CHAPTER NINE

“A nd then I slapped her,” Amaro said, relishing the moment. “Not where anyone could see the mark, of course, but she should have a perfect handprint across her left breast. Unless she strips to show someone, no one will ever see it. But she understands that one word of it and I will kill her. I do not care where she is—I will find her and I will kill her.”

Twilight had come to Brython, and a clear sky promised cold temperatures. Amaro and Hugo were in the encampment, at the tent they shared, in fact, milling around a campfire whilst preparing for night duties. But as they donned their weapons, Hugo was listening to Amaro’s boasting with some concern and struggling not to show it.

“Curtis has warned you about striking women,” he said. “If he finds out…”

“He will not,” Amaro assured him. “The Welsh chit is terrified of me, so she will not say a word.”

Hugo sighed heavily. “He just married that woman’s cousin,” he pointed out. “You saw it yourself. We both did. He just married Gwenwynwyn’s daughter, so if I were you, I would not strike Miasma again. Or whatever her name is.”

“Melusine.”

“Melusine, Miasma,” Hugo said impatiently. “The fact remains that she is now Lady Leominster’s cousin, and if Curtis finds out what you’ve done, you will be in for punishment.”

Amaro stiffened. “He would not dare,” he said. “Unless he wants to enrage my father, he will not touch me, and nor will Hereford. Neither one of them can do a thing, so stop your worrying. You bore me.”

Hugo shut his mouth. This was another one of those situations where he found himself in a bad way. He’d seen what Amaro had done to Melusine, verbally assaulting her until she snapped back, and then he struck her. In the chest, of all places, but as he’d said, no one would see it. They’d see a handprint to the face, and there would be questions.

But no one would see a bruise on the breast.

Curtis had been married to Gwenwynwyn’s daughter about an hour earlier, in Christopher’s tent, by a priest from the nearby town who did the entire mass in Latin and Welsh. It had been barbaric, as far as Hugo was concerned, and hastily planned, but even he saw the value in the marriage of the Earl of Leominster with a daughter of a Welsh royal house. Perhaps it would prevent more battles, especially at Brython. Amaro had simply stood there and rolled his eyes, impatient with the entire thing, and when the mass was concluded, he rushed back to his tent, where he had been in the process of counting money he’d stolen off Welsh prisoners.

As Hugo saw it, Amaro was a problem these days more than he’d ever been.

Curtis knew it. He wasn’t close to Amaro and treated him like a vassal, which he was, and Amaro hated it. Amaro tried to bend the ear of Christopher, who treated him the same way. The man was always trying to make himself indispensable to those in command, to convince them that they could rely on his advice, but Curtis and Christopher realized what type of man he was very early on. Christopher handled him by foisting him onto his son to deal with, and Curtis handled him by basically ignoring him.

That meant Amaro was able to do things to feed that ruthless spirit that would go unnoticed. Like striking a woman in the breast. But something told Hugo that things with Amaro were going to get worse.

It was just a feeling he had.

“Curt has called a meeting with those remaining at Brython,” he said, changing the subject. “I’ve heard Myles is remaining with us.”

Amaro snorted. “Another de Lohr brother who thinks he is God’s answer to a fine knight,” he said. “But he’s tolerable.”

“He is a good knight.”

Amaro nodded as if only slightly agreeing with him. “He’ll do,” he said. “He’s young still.”

Hugo looked at him, grinning. “You’re not exactly old,” he said. “You’re only a few years older than Myles is.”

Amaro smirked. “I was born old,” he said. “In my country, men are men when they are born.”

“I’ve never been to your country,” Hugo said, trying desperately to move the man onto a more pleasant subject. “You speak of warmth so much of the year. I think that would be a lovely thing to experience.”

“It is,” Amaro said, looking up at the clear sky. “I never knew I could be so cold until I came to England.”

“When you return home, I will come with you,” Hugo said. “I do not like the cold either.”

Amaro chuckled. “You will have to learn the language, my friend,” he said. “How else are you to know what commands are given? And how else are you to talk to our beautiful women?”

Hugo shrugged in agreement. “And I’m sure there are many beautiful women,” he said. “In fact, if I were you, I would go home now. You make it sound far more wonderful than England.”

Oh, but he’d said that on purpose. He was trying to plant a seed in Amaro’s mind of leaving England altogether. Hugo wasn’t beyond trying to subversively send Amaro home, and he would therefore be the hero to the House of de Lohr. No one wanted Amaro here, least of all Hugo, who was forced to pair up with the man because they both served Curtis. He’d like nothing better than to be rid of him. Therefore, he carefully watched Amaro’s reaction to his suggestion.

“It is, in many ways, more wonderful,” Amaro agreed. “But to be honest, I think I would miss the green grass and all of the trees. Where I come from, it is dry. Very little rain.”

“But you would be able to see your father,” Hugo pushed. “If I could go home and see my father, I surely would.”

Amaro shrugged. “In time,” he said, looking at the vast walls of Brython. “But now, Curtis has his own command. This is a new land to explore, Hugo. We should not leave before we’ve had a chance to do so. Great rewards could be awaiting us if we will only find them.”

Or great trouble, Hugo thought. So much for convincing the man to leave.

He’d have to try again sometime.

Before Amaro did something they would all regret.