the north. Our family is from Colchester, as an ancestor of mine was thedapiferfor Eudo FitzHerbert.”
Corisande cocked her head curiously. “What is a dapifer?”
“A steward,” Cole said. “In this case, he was more of a military governor for FitzHerbert, but my family settled in what is known as the Roman River Valley, just south of Colchester. There are many people, even now, who display the de Velt eyes. I think that my ancestor had several wives, to be truthful.”
“De Velt eyes?” Corisande cocked her head curiously. “You mean the colors?”
He nodded. “Surely it cannot have escaped you that my eyes are different,” he said. “Our entire family line has eyes that are variations of two colors– my father has it most pronouncedly.”
“What do his eyes look like?”
“One is brown and the other is brown with a big splash of green,” he said. “My eyes were brown when I was an infant, butthey developed the green in them as I grew older. My brothers have similar traits, as does my youngest sister.”
“Interesting,” she said. “Interesting and beautiful, I think. You say that half of Colchester has these two-colored eyes?”
He laughed softly. “Practically,” he said. “I have an uncle who lives at our ancestral home of Abberton Castle, but it’s known as Purgatory to the locals.”
“Why do they call it that?”
Cole swallowed the bite in his mouth and went for the meat pies. “Because my ancestor, in order to enforce military rule in Colchester, did some unsavory things,” he said. “My family has a history of that. Undoubtedly, you know of my father’s reputation.”
Corisande nodded. “A little,” she said. “I know that your father waged war on the borders many years ago.”
Cole looked at her. “Be under no illusions,” he said. “He did not wage war. He waged conquest and he did it the way our ancestors did it. It is the de Velt way.”
“How did your ancestors do it?”
