of the Malinder horseflesh, followed into the Great Hall.
‘No matter.’ Lord Richard signalled to a hovering maidservant to replenish the ale and bring bread and meat.
‘My sister threatened to come on her own if I did not escort her, and pestered our mother until she agreed. Anne can be a nuisance when she’s bored or denied.’ Robert stripped off gloves and cloak, cast them on a bench, and began to unbuckle his sword. He cursed fluently at his clumsy and icy fingers where painful feeling was beginning to return. ‘She lacks female company of her own age, I suppose. And with the promise of a wedding on the horizon—well, I had to bring her.’ He stamped his feet and winced. ‘Poor weather for travelling!’
‘She’ll have enough company and more over the forthcoming days.’ Having recovered from the initial shock on seeing the girl, Richard had thrust his discomfort to the back of his mind. He poured ale into a tankard and handed it to Robert, who took it and drank deep with appreciation. Steam began to rise from his damp clothes and boots.
‘That’s better.’ He groaned and ran a hand over his wind-scoured face.
The serving maid bustled in with platters of food and added logs to the fire with an arch look at the newcomer. The hound sank once more with a sigh to its place by the hearth, now that the excitement of arrival was over.
‘A quiet journey?’
‘Very.’ Robert wiped the back of a large hand over his mouth. ‘The Welsh seem to be lying low, for once. And the weather, of course. No one’s stirring.’
‘Come and take the weight off your feet.’
Robert grunted his appreciation, was silent for a moment as he drank, still hugging the fire. Then, having thawed out to his satisfaction, he threw himself into a chair with graceless ease and propped his feet on the opposite settle. ‘Tell me all. You’re to align yourself with the de Lacys, in spite of Maude’s death.’
‘Yes. Sir John’s niece.’
Richard stared into his ale. The name of Elizabeth de Lacy had been swiftly substituted for that of Maude in the betrothal contracts. In the interests of peace in the March, the proposed Malinder–de Lacy marriage would stand if he, Richard Malinder, would agree. Richard exhaled slowly. It was very difficult to like Sir John, a man driven by self-seeking ambition. As for Master Capel, his obsidian eyes had gleamed with conspiratorial interest throughout the proceedings. The man might have remained silent, carefully deferential, but there was about him something that touched Richard’s spine with a slither of distaste.
‘I suppose you know what you are about.’ The lift in Robert’s voice made just a question of the statement.
‘Yes, I do.’ Richard’s brows rose, but he kept the tone light. ‘And, yes, I’ve heard the gossip, but there can’t be so much wrong with the girl. I didn’t want her—swore I wouldn’t take her, but I’ve changed my mind. Sir John’s enthusiastic and I see no reason for delay.’
‘As long as you keep your eyes and ears open to de Lacy intentions,’ Robert advised, suddenly serious. ‘Watch your back, Richard. Sir John must have an ulterior motive—he always does. When’s it to be?’
‘Soon. It’s intended that she—Elizabeth de Lacy—travel here directly from Llanwardine Priory. She’s well born, of an age to be wed and raised to be a competent chatelaine. I need just such a wife because I need an heir. And she’s extraordinarily well dowered.’ Richard eyed his cousin, an unexpected flicker of amusement in the cold depths of his eyes, then strode across the room, flung open the lid of a heavy oak coffer, to rummage to the bottom to extract a roll of ancient and tattered vellum. Now he smoothed it out, anchored it with tankards and his own poignard. Then, hands splayed on the table top, he bent to study its content with reference to one of the sheets of the marriage contract.
‘Come and look at this, Rob.’
It was a roughly drawn plan in coloured inks, now much faded, of the extent of the Malinder possessions. It was formidable when seen in a swathe of indigo blue. There were the lands of the Black Malinders, forming a substantially solid block through the east and central March with Ledenshall situated towards its western rim. And there the acquisitions of their cousins of the red hair, principally into South Wales. The Malinders were a powerful family.
‘It’s formidable,’ Robert agreed. ‘Black and Red Malinders together.’
‘It is. And thus understandable why de Lacy should fear our influence and wish to clasp hands with the Malinders. But look at the girl’s dowry. Sir John said that the titles came to her from her mother’s family, the Vaughans of Tretower, a family with strong connections in the March. So she would bring with her that estate there.’ Richard referred to the stipulated estates on the contract and pointed at the location of the lands on the plan. ‘And there. And also there. As well as this stretch of land.’ He ran his finger along the proposed estates that the bride would bring with her, splaying his hand over them thoughtfully when he had traced the full extent. ‘I would say that Sir John chose them most carefully.’
Robert nodded. If Elizabeth’s lands were subsumed into the Malinder holdings, Richard’s land ownership would sweep in an impressive block, almost unbroken, along the March. ‘More than generous.’
‘Too generous?’ Richard pushed himself upright and allowed the vellum to re-roll, scooping it up and replacing it in the coffer. He then sat on the lid, forearms braced on thighs to pin his cousin with a speculative stare. ‘It would appear to me to be foolhardy in the extreme. To consolidate my power in the central March at the expense of his own. Sir John’s no fool. So why has he done it? Because he values my charm and place at his table as a member of his family?’
Robert grunted. ‘I can think of nothing less likely.’
‘Nor I. He’s very keen to draw me in. This offer is far more advantageous to me than when I agreed to wed Maude. So why?’
‘Is it simply that he’s keen to get the girl off de Lacy hands?’
‘No. Not that.’ Richard pushed impatient fingers through his hair to clasp his hands behind his head and lean back against the wall. He frowned down at his crossed ankles as if they would give him the answer to the riddle. ‘He’s given too much away. If the problem is the girl, why not simply leave her in Llanwardine Priory where she’s an irritant to no one but the Lady Prioress? No. Sir John has some scheme in mind that demands an alliance with me. Is it simply that I don’t look too closely at what he’s up to in the March? He could have bought my compliance with much less—I’ve no overt quarrel with Sir John unless he steps on my toes, in spite of his allegiance to York. So there’s something here that I’m not seeing.’ The sun caught a sharp glint in Richard’s eyes as he turned his head. ‘To my mind, Sir John sees Elizabeth and her estates as the bait in a trap.’
‘With you as the unsuspecting rat?’ Robert hitched a hip against the table, emptied the tankard.
‘Hmm. Not so unsuspecting. But what’s the trap? That’s what I can’t see.’
‘As I said—watch your back, Richard.’
Richard’s reply was cool and contemplative. ‘So I shall. Because another question is, do you suppose that the bait—the cheese to catch the rat, Elizabeth de Lacy herself—is an innocent party to this? Or is the undesirable Elizabeth part and parcel of Sir John’s dark and devious scheming?’
Richard
