Breathe, he thought. Think about breathing. In and out, in and out, in and out…
Suddenly he felt a strange humming sensation along all of his nerve endings. Then nothing.
He woke in the middle of the night. His mouth tasted terrible and his brain felt sluggish. His arm still hurt but the pain in his head was gone.
“Hugh?”
A shaded candle was burning and he saw her sitting in a chair next to his bed.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said. His tongue felt thick and the words were hard to pronounce.
“Is the headache gone?”
“Aye. But my brain feels soggy.”
She smiled. “The aftereffect of the poppy juice, I’m afraid. Would you like some water?”
“Please.”
She brought him a cup and he finished it thirstily.
“How much poppy juice did you give me?” he demanded.
“A bit.”
“Even my arm doesn’t feel too bad.”
“Good.” She gave him more water and he drained the second cup.
“It’s after midnight,” she informed him. “Go back to sleep. Your brain will be back to normal in the morning.”
If Cristen said it would be so, then it would be so. He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.
When he awoke in the morning he was alone. His mouth still tasted terrible, but his head was clear.
His arm hurt, but the pain was negligible compared to the pain of a headache.
Cristen had left him a pitcher of water and a cup. He got out of bed and drank the entire contents of the pitcher, which made him feel much better.
He was regarding his pile of torn clothes when his bedroom door opened slightly and Alan Stanham peeked in. When he saw that Hugh was up, he opened the door farther and said, “How are you feeling, Lord Hugh? Would you like me to help you dress?”
“I would,” Hugh replied, “if I had anything to dress in.”
Alan carried Adela’s old wooden wash tub into the room. “I went around to the sheriff’s house earlier and asked one of the kitchen boys to pack up your clothing for me,” he said. “I’ll bring it to you after you have bathed.”
“Alan,” Hugh said appreciatively. “You are a gem of a squire.”
Alan looked bleak. “A squire who has lost his lord,” he said.
Hugh flicked him a look, but did not reply.
After his bath, Hugh dressed in clean clothes and went downstairs to break his fast.
He was only just beginning to realize that his long conflict with Richard was over. Richard the brilliant athlete, the charming lover, the deadly friend-Richard was dead.
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and listened.
She was in the kitchen.
Hugh made his way to the back of the house.
She was stirring something in the big pot that hung over the fire, and her head was already turned in his direction when he came in. Her skin, delicately flushed from the heat of the fire, looked beautiful, set off by the plain gold tunic she wore over her dark green undertunic.
They looked at each other.
Nicholas and Iseult had been sitting on one of the kitchen benches next to Bernard, and as soon as they saw Hugh, both children jumped up and ran over to him.
Iseult regarded the bandage on his arm with huge blue eyes.
“Does it hurt, Hugh?” she asked.
“It’s not too bad.”
She slipped her hand confidingly into his good one and smiled up at him.
“I won’t be able to help you with your braids for a while, I’m afraid,” he told her.
Iseult gave him a sunny smile. “That’s all right. Cristen helped me. She is good at making braids.”
Nicholas snorted to indicate his impatience with this foolish conversation. “I wish I could have seen the fight yesterday,” he said. “I wish I could have seen you kill Sir Richard.” His tone was indignant. Obviously he felt that he had been deprived of something that was his due.
“He murdered my father,” Nicholas went on. “If I were old enough I would have killed him myself.”
“I’m sure you would have,” Hugh said gravely. “I hope you don’t mind too much that I did it for you.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Nicholas said. “What I mind is not being allowed to watch!”
“Iseult could not watch, and she could not be left alone,” Hugh said.
Nicholas scowled. “Having a sister is nothing but a nuisance.”
“Well, it’s just as much of a nuisance having a brother, I think,” Iseult retorted.
They glared at each other.
Cristen said serenely, “The porridge is ready. Who wants to eat?”
Food proved to be a wondrous diversion. Both children helped to carry bowls of porridge into the solar, and everyone sat down around the table to eat it.
Hugh knew it was for his sake that Cristen had cooked this meal instead of the usual ale and bread, and he ate hungrily. The porridge wiped out the last of the bad taste that the poppy juice had left in his mouth.
“There is one thing I don’t understand,” Bernard said, his eyes on Hugh. “Why did Richard think it was necessary to kill de Beauté when he had Elizabeth’s promise that she would defy her father and refuse to marry you? All along we thought that his motive was to hide the tax cheat, but it seems he knew nothing about that.” He shook his head in bewilderment. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“I wondered the same thing,” Hugh said. “We had a little time to chat while we were hacking away at each other yesterday, so I asked him for the answer.”
He scraped the last bit of porridge out of his bowl and ate it. Then he looked up, a distinctly sardonic look on his face. “It seems that Richard was afraid I would charm Elizabeth into changing her mind. He was determined to keep me from marrying her, no matter the cost.”
Everyone stared at Hugh.
“That makes sense,” Bernard said slowly.
At that moment, someone knocked upon the front door. Alan went to see who it was, and returned with William Rotier.
“My lord,” Rotier said to Hugh. “We have just received news that I think you will wish to hear.”
Hugh waited.
“An hour ago a messenger brought word to the castle that the king is on his way to Lincoln and will be here this very afternoon.”
Bernard and Thomas exclaimed in surprise.
“He is accompanied by the Earl of Wiltshire and by William of Roumare, Earl of Cambridge,” Rotier went on.
Silence reigned in the solar.
Then Cristen asked, her voice a little breathless, “What of my father? Do you know if he accompanies the king?”
“I believe he does, my lady,” William Rotier replied.
More silence. Nicholas and Iseult exchanged anxious glances, not understanding what was happening.
Then, “What a merry gathering we shall be,” Hugh said.
“Aye, my lord,” Rotier replied impassively.
Hugh frowned. “What is the temper in the town, William?
“The town is in a state of shock, my lord. Richard was very well liked. People are having difficultly realizing that he was a villain.”
Hugh nodded soberly, his gaze on his empty porridge bowl.
“However, you are well liked, too, my lord,” Rotier continued. “Neither the townsfolk nor the castle guard appear inclined to dispute the result of yesterday’s combat.”
Bernard said gruffly, “What of the sheriff?”
“He is under house arrest. There can be little doubt that Stephen will replace him once he learns of Gervase’s dishonesty.” Rotier grimaced. “God knows who he will name as sheriff in his place.”
Hugh lifted his eyes from his contemplation of the empty porridge bowl. “What a jolly time we are in for,” he said lightly.
“The king won’t take us away from you, will he, Hugh?” Iseult asked nervously.
Hugh looked at her in astonishment. “Why ever would he do that?”
She gazed back at him, wide-eyed and apprehensive.
“No one is going to take you away from Hugh, Iseult,” Cristen said calmly. She looked at Rotier. “Thank you for bringing us this news. We will prepare ourselves as best we can.”