Page 24 of Fortress of Snow

“What shall we play now?” Sir Berenger leaned close to ask her.

“Do you know the song about the shepherdess, the wolf, and the friar?”

“I think I remember.”

He stood quite close to her and they began to play. Everyone knew the words and joined in the song. Roger even clapped his hands in rhythm.

When that was finished, Sir Berenger asked Roger to pick the next song. He chose “The Stork and the Swan,” and soon they were playing and singing again.

Sir Berenger’s eyes stayed connected to hers as they played. It felt as if they were the only two people there, even though they were surrounded by a crowd.

After four or five songs the stable master ordered the grooms back to work, and several of the house servants went back to the castle.

“I should be getting back, too, to help Lady Delia.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Sir Berenger said.

As they walked up the hill together, Mazy was highly aware of his taller, stronger frame beside her. How charming he had looked, his fingers on the little pipe, playing along with her.

“You amaze me, Mazy.”

Mazy’s breath caught in her throat as she waited for him to explain.

“You are a woman of many talents and skills. And you made Roger very glad, singing all his favorite songs.”

“You also made him glad.”

They found Lady Delia in the solar, and Mazy handed the lute back to her. The tips of Mazy’s fingers were red and raw, as she had not played in a long time, so she curled her fingers inside her hand so they wouldn’t see.

Lady Delia smiled. “You impress me with your skills.”

“Is there nothing you cannot do?” Sir Berenger was gazing at her with a look that made her warm inside.

“You are very good with the pipe.” She tried to deflect his praise.

He lowered his voice. “Roger will never forget today, because of you.”

“And you. He adores you, and you are so patient with him.”

Lady Delia smiled as she looked back and forth between Mazy and Sir Berenger.

“Mazy, you are welcome to borrow the lute whenever you like. It belonged to my husband’s father, but he never learned to play it.”

Sir Berenger and Lady Delia hardly looked like brother and sister, as he was dark from the sun and his brown hair had a chestnut tint, while Delia had pale skin and very dark, almost black hair. But they had similar natures and temperaments.

Sir Berenger’s gaze lingered on Mazy, but then he said, “I should go. I’m sure the squires are wondering where I am. If I’m not around to keep them in line, they will run off to the river or go off trapping hares.”

They told him fare well, and she watched him go. He was so gentle and kind, and so very handsome.

Surely Sir Berenger did not think about her as often as she thought about him. But would it not be wonderful if he did?

She sighed.

Eight

Berenger sat in his favorite spot at a bend in the river that shared both its banks with open meadows, where the sun shimmered on the water every hour of the day.

He stared back and forth between the gently flowing water and the missive that had come, inviting him to join with the Duke of Rudhall in traveling to Prussia to vanquish some Teutonic Knights who were trying to take over the castles and lands of a Prussian nobleman.