Page 10 of Insurrection (Guard of Six #2)

CHAPTER NINE

Summer days and summer stars,

And a deep blue sea that glistens like silver.

All at once, the past has turned to shadow,

And the future gleams like diamonds

M adelaina was singing that old folk song, having no idea why it had popped into her head. But it had. It was early morning and she was in her garden, as usual, cutting back some mint that had overgrown. Glancing up, she could see the warming rays of the sun as their golden fingers spread out over the garden wall and part of the house. Maybe that was why she sang that song.

Summer days and diamonds.

Everything seemed so bright.

“Here, darling,” Celyn said as she came out of the rear of the shop. “I’ve brought some of those seedlings you’ve been nurturing inside. Time to get them in the ground.”

Madelaina sat back on her heels, looking at what her sister had before deciding where to put them. “That will get bushy,” she said. “Those little white flowers will multiply. We’d better put them next to the wall.”

As the two of them selected a spot and began to dig, Arthur wandered out and began sniffing around. The big orange cat that slept on Madelaina’s pillow also found its way out into the garden, sniffing around for rodents or a quick meal. Celyn picked up a garden implement and began digging holes for the yarrow that Madelaina had so carefully grown. They planted four of the sprouts, chasing off the cat when it came around and tried to dig in their holes. But the last one went in and Madelaina soaked the new plants with water.

“There,” she said. “Those should do well here. Now, I’m going to return to those mint plants.”

“Cut some of it for Papa,” Celyn said, standing up from where she’d been crouched over the new plants. “He needs it for something he’s making.”

Madelaina nodded, moving back to the mint and catching sight of Arthur as the dog sniffed around in the dirt. He was over by the gate, and the last time he was over there, he’d run out into the alley and found himself a traveler to hump. That had Madelaina remembering the man who had captivated her yesterday.

In truth, she’d thought heavily of him since meeting him.

“Cee,” she said, pulling some weed out from underneath the mint, “may I ask you a question?”

Celyn began to harvest the mint she’d told Madelaina to pick. “What is it?”

“A question about men.”

“What about them?”

Madelaina could see that Celyn was stripping the leaves, and she shooed her away and took out her knife to cut the stalks instead.

“You said that you never married because you had never found a man that was worthy,” she said. “Did you look?”

Celyn frowned. “Of course I looked,” she said. “Well… mayhap only a little. But it was enough.”

“Enough to tell you that there were no worthy men?”

“Exactly.”

“Wasn’t there anyone who caught your eye?”

Celyn’s frown grew. “I do not want to discuss this,” she said, turning for the door. “Bring the mint in when you have cut it.”

She went inside, leaving Madelaina wondering why her sister always became so irritated with her when she brought up the subject of the opposite sex. That was usual. Celyn was almost violently opposed to men, not wanting to discuss or even consider the subject, which made it difficult for Madelaina, who really didn’t have anyone else to talk to about those sorts of things. Of course, she had a few friends around the village, but they were just girls. Girls with no experience but a great curiosity about the male sex. Celyn was older and wiser, presumably, but she never had it in her to discuss the subject with her sister.

With a sigh, Madelaina cut several stalks of mint and took them into the cottage. They lived at the rear of the structure and on the floor above, but the entire front was The Bryn’s apothecary shop, and already this morning he had customers. Madelaina could hear his voice as he tried to convince someone that they needed a potion of crushed daisy petals for gastric problems.

After dropping the mint off on the table in the room they used as a kitchen, she returned to her garden. She began humming that song again— summer days and summer stars— as she returned to her chores. Some vines needed tying up, and she was about to do just that when she realized that Arthur was missing. The orange cat had found a patch of sunlight and was sunning himself, but Arthur was nowhere to be found. It was then that she noticed the gate was open. Heading out into the alley, she caught sight of something she didn’t think she would be seeing this morning, if ever.

The traveler had returned.

Arthur wasn’t humping the man’s leg, however. He was sitting politely as the traveler spoke to him calmly and quietly. He was also wagging a finger at the dog, who actually seemed to be listening. But the traveler caught sight of Madelaina as she emerged from the garden, and he smiled.

“Arthur tried to return to his bad habit, but I have told him I will not allow it,” he said. “I hope you do not mind that I have scolded your dog.”

Madelaina shook her head. “Not at all,” she said. “He deserves it.”

