Page 10

Not only was Renlow undaunted by his losses, but he would stand up against any opponent with the self-same fearlessness and spirit of fair play. He was unfailingly good-natured and accorded the same respect to both the mightiest competitor and the lowliest pageboy.

Last winter, the talk of the royal tournament had been how Renlow had woken up one morning in a shared room in Aphrany to find its other five inhabitants lying with their throats cut and the sixth man absconded with all their valuables. The only reason he could give for his own uninterrupted sleep was that he had shared his loaf of bread with the murderer the night before and lent him his spare blanket. The same blanket which had been carefully folded and laid next to Renlow’s sleeping head.

That said everything you needed to know about Renlow, or so Roland Vawdrey had said when he retold the tale to the king. “Even murderers like him.” Wymer had roared with laughter and the next day had summoned Renlow to court to make him tell him the tale again before an audience. The queen had called him ‘A fair youth, that even the worst villain could not harden his heart against’.

Konrad wasn’t so sure about that, but he knew Renlow had flashes of undeniable brilliance in the joust. He had even defeated him once. But when it came to the melee and hand-to-hand combat, the boy was hampered by the fact he followed a code of chivalry which no knight in his right mind would ever subscribe to.

Konrad wondered if these same scruples would now prevent him taking one of the wealthy merchant’s daughters to wife. He cleared his throat, and Renlow looked up. “You think you’ll see your way clear to taking one of them?” he asked.

Renlow didn’t answer for a moment. “It’s a better marital prospect than I could ever have hoped for,” he admitted. Considering Renlow’s hand-to-mouth existence, Konrad found he did not doubt it. “What about you?”

“With a face like mine, you have to ask?” Konrad snorted, and when Renlow made as though to speak, he waved his words away. “The old man has made me an offer I can’t refuse, and I’m not talking about his daughter.” He paused heavily. “Ankatel’s offered to buy me back everything I’ve ever lost; my home, my lands, my fortune.” Renlow nodded wordlessly. “So, whatever he’s offered you, I’d ask him to triple it before you take her to wife.” Even though Renlow was getting the beauty, Konrad felt honor-bound to tell the lad just how well he was doing out of the bargain.

Renlow just smiled. “I never had that much in the first place,” he admitted.

“You’d be a fool not to drive up your price. Who’s to say the king won’t bleed him like a leech from now till he drops dead,” Konrad warned him. “You may get nothing more out of the old man, even at his death.”

Renlow frowned. “The greatest treasure he has to bestow is surely his daughter’s hand.”

Konrad shook his head. After all, what could one say to such naivety? “I turn left here.”

“And I right,” Renlow said. “Farewell, Lord Kentigern. I’ll see thee anon.”

Konrad grunted, listening to the light footfalls moving away down the cobbled street. That way led to the narrowest and most squalid of the city’s streets. That boy would sleep tonight surrounded by the worst society Caer Lyoness had to offer, and yet he would sleep the deep sleep of the blameless. He could never decide if Renlow’s biggest character trait was saintliness or foolhardiness.

For a moment, Konrad spared a thought for Gerold Ankatel’s rosy-cheeked daughter. What kind of a husband would Renlow make her when he made so little provision for his own safety? How could someone so wholly unaware of life’s dangers protect another? Hopefully, the vivacious Mistress Ankatel had enough about her to look out for herself. Of her quieter sister, he did not think even once.

5

It was not until fully a week later that Gerold Ankatel informed his daughters he had met for a third time with their suitors.

Aimee looked up eagerly from her soup. “You have, Father?” she asked excitedly as Ursula dropped her spoon.

“Suitors?” Ursula repeated faintly. “You mean – ?”

“It is all settled,” he told them with satisfaction. “Did I not tell you girls your father would see to it?”

“You have settled on a wedding date?” Aimee asked breathlessly, clasping her hands in front of her.

“I have,” he replied sagely. “Three weeks from this very day.”

“Three weeks?” Ursula moaned, swaying in her seat.

Aimee jumped up and rounded the table to squeeze her father’s shoulders. “That’s wonderful, Father! We are to be wed on the same day?”

Gerold Ankatel patted her hand. “Yes, yes,” he agreed, looking pleased with himself. “One after the other at the chapel of St. Genesius.”

“You are the best and greatest of all fathers in the world!” Aimee praised him, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

Gerold chuckled as Aimee drifted back to her seat as though she was walking on air. In truth, she had been a little worried following the meal Lord Kentigern had taken at their house. He had barely seemed to notice her, despite the fact she had decked herself out in her most impressive finery, had sung like a linnet, and played her most impressive pieces on the symphonia.

Afterward, she had worried that she had expended too much energy trying to draw Ursa out of her shell that night. Her sister had sat like a stock while poor Sir Renlow tried to engage her in polite conversation. Aimee had been forced to take the lead. Though Ursa had endeavored to reply to the leading questions thrown her way, she did so in a joyless, wooden fashion.

As such, Aimee had not been able to devote her attention adequately to the object of her own affection. She did not blame Lord Kentigern for the fact they had exchanged no meaningful conversation. From everything she had heard about his reputation, his social skills were likely rusty as he was not used to mixing much in company.

Still, she thought as she sat back down, everything had turned out as it ought. A blissful smile spread over her face. She could not have left such an underwhelming impression on Lord Kentigern as she had feared. Glancing across at Ursula, she saw her sister push her bowl of soup away half-eaten.

“What is this, Ursula?” their father asked. “You have lost your appetite?”