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Hastings smiled slowly. “In the chamber Sir Roger moved her out of. In the lord’s chamber. I had two of the servants move in a small cot for her. She is now sleeping on clean covers and she herself is now clean. Do you mind sharing with your mother?”
He shook his head.
“I, ah, had all of Sir Roger’s clothing and possessions and those of his mistress moved to the small chamber where they had put your mother.”
“I like the way your brain works as well, Hastings. Excellent. I wish to question Sir Roger more closely. His mistress is visiting in the village, he told me, but she should return soon. Then, very briefly, before he escaped me, he complained that the money I have sent has not been enough to accomplish anything. It has bought only enough food to keep the people from starving. That isn’t right.” He stopped, cursed, then fell again to pacing.
Hastings looked about the hall. “This is very strange, Severin. Sir Roger is still gone. We are very nearly alone here. What is happening?”
“I don’t know. Gwent and our men are looking about to see what needs to be done to the barracks, to the keep itself, and to the peasants’ cottages and the fields. It doesn’t look very hopeful, Hastings.”
“No matter. You will fix it. I wish the man would return so that you may question him.”
“We will see once he returns. I believe he was so surprised at my anger that he wanted to take himself off, perhaps speak to his mistress and decide how best to deal with me. Aye, I shall tie them both to a stake in the village.”
She laughed. It was the first sound Sir Roger heard when he came into the dim hall, his mistress, Glenda, behind him. All would be well. His heart slowed. He realized the moment the words had escaped his mouth that Lord Severin wasn’t pleased to hear him complain about the money he had sent to Langthorne. Then he had seen Gwent just outside the hall and the look the lout had given him had shriveled him to his toes. Thurston had looked grim. That mangy bastard betrayed him, had sent the messenger to Lord Severin. He could give him orders, but he could not have him whipped. He was Lord Severin’s man. Damnation.
It was true that he had panicked when Lord Severin had come from seeing his mother. He had seemed angry. But why? She was alive, wasn’t she? He, Sir Roger, had found her. The mad old woman wasn’t worth more than a man’s spit. No, Lord Severin would have to reward him for finding that mad old crone. He would give him another bag of coins. Aye, everything would be all right. Still, he thought to pray as he moved forward.
“My lord, my lady,” he called, his voice complacent now, with more than enough deference to please the master. “I am pleased that you are here, though your visit is a surprise. Your dear mother is fine, just as I told you. The women you selected have cared well for her, except that the second one died so now there is just one.”
“The fat one,” Hastings said.
“She must have meat on her to deal with a madwoman.”
Hastings wanted to choke his neck with her own hands. His neck was skinny. She could choke him, she knew it. She felt Severin close his hand over hers. It stilled her. She realized she was breathing fast and forced herself to ease. She saw the girl standing to Sir Roger’s left side. She was very young, plump, pretty, her hair light and thick, in fat curls down her back, held with a gold net. There was such a look of self-satisfaction on her face that Hastings’s breathing speeded up again. Sir Roger had just proven himself a fool.
“Glenda,” Sir Roger said, “fetch our lord and lady some of the special wine and bread and cheese.”
The girl gave him a sullen nod and left the hall. Perhaps, Hastings thought, Glenda had eaten her mother-in-law’s food. Her bottom was good-sized. She would be as fat as that serving woman when she was twenty.
Sir Roger rubbed his hands together as he motioned Severin to the lord’s chair, its beautiful carved arm posts dull and dirty. He looked at Hastings and shrugged.
“You may remain standing by your lord,” he said to her.
“There is no lady’s chair?” Severin asked.
“It is in the lord’s bedchamber,” Sir Roger
said.
Severin patted his leg. “She will sit here until you have the lady’s chair fetched for her, Sir Roger.”
“Oh, aye, my lord.” Sir Roger called to a ragged serving boy and spoke quietly to him. Then he straightened, his eyes going to Glenda, who was directing two servants who carried trays with wine, goblets, bread, and cheese.
The food was set upon a trestle table. Hastings rose and waited. Severin rose slowly, saying, “Sir Roger, bring my chair to the trestle table.”
The man gaped at him, then managed to pull the large chair to the nearest end of the table. “My lord,” he said. Severin knew exactly what he was thinking. He was a knight. What right did Lord Severin have ordering him to do a servant’s task?
Hastings sat on the bench at her husband’s right.
They drank the wine and ate the bread. No one said anything. Glenda sat herself at the other end of the trestle table beside Sir Roger.
“You told me that the money I have sent isn’t enough,” Severin said matter-of-factly. He tore a piece of bread off with his teeth.
“Aye, my lord. Mayhap I should not have mentioned it to you so soon after you arrived, but it is a concern. I have used the money wisely, but there is so much that needs to be done before Langthorne regains its previous grandeur.”
Hastings kicked up some of the dirty reeds with the toe of her boot. “Aye, you are right, Sir Roger. I have always found that one must have money to keep a great hall clean. Sweeping up old reeds and replacing them must be more costly, though, than even I imagined.”
