Free Castles in the Air by Christina Dodd Page A

my fortifications?”
    She didn’t collapse from relief, but she wanted to. For the first time since her father’s death, the wretched old man had given way. Sir Joseph had capitulated.
    He swung his staff at Layamon. “Go on! Get on and see if those lazy sots you call soldiers have the castle secure.”
    Layamon jumped away from the stick, but he asked, “M’lady? What are yer orders?”
    Layamon would pay later. Oh, yes, he would pay, for Sir Joseph’s evil glare guaranteed retribution. But Juliana appreciated Layamon’s courage. After somber deliberation, she said, “You may go, Layamon. After you’ve assessed the damage from the leak in the armory, see to the patrols on the wall walk. As Sir Joseph suggested. I’ll take Sir Joseph to see the improvements on my castle.”
    Obeying her eagerly, Layamon sprang away.
    Sir Joseph watched after him, shaking with a palsy that in any other man would be a sign of old age. “This is how you repay me for my kindness? By putting me aside like an old horse? I taught you manners when you were a child. I told you how to raise your children. I encouraged you to resist when the king wanted you to marry this Count of Avraché.”
    “If you’ll come this way…” She waved an inviting arm, but Sir Joseph stomped into a mud puddle so hard it splattered her bodice; then he charged toward the gate. She sighed. She’d won a major battle; why did she feel the war had scarcely begun?
    “A defeated enemy is a bad chamberfellow,” said Raymond’s voice close against her ear.
    Still nervous from her encounter, she started, but he didn’t seem to notice. “What do you suggest I do with him?” she snapped, although she’d been thinking much the same thing.
    “Send him to your other castle.” Reaching for her arm, he led her through the muddy bailey as if she were delicate as glass.
    “He’d think it was exile.”
    “So it is, but better a brief unpleasantness than that troublemaker skulking about.”
    Sir Joseph bellowed from just inside the gate, “What are you doing, dallying with that young knave? Can’t keep your hands off the men, can you?”
    Raymond’s fingers tightened briefly on her, then he moved forward to stand directly in front of Sir Joseph. “I am Master Raymond, the master castle-builder sent by my lord, King Henry, with instructions to strengthen this castle. I will be sure to mention your name when I report to the king.” His smile showed broad white teeth, and Sir Joseph craned his neck to look up at him.
    Sir Joseph studied him, eyes half closed in contemplation. Slowly, as though he were thinking aloud, he said, “I would have said you were a lord.”
    Raymond’s smile got bigger and broader and a shade more vicious. “I am a lord. Lord of the castle builders.”
    “Pah!” Sir Joseph shook off his apprehensions. “Like as not you’re some bastard son that toadied up to King Henry and bought the appointment.”
    “Like as not,” Raymond agreed.
    “But ’tis no shame to be a bastard son,” Juliana said.
    Sir Joseph flushed crimson again. “Well, this stupid bastard doesn’t keep the serfs working.”
    Juliana waved to the muddy workers as they huddled around the fire and quaffed mugs of ale supplied from her cellars. “They’ve got to eat.”
    Sir Joseph snorted. “You’re always too soft. If it were up to me…that young fool Layamon could never take my place.”
    “No one could ever take your place,” she began placatingly. Then an unexpected gust of resentment swept her. “Just as no one could ever take my father’s.”
    “ Your father? He didn’t want someone like you for a daughter, not even on his deathbed.” Sir Joseph jabbed her with one sharp elbow. “Remember whose hand he held when he died? I wonder what he’d think if he could see this day’s business.”
    “Maybe he’d think he held the wrong hand,” she retorted, sick and furious with his jeers.
    “I warned him about you from the day you were born. I told