The man nodded. “He does,” he said. “But he is a smart dog. He’ll learn not to—”

He was cut off when Arthur spied a female dog and bolted, running after the small white dog, who saw him coming and scampered away. Madelaina tried to call her dog off, but he wouldn’t listen. He was off and running.

Frustrated, she sighed heavily.

“He’s hopeless,” she said. “Thank you for trying to teach him some manners, however. At least you tried.”

The man she knew as Trevyn grinned. “Give him to me for a week and he will return to you a changed dog.”

She looked at him curiously. “Are you serious?”

“Of course.”

“But I thought you had to report to Ivor.”

“I did not say this week,” he said, winking at her. “It can be any week.”

She smiled, feeling rather giddy because he’d winked at her. “Mayhap I shall,” she said. “When you return, of course.”

He nodded. “Do not forget,” he said. “You cannot have your dog running around the village mounting everything that moves. That is simply rude.”

She snorted. “It is,” she agreed. Her gaze lingered on him a moment, a smile on her lips because she couldn’t seem to not smile at him. “Are you leaving soon? To find Ivor, I mean.”

“Aye,” he said. “But I was hoping to speak with your father first, to see if he has anything he wants me to relay to Ivor. Will you introduce us?”

Madelaina nodded eagerly. “Of course,” she said, but she cocked her head curiously. “Strange how you’ve never met him.”

Let the lies begin, he thought. “Not strange when you consider my position with Ivor is to spy on the English,” he said. “I spend the majority of my time traveling, as you see. I never spend too much time in one place.”

Madelaina seemed to accept that explanation. “Your wife must be forgiving.”

“I am not married.”

He was happy to tell her that. The words came out before she’d even finished her sentence. He wanted her to know that there wasn’t anyone special for him, and that just wasn’t something he usually did. But there was a spark in her eye that ignited something in him.

No, he wasn’t married.

And he decided at that moment that he wasn’t too old for a romance.

“I suppose that allows you to travel as you please,” Madelaina said, perhaps a bit of flush in her cheeks. “But someday, you may not want to travel so much if you marry.”

“You do not think a wife would like it?”

“I am certain she wouldn’t,” she said. “Unless you take her with you.”

He pretended to consider that. “Wise suggestion,” he said. “Do you think she would like to travel to London?”

“I am sure of it.”

“Paris?”

“Most definitely.”

“Where else do you think she’d like to go?”

Madelaina’s eyes were sparking again. Every glitter, every twinkle, seemed to shoot straight into his chest, feeding the blaze that she’d already started. He found himself caught up in a gentle flirt he’d not felt the likes of for many years.

“To Ireland,” she said. “To Dublin.”

He was surprised by her answer. “Hibernia?”

She smiled faintly. “You know it by that name?”

“Do you?”

Madelaina nodded. “My sister has spoken to me of Ireland,” she said. “She says we have ancestors on my mother’s side from there. I’ve always wanted to see it.”

“Have you traveled on the sea before?”

She shook her head. “I have not,” she said. “But I would like the adventure.”

He smiled faintly. “You are not content in your little village?”

She shrugged. “I have lived here all my life,” she said. “I would like to visit faraway places. I’ve always wanted to but have never had the opportunity.”

His smile grew. “Then mayhap your husband will take you someday.”

“I hope so.”

There was a pregnant pause between them, one of thoughts and ideas that were far too premature at this early stage in their acquaintance. Kent sensed it. In fact, he very much wanted to answer her with I’ll take you but caught himself just in time. If the conversation kept going the way it was, he would say just that and he didn’t want to. Not now. He had something he had to do first.

But, rest assured, he was going to revisit this conversation at some point.

“I’ve been to Eire,” he said. “I will be happy to tell you about it the next time I come to visit. I think that people who are dreamers appreciate the tales of that ancient land best of all.”

“And you think I am a dreamer?”

“I heard you singing that old song when I walked up.”

“What song?”

“ Summer days and summer stars, ” he sang softly. “That’s an old Welsh song for dreamers.”

She smiled. “You know that song?”

“Of course I do,” he said. “Remember the last line in it—a nd the future gleams like diamonds. Something tells me that your future will gleam like diamonds.”

Her brow furrowed. “What makes you say that?”

He shrugged. “Because you are beautiful and intelligent,” he said. “You have a mind that goes beyond this village, Madelaina. You dream of things you cannot see. I think you dream of beauty you cannot see, of people and places. Someone like that has a mind that is open to everything the world has to offer because their hearts are pure.”

