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“Hah! So, you admit your master is no swordsman?” Kit retorted, flinging a chicken bone over his shoulder.

To Gunnilde’s surprise, he seemed entirely unruffled by the slight to Lord Twyford’s honor.

As for Cuthbert, he had an arm draped over the back of the bench and appeared to be making himself entirely comfortable. “I’ll warrant your Sir Desmond—”

“ Raymond! ” Neville snapped.

“—has never had so much as a sniff of combat,” Kit continued disparagingly. “I daresay,” he added darkly, “that the fellow perfumes his hair .”

“And what if he does?” Neville fired back. “Perfume is in much demand here at court among the eminently civilized. We do not care to smell of the stables when we consort with our womenfolk.”

Hal snorted but strange to say, the atmosphere in the room seemed to have lightened considerably with the exchange of barbs.

Neville, who had been complaining of a sore throat moments ago, looked positively bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

He sat himself down, and looked toward Gunnilde expectantly.

“But where is James? Surely not still abed?”

The door pushed open before she could answer and her husband reappeared, carrying two brimming jugs of ale. Neville’s mouth dropped open to see his brother so peculiarly garbed, but James barely seemed to notice. “Fetch the cups off the shelf, Neville,” he directed him. “Enough for everyone.”

Neville jumped up and the ale was poured. Gunnilde turned back to Hal, who had fallen silent. “Now, Hal,” she began again. “Firstly, you must understand my marriage was at the behest of the Queen herself!”

“Seems a damned odd thing for her to have done, if you ask me,” Hal muttered, casting a darkling look in James’s direction.

“Well”—Gunnilde spread her hands wide—“truth to tell, neither Sir James nor myself had a lot of say in the matter. We were married by the Bishop of Badsbury in the royal chapel and the Queen’s favorite lady-in-waiting provided the ring.”

She held it up for Hal to examine, but he ignored such a trifle, instead focusing on James, who was now handing around the ale.

“He looks a frippery fellow, not at all what I would have chosen for you, sister,” he said, shaking his head.

“And what’s more, I cannot believe he is what you would have chosen for yourself. ”

Mercifully, Bennett appeared at this point bearing a large tray of cheese and savory crackers.

Kit and Cuthbert fell on this gladly and even Neville helped himself to a cracker. Casting a sidelong look at her brother, Gunnilde could tell it cost him dearly to turn his nose up, but he stuck to his principles, the light of hostility still coldly shining in his eyes.

“Is that Dustin I spy?” Gunnilde asked, hoping to direct the conversation into happier channels. Hal glanced down at the small white fluffy head peering out of his tunic.

“Aye, course it is,” Hal responded. “Who else would it be?”

Gunnilde reached out a hand to pet the little dog’s head. Dustin trembled with excitement and gave his shrill little bark.

“Aye, good lad,” Hal said, and narrowed his gaze at James. “You like dogs, Wycliffe?” he asked with deceptive mildness.

“I do,” James responded promptly and Gunnilde breathed out for though he was unaware of it, a lot had rested on his answer. Hal could never abide anyone who did not like dogs.

Her brother relaxed infinitesimally. “Own one?”

“I do not.”

This was clearly a point against him. “Why not?” Hal asked suspiciously.

When James hesitated, Gunnilde cut in. “My husband does not live an outdoor life,” she explained helpfully. “He is a musician.”

“Oh, yes?” Hal’s reply was unenthusiastic.

“Some of his compositions have been performed at the cathedral at Caer Lyoness,” Gunnilde boasted.

Hal grunted. “Well, I play the lute,” he pointed out, “but that doesn’t prevent me from owning a dog, now, does it?” He turned back to James. “What else do you do?”

“No, I don’t think you understand, Hal,” Gunnilde interrupted firmly. “James gets paid for composing music. That’s how good he is. He both supports his family with his earnings and maintains their seat, Wycliffe Hall.”

“To which I am heir,” James added quietly.

This seemed to give Hal pause. “Is that so?” he asked with a flicker of interest. “Big place, is it?”

“It is of fair size,” James admitted modestly.

Hal’s gaze seemed to consider whether he was the type of man to exaggerate or downplay a fact.

Finally, he gave a short nod and accepted the cup of ale James extended to him.

“I suppose it could be worse,” he reflected.

“Though mind you, I had thought one of my friends could have done at a pinch for my sister.”

“One of your friends?” Gunnilde echoed incredulously. Her gaze returned to Kit and Cuthbert, who seemed to be in competition for how many crackers they could fit into their mouths at any one time.

“Aye, for in five years or so we’ll all be knights, don’t forget,” Hal reasoned. “And Father was plainly in no hurry to find you a husband. Stands to reason that I would step in.”

“In five years’ time I’ll be seven and twenty!” Gunnilde protested faintly.

Hal waved this aside. “I still say one of them would have suited you. Not Kit,” he admitted, shooting a glance at his friend, who was laughing uproariously at something Cuthbert had said to Neville. “He’s heir to an earldom, so his uncle’s sure to expect someone grand, but Ames for instance.”

Hal nodded in Cuthbert’s direction, and seeing his furtive manner, Gunnilde realized it could not be something he had ever openly discussed with his friend.

This relieved her, she would not want Cuthbert to feel snubbed, even though she had always considered him the veriest child.

“He’s no prospects, it’s true,” Hal continued in a low voice, “but he’s well connected, none could argue against that. ”

Gunnilde did not even try. She was terribly fond of both Kit and Cuthbert, but the idea that either of them was remotely marriageable was a ridiculous one. They might not be children anymore, but they were certainly not men!

