Free Defiant Unto Death by David Gilman Page B

may stink, but I’m alive.’
    â€˜We had news from Brittany that a ship sank in foul weather and that your shields were washed ashore in the wreckage. There were no survivors, and only three bodies were found.’
    Blackstone felt a pang of regret at hearing the news. So, Master Jennah of Hythe had drowned.
    â€˜We used the boat to attack a stronghold to the south. The ship’s master was a good man. His skill gave us success.’
    â€˜Then we’ll offer up prayers for him,’ Blanche de Harcourt said.
    â€˜You’ve been away from us too long. There’s a lot to tell you,’ de Harcourt said quietly. He was more subdued than usual, thought Blackstone. His friend looked drawn and pale; his features were gaunt, like those of a man recovering from a wound.
    â€˜Bernard has been executed in Paris and the King does not realize the mistake he’s made,’ added de Ruymont quickly.
    â€˜D’Aubriet? For surrendering land? Are the King’s men riding into Normandy?’ Blackstone asked. If this was a determined strike against the Norman lords, then they needed to prepare their defences.
    â€˜No, it was a gesture to show us his authority. He is in no position to come here,’ said de Harcourt. Blackstone could see the concern and anger on the men’s faces.
    De Ruymont’s wife intervened. ‘Guy, this is not the time or the place to berate the King or—’
    The amiable Norman turned suddenly on his wife. ‘Do you presume to know when I should speak on matters of importance?’
    Joanne de Ruymont blushed and lowered her head.
    The embarrassed silence was quickly broken when de Ruymont smiled at Blackstone. ‘Now, we must leave you to celebrate your safe return.’
    â€˜No, we’ll stay!’ said de Harcourt. ‘This calls for a party, surely. Something at last to cheer us!’
    There was still an awkwardness between Guy and his wife. Blanche de Harcourt, being from the senior family present, exercised her right of decision. ‘Another time, Jean,’ she said gently. She knew the passion she had for her husband whenever he had returned from battle and Christiana and Blackstone would need their privacy.
    â€˜You are all welcome to stay,’ said Christiana hospitably, hoping the invitation would be seen for the social politeness it was.
    It was Guy de Ruymont who stepped down to his friend de Harcourt and murmured something into his ear. De Harcourt’s sudden look of understanding could not be disguised. He laughed. ‘It’s been too long since I fought, Thomas; I’m getting old and fat and dull-witted. When your wounds have healed and you have rested,’ he said, ‘then ride over and spend a day with us so we can tell you what has been happening in your absence and hear of your success.’
    â€˜And we will discuss the arrangements for Henry’s party. It won’t be all politics,’ said Blanche de Harcourt.
    The women kissed each other’s cheeks and Guy de Ruymont pressed Blackstone’s shoulder. ‘Is it true Saint-Clair has fallen? We heard rumours.’
    Blackstone nodded. ‘We took it.’
    â€˜You are a madman, Thomas, I’ve always known it,’ said de Ruymont, then lowered his voice so that his wife would hear no blasphemy: ‘Sweet Jesus, you have either an angel or a demon at your shoulder.’
    Despite de Ruymont’s caution his wife heard what he said and, risking her husband’s admonition, could not resist a barbed comment. ‘Your wife is your angel, Thomas; it is you who gives sanctuary to the demon. More time on your knees in a chapel would not serve you ill. You seek treasure and fortune elsewhere, but they are here under your own roof. You should stay at home more often.’
    Before Guy de Ruymont could say anything, Christiana stepped between them. ‘Joanne, Thomas knows what he has, and what will always be here when he