She was staring at him, fascinated by his words. “And… and you think my heart is pure?”

“I think everything about you is pure.”

That brought an embarrassed smile to her lips. “No one has ever said such things to me before,” she said. “You do not even know me, yet you think well of me.”

“I do not need to know you for weeks or months or years to think well of you,” he said. “I think well of you now.”

That brought more embarrassment to her, but she was also deeply flattered. When he smiled at her, charmed by her reaction, her cheeks grew flamingly hot. She wasn’t sure what to say to him because she’d never been in such a position before, so she said the first thing that came to mind.

“Would you like to meet my father now?” she nearly stammered. “Before you say anything more that steals my ability to speak?”

He chuckled. “It will not be the last time I say such things to you, so you had better become accustomed to it,” he said. “But aye, I would like to meet your father now. If it is not too much trouble.”

Quickly, she nodded, and Kent stepped aside so she could show him the way. Truth be told, he’d follow her anywhere. His first impression of her yesterday, of her beauty and charm, had not been wrong. If anything, he’d underestimated both. Madelaina was a rare jewel, and even though he knew that Bennet was her father, it didn’t deter him. Bennet was several years older than he was, and with Madelaina at approximately nineteen or twenty years of age, Kent was only thirteen or fourteen years older than she was. That wasn’t too much of an age gap.

Not big enough to matter.

Yesterday, he thought himself too old for a romance, but at this moment, he knew he wasn’t. It had been years since he last held a woman in his arms, at least one that mattered. The last woman he’d been fond of was a tutor to the Earl of Cornwall’s children. She’d been bright and pretty and he’d thoroughly enjoyed himself with her, but when he wanted to make the relationship permanent, she confided in him that she was destined for the veil and had no intention of deviating. He’d been a little miffed by her choice but moved on with his life. Until this moment, anyway. He knew without a doubt that he was feeling the same attraction to Madelaina that he’d felt with the lovely Lady Anne.

Perhaps even more.

But his attraction to her couldn’t interfere with what he was supposed to do. He wanted to meet The Bryn to gather what information he could. Information, unfortunately, that would never make it to Ivor, but it would certainly make it to Torran. Something told him that The Bryn would be a wealth of information.

… if he could only convince the man that he was a spy for Ivor.

That would be the tricky part. He was torn between concentrating on that task, on what he would say to The Bryn, and Madelaina’s smiling face. When she moved slightly ahead of him, all hope was lost because he found himself watching her curved backside. He felt like Arthur with those lascivious thoughts, mentally humping Madelaina’s leg.

Given what he thought of her, he couldn’t help himself.

But he had to force himself to think on his task, of The Bryn, because the moment they entered the front of the cottage, the old man was standing there with a customer. The shop faced out onto the village square with a well in the center of it and mud all around from the innumerable buckets of water drawn from said well. Moss and weeds grew around it.

The interior of the apothecary shop smelled strange. It was a dark shop, with tapers in iron sconces on the wall, but they didn’t give off a tremendous amount of light. There were two windows on the front and those were covered by oilcloths. He wasn’t exactly sure why it was so dark and mysterious, but he was sure it had something to do with the fact that the man had all sorts of mysterious potions and herbs and probably ingredients that were difficult to find and the sunlight was probably damaging. He remembered his mother, many years ago, mentioned that direct sunlight could be harmful to some medicinal ingredients. She, too, had been a healer, adept in herbs and medicaments.

Perhaps that was why the strange smells didn’t bother him.

Unsure how to proceed, he stood by the door as Madelaina walked up to her father and waited patiently until he was finished with a woman who seemed to have sores around her mouth she wanted to get rid of. The Bryn recommended a salve with calendula and took the woman’s coin. The exchange had no sooner been made than Madelaina was pulling on The Bryn’s sleeve, asking for his attention.

“Papa,” she said, pulling him toward Kent. “There is someone who wishes to speak with you.”

The Bryn went with her willingly, his gaze falling on Kent immediately. Kent could see that the man had very dark eyes, like he had, and there was an inherent intensity when eyes were that shade.

Probing.

Critical.

“Who are you?” The Bryn asked.

Kent didn’t hesitate. “My name is Trevyn d’Einen,” he said. “I serve Ivor.”

That caused The Bryn to look him over with curiosity and suspicion. “You do?” he said. “Why come to me? I cannot help you.”

