what I know of the men of Dunborough, his brother’s unhappiness may be enough.”
Mavis had no answer to that, nor did she wish to hear any more. “You’ve been blessed with a fine, healthy child,” she observed.
Lady Viola kissed the top of her nursing baby’s head. “Children are indeed a blessing and a joy, my dear.”
Mavis instinctively rested her clasped hands on her belly. “I would do anything to have children. They are our comfort and support.”
“Beg pardon, my lady,” Annisa said as she reentered the chamber. “The evening meal is ready.”
Lady Viola handed her sleepy child to the maidservant, who laid the baby on her shoulder to burp him.
“I’m sorry. You didn’t get a chance to rest after all,” she said to Mavis as she closed her gown.
“It’s quite all right,” Mavis replied, even though she wished she’d taken a nap so she wouldn’t have heard so much about her husband’s brother before they rejoined the men in the hall below.
“I suppose the women must have their time to gossip, eh, my lord, and we men must wait for them to finish, even if we’re starving,” Sir Melvin said to Roland as they sat together in the main room of his manor house.
Roland did not reply, in part because he didn’t know if Mavis indulged in gossip, but also because it didn’t matter if he answered. He had already learned that Sir Melvin would keep talking regardless. Since returning to the house he had talked about the state of the roads, last year’s harvest, the king and the latest news of the church in Rome.
Roland could believe the man would keep talking even if he were knocked unconscious.
“Mind you, it’s easy for a man to wait for a woman as beautiful as your wife,” Sir Melvin continued. “Such eyes! Such skin! Not that I envy you, my lord, for Viola won my heart when I was just a lad, and she says the same of me, hard as that may be to believe.”
Roland did find that rather difficult to comprehend. He supposed it was possible that Sir Melvin had been thinner, and quieter, in his youth.
Roland’s gaze wandered to the soldiers of his escort, who were likewise awaiting the evening meal. They were clustered around a trestle table at the far end of the room, chatting quietly among themselves and only occasionally glancing their way. No doubt they were discussing what had happened that day, and he was sure nothing good was being said of the men of Dunborough.
He noted the two brothers sitting close together, head to head, one speaking, the other listening, paying attention and nodding agreement as if they were friends, not mortal enemies locked in battle for a father’s notice.
“You’ve made a most promising alliance, too,” Sir Melvin went on, snaring his attention again. “Lord DeLac is a wealthy and powerful man.”
“Who will probably soon be dead of drink,” Roland replied, trying to silence the fellow, at least for a moment.
Unfortunately, his plan did not succeed.
“Yes, well, ahem, we have heard he imbibes overmuch at times. The better for you, though, perhaps, eh, my lord?” Sir Melvin said. “You and your charming wife will inherit since he has no son. You’ll have an estate in the north and one in the south.”
“Unlike my father or my elder brother, I take no pleasure in any man’s demise, and I doubt my wife will feel any delight in her father’s death, however the man’s behaved.”
“N-no, of course not. I didn’t mean to imply... Forgive me,” Sir Melvin stammered.
“I have taken no offense,” Roland answered as his wife and Lady Viola finally appeared.
He saw at once that Mavis didn’t appear any more rested. She was still too pale, with dark circles under her eyes.
Perhaps Lady Viola was as talkative as her husband and he would have done better to continue on until they found an inn or abbey willing to take them, no matter how desperate he’d been to find a night’s lodging.
Unfortunately, it was too late now.
The men rose as the ladies joined them on the dais at the high table, Mavis to Sir Melvin’s right, Lady Viola on his left. Lady Viola was plain, but far from ugly, and when she smiled indulgently at her husband, Roland could believe theirs was indeed a love match, as surprising as he would have found it when he first arrived.
“Your son is a lovely child,” Mavis said as the servants began to serve a thick ham pottage in trenchers, with fresh-made bread and unexpectedly good wine. “You are very blessed.”
“Yes, very blessed and fortunate,” Sir Melvin agreed with proud complacency. “I’m after a dozen children at least. The more, the better, I always say. I suppose you’ll be wanting sons soon, my lord. Nothing against daughters, for where would we be without them, but a son first, eh?”
Roland didn’t risk even a glance at Mavis before he replied. “I hope to have many children.”
“Then you’re in agreement with your wife,” Lady Viola noted, and he felt a surge of pleasure and relief. “As she says, children are our comfort and security.”
Comfort—as if he’d been harsh and cruel.
Security—as if he couldn’t keep her safe.
Did Mavis think him incapable of the most basic duties belonging to a husband and a father? Did she believe that he would be as negligent as his own, or hers?
To be sure, his father had been cruel, capricious, selfish and demanding, always pitting one son against the other in a never-ending competition, but that only made Roland more determined to be a better father, if God blessed him with children.
“I look forward to fatherhood,” he said firmly, and then he added, because he was certain it would be true, “I’m sure my lady will be an excellent mother.”
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