Page 68 of Fortress of Snow

“Thank you.” Mazy clutched the letter in her hands, looking forward to sitting down in her room and reading it.

“How are we doing?” Mazy asked, looking over Anselm’s shoulder.

Christmas and the New Year celebration had just passed, and winter had set in with a hard freeze and a thick layer of snow on the ground.

They had hired Anselm to help them with running the Swan, and so far he was proving to be competent and things were going smoothly. And he seemed as trustworthy as they had hoped.

Ro, however, had ceased to think about marrying him. She seemed happy to pay him to do a job rather than to marry him.

“We are doing better this month than last,” Anselm said, looking at the record book. “But this colder weather may keep people at home.”

“I found a woman to help me with the selling in the market.”

“Oh? Who is it?” Ro exclaimed.

Mazy explained that one of their suppliers, the one who provided them with woven baskets and embroidered table linens, had moved to London since her ailing husband had died. “She has a daughter who is old enough to stay home with the younger children while she helps me in the market.”

“That is wonderful!” Anselm said.

“I’m so glad to hear that, Mazy.” Ro indeed looked happy. Now she wouldn’t have to run back and forth, helping Anselm in the Swan during the busiest hours, then hurrying back to the market to help Mazy.

Mazy went up to her room and read Lady Delia’s missive alone as she rested on her bed.

My dear Mazy,

I still worry so much about you being in London without a protector, since your brother hardly ever visits you. I suspect that there are more dangers than you are telling me of, and I hope you are staying safe. Please try to be careful.

I worry now about my brother Berenger. He has gone to Bristow to decide whether or not to do as the king wishes and marry Lady Bristow, but my dear husband has heard somerumor that is causing me alarm on his behalf. I cannot bear to think of him married to someone who not only is not worthy of him but who may actually harm him. I know I should not worry you, but I only say all this to ask you to pray for him. Pray that God will give him wisdom to act as he should. If this Lady Bristow is truly as bad as the rumors say, then he will need God’s wisdom to extricate himself. Forgive me for troubling you, but I know you will pray for him. You have been such a good friend to us both.

Please tell me if you need any help. I would gladly have my husband send you one of his guards, if you needed him, to protect you from the evils of London. There are far too many people there for my taste. I much prefer the quiet and calm of Strachleigh, but I was never as brave as you are, dear Mazy.

After a few more small matters, she closed the letter with, “Your faithful friend, Delia.”

Mazy’s heart was beating so fast it seemed to trip over itself as she reread the letter. Was Sir Berenger in trouble?

If Lady Bristow had done something bad, surely the king would not have asked Sir Berenger to marry her. But perhaps the king didn’t know.

It had been a long time since Mazy had visited John at the Tower of London, and it was only a short walk, hardly a quarter of an hour. So she left Lady Delia’s letter in her room, donned her warmest clothes, and went to see him.

Her brother was standing near the gate talking with some other guards when she walked in.

“Sister,” John said, turning his back on his fellow guards. He never introduced her as his sister to the other guards. Did he not want them to know her? Or her to know them? Perhaps it was his way of protecting her. The other men cut their eyes at her and dispersed.

“How’s everything at the Swan?”

“The man we hired to help us is doing a good job, and Ro and I are well.” She knew that if she gave him much more detail than that, he would interrupt her and change the subject.

“How’s everything at the Tower of London?” she asked.

“Good.” His gaze wandered slowly past her and over his shoulder, as if he was already bored with the conversation.

“I was wondering if you knew anything about Lady Bristow.”

“Lady Bristow? Why would you ask about Lady Bristow?” John’s eyes snapped back to her, his brows lowering.

“As you know, the king wants Sir Berenger to marry her. Do you know anything about her? Lady Delia mentioned some rumor to me—”

“What rumor? What did Lady Delia say?”