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Lady Moraine and Alice stood on the narrow ramparts, watching Hastings and Lord Severin ride from the castle. Alice laughed. “They are riding so hard their mounts must believe they are going into battle.”
“Aye, a battle of sorts. They are going to the forest, just as we’d hoped. Hastings asked us why our strategy is always the same—well, a bit more skill we are requiring of her now—but still the end is always the same.” Lady Moraine just shook her head. “She is very young, but she is learning. I liked what you told her, Alice.”
“Aye,” Alice said, looking quite smug. “It is true. Men are simple in their needs and wants. Coming into a woman is the first thought in their heads in the morning and the last thought in their heads at night. Once Hastings has mastered that, she will seldom have another frown from your son.”
“That is true,” Lady Moraine said. “And I am pleased that she loves Severin. Oh aye, Alice, she loves him very much. She would not be able to employ the strategy if she did not love him. As for him, well, we’ll see. A man is very different from us. Love doesn’t come to him all of a moment. He must exercise his lust, ruminate upon all facets of his situation. He must be made comfortable in what he has before he can come to appreciate it with his heart as well as his head. Now, watch your step, Alice. The wind is heavy and could blow you off.”
Alice gripped the wooden railing on the inside of the ramparts’ walk. “Saint Peter’s bones, I know Hastings will succeed. She will also enjoy herself immensely.”
“It pleases me that she agreed to our plan even when she was certain that Severin was bedding Marjorie. She is very hardheaded, my daughter-in-law.”
“As you said, she loves your son. Doubtless, when they are not shrieking at each other, she also enjoys his man’s body. I also believe that the Healer made a mistake. That potion didn’t blind Severin to all save Marjorie. I vow he doesn’t have a thought for her.”
“Thank the Lord for that. I wonder how he will punish Hastings.”
Alice laughed so loud, Auric, one of the men-at-arms on guard at the corner tower, stared over at them. Alice raised her hand and waved at him. He gave her a wide grin, showing his remaining six teeth.
Hastings and Severin did not return until it was time for the dinner meal. They tried to slip up the solar stairs unnoticed, but it didn’t work. Gwent shouted, “My lord, the wind has died down. The temperature has dropped. A storm is blowing up. Beamis agrees with me. All the horses and other animals are safely in their sheds. Most all our people are already within the great hall, as you can see, as they can see you. As everyone who is not blind can see you and Hastings.”
Hastings tugged on his hand, grinning up at him. “We are the butt of their jests, my lord,” she said.
“You have twigs and leaves in your hair, your gown is ripped beneath your right arm—”
“That was the arm that reached nearly everything of interest, my lord,” she said, and giggled again. “Remember when you had me reach up and hold to that branch over my head? I believe that is when it ripped.” She raised her hand and pulled a leaf from his dark hair.
He wanted to tug at his tunic, to swipe at his hair, but he forced himself to be still.
“Mayhap, my lord,” Beamis called out, “you wish time to bathe before we eat?”
“Their jests become riper,” Hastings said as she picked a leaf out of her own tangled hair.
“Alice,” Severin called out, “serve ale. It will close the mouths of these louts.”
When Severin and Hastings walked into the great hall close to an hour later, it was to loud singing, laughter, Edgar the wolfhound barking loudly as he chased after a bone one of the men-at-arms threw for him, and several amorous bouts, the most interesting between Belle and the armorer. “I wonder if there is a drop of ale left at Oxborough,” Hastings said, grinning up at her husband.
He paused a moment, oblivious of the nearly sixty people, all watching them now. “I have yet to punish you, Hastings.” He lightly touched his fingers to her cheek. She turned her head and kissed his palm.
“Mayhap you should wait until our child is born.”
He lightly touched her stomach. “Give me a curve here, Hastings. Something to show me that my child is within.”
“Soon,” she said. “Soon.”
They took their chairs, answering jests coming from Gwent and Beamis. Hastings started to take a bite of her stewed onions and cabbage when Severin grabbed her hand. “It must be tasted first.”
He turned to Marjorie. “Give Hastings your trencher and you take hers.”
Marjorie looked pinched. Her face was pale, her eyes darkened with pain, with deep anger—Hastings didn’t know—but she said nothing. Eloise was silent and slouched down in her chair beside her.
“Give her your goblet also.”
Marjorie continued silent, simply doing as he bade.
The laughter and jests continued long after the sun set, the storm blew in, and the wind howled around the castle, making the tapestries billow against the stone walls that faced the sea.
“You have won.”
Hastings drank the last of her wine before turning to Marjorie. “Won?” she repeated slowly. S
