The Saxon. Margaret Moore
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Ordella’s eyes widened with genuine pleasure. “I see Bayard has indeed chosen his wife wisely. Adelar has been too free with his ways.”
The two women watched Adelar leave the hall. Gleda made her way past him, and Endredi saw the girl press against his body quite unnecessarily. He seemed to find nothing amiss, although he had chided her for exchanging a jest with Godwin. Still, his brow remained furrowed and he said nothing to the serving wench at all.
Endredi looked away. She should not be pleased that he ignored Gleda. It could be that he was oblivious to many things, for he also seemed not to care that he had angered Ranulf’s wife. Ranulf was not worthy of respect, perhaps, but he was Bayard’s kin.
Gleda poured the women some ale while Ylla brought bread and meat.
“I see you have managed to instill some proper respect in that harlot, too,” Ordella said, her lips pursed as she watched Gleda stroll away.
“Harlot?”
“She goes with any man who looks at her, even that fool Godwin, probably. She will be with child again soon, and then you will have to find another to take her place.”
“Again? She has children?”
“Two. They died during their birth.”
“Oh, how sad for her!”
“It was a punishment from God, which unfortunately has not made her change her ways,” Ordella said peevishly. “I think every man in this burh has been with her, except Bayard, of course. He
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