Page 38 of Fortress of Snow

His thoughts eventually shifted to his meeting with King Richard. Would the king offer him some kind of reward for his service to the king’s allies? He knew that more than one nobleman had written glowing praise of him in letters to King Richard. Or would the king only reiterate the praise and ask him to serve in his guard?

The king was quite young, only eighteen years old, but he had already had to stop a revolt, during which, everyone agreed, he had acted quite bravely. But he was inexperienced and had occasionally acted with unexpected capriciousness, abruptly changing his mind about quite serious matters.

Anything could happen.

Berenger was allowed into the entryway of the king’s personal rooms. He did not have to wait very long before he was ushered into a rather small room where King Richard sat at the opposite end.

Berenger’s heart beat hard as King Richard summoned him. “Come closer, Sir Berenger.”

He hadn’t seen the king since he was knighted, which wasnot long after Berenger and his brothers were tried and convicted of murder, then absolved of the crime.

Memories of the terrible day of the trial came back to his mind, of King Richard surrounded by his advisers and members of his court. The king was hardly more than a boy at that time, only fourteen, and it had been obvious to Berenger and his brothers that King Richard was being influenced against them. Berenger would never forget the look on the young king’s face. His eyes were wide, his cheeks were pale, and he put Berenger in mind of Isaac when his father, Abraham, was about to lay him on the altar of sacrifice.

But the king was older now. His cheeks had filled out a bit, and his gaze was more direct.

“Allow me to welcome you back to England.”

“Thank you, my king. It is good to be home.”

“I have been told of many courageous acts you performed in Prussia. Your bravery and integrity have been told to me in some detail by the Margrave of Thornbeck, the prince of Prussia, and other noblemen who witnessed your great fighting skills.”

“I am honored to have done my duty as a knight in your service.”

“It is my pleasure to commend you, and I wish to reward you.”

There was silence after this declaration. Berenger held his breath, waiting.

“My will is to grant you something in appreciation of your service. But while I decide what to offer you, I’d like to have you serve in my personal guard, and I’d like to put you in charge, asI am in need of a commander who is loyal to me. You are loyal, are you not?”

“I am completely loyal to you, my king, as I have no other king except God in heaven.”

“Very good. Then I shall expect you to take your place with my guard while I determine how best to reward you for your courage and loyalty.”

“Yes, Your Grace. I am ever your humble servant.”

The king then sent him to discuss the details with his chancellor.

This was good. He had the promise of a reward, but would it be of the magnitude that Berenger had always hoped for? For good or ill, he would be staying in London with the king for the immediate future. Though he did not relish having to work with the volatile Sir John again.

Twelve

Mazy wished she had asked Sir Berenger to come and tell her what the king said in his meeting with him. She was alone today in the market selling their goods, as Ro had to help her father in the alehouse for the day. The day had been busy, which made the time go by faster, with many of Mazy’s regular customers not only buying goods but also staying to converse for a bit.

She saw Martin Fisher waving at her from the other side of the market, coming her way. Mazy smiled, but she wished Ro were there to help her keep a bit of distance between her and the young man who came nearly every day to buy bread from her. “Good afternoon, MissMazy.”

“Good day to you, Martin,” she said.

“May I say, you look particularly beautiful today.”

“You may say it, but as you know, it makes me uncomfortable.”She smiled, as she was partly in jest. Martin seemed harmless enough.

Although he had hinted several times that he wanted to marry her. She always told him, as gently as she could, that she was not interested in him. But he came so often that she now considered him a friend.

Martin leaned close to her and spoke in a low voice. “Would it make you uncomfortable if we were married?” He sank to his knees in front of her. “Mazy, I would be most honored if you would marry me and share all my worldly possessions. My father is dead, and I have very good apartments next to my father’s inn. I could take care of you and you would never have to work again.”

“Martin, you know how I feel.” Mazy shook her head gently as she stared down at the kneeling man’s earnest face. “You seem like a very good sort of man, Martin, but I...” What could she tell him besides the truth? “I am not in love with you, and I do not wish to marry you.”

“I shall come here every day and impress on you how much I love you and all that you will gain by marrying me. I shall inspire you to love me.”