Robert the leatherer’s shop smelled of sweet oils, tanned hides, soft leather, and sweat. Master Robert had one journeyman and three apprentices, all of them working in the shop. Master Robert, short, a filthy apron wrapped around his fat belly, bustled forward, bowing even as he said, “Lady Hastings, dear child, I am so happy to see you well again. To think it was your lord’s saddle that fell on you! Imagine that. I am devastated it was from my window that saddle fell. I will do anything, lady, anything. Just tell me your wish and I am your slave.”
Well used to Master Robert from her earliest memories, Hastings merely nodded in that haughty way she knew would silence him, at least for a few moments.
“I would speak to your people, Master Robert. That is my wish.”
An hour later, Hastings was chewing on an almond bun that Thomas the baker had given her fresh from one of his ovens. “No one saw anything. It seems that there were a half dozen men-at-arms from the castle at the leatherer’s that day. I suppose that I will have to speak to Gwent.”
“Aye, he is a good man,” Thomas said. “Eat another bun, Hastings. You are nearly as skinny as the handle on my oven paddle.”
Hastings returned to the castle to see Severin riding out with Mar-
O
jorie. Where was Eloise?
At least Marjorie wasn’t wearing another of her gowns. She had fi-
2 2 1
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nally laundered one of her own? Hastings was truly supposed to be patient? She was tempted to ride after them, but she did not. There were duties that awaited her. Real duties, not trysts with a lover. She also wanted to speak to Gwent.
When she found Gwent, he said, “Severin has already questioned the men who were at the leatherer’s shop that day. None saw anything. It was an accident, there is no other possibility.”
“You, Gwent, were not the one struck down by that saddle.”
“Aye, ’tis true enough,” he said, then turned to wave to Alice. “But the facts remain the same, Hastings. Forget about it.”
Hastings spent the next hour with Lady Moraine. Edgar the wolfhound lay with his head and wide, scored paws on Lady Moraine’s feet.
“I am making you a gown, Hastings,” she said. “It is the softest green. You will look rather lovely in it. Severin was right last evening. You should not wear the red cream on your mouth or smear it on your cheeks. Your features are too fine. Do you like the gown? It will be finished by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Forgive me, Lady Moraine, but I heard Lord Severin tell Marjorie that the gown would be hers.”
It was Eloise, standing off to one side, obviously listening to their conversation.
“D*Î3 you really, Eloise?” Lady Moraine said before Hastings could open her mouth. “When did my son say this?”
“I believe it was this morning, madam. He said the material would make her look like a goddess. She is a goddess and so very beautiful. She deserves to have splendid clothing.” Eloise stared at Hastings.
“Well, no matter what you heard, Eloise,” Lady Moraine said brusquely. “The gown is for Hastings. Now, child, would you like to sit with us and sew?”
But Eloise just shook her head and skipped away.
“How very odd,” Lady Moraine said, staring after the child. “I did not pull out this material until this afternoon. The child lied. Why would she do that?”
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“She Icoves Marjorie very much. Perhaps she sees that Marjorie wants to take myr place and is thus very willing to assist her.”
“VenO)m from a child is unpleasant, worse than from a grown man or woman.. I will think about this. Ah, I must see the Healer today. My potion is nearly gone.”
That evening, garbed in a lovely gown Hastings had never seen before, Ladjf Marjorie came into the great hall, greeting everyone graciously, snniling, her white hands fluttering. Her hair was loose silver waves dow/n her back held back from her forehead with a gold band. Severin staredl at her.
It hapjpened midway through the long meal. Marjorie’s nose began to swell arnd turn red.