Epilogue
“Emily, help!”
Emily came running into the courtyard at Draven’s frantic shout. She stopped as she caught sight of him surrounded by six boys who pummeled him with wooden swords.
She laughed at the sight. “‘Tis your own fault,” she said to Draven.
“How so?”
“Out of six, could you not have given me a single daughter?”
Draven laughed.
“Mama!” six-year-old Christopher shouted. “You’re not supposed to make the dragon laugh. It makes him less fierce.”
“Less fierce?” Draven scooped him up in his arms and tickled him. “I’ll give you fierce, you scamp.”
Emily shook her head at their play. Their eldest, Henry looked up and shouted to his brothers, “Look, Grandpa’s here!”
She turned to see her father entering the yard.
Before she could blink her sons set upon him with the same vigor they had used to attack their father. They talked all at once, making understanding any one of them impossible.
Draven whistled loudly.
They quieted down.
“All right, boys. Go easy on your grandfather, or he’ll not take you hunting.”
“Sorry,” they said almost in unison.
“All right,” her father said. “Are the lot of you ready?”
“Aye.”
“Then let us be off. I saw a perfect doe just over yon hill!”
As they left, Emily joined Draven and wrapped her arms about his waist in a tight hug.
“Listen,” she whispered. “Do you hear that?”
Draven frowned. “Hear what?”
“The silence. Is it not truly eerie?”
He draped his arm over shoulder. “Indeed. I can’t recall the last time I heard such.”
“So tell me, milord,” she said as they walked arm in arm toward the donjon, “what are we to do this afternoon with no children about?”
He considered the possibilities. “We could try for that daughter?”
Emily laughed. “You know that reminds me of a jest.”
He rolled his eyes. “Not another.”
“Aye, do you know the one about the king and his knight?”
“Nay.”
“They were having a discussion about bedding wenches.
The king looked to the knight and said, ‘In our opinion bedding a wench is fifty percent pleasure and fifty percent work.’ the knight responded, ‘Sire, forgive me, but I respectfully disagree. In my opinion ‘tis seventy percent work and thirty percent pleasure.’ For hours they argued and could come to no agreement. Finally, the knight turned to his squire and asked him to settle the matter. The squire spoke up to say, milord, and majesty ‘tis of my opinion that it must be one hundred percent pleasure for if any work were involved, his lordship would bid me do it in his stead.’”
Draven laughed. “Wherever did you hear such?”
“Your eldest son, milord. It appears your brother told it to him on his last visit.”
“I shall have a word with Simon about what he’s teaching them. But come wench, let me see for myself how much pleasure there is to be had for the work involved.”
“Aye, milord, I think I shall most definitely have to try and make you work off a few of those extra pounds.”
“Extra pounds?” he asked offended.
“Aye, I believe Christopher called them your dragon’s horns.”
Draven snorted. “I’ll show you my dragon horn, wench.”
Emily bit her lip as she looked up at him hungrily. “And I shall gladly make use of it, knave.”