Page 31 of Bold Angel
Caryn smoothed a blandness into her features. It never crossed her mind she might be jealous of Ral’s leman, but she wasn’t such a fool she couldn’t recognize the emotion for what it was.
“The meal is long finished,” Richard told Lynette. “What is it you want?”
“’Twas boring with naught to do and Ral busy with his men. I seek some sort of diversion.” She smiled at him, her eyes moving from his sandy brown hair and hazel eyes down to the width of his chest, which wasn’t nearly as wide as Ral’s but looked firm and strong just the same. “Mayhap you could find time for a game of chance?”
“I am busy. Lord Ral holds court here this day. I would advise you to take your leave.”
Lynette sighed. “Always so serious, Richard. ’Tis a pity you’ve no woman to take your mind off your work.” She ran a slim finger down the front of his tunic and Richard gripped her wrist.
“I do not think Lord Ral would be pleased by your antics. Again I say hie yourself off.”
“Lord Ral is more than pleased”—she cast Caryn a meaningful glance—“do not doubt it, Richard.” With a satisfied smile, she turned and walked back toward the heavy wooden door leading out to the bailey.
Caryn watched her go, furious at herself for the anger Lynette could stir, wondering what there was about the woman her husband found so alluring. Of course, ’twas obvious just to look at her, and the fact Ral’s beautiful leman so pleased him made a bitter taste rise in Caryn’s throat.
“Do not let her goad you,” Richardsaid. “She is not worth it.”
“I do not believe Lord Ral would agree.”
His face turning crimson, Richard looked down at the floor. He was such a kind man, always concerned for others, rarely doing aught for himself.
“I am sorry, Richard. ’Tis not Lynette I would discuss, but my newly assigned duties as Braxston’s chatelaine.” She held up the keys, which made a soft tinkling sound as they lightly clanked together.
“He has mentioned this to me. I had hoped he might come to his senses.” He flushed even redder. “Beg pardon, Lady Caryn. ’Tis not exactly what I meant.”
“’Tis exactly what you meant, and I agree. I know nothing of such a task. I would only make a mess of things. What say you, Richard, we continue as we are?”
The steward looked relieved. “I would say that would be very wise indeed.”
In truth, there were things the castle needed: tapestries to warm the walls, bedding that should be aired more often, rushes that might be freshened with herbs. But all in all, the place was well-enough maintained, and Ral and his men seemed content. Caryn smiled and extended a hand. “Then we are agreed?”
Richard smiled back. “Happily, my lady, we are agreed.”
Feeling much relieved, Caryn turned to see the young knight, Geoffrey, striding toward her, fair-haired and handsome and very self-assured. He felt strongly about his duty to protect her, though Caryn felt equally certain it was his guardianship the lord truly sought.
“Lord Ral says you are for the village. I have ordered your palfry saddled and ready. We may leave whenever you wish.”
Caryn watched the servants scurrying around her, readying the hall for the lord’s manorial court about to be held. Tables were being assembled and benchesset out. With Richard at his side, the Lord of Braxston Keep would mete out justice from the dais above.
“Save for my mantle, I am ready.” She started for the stairs, meaning to retrieve her cloak, but one of the maidservants stepped into her path.
“I beg of you, Lady Caryn. I am Saxon, once a loyal subject of your father. I plead for a moment of your time.”
On closer inspection, Caryn saw the woman was a villein and not a servant of the keep. A thin woman dressed in a coarse woolen tunic, she nervously twisted the folds.
“Of course. What is it you need?”
“My name is Nelda, my lady. I am sorry to trouble you but—” She glanced around the hall, her worried gaze darting to the dais then to Geoffrey who stood just a few feet away.
“It might be best if we spoke somewhere quiet,” Caryn suggested, sensing the woman’s distress. She turned to Geoffrey. “I shall return forthwith and we can go into the village.”
“As you wish, my lady. I’ll see the horses brought round.” Geoffrey left to do her bidding, but something about the thin-faced woman Caryn led down the dimly lit passage told her they would not be going to the village after all.
***
Weary from the endless cases put before him, Ral rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his carved high-backed chair. Seated atop the dais to his right, Father Burton toyed with the long beaded chain suspended from his neck, while Richard sat on his left making notes on a small wax tablet, to be transcribed later by a clerk. As seneschal, Richard kept track of the proceedings and read from a parchment scroll the nature of each petition.
The case in progress was the swineherd seeking permission for his daughter to marry the beekeeper’s son.
