The crowd dispersed as Anglbert gaveout more orders in preparation for the evening and the march,leaving Talon standing there with Lara.
“Lady?”
“I, ah, I wanted to thankyou,” she said.“For the buck.For Patience and herbabe.”
He grinned, remembering how hard it’dbeen for her to thank him for saving Wolf’s life, for anything.“You’re welcome.”
She grinned back, quick and fleeting,before dropping her gaze from his with a pretty blush to hercheeks.Talon thought it a good time to beat a hasty retreat andstarted for the hall.
“Captain?”Lara stepped alittle closer.
He stopped.“Yes?”
“I want to go withyou.”
“With me?”
“On the march.To meet thereturning army.”
“What?Why?”
“I can serve as yourhealer.It would fulfill a season of military service, which wouldpay off my wergeld.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because war is no placefor a woman.You yourself said you’d never willingly go towar.”
“But this wouldn’t bewar,” she argued with a stubborn set of her chin.“You’re justmeeting up with the king and the army.Bringing them fresh suppliesand escorting them back to Gaul.”
“Back through mountainscrawling with Basques.”
She lifted her chin another notch.“Ideserve the chance to work off my wergeld.”
“No.”
“But—”
“God’s blood, Lara.Thesesame Basques lost their city of Pamplona to the army of Gaul.Weburned their city, their homes, their—” The cries of women andscreaming children assaulted Talon’s ears, the stench of burningflesh his nose.“No.Don’t mention it again.”
***
Lara
Lara considered putting extra salt inthe captain’s strawberry pie, and would have, but for the fat buckhe left with Willem and Patience.Kneading and rolling the doughfor the crust with a ferocity that raised Berta’s brows, Lara feltthe cook’s proprietary eye on every berry she pared and every peachshe pitted until the pies were safely in the ovens.
“Here.”Berta handed her abowl of risen bread dough.“Pound on this awhile, then if you stillfeel the need to pummel something, there are pheasant topluck.”
Lara handed the dough over to Enid andgrabbed the pheasants, which she not only plucked but spit androasted too, preferring the solitude of the roasting pit where shecould watch the comings and goings of the soldiers and workers inthe courtyard to the noisy, crowded bustle of the kitchens.She sawthe captain once, bathed and dressed in his good forest greenjerkin, leaning over the cooling pies Berta had pulled from theovens before she chased him off.He’d glanced around the groundsuntil he spied Lara, then stood there staring at her for a momentbefore turning and striding back into the hall.
The sun was touching the peaks of thewestern hills when the watch called out the count’s arrival.Larakept to her seat at the roasting pit, well hidden from the frontentrance to the hall where the count and his company would enter.She glanced at the door to the indoor kitchens where she, a lidi,would enter through to serve the company.The captain stepped outof it, looked straight at her, then turned around and went backin.
“The captain,” she said toWolf, who had his nose as close to the roasting pheasant aspossible without singing his whiskers, “sometimes he does theoddest things.”
Soon enough, Berta waved at her fromthe same door as two kitchen maids headed toward the roasting pitwith platters for the pheasants.
“Come, Wolf.”The houndwould stay inside the indoor kitchens while she helped serve themeal.“Time’s up.”
