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Oh. That.

So taken aback by the tale was Konrad that not much later he allowed himself to be steered toward the same inn that he and Farleigh had frequented the previous day.

“Don’t you ever visit The Jennet Tree on Panyer Street?” he asked with disfavor, glancing about the general murk of the low beamed room. The place didn’t seem to possess any windows that he could see.

“Never,” Fulke replied, for he now knew that Fulke was the shorter and stockier of Farleigh’s friends and Sir Leonard the taller, leaner one. “Would you recommend it?”

“The ale is far superior to this establishment.”

“You don’t say?” Fulke looked intrigued. “This place is popular in our circles due to the name.” He nodded toward the fireplace where a battered looking chest plate and shield hung. The device meant nothing to Konrad, but he guessed it was some patron saint of combat here in the south.

Farleigh flushed. “Don’t be a fool, Fulke!” he begged. “It stands to reason Kentigern knows more of knightly circles than the likes of us, who have only been competing some two years or thereabouts.”

“Nay,” Konrad protested mildly. “For I have not moved around much in the company of knights outside of the arena.”

“Your pardon, Kentigern, if I gave offence,” Fulke said ducking his head by way of apology.

“None was taken,” Konrad replied truthfully.

In truth, the ale here was not so bad. “So then, finish the tale of the other eve,” he said, seeing some awkwardness had fallen over the table. “Does de Crecy face consequences for fighting in the king’s palace?”

Farleigh grinned. “That he does. Fifty gold ducats and he must perform a forfeit for her majesty the queen when she so desires it.” Kentigern grimaced.

“I’d lay a wager he would rather pay a hundred and be done with it,” Sir Leonard chimed in. “The queen is an ingenious woman,” he shuddered. “I should not wish to lie under such an obligation. You may be sure she will extract her due with the maximum discomfort on Sir Jeffree’s part.”

Konrad thought of Wymer’s dark-eyed queen and realized Sir Leonard had a point. He eyed him with a good deal more appreciation than he had before.

“Come, Leo, you are unchivalrous,” Sir Douglas chided his friend. “The queen does not deserve such a harsh summing of her character.”

Sir Leonard shook his head and shot a speaking look first at Kentigern and then Sir Fulke. Clearly, it communicated at a glance, Douglas knows nothing of women. Konrad agreed silently and took a swig of his ale.

“How goes your wooing with Lady Constance?” Fulke asked so forthrightly that Douglas winced.

“Slowly,” he answered in a hollow tone and shot a conspiratorial look at Konrad. “I have lately taken some good advice and hope it will speed my wooing.”

Konrad doubted it, if his young friend was referring to their conversation the previous day. He glanced across the table at Sir Leonard. “You are married, Symes?” he asked curiously.

Leonard shook his head. “Sisters,” he explained succinctly. “A whole brace of them.”

Sir Fulke snorted, sending the foam off his ale flying. “I keep telling you I would take one of them off your hands, right willingly!”

“I wish you would,” his friend retorted. “But you would not be so keen if you knew the size of their portion.” He glanced across at Konrad. “They are un-dowered and give me many headaches.”

“I can well imagine. I have one who never wed,” Konrad admitted, thinking of Magnatrude.

“So, she must needs reside forever at your table,” Leonard said sympathetically. “There’s only one of my sisters I could tolerate in that capacity, but alas, she’s the only one anyone would willingly take to wife!”

“Your sister Helen?” Fulke said, nodding his head sagely.

“Helen!” Leonard exploded. “Gods blood! I did not mean Helen, for that wench is the worst of the lot!”

Fulke bristled, but before he could argue, Douglas interrupted. “Miranda,” he guessed, looking supremely confident.

If anything, the color in Leonard’s cheeks climbed higher. “Miranda!” he echoed with disgust. “She’s not far behind Helen! No,” he said resolutely. “Sybil is the only one of the pack that I would entertain providing for the rest of my life.”

“Sybil!” both his friends cried in astonishment.

“Why,” Fulke burst out hotly, “she’s not even your full-blood sister!”