She fell asleep with his hand resting lightly on her belly.
“That small jewel of a keep is Rosehaven,” Gwent said, pointing to the golden-stoned castle that stood at the end of a promontory that reached like a long bony finger well into the River Glin.
“Lord Brenfavern said it was owned by the Earl of Oxborough,” Severin said. “He had not yet heard of the old earl’s death. It is guarded by men-at-arms hired from all around these parts. They take turns. There has never been any trouble since all the men-at-arms perform duties here at one time or another during the year. An interesting strategy.”
“But who lives there?”
“We will find out in a very little while,” Severin said. “Lord Brenfavern didn’t know.” He kicked his war-horse in his sides.
“Carry our standard high,” Gwent called to the man carrying the Oxborough crest. “We want no surprises and no arrows raining down upon us.”
There was neither surprise nor arrows.
The guard immediately recognized the Oxborough standard and waved. They heard men shouting. Without challenge, the guard opened the double gates that led into the small outer courtyard. There were at least a dozen soldiers standing about, several horses, and an armorer pounding on a helmet. The men called out welcome, making no moves at all toward their weapons. Severin motioned Gwent and the other men to remain in the outer courtyard.
He and Hastings rode slowly into the inner bailey. Severin came to an abrupt halt at Hastings’s gasp. There were gardens surrounding the inner walls of the keep, filled with vividly blooming flowers, so many of them, and on one wall was a trellised rosebush that spilled huge red blooms from near to the top of the wall to the ground and beyond. Beautiful stone fountains stood in the center of clusters of flowers. The sound of flowing water filled the air. Severin heard a bird twittering. There were wide walkways so that no one trampled the gardens. Hastings sniffed roses strong in the air.
“It’s a castle for a princess,” she said, flinging her arms wide. “Just look at it.”
hP? I,»
T. i i
“Your father’s mistress, Hastings. Prepare yourself for it. He has treated her very well. He created this special place just for her.”
Hastings heard the children’s shouts before she saw them. Then four girls came running from one of the gardens, all laughing, shouting, calling to each other. Two women were trying to keep up with them.
The oldest of the girls appeared to be no more than ten years old, the youngest only four or five years old. They came to a surprised halt, staring up at the man and woman.
Her father’s bastards? Hastings felt a cramp forming low in her belly. She wasn’t sure now that she should have come. Her father had obviously deceived her for years, had kept a mistress ever since he’d murdered her mother, and she had borne him all these girl children.
The oldest girl called out, “You must dismount. Mother does not like the gardens to be trampled. Did not Gergen tell you? You must leave your horses in the outer courtyard. Mother will be displeased if you harm her flowers.”
Severin nodded and dismounted. He turned and lifted Hastings down from Marella.
“What is your name?” Hastings called to the girl.
“I am Marella.”
“That is my palfrey’s name!”
Tn*e girl laughed. “Your mare is very pretty. I do not mind having her name at all. But it is also the name of William’s prized mare. It is said that when the mare died, William mourned her for a week and buried her beneath his bedchamber window.”
“That is quite true,” Hastings said. “It is also true that William’s mare had a white stocking, just like my Marella.”
“Aye, that’s what Papa said.”
The youngest girl, all blond and white and skinny, ran through her sisters to Severin. She had not one whit of fear. But the women did. They were shouting at her, but she paid them no heed.
Severin came down on his haunches. “And who are you?”
“I, my lord? I am Matilda.”
“A famous name.”
“Aye,” the little girl said, flinging her head back in a gesture that Severin recognized, not certain how he did, but knowing that he had seen that gesture before. “She was William’s wife. She was short and perhaps a bit plump, but she was brave and loyal and the most beautiful woman in Normandy. Just as I am, except I was born in England and will likely remain here. My mama says I will be short as well. Who are you, my lord?”