Kent glanced at the open shop door. “May we speak privately, great lord?”

Great lord was a general title of respect in Wales, much like my lord for the English. It was meant to show that Kent was being subservient and humble in The Bryn’s presence, something that was surely important if he was to get off to a good start in this association. But he couldn’t help but remember what Bennet had told him about The Bryn, how he’d kept his daughter from marrying the man she loved. How he’d told lies about Bennet and ruined the man’s stellar career. The truth was that it clouded Kent’s opinion of The Bryn somewhat and painted him as a ruthless man, vindictive if necessary. Certainly someone who didn’t care if his family members were happy or not.

That caused Kent to proceed with caution.

At first, The Bryn didn’t seem to want to comply. He frowned, looking at Madelaina, who nodded firmly before going to shut and bolt the shop door herself. When the chamber was protected from anyone wandering in from the outside, Kent spoke quickly but firmly.

“We have not met, great lord, but I have known Ivor since we were children,” he said. “It is my task to watch the English, and the marches in general, and report what I see to Ivor. I have just come to town as of two days ago and saw the English at The Narth. I am told there was a battle and that Ivor has fled north, to Pentwyn.”

The Bryn nodded. Then he cocked an eyebrow. “I have never seen you before.”

“I know.”

The Bryn was expecting more of an explanation. “ Why have I not seen you before?”

“Because my task, as I said, is to watch the borders,” Kent said. “I am a scout for Ivor and it is my duty to remain out of sight. I was on my way to report to him when I saw that the English had taken The Narth.”

“If you are a scout, then you should have already known that.”

“Not if I am in the north, near Shrewsbury,” Kent said steadily. “I came in from the north. I am assuming the English came in from the south, because they certainly did not come in from the north.”

It sounded logical, but The Bryn wasn’t convinced. “What is happening in the north that is so important?”

“The English have Wrexham again,” Kent said. “Shrewsbury is part of the onslaught, as is Wolverhampton.”

“Wolverhampton?” The Bryn repeated. “You mean de Wolfe?”

Kent nodded. “The Earl of Wolverhampton now holds Wrexham, and Llewelyn ap Gruffudd is very unhappy about it,” he said. “It is critical, as you know, because if the English call for reinforcement of the marches, that means de Lara will clamp down on his section, de Lohr will take the mid-marches, and Gloucester and de Russe will take the southern end. It could mean an entirely new English push into Wales, but now that I come to The Narth to see that it has been taken, I suspect that may already be happening. Ivor must know that he is part of a larger plan.”

He’d divulged a good deal of information that wasn’t true. The English did hold Wrexham, but that was a battle long over, and the rest of his alleged news was all speculation. He’d meant to give The Bryn the sense that he was being given privileged information, something meant to gain trust. He held his breath while the old man pondered what he’d been told, and Kent could only hope that The Bryn didn’t get out of Penderyn much, if at all, so he didn’t know for himself about Wrexham. He only knew what he was told.

And he waited.

Finally, The Bryn broke his stance.

“Come with me,” he said.

He pulled Kent through another door, into what looked like a comfortable living area. There was a big table and chairs, a big hearth that had multiple cooking implements over it, a bed tucked in next to the hearth, and at least two cushioned chairs from what he could see. Half of the chamber was meant for cooking and food preparation. The Bryn had him sit at the table while he took the chair at the head. Behind them, Madelaina had come into the chamber and softly shut the door. As she stood in the shadows, The Bryn focused on Kent.

“I have heard that there is turmoil in the north,” he said. “I had heard about Wrexham, but that was long ago.”

Kent nodded. “You know that Wrexham has been a point of contention between the English and Welsh for many years,” he said. “In my father’s day, William Marshal held Wrexham.”

“And de Wolfe holds it now?”

“Him and others.”

“And you believe de Russe’s sacking of The Narth is related to that?”

Kent shrugged. “It is possible,” he said. “But I’ve not heard of de Lara, Lords of the Trilateral Castles, moving into Wales, nor have I heard of de Lohr. He is the biggest one of all. If he is not moving to claim his stretch of the marches, then there may yet be time. In any case, I must get to Ivor quickly. My purpose in meeting you today was to see if you had any additional information to pass to him.”

The Bryn looked at him. Then he sat back in his chair, studying him, clearly contemplating the question. At least, that was what Kent thought.

