“Since I still mean to have you as March Warden—if we can come to a reasonable agreement with Rome; and such will never be until the present Pope’s bloated corpse in underground and his black soul has gone to his master, Satan— you’ll receive of me Whyffler Hall and its environs as a barony; it and the County of Rutland you’ll be able to pass on to your son, along with the title of earl. But Rutland still is a bit farther away than I’d like, so—although neither title nor lands will be hereditary, they’ll return to the Crown upon your demise, Sir Sebastian—you’ll also be receiving Norfolk as a duchy.”
In a state of shock, Foster could never have found his way back to his quarters without the guidance of the brace of Yeomen of the Guard. Arrived before the door to his suite, he simply stood dumbly until one of the big men opened that portal and gently nudged him in, where Nugai and Sir Ali took over, seating him and pressing a jack of brandied wine into his hands.
Nugai’s flat face showed no emotion, as usual, but Sir Alfs more mobile features and more emotional nature expressed a mixture of anger and pity.
“My lord Bass,” he began, “the fickle nature and disgrati-tude of monarchs is proverbial, but—and please believe me; I know whereof I speak—there be many another kingdom than England and many another king to serve than Arthur. I am your man, as is Nugai, nor should you forget those fearsome Irishmen, they would gladly follow you to the very Gates of Gehenna and back and wiU make you a fine condotta. You are a born leader of men, a gifted cavalry commander and one of the personally bravest men beside whom it ever has been my honor to swing sword.
“Now if you are in danger of close arrest, I can fetch some of our men from the camp and—”
He broke off when Foster began to laugh, uncontrollably, the full jaek of liquor slipping from his fingers unnoticed, finally, tears of mirth and release rolling down his cheeks. Before he had told the two men more than half the tale, there was a sharp rapping upon the door, then it was opened to reveal two different pikemen, six or seven servingmen who immediately invaded the suite and began to gather up the personal effects of its occupants, and the same upper-servant type who had originally shuffled Foster brusquely into these tiny, gloomy rooms.
Bowing far lower than it seemed his bulging belly should allow, the man almost tearfully begged “Your esteemed lordship’s” pardon for the “terrible misunderstanding” which had seen him and his gentlemen assigned to such poor quarters.
“News travels fast hereabouts,” remarked Sir Ali wryly. Nugai said nothing, but kept his keen eyes upon the serving-men, lest one try to steal something, scowling fiercely and fingering the worn hilt of his kindjal. The men appeared duly impressed, impressed to the point of near terror.
CHAPTER 16
Dear Krys,
Please sit down before you read any further. I know that you’ve hardly gotten used to the title Markgrafin, but you’re going to have to start getting used to another, honey: Duchess. Fm still Markgrafin von Velegrad, Wolf has made that dear, but Arthur has also made me Duke of Norfolk, Earl of Rutland, and Baron of that portion of the central marches that contains Whyffler Hall. Since the siege drags on and there is little of anything for my cavalry to do, I took a few weeks to ride up to Norwich and then over to Rutland, and of the two, I think you’ll like Rutland best. Therefore, start packing and, in a few weeks, 111 send up Nugai and a couple of troops of my personal squadron to escort you and Little Joe and anyone else you want to bring down to your new home.
Don’t be afraid of these Irishmen, Krys. They look downright Satanic and fight like the legions of hell, but they’re intensely loyal to me, swear that that loyalty extends to any member of my family, and while they’ll fight at the drop of a hat, drink anything they can lay hands to, cheerfully rape or murder, steal, plunder, and burn, they never lie.