Free The Warrior's Game by Denise Domning Page B

merchant’s son and a soldier of great skill. Although he is a knighted commoner, I think he’s not a common knight. Of all the king’s mercenaries he endures the most challenges. To date those who have invited him to duel have lived to regret it, but live they do albeit with wounds that heal into fearsome scars. So frequent are these challenges that the knight does not travel alone, keeping instead his own troops at his back. Some say he pays these men out of his profits from wars and tournaments. Others insist that his merchant sire is so wealthy he buys his son this protection. Myself, I think it’s more likely our king gives these men to one of his favorites, not wanting a man he cherishes to suffer undue injury.”
    So, not a wastrel then. Sir Michel rented space in town because, like his betters, he was honor-bound to provide bed and board for those who served him.
    “And where does he house this army of his?” Ami asked, wanting confirmation of her note's information.
    The jerk of Walter’s thumb indicated the town that lay to the south of the castle. “He and his sleep with Robert Atte Cross, my lady, the goldsmith. There's talk that Robert is related to de Martigny’s father in a business way.” Walter shrugged to indicate that he didn’t know if this was true.
    Ami shifted a little, peering toward the castle walls as if she could see any of the vast stretch of thatched-roofed homes and shops that filled the space between castle and the cathedral at the town's far edge. It was only the gray stone tower of God's house that showed from this vantage point.
    That there was so much wealth and commerce at Winchester was because this place had been the home of English kings from time immemorial. Where royalty stayed, so did the treasury, along with a court full of noblemen with coins in their purses.
    “What of the mercenary's schedule?” Ami asked. There was no point in visiting the goldsmith if he wasn't in when she arrived.
    “He is a man of firm habit,” Walter replied. “He and those he employs spend the morn at weapons practice, using the same yard as the town guard. Come Sext, they retire to the smith's house not to leave again until the bells for None service ring when they make their way here so the knight might sit at the head of your table, my lady. After that, they sometimes remain here to exercise their horses or return once more to the smith's house. And that is all I know of him thus far,” Walter concluded, his now greedy gaze fixed on Ami's purse.
    Ami's smile was slow and pleased. Punctual, John had called him. “Walter, I do believe I shall be away from the hall between Sext and None. I have an errand to run. Will you arrange for an escort?”
    As she spoke she opened her purse and fished out Walter's usual fee for turning his head when a woman he was supposed to hold tight walked past him. When she dropped this in his palm, Walter grinned.
    “I shall be pleased to do so, my lady,” he assured her. “Now as to the rest?”
    Again Ami looked into her purse, this time pretending to study its none-too-cluttered interior. “I want more. Who does he keep in his bed? Who dines with him when he doesn't dine here? Have you heard anything about him leaving Winchester?”
    Only her final question startled Walter. “Leave? He cannot leave Winchester, my lady. He is guardian of the wards.”
    Interesting. Was Roheise wrong? Even more importantly, if Roheise was right and Sir Michel did intend to leave, how did she know this when Walter had no word of it?
    This time, it was a single pence Ami fished out and dropped into his outstretched palm. “My thanks, Walter, for the information.”
    The porter blinked, disappointed astonishment flattening his expression. “My lady,” he started to protest.
    Ami raised a finger. “You aren't the only one who hears things. It came to my ears yesterday just how much you earned on those wagers of yours. Walter, if not for me and my firm grip on virtue,