Free The Warrior's Game by Denise Domning Page A

waited for her.
    “Was it good news?” the maid asked, having spent her time laying out Ami's attire as well as the items her lady needed to make herself ready for the day. The small wooden coffer that contained Ami's grooming kit sat on the stool. Inside the kit was a small knife to clean and pare her nails, her comb, the pins Ami and Maud used when they wore rags to absorb their monthly flow and a small bundle of witch hazel twigs, each one waiting its turn to be properly peeled so Ami might clean her teeth.
    “Good enough,” Ami replied, knowing her maid wouldn't pry.
    It took but a few moments for Maud to lace Ami into what had years ago been her wedding attire. Made of fine wool, the weave of the fabric yet retained its tautness even after all these years. The colors suited her, the undergown being a pale blue, the overgown a few shades darker and decorated with a woven trim of pink and green at its neckline and sleeve hems. Although Ami still liked the garments she seldom wore them here save when court was at its most relaxed. This was attire better suited to country life. More to the point, there were servants in John's court who sported far finer attire.
    Once she'd dressed her lady, Maud retrieved Ami's comb. “I'll do that,” Ami said, taking it from her maid. “Go you to the laundresses and see if they've finished my gowns.”
    Maud shot her mistress an astonished look. “They won't have. I only took your clothes to them last night.”
    So she had, doing so at Ami's behest. With the king and most of his male household gone, not only did many of the women put away their silks in favor of simpler wools, but the laundresses were less burdened. Last night, Ami had thought sending her better gowns out to be refreshed a good plan. Not so this morning with a visit to a goldsmith looming.
    “Go anyway,” Ami said, “urging them to hurry. Come right back to let me know what they say.”
    And while Maud was gone and most of the ladies were still abed, Ami would have the privacy she needed to speak with Walter.
    Startled at this unreasonable request from her usually reasonable mistress, Maud gave Ami another look, handed Ami her comb and hurried out of the hall. Ami swiftly braided her hair, then tied on the one simple headcloth she had left from her previous life. In it she looked no better than one of Roheise's maids. All that mattered was that she was dressed and just in time. With sunlight now scratching at the shutters like a polite dog women were beginning to stir all across the hall. She didn't want their attention as she took her purse in hand and hurried to the doorway.
    A yawning Walter was already at his post. Then again, he didn’t have far to go to begin his day. Walter slept between the screen and the door.
    Running his fingers through his disordered hair, the porter offered Ami a quick smile. “It’s a lovely morning, my lady.”
    “So it is,” Ami agreed, her breath clouding in the chill air as she looked out across the castle’s yard.
    The newborn sun pierced the veil of hazy clouds to cast rosy light upon the castle's enclosing walls. Dew glistened on the roofs and clung to the tufts of yet green grass that lined the paths. For the moment the only scent was rain-washed air and woodsmoke, the only sounds the low of cattle and bleat of sheep waiting to be milked in the barns that lay to the west of the compound. That sound tore through Ami, a poignant reminder of a time and place she had once cherished and doubted she would ever own again. What she wouldn’t give to again greet the morning from the porch on her own home.
    Or at least own a home from whence someone could greet the morning.
    Turning to Walter, Ami gave her purse a shake so the coins within it clinked. His expression sharpened with the sound. “So, what have you learned of Sir Michel de Martigny? What sort of man is the mercenary?”
    “I fear I haven't much, my lady,” he replied with a shake of his head. “He’s a