Until the old man opened his mouth.

“Days ago we had a new English army arrive,” he said. “Now, you come to my home giving information and asking for information.”

“A coincidence, I assure you.”

“What did you say your name was?”

“Trevyn d’Einen,” Kent said. “My grandfather’s people hold property in the Dovey Valley. He was Baron Carnedd, a title that passed to my great-aunt when my grandfather died. Now the title, and the castle, belong to the English.”

The Bryn was frowning. “And you?” he said. “What of your branch of the family?”

Kent sighed sharply, as if miffed by the question. He didn’t want to seem too cool or relaxed in the face of an interrogation, fearful all the right answers at the right time would give him away.

“If you must know, my father was a bastard,” he said. “I bear the d’Einen name, though it is not my right to do so. By all accounts, my grandfather was a vicious beast of a man who tried to kill the English who had taken over his home, and was murdered for his efforts. My father was born to a girl in Machynlleth, a smithy’s daughter, and she never married. I was born of a union between her and a priest. Is my parentage not shameful enough? Should I tell you more to satisfy you?”

Kent had no idea how he came up with that story, because only pieces of it were true. He’d had a great-uncle that he never met, one who died before he was born because he had indeed been murdered when he tried to kill Kent’s grandmother. “A vicious beast” was putting it mildly. The man had been pure evil, according to his grandfather. The rest of the story was simply concocted. Kent had always been able to think quickly on his feet, so he hoped his sordid parentage might stop The Bryn’s questions. He even hoped it might bring sympathy.

In truth, the tale did bring The Bryn pause. The man stared at him for a few moments before finally shaking his head.

“You have had a troublesome life,” he said.

“Not exactly,” Kent said, backing down his ire. “But it has been difficult at times. Men of lineage do not wish to associate with me much. Ivor has been one of the only ones. I do everything I can for him, so nay, you’ve not seen me before. I make it a point not to be around other men. I’m better on my own. And I work very hard for my lord.”

Kent was rather impressed with himself for coming up with such a tale. He wasn’t a spy by nature, but his training as a knight, and in the politics of England and Wales, served him well. He knew customs; he knew stories. And he knew how to do what was necessary to get what he wanted.

And then there was Madelaina.

She was listening to everything, hearing about his bastard birth from a bastard father. The truth was that he’d be an earl someday and his bloodlines were noble. He served King Henry directly and was a trusted advisor and protector. But he couldn’t tell her that. He couldn’t tell anyone that.

But, perhaps, someday he could.

“I’ve no further questions for you, lad,” The Bryn finally said. “It seems to me that you mean what you say. When are you leaving for Pentwyn?”

Kent breathed a sigh of relief at what he considered The Bryn’s acceptance of his story. “As soon as I can,” he said. “I must tell him about Wrexham, but is there anything more to tell him?”

The Bryn grunted, lifting a hand in the direction of the castle. “Tell him new English arrived yesterday,” he said. “They fly Henry’s flag, which means England’s king has now taken over his castle.”

“Have you seen any of the English soldiers in the village?”

“Thankfully, I have not. But it is just a matter of time.”

“Have you seen any of Ivor’s men in the village? I may need to contact them.”

The Bryn shook his head. “I’ve not,” he said. “They’ve all fled north, which they should. So should you. You do not want to be captured by the English. They would like nothing better than to torture you for information.”

“I’ll stay away from them.”

The Bryn nodded and finally stood up. “That’s all I can tell you for today,” he said. “Do you plan to return here anytime soon?”

Kent couldn’t help it; he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and saw Madelaina standing there. He was looking at her when he answered. “Aye,” he said. “I’ll be back.”

Madelaina grinned, a gesture missed by The Bryn because Celyn entered from another chamber. She had her arms full of clothing to be washed, but when she saw the very big, very handsome man at her father’s table, she came to a halt. The Bryn looked at his eldest child, gesturing toward her.

“This is my daughter, Celyn,” he said. “Celyn, this is Trevyn d’Einen.”

Kent nodded politely to Celyn, who seemed startled to see him. “My lady,” he said.

Celyn nodded in return, looking at her father nervously. “I did not know you had guests,” she said. “I will prepare refreshment.”

“That is not necessary,” The Bryn told her. “He is simply passing through our village and your sister has made his acquaintance. We are finished with our conversation now.”

