Free Longsword by Veronica Heley

story to Lord Henry if you wish … though if you take my advice, you will let the tale grow old before you refer to it. Lord Henry is under some obligation to Sir Bertrand, in connection with that court case we were discussing the other day, about the boundary of the Derbyshire estate.”
    â€œDid Lord Henry ask you to enquire as to Sir Bertrand’s character?”
    â€œHe did, I did, and nothing good I found to tell, except that the man is brave, wealthy and fond of his cousin. I have advised against the match, yet I think it will go forward, for the reason I have stated. Besides, it is more than time that the Lady Elaine were wed. You are well out of that by the way. …”
    Gervase winced. Beata, as a nun – every time he thought of her as a nun, it hurt. “I cannot stay, Hamo. She asked me to go.”
    Hamo said, “She might not have realised how much you would appreciate the proposition I have outlined to you. Of course you are devoted to her. Who is not? I daresay the castle will survive the spectacle of you making a fool of yourself over her. Or did you think, perhaps, that she asked you to go for her sake?” His incredulity and amusement grated on Gervase. He hardened his jaw.
    â€œI promised,” he said.
    The old man shrugged. “Oh, if you are thinking only of yourself … doubtless when I tell her what an opening you have missed, she will add her word to mine.”
    â€œI do not believe she would. …”
    â€œYou think too highly of yourself. What is it to her, what you do? Only she will have some thought for the estates. If she goes at Christmas she will at least have the satisfaction of leaving Mailing in good hands. And if she does not go. …”
    There was a whisper of cloth against the lintel, and she was standing there, looking at him, with her hand to her throat. She paused a moment, then moved past him to Hamo’s bedside, without looking at Gervase again. They had not come face to face for some days – he was not usually with Hamo at this hour – she obviously had not expected to see him there. …
    â€œI was trying to persuade him to stay on,” said Hamo, growing irritable as she sought to set his bedclothes to rights. “I thought he might make a good steward, take the burden off me … when you are gone, and your brother left to his own devices … Crispin needs a strong man at his elbow. …”
    â€œWhen I am gone!” She repeated the words with a degree of wildness that made Gervase frown. “Why, are you so anxious to be rid of me?”
    â€œI was only thinking of the future – of his future, too. He is so conceited, this long lad here, that he boasted you feared his remaining. …”
    â€œNow that I did not say,” Gervase protested; but she turned further from him, her hand on Hamo’s forehead.
    â€œWould not a man of his talents be appreciated here, when you are gone?” asked Hamo, peering out at Gervase from under Beata’s hand, with a wicked grin on his face.
    â€œOf course,” she said. She turned her head and smiled in Gervase’s direction, but although her eyes were brilliant, they did not rest on him, but passed over his shoulder. “Of course you must stay. I am sure you will do well.”
    Then she was gone.
    There was a long silence. Gervase looked up from contemplation of his hands, to see that the old man was spent, leaning back with his eyes closed, but not asleep. His breathing rasped in the quiet of the cell. When Gervase put some wine to Hamo’s lips, he refused it, trying to brush the goblet aside with hands that had lost all their strength.
    â€œYou … will stay? You are … needed here. …”
    The eyes filmed over before Gervase could say yea or nay. The lips moved again, and Gervase bent close to hear the words. “You … used me up … with your nonsense … send … for that fool of a