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“My lord.” The squire cantered off toward the castle with the rabbits and pigeons bouncing on his saddle.
Gervais trotted into the darkest part of the forest. It reminded him of the one near his own castle. His sawyers felled the trees and fashioned timber planks. Gervais sold them to the ship makers, making him a tidy profit. Forests never scared him, no matter how dark and gloomy they might seem.
The path Geoffrey had followed was marked by destruction. The horse had trampled at the undergrowth, leaving a trail of debris. Geoffrey had no trouble following it. The horse, when he found it, was without a rider. He tied both sets of reins to a branch and continued on foot. Eventually, he stumbled upon Geoffrey, who lay with his arm outstretched and his leg twisted unnaturally beneath him. The prize wolfhound was licking the boy’s face and whining. Gervais knelt and checked Geoffrey’s pulse. Although deeply unconscious, the young man had a strong beat and steady breath. He’d probably landed hard and knocked himself out.
With Geoffrey unaware of pain, Gervais straightened the limb and used sticks for a splint. Aid administered, he laid his cloak over Geoffrey and waited. He whistled repeatedly to raise the alarm. An hour or so later, a search party arrived, and he allowed them to take charge of the maimed knight.
“It’s a good thing you stayed back, my lord,” one rescuer said. “Might have been out here for some time before we’d noticed he wasn’t back. His squire was in distress but able to tell us where he’d met you.”
“Good. I shall leave you to stretcher Sir Geoffrey back. I believe his leg is broken.”
“It seems so.”
Gervais smothered a grin. He had feared that he might have to compete with Sir Geoffrey for Matilda’s hand, now he had an ad
vantage. Would she want to wait for the lad, or would she be prepared to take up Gervais’s offer once she knew of it?
He rode at a leisurely pace to the castle keep, retrieved his kill from the flustered squire, and ensured the kitchen staff knew what to do with the meat. He insisted it went to the stable lads, who were caring for the exhausted horses.
Later, while the huntsmen snored in chairs and their ladies stitched tapestries, he went in search of Lord Barre, who was awake, alone, and reading letters at a table. Gilbert Barre rose to his feet to greet a fellow baron.
“Lord Baliol. I must offer my thanks. Geoffrey has a broken lower leg, and is in some pain, but it could have been much worse if he’d been left undiscovered. Come and share a cup of wine with me.”
Gervais seated himself opposite Lord Barre. “I have a proposal for you, sir. One concerning your daughter, Matilda.”
Barre pursed his lips and frowned. “Matilda. She has an affection for Geoffrey, I believe.”
“I’ve no doubt that she does. He’s handsome, eager, and young. And reckless. As today has proved.”
Barre nodded, silently agreeing.
“With no disrespect to yourself, my lord, Matilda is equally high-spirited and careless. I might be mistaken.” Gervais raised an eyebrow. Again, Barre didn’t argue the opposite.
“She has some of her mother’s wildness. I have tried... I’m soft on her, I agree.”
“Do you believe Geoffrey will win her heart?” Gervais held Barre’s gaze and waited.
“I don’t know,” he said, after a lengthy pause. “He is from a good family. It is a marriage that should suit both of us.”
“An alliance of two great houses, I cannot dispute the appeal.” Gervais fingered the hilt of his dagger. So far, nothing he’d said had angered Lord Barre. “I fear though that Geoffrey might not contain her... wildness. She would bring dishonour to both of your houses if she were to embarrass him with her obtuse behaviour.”
Barre sighed and shook his head. “You’ve seen it for yourself then. I am at a loss. She is nothing like her brothers or sister. The incident in the convent... it is most unfortunate. I regret to say that I know not if she is intact; till now, she refuses to submit to examination, and I cannot bring myself to thrash the truth out of her.”
“That is awkward.” Gervais tapped his chin with his forefinger and clucked his tongue loudly. “This obviously might cause issues for Geoffrey’s honour. I must confess that I would not find it so unfortunate if she was not intact, as having travelled afar, I have a different view of the world. Geoffrey on the other hand...”
“I think him infatuated enough not to care,” Barre said hastily. “But his family will not like it. Yes, you’re a man who is greatly honoured for your soldiering, but I do not know if you would make a good husband.”
“I respect your honesty.” Gervais sipped on his wine. “Then maybe we need to resolve these issues quietly and find out some truths.”
“Oh? You have a suggestion?” Barre leaned his elbows on the table.
“Geoffrey will be out of action, bed bound for some weeks. Possibly months if he wishes to regain his athleticism. I do accept he has a strong physical appeal and a charming nature. I, myself, might seem colder and harder, so I wish to reassure you, my lord, that any wife of mine will be deeply cared for and want for nothing. I will not let any harm befall Matilda.”
“Good,” Barre said. “You want to marry her, I understand. What else? I can see you have something more than that in mind.”
“Marriage is a commitment. And I admit, I never thought of it as necessary. But an heir would be useful.” He drew the chair closer to the table and lowered his voice. “If Matilda and I were betrothed, and assumed to be married at a later time, we might spend some time together and for that duration, while young Geoffrey heals, I might discern the extent of her fall from grace, whether it needs addressing. It would save you the encumbrance of asking the nuns to conduct an examination.”
Barre drummed his fingers on the table. “Go on. I’m not adverse to the idea. And if she isn’t chaste?”
