Free LordoftheHunt by Anonymous Author Page B

it
and hone it. And wear it .
    It was for the de Marle honor he labored. A rueful smile
overspread his face. To regain his honor he must leave it behind and skulk
about like a common thief. The irony amused him…when it did not pain him.
    Eventually, and circuitously, he ended his wanderings at de
Harcourt’s tent. The man had a chamber in the hall, but Adam also knew by
Douglas’ gossip that Brian came here to dress. To garb oneself as finely as de
Harcourt did, he must have at least one sizable coffer. Within, Adam hoped to
find evidence de Harcourt either connived with a foreign king or did not.
    With a glance about to be sure no one observed him, Adam
entered the tent. It was empty and filled with a dim morning light. Outside,
the sounds of merry-making would mark his time. He could count by the jeers and
cheers how long he had until his bout, second to last, and if anyone challenged
his right to be here, he would simply say he wanted to talk to Brian in
privacy.
    The accoutrements of Brian’s tent did not compare to his
own. The tent held little but a simple pallet with furs for a servant, Adam
assumed, since Brian slept in the keep. Luckily, there was one chest.
    It was not locked as was his own. Adam lifted the lid. The
scent of oiled metal, leather, and wool wafted up to him. Atop the well-filled
chest was a neatly folded gambeson. The padded leather garment, meant to be
worn beneath armor, was old. A fine, well-oiled hauberk was next to it. His own
mail coat was not quite as well maintained, and he made a silent vow to take
Douglas to task when he returned. It would not do to be shown in a poor light
next to Brian.
    As Adam searched deeper, he found other clothing worthy of a
man courting a fine lady. Several documents and five linen-wrapped packages lay
at the very bottom of the chest.
    His heart thundered. To be found reading Brian’s papers was
to be caught out. What excuse had he? None.
    Quickly, standing as near as he dared to the tent flap to
keep watch for anyone approaching, he unrolled and scanned the first document.
It was a directive from Brian’s father to his son, admonishing him to secure
Ravenswood at all costs. Brian was bid to spare no expense, do his duty, show
his manly strengths, excel in every test, and extend the family holdings as
every de Harcourt before him had done.
    Roger’s father had merely listed the bribes he should offer.
No long, strident sentences, no terse admonishments, just a dry list.
    Adam imagined the missive his father would write. It
would say something like follow your heart or that Ravenswood bought through
wedded slavery was not worth the price.
    His father did not understand the burn Adam felt inside to
regain what King John had snatched away. Adam knew he was capable and worthy of
the trust in arms that rule of Ravenswood Castle required.
    It was this battle of wits, a hidden battle, he felt
inadequate to win.
    Adam rolled de Harcourt’s letter and dropped it into the
coffer. The second was an accounting of gifts Brian was to offer the bishop if
he was chosen by Mathilda. The list was about equal to Lord Roger’s, but Adam
knew he could match them both possession for possession.
    He opened a third document. It held close writing in a
careless hand, much blotted.
    “ Jesu . Greek. I’m sunk.” He stuffed the letter into
his tunic, retied the other two, and turned his attentions to the five bundles
on the floor. Each proved to be a piece of jewelry, a portion of those detailed
on the parchment from de Harcourt. A sample of riches to come.
    Adam replaced the bundles and reached for the clothing. A
laugh outside drew his attention. Brian’s .
    Heart racing, Adam hastily folded away the clothing and had
just shut the lid and sat upon it when Brian entered his tent.
    “Adam!” Brian started back. “What the devil are you doing
here?”
    “Waiting for you.” Adam praised himself for the calmness of
his voice and God for the dimness of the tent. He knew his