With that, he stood up and went back into the shop, leaving Kent and Madelaina and Celyn in awkward silence. Thinking that he should perhaps leave, Kent went to stand up but immediately spied a dark creature next to him. Arthur was looking at him longingly with doggy eyes, and Kent hissed at Madelaina.

“My lady,” he whispered loudly, pointing to the dog at his side. “If you please.”

Madelaina hadn’t even noticed her dog as it entered the chamber and took up position beside Kent. She’d been too busy staring at the traveler. But she shooed the dog away, back out into the garden, and Celyn slipped out after him.

“My apologies,” Madelaina said as the dog disappeared. “He seems to like you a great deal for some reason.”

Kent stood up. “For some reason?” he said as if incensed. “You mean there is no reason at all to like me?”

Madelaina grinned. “I am sure there is, but how would the dog know?”

Kent tapped his head. “Dogs can sense such things,” he said. “They are smart animals.”

“Arthur would try to mate with a cart if I let him.”

“Well, mayhap there is an exception in Arthur’s case.”

Madelaina chuckled softly. “I only jest with you,” she said. “I am sure there are many good reasons to like you.”

Kent felt more pleasure at that statement than he should have. “I hope so,” he said softly. “I hope there is something redeemable you see in me.”

The smile never left her face. “I do,” she said. “I see a man who has done the traveling I wish to do. He has been kind and generous to speak to me. I do hope he will tell me the stories someday, of where he has visited and what he has seen.”

“I would be happy to do that anytime.”

“Why not tonight?” Madelaina said. “Will you sup with us? It will not be elaborate, but it will be plentiful.”

He smiled faintly. “I would like that.”

“Then you will come?”

“I will.”

“Good,” she said, her features alight. “Come when the sun sets. Or you may simply remain here. I have duties to attend to, but you may accompany me if you wish.”

God, how he wanted to. He’d never had an invitation that he’d wanted to accept more, but he couldn’t. He, too, had duties to attend to—mostly, he needed to return to The Narth and tell Torran what had transpired. Tonight, he could possibly learn more about The Bryn and about Ivor’s operations. That was the goal, after all.

But so was sitting in the presence of the glorious creature that was looking at him.

“Alas, though I’ve never had so happy an offer,” he said, “I have things I must attend to as well. I will make sure I return when the night falls.”

Madelaina nodded. “We will be glad to have you,” she said. “Now, you must leave through the front. Arthur is in the garden and he might latch himself to you if you depart that way.”

Kent grinned. “Thank you for the warning,” he said, opening the door that led into the shop. “I will see you tonight.”

Madelaina followed him to the door. “Until then, Trevyn.”

Her eyes were sparking at him again, sparks that were feeding the blaze that was starting to grow. Such an exquisite creature, he thought.

He couldn’t wait for that evening.

With a lingering smile on her, he quit the shop and headed out into the street. But immediately, he turned into the knight. The spy. His thoughts shifted from the lovely women he’d left behind to what lay ahead for him. In case Madelaina or The Bryn wanted to watch him depart, perhaps seeing which direction he would take or where he would go, he made sure to head south on the main avenue, in the direction of the smithy stalls. Perhaps they would think he had business with them. It seemed logical enough.

At least, he hoped so.

He was building an incredibly fragile trust with them and didn’t need to have it damaged by a wrong move, so he continued to the area of the village where the smithies had their forge. It smelled of hot metal and smoke. He lingered, pausing to engage a smithy in a conversation about the types of weapons he could make, all the while aware of his surroundings in case he was being followed. But an hour of speaking to a pair of smithies and observing his surroundings didn’t show anything unusual that he could see.

He moved on.

As he was departing the village, heading south so he could enter the woods, circle around, and come up the road to The Narth, he passed a woman and her daughter as they were heading out of the village. They had a cart that was about half full of flowers, primroses, and daisies, and the woman explained that it was their livelihood but business hadn’t been good on this day. It was difficult for some people to pay for flowers, unless they simply wanted the convenience, when they could just as well go out in a field themselves and pick them.

Kent bought as much as he could carry because when he went to have supper with Madelaina that evening, he wasn’t going to go empty-handed. He knew she had a big garden, but he hadn’t seen flowers and knew women loved flowers. At least, he hoped Madelaina did. After giving the woman his coin, he ducked into the wood and made his way back to The Narth. But if he knew what the future held for him, he might not have been so eager to face it.

An eventful day was about to turn into a catastrophic evening.