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Ral’s title demanded he maintain strict rules of justice: a trip to the stocks, fines, floggings, imprisonment, brandings, amputations, even an occasional execution, though most times those were referred to the traveling royal courts.

As a baron and Lord of Braxston Keep, it was his duty to uphold the law, yet there were times he wished someone besides himself might see it done.

Cases such as the one he tried now.

“The boy, Leofric, my lord, is accused of poaching in King William’s forest.”

In the north country, there was no Verderer’s Court to administer forest law and since William had granted Ral use of the lands, the task of protecting them fell to him.

“What say you, lad? Did you poach the king’s game?”

The boy looked ragged and dirty, a child of less than ten years with wind-chafed skin and fire-blackened, peat-smudged cheeks.

“’Twas aught but a hare, milord. Me mother took sick. She couldn’t hold aught on her stomach. She grew thin and there was no more food in the larder.”

“Where is your father?”

“Dead of a flux, milord, these two years past. ”

“Why did you not come to me?”

“To you, milord? Why you are a Norman.”

“Aye, that I am. I am also your lord.” Ral leaned forward. “I would have seen to your needs and those of your mother. Instead you chose to break the law.”

The boy said nothing, but his hands began to tremble.

“The penalties for defying your king are grave ones. Poachers are to be hanged or their legs cut off. The law is firm in this. Your mother’s illness is no excuse.”

The boy seemed to sway on his feet. He reached for the edge of the table to steady himself. “Aye, milord.”

“Are you ready, Leofric, to face the consequences of your crime?”

Muscles worked in the young boy’s throat but for a moment no sound came forth. “Aye, milord,” he finally said. “But if your sentence should leave me a cripple, ’twould be death I would choose instead. I would not be a burden to me mother.”

A soft gasp issued from the shadows. From the corner of his eye, Ral saw Caryn step forward while a thin-faced woman, deathly pale, appeared in the corridor behind her. Ral stiffened as he realized his wife intended to approach the dais. Damn the wench, would she never learn her place?

“Beg pardon, my lord.”

Ral looked at her and felt his temper rising. “My pardon is not granted. I would have you return to your place at the edge of the hall.”

She paused for a moment, her tunic swirling softly about her feet. She glanced back toward the woman, then came forward till she stood between Ral and the lad.

“I beg you, my lord. I know this boy, Leofric. He lived among us when the lands belonged to my uncle. He is a good boy, my lord, and a very hard worker. ’Tis true, he did wrong, but surely the circumstances and the child’s tender years should be considered. I would ask—”

Ral’s fist slammed down on the heavy wooden table.

“You’ve the right to ask naught!” The color bled from Caryn’s cheeks, and Ral felt a shot of satisfaction.

A man could strike his wife should she dare to give him counsel.

For her to do so here, during such important proceedings, was the gravest of insults.

“’Tis surprising you should once again chance my displeasure.

You have suffered my wrath before,” he said with cold menace.

“Have you forgotten the lesson so soon?”

Her cheeks went from pale to pink as she recalled the humiliating scene. “No, my lord.”

“Come here, Caryn.”

“Aye, my lord.” But instead of climbing the low wooden stairs and appearing at his side, she approached the dais, which still left the high table between them. It was not what he intended and both of them knew it. If he hadn’t been so angry, he might have smiled.

“By what right do you dare to give me counsel? Your vastly superior intelligence? The wisdom you have gained in your lengthy number of years? By the fact you were born Saxon? I would know, Caryn, why it is you believe you should guide me in this?”

“I have no such wish, my lord. You have shown your wisdom in the dispensing of justice this day. I only wish to plead the boy’s case, since he has said little in his own defense.”

“You risk much, Caryn.”

She swallowed nervously. “This I know, my lord. In doing so, I hope you will see how much this means to me.”

He glanced at the boy, whose breath seemed wedged in his throat. He never meant to mutilate the child, simply to test the lad’s mettle. But of course she couldn’t know that. And by her interference, she had placed him in a difficult position—curse the little fool to bloody hell .

“Since the boy means so much, I would know if you are willing to suffer a portion of his sentence?”

She chewed her bottom lip. It looked soft and full, the burnished hue of the eventide’s sunset. Ral felt a stirring in his groin.

“Aye, my lord, if that is your wish.”

“You will await me in my chamber. Justice will be meted out there as well as here.”

“But what of the boy, my lord? What—”

“Escort my lady wife from the hall,” he said to Hugh through clenched teeth. He fixed a black look on Caryn. “I will join you there forthwith. I would advise you spend the time pondering the consequences of your interference.”

A hint of fear darkened her soft brown eyes, then it was gone.

“As you wish, my lord.” She flashed the boy a look of uncertainty and he returned it, marking his concern for the penalty she must now face.

With a nervous obeisance that caused her heavy auburn braid to slide over one shoulder, Caryn lifted her chin and preceded Hugh from the hall.

Bloody Christ, Ral silently swore. Would the woman never cease her aggravation? Cursing her willfulness, he nevertheless conceded a grudging admiration. There wasn’t a woman he knew with the courage to speak out as she had. Still, it wasn’t her place to do so and he would not stand for it again.

At the closing of her chamber door, Ral returned his attention to the boy.

“Upon this day, Leofric, you have admitted your crime and faced this court with courage,” Ral said.

“Still, justice must be served. Leofric of Braxston, you will spend the next two months in service to the women of the castle. You will work in the kitchens, scrubbing the floors, skinning the carcasses brought into the hall, helping to prepare the meals and any other tasks you are assigned. After that, should you accomplish your duties well, you will become my page.” Ral relaxed against his chair, allowing himself a smile.

“There is always room in my service for a young man with courage.”

The lad looked so stunned—and so relieved—Ral thought the boy’s legs might crumble beneath him. “Marta,” he called before that could happen. “Find the lad a place to sleep, send his mother some food, and see he doesn’t shirk his duties.”

“Oh no, milord,” Leo said. “I will do what’ere I’m asked. I give you me word upon that.”

Nodding, certain the boy had learned his lesson and would more than earn his keep, Ral waited till the lad was led away, his mother sobbing her gratitude as she hurried along behind him. Then Ral slid back his chair and stood up, signaling an end to the proceedings.

They were over at last.

Near over, he corrected with a dark glance toward the stairs. His jaw set firmly, Ral strode in that direction.