Free Knave of Hearts by Shari Anton Page B

if Edwin didn’t know Branwick well enough to act as a novice’s guide.
    Still wary, Stephen asked, “Just you and me?”
    “On my word, Stephen, you have naught to fear. I will not help you, but neither will I hinder you. The sooner over, the sooner you are gone.”
    Stephen relented. This would be a good opportunity to observe Edwin, though he’d still watch his own back. Edwin seemed an honorable man, but was a rival. One didn’t trust one’s enemy to adhere to honor when the prize was great.
    “I had planned to begin at whatever site is farthestfrom Branwick yet reachable within the day. Agreeable?”
    Edwin smiled. “A good hard ride should work the peevishness out of both rider and mount. Ready?”
    “Lead on.”
    Edwin wound his way through the crowded inner bailey, picked up speed in the outer bailey, then dashed out the gate, Stephen at his heels. Once out, Stephen gloried at the freedom of flying over the countryside, at a speed that tasked the horses’ stamina and the riders’ ability. By the time Edwin slowed to spare the horses, Stephen’s mood was much improved.
    He pulled up alongside Edwin. “Where do we go?”
    “The bridge.”
    Stephen recalled Carolyn’s list. “Carolyn deems one of the supports rotted and in need of replacement. Is the bridge heavily traveled?”
    Edwin hesitated before answering. “At times.”
    Stephen chided himself for asking the question. ’Twasn’t Edwin’s intention to give further aid than ensuring Stephen didn’t get lost. Fair enough. What information he couldn’t glean from observation, he’d ask of Branwick’s steward.
    For the better part of the next hour, they rode in silence over a decently kept road which wound through well-tended fields and dense woodlands. He observed the wealth of game, from fluttering doves to an elegantly racked buck. A hare scampered across the road and into the wheat field, safely hidden now within the tall sheaves of gold.
    “Ah, for a falcon,” Stephen said, drawing a wistful smile from Edwin.
    “Aye, ’twould be a good day for a hunt if we had notanother task before us. I hear tell Wilmont’s mews are beyond compare.”
    “My brother does love his hunting birds. To my great fortune, he is also willing to share. ’Tis a rare occasion to visit Wilmont without him pressing to fly the hawks at least once.”
    “Have you a preference in birds?”
    Stephen did. “Peregrines. At least Wilmont’s peregrines. My sister-by-marriage has them trained to such a degree they might hunt on their own.”
    Edwin raised a doubting eyebrow. “The baron’s wife has charge of the mews?”
    “Nay, not truly. Gerard’s falconer oversees the hunting birds care and training for the most part. Ardith, however, has a great love of peregrines and enjoys the training. The birds respond so well to her methods that Gerard allows Ardith her way with them.” He chuckled. “Of course, one must understand that Gerard allows Ardith her way in most things.”
    Gerard did deny Ardith on occasions when he thought his wife tasked her strength and endurance, like as now when she was carrying. For the next few weeks, until after the birth of her babe, Ardith would find it harder to elude her protective husband’s dictates to rest.
    Edwin shook his head. “’Tis not wise for a husband to allow a wife to run roughshod.”
    Stephen leaned back and laughed. “Nobody runs roughshod over Gerard. He is the most obstinate, overbearing, strong-willed man I know. When he gives an order, all obey immediately. He can be reasonable, but once he has made up his mind over something, then arguing with Gerard is tantamount to butting one’s head into a stone wall.” His amusement died, knowing to what lengths Gerard would go to protect Wilmont andthose he loved. “Nay, one does not cross Gerard without paying a severe penalty. The last man who tried lost all, including his life.”
    “Basil of Northbryre. The tale of his treachery against Wilmont and the king