Cristen took one look at the shocked, exhausted children Hugh had turned over to her and immediately sat them down for a meal of hot soup and bread. Alan wondered how long it had been since last they ate. He joined them at the table, and approved of the way Cristen allowed the children to eat in silence while she and Alan talked together of ordinary things.
She even put a bowl of food on the floor so that Benjamin could join in the repast. The huge mastiff slurped noisily right behind Nicholas and Iseult, and Alan sensed that the presence of their dog was a comfort to the bereaved children.
“What would you like to do next?” Cristen said to the children after they had hungrily finished second helpings of the soup.
Two pairs of blue eyes gazed at her with dazed bewilderment.
“Where is Hugh?” Iseult whispered at last.
“He has gone to the castle to see about having your mother’s body brought to Lincoln,” Cristen said practically.
Both children continued to gaze at her. Neither said a word.
Cristen leaned comfortably back in her chair and said conversationally, “Did you know that Hugh’s foster father used to be the Sheriff of Lincoln? Hugh grew up in this very house we are sitting in now.”
“I didn’t know he grew up in Lincoln,” Nicholas said, showing the first spark of interest Alan had seen in him. “My father said he came from Wiltshire, that he was to be the next earl there.”
Iseult sat up more alertly in her chair as well. Alan thought that Hugh seemed to be the one topic capable of rousing the children’s attention.
Cristen craftily fed them more information. “Hugh’s real father was the Earl of Wiltshire, but when he was very young, about your age, Nicholas, he was stolen away from his home by robbers. He managed to get away from them and make his way to Lincoln, where he was found by Ralf Corbaille, the sheriff. But the shock of being kidnapped caused Hugh to forget his past, and he was unable to tell the sheriff anything about himself. So Ralf adopted Hugh and brought him up right here in Lincoln as his own son.”
Both children were gazing at Cristen with their eyes stretched wide and their mouths open.
“Hugh was kidnapped?” Iseult said in a hushed tone.
“Aye.” Cristen’s own eyes were steady and honest. “It was a terrible thing that happened to him. But he was lucky enough to find a new family who loved him very much. And he loved them-even more than he loved his first family, I think.”
The children continued to stare at Cristen, faces grave, eyes solemn. Alan waited cynically for her to tell them that the same happy fate awaited them.
“So you see,” she said, “Hugh knows how you must be feeling right now. A terrible thing has happened to you as well. But he will help you. And so will I.”
Nicholas blinked. Then he nodded slowly.
Benjamin belched loudly.
Iseult giggled.
“I am so glad you brought your dog,” Cristen said. “I have been missing my own dogs very much. A house without a dog is such an empty place.”
“What kind of dogs do you have, Lady Cristen?” Iseult asked curiously.
“I’m afraid that neither one of them is as handsome as Benjamin,” Cristen said, “but I love them dearly.” And she launched into a detailed description of her dogs and how she had rescued each of them from abandonment. The children listened with rapt attention.
“Now then,” Cristen said when she had finished the saga of her beloved animals, “we must decide what to do next. You can have a bath and put on clean clothes and then, if you are tired, you can have a nap and wait for Hugh to come home. Or, if you like, we can go up to the castle ourselves and find him.”
“Find Hugh,” both children replied in unison.
“Right away,” Nicholas added.
“All right,” Cristen said briskly. “Then that is what we will do.”
Alan looked at the bedraggled children. Nicholas had smudges of ash on his face, probably from rubbing it after trying to fix the fire. And Iseult’s long hair was more a tangle than a braid.
“Perhaps a bath would be in order first?” he suggested.
Nicholas frowned.
“Nay,” Iseult said stubbornly. “Find Hugh first.”
“Baths can come later,” Cristen agreed. “If you have finished eating, we will go up to the castle and look for Hugh.”
Cristen made sure the children were warmly dressed, and they left the house on foot to walk to the castle through the streets of Lincoln, where just yesterday their father had been killed.
Until now, John Rye’s death had seemed an unfortunate but insignificant event to Alan-an unlucky accident that had marred the otherwise splendid camp-ball game. But now, as he looked down at the tangle of black hair on Iseult’s small round head, he saw it for what it really was: a tragedy.
Every human life touches someone else’s, he thought. John Rye might have been unimportant in the worldly scheme of things, but his death has changed his children’s lives irreparably.
What were these children going to do? Alan worried. Surely, there had to be some surviving relative somewhere who would take them in. Even if they had no aunts or uncles, their parents must have had cousins who would care for them.
Unfortunately, Nicholas and Iseult were that most expendible of commodities: well-born children who had no fortune. The only feasible future for Nicholas was to earn his living as a knight in some lord’s household. And Iseult, if no one could be found to marry her, would end up in a convent, if one could be found to accept a girl with no dowry.
To Alan, the idea of having no relatives was utterly terrifying. He had always known that as a younger son he would have to support himself by his sword. He had known when he left his father’s home to serve as squire to Richard Canville that he probably wouldn’t be going back there to live ever again.
But still, his mother and father and eldest brother were there. If the worse ever came to the worst, and he had nowhere to go, they would take him in.
Nicholas and Iseult did not have that security. Until a relative could be found, Nicholas and Iseult had only Hugh.
Alan had to acknowledge that it had been kind of Hugh to take the children in. He had understood that it was important for them to be in a home with someone they knew and trusted. They would have panicked if they had been thrust into a convent.
As their small party entered into the Bail, Nicholas’s gaze was fixed on the towering heights of the castle rising above them. Alan smiled, remembering his own awe the first time he beheld Lincoln Castle.
“It’s bigger than I thought it would be,” Nicholas said in a low voice.
“It is one of the biggest castles in the kingdom,” Alan responded.
“My father served his knight’s fee here every January,” Nicholas said, a note of pride in his voice.
Iseult whimpered. “I’m tired. When are we going to find Hugh?”
Cristen glanced at Alan, who immediately bent and scooped the little girl up in his arms. “We’ll find him very soon,” he said bracingly. “I’ll carry you for a little, shall I?”
She put one small arm around his neck. “Thank you, Alan.”
Her little body rested against him so trustingly. Alan smiled into the small face so close to his. “You’re a very brave little girl, Iseult. Do you know that?”
A dimple flashed in her cheek. “I am?”
“Aye. You are.”
“I like you, Alan,” Iseult said. “You’re nice.”
Alan felt absurdly pleased by the compliment.
When finally they reached the castle, it was to discover that Hugh was with Bernard. Even though Bernard was much better, Cristen refused to allow the children to go into the sickroom. Instead, she took them upstairs to Lady Elizabeth’s apartment and sent Alan to inform Hugh where they were.
“John Rye was killed by the same man who killed de Beauté. I’m sure of it.”
Alan heard Hugh’s voice as soon as he opened the door to Cristen’s bedchamber. Hugh was speaking softly, but with such clarity that Alan couldn’t mistake his words.