Free Patricia Ryan - [Fairfax Family 01] by Falcons Fire Page B

“Eleven years ago Easter.”
    She sighed and continued. “The whole household went downhill after that. Lord Godfrey never has gotten over it, but that’s another story. Your Edmond was only eight years old, and suddenly no mum. I mean, it’s not like he’d had much of one before, her being so sick all them years. But all of a sudden she was gone, and his lordship... well, he wasn’t much use to the boy, in his state. ‘Twas Bernard raised that boy. Bernard and his men.”
    “His men?”
    “His knights. There are four here at the castle, besides him and Thorne. And Edmond, now that he’s been dubbed. Two are his and two are Thorne’s.”
    “But surely they’re all Lord Godfrey’s.”
    “I’m not telling you how it should be, milady, but how it is. If you’d rather not know—”
    “No, please.” She turned and looked into the other woman’s kind green eyes. “You know I want to know. Everything. You must always tell me everything.”
    “Yes, milady.” She poured Martine a generous brandy and handed it to her. “Bernard’s got his men, and Thorne’s got his. We call them the dogs and the hawks, ‘cause Bernard hunts with his dogs, and Thorne with his hawks. Not that that’s the only difference between them, God knows.”
    “What else? Tell me about Edmond.”
    “Like I said, Bernard and his men raised little Edmond. Bernard’s much older, you know. He’s a good six and thirty by now. Him and his men took the boy everywhere they went: hunting, whor—uh, on trips to Hastings... everywhere. Godfrey’d wanted to send him to a monastery school, or perhaps to serve one of Lord Olivier’s knights, but Bernard wouldn’t have it. He said the boy needed him, and he wasn’t going anywhere. In truth, I think ‘twas him what needed the boy.”
    “How’s that?” The brandy warmed her stomach and made her drowsy. How delicious to drink brandy while having one’s hair combed.
    “Edmond adored Bernard. Looked up to him like he was the Lord God himself. Always copying him and trying to please him. I think Bernard needed that. I think it made him feel...”
    “Hmm?” Martine’s could barely keep her eyes open.
    “Never mind. You’re half asleep, and I’ve said too much, as usual. Let’s get you into bed.”
    Felda took Martine’s wrapper and tried to put a shift on her, but Martine hated nightclothes and refused. The linen sheets felt cool against her bare skin, the feather mattress soft.
    Felda tucked her in snugly, then moved about the chamber tidying things up and hanging clothes on hooks. Martine watched her with heavy eyes, enjoying her comforting presence, the freckles spattered over her plump arms and face, the coppery glow of her hair in the lamplight. As she worked, Felda hummed a peaceful, haunting melody; it was a familiar tune, a popular love canso that comprised part of every jongleur’s repertoire.
    Martine closed her eyes, and the melody danced slow, measured circles around her, like a bird... like a seagull seeking her out, coming to escort her to her beloved. As the gull spun and twirled in the blue sky of England, it grasped the sun in its claws and pulled it, trailing a glowing thread of light... a golden ribbon.
    It was the ribbon of omens... of good and bad fortunes... of fate. Around and around her it spun, in rhythm with the song of true love, until she was wrapped in a glowing cocoon... unmoving, unseeing, sinking, drifting, floating... bound by the ribbon of fate.
     
     

 
     

Chapter 5
     
     
    There it was again, that sound. Like a little gasp.
    Martine opened her eyes. She had the sense of having slept for some time, and the faint aura of dawn glowed through the thin white curtains enclosing her bed. Where was Loki?
    Soft footsteps. Someone was in her room.
    Martine listened carefully. “Felda?”
    The movement stopped, replaced by silence. Martine sat up, holding the sheet to her chest. From the other side of the curtain, Loki mewed, and then came a sharp