Chapter Ten #4
It was amazing how life opened up without Roget to stifle them.
All of them.
“I promise that I am not serving the army,” she said after a moment’s reflection. “But I would still like to oversee the meal. It is still my table and my reputation is at stake.”
Markus nodded with some reluctance. “Very well,” he said. “If you must. But let the servants do the heavy work. That is not for your delicate hands.”
Amabella flushed, looking at her hands. She turned them over, inspecting them.
Once, they had been soft and white, but working in the kitchens without benefit of servants had seen them turn red and chapped.
She even had calluses on her palms. Tucking her hands away so Markus couldn’t see them, she forced a smile.
“I swear that I am not working any longer,” she said. “You have been very kind to do everything you have done for us. I am sorry that we have been such trouble. It seems that when you came here, there was much to fix.”
Markus took a long drink of his wine. “It was hardly a bother,” he said. “Atlas is coming along nicely in his indoctrination, by the way. Today, we discussed reviving the orchards down by the river. Your father planted those, did he not?”
Amabella shook her head. “Actually, my grandfather planted those trees many years ago,” she said. “It was quite a thriving orchard until I married Roget, but he did not see the value of it. I fear it has been sorely neglected.”
“It has,” he said. “But those trees still bear fruit, I would think.”
“They do,” she said. “But we do not harvest them. Peasants come from the villages and take what they can.”
“That is going to change,” Markus said. “Atlas sees the value in revitalizing those trees and making money from the produce.”
Amabella reached for a cup of wine but Markus was faster and handed it to her.
“Thank you,” she said as she collected her cup.
“And I am glad you spoke to Atlas about the orchard. It used to be a very important part of Trastamara. I can remember riding my pony in the orchard as a child when the trees were starting to flower. The smell of the blossoms is one of my best memories.”
“Mayhap it shall be again.”
She smiled at him, sipping at her cup. The conversation lagged, but it wasn’t unpleasant.
Amabella couldn’t help but notice that Markus didn’t touch his meal until she was served and until his brother was served.
Then, he delved into the chicken stew with gusto, but the wait had been polite manners on his part.
It had been a long time since she had seen a man with such manners.
She’d almost forgotten they existed.
As soon as he started, however, Ambra climbed off her sister’s lap and made her way to Markus without hesitation or reservation. She pushed herself right onto his lap as he was sopping up the stew with bread and began picking pieces of chicken off his trencher and shoving them into her mouth.
“Ambra,” Amabella scolded softly, reaching out to pull her daughter from the man’s lap. “Come and sit with me, querida. You can have some of my food.”
But Markus put out a hand to stop her. “Not to worry,” he said. “I’ve become accustomed to sharing my meal with Lady Ambra. She is welcome to what I have.”
Amabella sighed reluctantly as the little girl settled on his lap again and literally took food out of his hand to put in her mouth. Markus simply picked up another piece and ate it. No fuss, no scolding. He let Ambra do as she pleased.
All the while, Amabella found herself watching the interaction, watching her daughter do something that she normally wouldn’t ever do with her father.
She was comfortable with Markus, so much so that she was planted on his lap as if she’d been doing it her entire life.
What she saw was a child starved for fatherly attention, which Markus had provided in the short time that he’d been there.
God, it warmed her heart to see it.
She wondered if Markus would ever know what these few short days had meant to them.
To her.
The meal progressed uneventfully and, across the table, even Atlas and Alfie were getting along.
Cassius was sitting between them, so Amabella suspected he might have been the reason, but she ate her meal in silence, watching Alfie try to convince Cassius to join his horse guard.
Cassius had a good manner with children, much as his brother did, but he was more apt to show less patience with a demanding little boy.
When Alfie tried to steal bread off his trencher, Cassius retaliated by taking the child’s entire trencher and pouring it onto his.
That left Alfie with no food, a soggy trencher, and a frown as the table roared with laughter.
But Cassius was only jesting with him; he returned what he took and then some, but after that, Alfie was no longer willing to steal bread from the man.
In truth, it had been a wonderful meal. Her children were enjoying the company of the de Wolfe knights and even Aleanor had a conversation with Markus about the food she was eating.
He asked her what she liked to eat best and they actually had a conversation about it.
Amabella couldn’t have been more astounded.
It seemed that all of her children were willing to listen to Markus.
She found herself wishing he would never leave. A foolish thought, but one she couldn’t seem to shake.
A secret wish and nothing more.
Sweets and nuts were brought out at the end of the meal, something that all four children pounced on.
Especially Aleanor; she loved her honey puffs and sweets, so when the servants brought out fried dough balls filled with figs and basted with honey, she began shoving them into her mouth at an alarming rate.
“Allie,” Amabella said. “Slow down, querida. You are going to make yourself ill.”
Aleanor looked startled that her mother had noticed her greedy eating.
She had one in her hand, halfway to her mouth, but it was frozen there as she debated what to do.
Her mouth was too full to speak. Before she could make a decision, or even swallow, Alfie plucked the dough ball from her fingers and devoured it.
Aleanor was crushed.
“Alfie,” Markus said. “A good king does not steal from his subjects. Mayhap you should have asked your sister if you could have her sweet before taking it.”
Alfie considered that, realizing he hadn’t done something very kingly in that gesture. “But she already has many of them in her mouth,” he pointed out. “I have not had so many.”
As Markus glanced at Amabella to see what her reaction was, he caught a glimpse of the hall entry. Four soldiers had just entered and it took him a moment to realize they were the soldiers who had been sent to escort Shand when he departed Trastamara.
Instantly, he was on his feet.
Cassius, noting his brother’s posturing, stood up as well. “What is amiss?” he asked.
Markus nodded his head in the direction of the hall entry. “Look,” he said quietly. “Those men were Bexwell’s escort. They have returned.”
He was on the move, followed closely by Cassius.
When Damien saw the returned escort, he, too, stood up, followed by Kieran and finally Atlas.
The five of them made their way over to the escort that was just starting to scope out the chamber for those in command.
When they saw Markus approaching, they made their way towards him.
“My lord,” the soldier in the lead spoke. He was a man who had been with Berwick for many years, with red hair and a grizzled appearance. “Has the earl gone home?”
Markus nodded. “Shortly after you left,” he said. “Well? Is Bexwell away?”
The soldier sighed heavily, wiping a gloved hand over his dirty face. “We are not certain, my lord.”
“What do you mean?”
“May we speak in private?”
Markus didn’t like the man’s tone or his question. It suggested something ominous.
He lifted a dark eyebrow.
“I think we’d better.”