“Or there’s Hadrian Kellingford,” Hal continued, warming to his theme. “Old Sir Roger’s appeal to get him and his brother legitimized went through but there’s still some that eye him askance. A solid marriage would help his advancement right enough.”

“I see,” Gunnilde said weakly, still somewhat appalled but also strangely touched that Hal should have been thinking of her.

“So sorry to have put a spoke to your wheel, Payne,” James cut in at this point. His manner was dry.

Hal shrugged manfully. “I won’t deny it’s a blow,” he said, shaking his head. “But there’s precious little to be done about it now, I suppose.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Gunnilde shot James a warning look before turning back to her brother.

“Come now, Hal, it is not as bad as you suppose. James is a prominent courtier, and this is not a bad match for me, now that I, too, wish to reside chiefly at court. I am a lady-in-waiting to Her Majesty Queen Armenal, you know. Only think what everyone back in Tranton Vale would say to that!”

Hal looked impatient. “Who cares what they might say? It is your own feelings on the matter that concern me. Last I heard tell, your ambition was to marry a knight, have your own home and five bonny children.”

Gunnilde flushed, avoiding James’s eye. “Well, that was before,” she said firmly. “I have not wanted such things for months now.”

“And when exactly do you mean to introduce my sister to your people, sirrah?” Hal asked, turning back to James. “I take it none of them were here for the ceremony either?”

“They were not,” James admitted, “apart from my brother. Wycliffe Hall lies in the south, many miles from Aphrany. I have no plans to travel there till spring.” He looked at Gunnilde as though uncertain of her feelings on the matter.

She smiled quickly to show she supported this plan wholeheartedly.

Hal grunted, somewhat mollified to hear he was not the only one who had missed out on the proceedings.

“Who accompanied you to court?” Gunnilde asked, hoping to coax him further away from the sore subject.

“Are Eden and Roland come to Aphrany for the Solstice celebrations?” She was unable to contain her excitement at the thought of seeing her friend again.

Before he could answer however, Cuthbert joined the conversation.

“No, they went back to the Keep,” he explained.

“Roland and Eden are hosting their whole family there, now that most of the new building has been done. All the Vawdreys are traveling to stay with them for the Solstice, aye, and the Twyfords too, for as you know Eden considers the Lady Lenora very like a sister.”

“Oh, of course! I’m sure they will be very merry,” Gunnilde said wistfully. “Though you and Kit will be sorry to miss out on such a celebration, I am sure.”

“Not me!” Kit assured her, lowering his ale cup.

“There’s too many squalling infants about these days.

You should see them.” He shuddered. “The way they carry on, and my master is bad as the rest of them!” he said indignantly.

“Carting them round on his hip and feeding them pap and talking of how clever they are! Those that talk of Sir Garman Orde’s ferocity would scarce credit it to see him! ”

“How wonderful,” Gunnilde murmured, forgetting that she was a fine courtier now.

All those babies, she thought, and Eden, Lady Vawdrey, Lady Twyford, and Lady Cadwallader all such proud and happy wives and mothers.

She half wished she were there for the Solstice, though poor Eden must be positively overrun with guests.

Good thing she was so capable and organized.

James cleared his throat, snapping her out of her reverie.

“Besides, ’tis unlikely these young fellows will miss their rural celebrations when they are here at court for far grander ones,” Neville opined. “I expect some of them might even hope to lift a cup or two at the Squires’ Revels. Tell me, have any of your number a decent prospect of winning?”

“Decent prospects he says,” Kit echoed mockingly, tipping his head.

“I should say so! Cuthbert here can swim the length of Ditton Pool without drawing a second lungful of breath. And as for myself, I’m a pretty fair long jumper.

It’s these legs of mine.” He stretched them out for all to admire, clad as they were in burgundy hose.

Neville immediately voiced his suspicion that Ditton Pool must be more pond than lake, likely because he could not deny the length of Kit’s legs.

Hal turned back to Gunnilde. “To answer your question,” he said, harking back. “I came with Sir Ned. He and Attley swapped squires after he was injured at Kellingford. Did you hear about it?”

“No!” Gunnilde replied, stunned. “You never wrote of it!” Hal was here with Sir Ned? She felt suddenly a little sick. “Whyever did they swap? Who in the world would trade you for Ancel ?” she asked, thinking of Sir Ned’s regular squire who was known far and wide as thoroughly useless.

“Attley broke his arm, and the bones did not knit as they should, so he’s gone home to lick his wounds but thought it a shame to make me miss the Revels.

Instead, he suggested Sir Ned take me to Aphrany and he could take Ancel home with him.

Even Ancel could not mess up fetching and carrying for an invalid when there are plenty of other servants around to help. ”

“Oh, that was nicely done of him,” Gunnilde acknowledged. “You should not have to suffer because of the misfortune.”

“And it is not as though Ancel will be missed at the Revels by anyone,” Kit said scornfully. Cuthbert pressed his lips together. “Why do you look like that, Ames?” Kit demanded. “Do not tell me you will miss the little weasel!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Cuthbert said vaguely. “He’s not all bad.”

Gunnilde was as surprised as Kit. She had on many occasions heard all three boys lambast Ancel roundly.

“You’re raving!” Kit jeered. “Ever since you saved him from drowning that time, you’ve been soft on the churl.”

“No, no,” Cuthbert said hastily. “I just meant...without him around we do not know who will come in last place in every event.”

“Oh.” Kit seemed to accept this readily enough. “In any case, Hal has a good chance of winning the wrestling and the staff fighting events, so it made sense to send him in his stead.”

“Oh, I am sure,” Gunnilde agreed. “In any case it was fortuitous timing for us,” she said, looking across at James. “For now, we both have a brother apiece to commend our marriage, do we not?”