That dusty, cold room that still smelled of seared human flesh. He was burning something in a pewter bowl, incense to cover up the fact that a man had burned to death in that chamber and the stench still hadn’t left. The incense was an earthy scent, something he could smell far back in his nose, like cold dirt. It almost smelled like a grave. He stood at the door, seeing Alastor as the man sat with his back to him, gazing out over the bailey in a rare quiet moment.
Quietly, he rapped on the panel.
“Who is it?” Alastor asked without turning around.
“Cole, my lord,” Cole replied. “May I enter?”
Alastor turned his chair around, facing him. “How may I be of service, Cole?”
He sounded weary and Cole thought that it was a rather direct question, one that he didn’t want to answer right away. He thought that he might need to gently ease Alastor into the true purpose for his visit, so he started out with something unrelated to his real reason. As he’d told Corisande, he wasn’t a liar by nature, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t dance around the subject a little.
Besides… he had to build up his courage.
“I was curious if you’ve heard from my father,” he said. “Addax and Essien have been in Berwick for at least a month. We have no word?”
Alastor shook his head. “None,” he said. “It takes time to produce results sometimes, but I do not have to tell you that. You know it all too well.”
Cole nodded. “That is true,” he said. When the conversation threatened to die, he pointed to the smoking bowl. “What is that? I have smelled it before, I think.”
Alastor’s attention moved to the bowl and its ribbons of blue smoke. “It is calledolibanum,” he said. “It is harvested in lands as far away as The Levant from a thorny tree that grows in the deserts. My wife loved the smell and it reminds me of her, so I burn it.”
Cole understood. “I see,” he said. “It must be precious and rare.”
“It is. Like my wife– precious and rare.”
He said it like a prayer, reverent and wistful. Cole thought it might be a good time to lead into the real reason for his visit.
“What was her name?” he asked.
Alastor fanned the smoke a little, inhaling it when it blew in his direction. “Thalassa,” he said. “Thalassa de Ryes. Very old family, south in Hampshire. It has been a few years since I last saw my wife and this resin reminds me so much of her. My children hate it, but I do not care. I suppose we all have our own ways of remembering. But I digress; forgive me. Is there anything else you need from me, Cole?”
Cole didn’t give him a straight answer. “It is true we all have our own ways of remembering,” he said, sticking to the subject of dead wives. “Whenever I see a thistle, I remember my wife. She loved them.”
Alastor’s brow furrowed. “You were married?” he said, surprised. “I did not know that, Cole. When were you married?”
Cole smiled weakly. “Years ago,” he said. “I was very young, newly knighted. Her name was Mary and she was from a fine family also. As my father’s heir, my parents were most anxious to find me a good wife. Truthfully, I’m not sure I had a choice. They chose her for me.”
Alastor was warming to something they had in common. “As did mine,” he said. “As the descendent of the Bloodaxe, I had no choice in the matter. What was an arranged marriage turned out to be a love match, however. I was fortunate. Yours was not a love match?”
Cole shrugged. “I would not say that it wasn’t,” he said. “Mary was sweet and obedient, but I simply did not want a wife. I was young and there were things I wanted to do with my life. But the situation improved when she bore my daughter, Lucy. I think that was when I realized what it means to be a husband and father. I was just coming to like it when she and my daughter passed away suddenly from a fever.”
“Oh, Cole,” Alastor said, grieved. “I am so sorry, lad. What a tragedy.”
“It was.”
“How long ago?”
“Two years now.”
Alastor reached out and grasped Cole around the wrist, giving him a supportive squeeze before releasing him. “You have my sympathy,” he said. “But you are young still. Any lady would be lucky to have you as a husband, I am sure.”
Cole was hoping the conversation might reach this point. Now, he had a perfect opportunity to bring up Corisande.
He took a deep breath.
“Would you consider me for your daughter, then?” he said. “Corisande, I mean. I would make her an excellent husband andI swear upon my oath that I would love her for the rest of my life. My lord… I would like to ask your permission to marry her.”
Alastor looked at Cole in shock. In fact, his mouth even popped open. “Cori?” he asked, incredulous. “MyCori?”
