Free Knight Protector (Knight Chronicles) by Rue Allyn Page A

nothing like the old earl and resembled Lady Agnes in only the most obvious things like his thin, yellow hair and a tendency to portliness balanced by a frame much taller than most lads of eight or nine. Did he get outside to play with other boys or practice knightly skills with a wooden sword and buckler? At Henry’s age, Colin and Brice had already mastered most of the riding skills they would need as future knights and began training with blunted metal blades. Did Henry do that? Or was he too much under the thumb of his mother? As soon as time and circumstance permitted, Colin decided, he would take over the boy’s training. For the present at least, he was Colin’s heir and should be treated as such.
    The boy sat unusually still for a lad scarcely nine years old, though his hands trembled as he shifted dishes and trenchers about the table.
    “’Tis difficult to judge how ill you’ve been,” the younger Marr continued. “Until my mother forced her way in, your wife has allowed few visits since the priest gave the last rites.”
    Colin was glad to hear it. With so few visitors, creating the impression that he was Brice would be easy.
    “Could you cut me some sausage?” He watched as with trembling hands the youth divided the meat into bites. Was he inexperienced at carving, palsied, or nervous? The boy was too old to lack experience cutting meat. A glance at Henry’s carefully bland and ruddily healthy face plus the absence of any other symptoms of palsey made Colin settle on the latter explanation. Why would the lad be nervous? ’Twas not his first meeting with Brice, surely, so uncertainty about his status with the new earl shouldn’t be the cause. Anger at being replaced as the heir?
    “Are you disappointed that I have recovered?” Colin asked.
    The knife slipped, and Henry looked up, eyes wide. “N-no. Of course not.” The lad straightened and set down the carving utensils. “I am overjoyed at your improved health and pray you are soon returned to your full strength and ability. Why would you ask such a question? Do you think I want to be earl and own Strathnaver?”
    Colin repressed a frown. That very atypical young lad pronouncement had been delivered as if memorized. “It would nae have been odd for you to feel upset at being denied the earldom.” In his role as a severely ill man, Colin allowed his voice to shake a bit. “However, I ask only because you seem to have something on your mind.”
    Henry looked away as he responded. “If I seem so, ’tis only because, as you know, life with my mother is not always easy or calm.”
    “Ah. If you wish to unburden yourself, I’ll be happy to be your confidant. Naught that you say will leave this room.”
    Henry cast him an upward glance. “Truly?”
    “Aye.” Colin reached for some of the sausage. “You talk. I’ll eat.”
    He chewed while he waited for his half-brother to come to the point. ’Twas nae hardship to wait. He’d nae had food this good since leaving Northumbria.
    “I … ah … I hardly know where to start.”
    Colin made a comforting noise but continued with his meal.
    “The dowager is a verra demanding woman.”
    Colin snorted.
The boy has much to learn. All women are demanding in one way or another
.
    “She constantly nags at me about my posture, my manners, my clothing, my speech…”
    Colin finished eating then leaned back in his chair. His brother’s list of complaints about his mother was lengthy, but naught was different than any son might complain of in even the best of mothers. What intrigued Colin was that throughout the recital, Henry’s nervous tics and twitches increased. Instead of relaxing by sharing his troubles, he became more agitated.
    “Oh, good,” the lad interrupted his monologue. “You’ve finished. I’ll have Sir Broc remove the tray then help you back to bed.”
    Obviously the boy had decided nae to confide his deepest troubles.
    “That would be satisfactory, but wait a moment or two before