Page 64 of Fortress of Snow

“Thank you, Howard, no. You may go.”

“Sleep well, sir.”

In truth, Berenger had not slept well since he had come to Bristow Castle. The night before, he’d had a dream that a wolf was chasing him. When he turned to face the wolf with his drawn sword, he found not a wolf at all but a woman, although he couldn’t see her face, as it was hidden in a thick mist. He could still hear her wolfish snarling.

He’d had other dreams for the rest of the night—that is, when he was able to sleep between waking up and wondering how long the night would last. But he did not remember the other dreams.

Berenger had a feeling he would not sleep any better tonight than he had the night before.

Nineteen

Mazy and Ro hired two men, Wimarc and Silvester, to help run the alehouse, but they had to confront them after two weeks. They caught them lying about how much ale and food they were buying and selling, which enabled them to steal the profits. With Mazy’s experience at keeping her father’s books, she only had to examine the records and inventory to deduce their theft. Thankfully, she’d thought to examine their accounting before more time had passed.

Silvester had seemed like an honest person, and he was a relative of Ro’s, though not a close one. Ro had not known Wimarc and had trusted her relation’s word about the man. Clearly that was a mistake.

“MissRoesia knows I’m not a bad man, MissMazy. You’re accusing me of stealing, but I would not do that to two such maids as yourselves. Besides that, Roesia’s my kinfolk.”

But Ro stared back at him with her arms crossed, unmoved and unmoving.

“We are sorry it has to end this way, but you and Wimarc will have to leave the alehouse at once.”

Wimarc, whose greasy black hair had a prominent white streak in front on one side, leaned toward her with an angry stare. “The Swan be our alehouse now, as we be the ones running it. We’ll not be leaving on the say-so of two women still wet behind the ears.”

“This alehouse belongs to Ro. It belonged to her father, and everyone knows that. My brother is Sir John, a knight in the king’s service at the Tower of London. I will send word and he will bring his fellow knights to remove you if you will not leave on your own. So I suggest you get out now.” Mazy crossed her arms over her chest, doing her best to glare at the two men and hide the fact that her heart was pounding against her chest.

“We’ll not be leaving.” Wimarc also crossed his arms.

“That’s right.” Silvester followed suit.

Ro looked at Mazy, fear making her eyes wide and her cheeks pale.

Mazy’s mind went to the knives in her pockets. How could she threaten them and get them to leave? If she drew her knives or threw them, the men might retaliate. She could not risk them harming Ro.

Mazy glared back at the two men while Ro stood close to her side. What should they do now? Just wait for the men to leave? Could they stay awake all night until some patrons came the next morning and hope for assistance from them?

She moved farther back into the alehouse, bringing Ro with her. “This is Ro’s home and business,” she told the men. “We are not leaving. But you will be leaving, either tonight or tomorrow, it matters not to us.” Mazy propped her back against the wall as if she was very comfortable.

“It’s ours now. We’re not going anywhere.” Silvester sneered at her.

How could she and Ro have been so wrong about these two men? They had seemed so trustworthy. Was she such a poor judge of character?

But she couldn’t think about that now.

Would the men attack them during the night if they fell asleep? Ro was looking more and more frightened.

Mazy whispered to her, “Look mean, and don’t you dare cry.”

“Getting scared, are you?” Wimarc sneered.

“We’re not afraid. Are you?” Mazy did her best to sneer back at them.

“You’d better get afraid.” Silvester took two steps toward them.

“Come any closer and I’ll throw my knife straight into your heart.” Mazy grasped hold of her knife handle inside her pocket. She would do it. To defend herself and Ro, she would.

He stopped and eyed her, as if trying to decide if she meant it. But she had given him fair warning. He would not get another.

Wimarc made a guttural sound.