Coulter, Catherine. Rosehaven / Catherine Coulter.

“The fat one,” Hastings said.

“She must have meat on her to deal with a madwoman.”

Hastings wanted to choke his neck with her own hands. His neck was skinny. She could choke him, she knew it. She felt Severin close his hand over hers. It stilled her. She realized she was breathing fast and forced herself to ease. She saw the girl standing to Sir Roger’s left side. She was very young, plump, pretty, her hair light and thick, in fat curls down her back, held with a gold net. There was such a look of self-satisfaction on her face

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hat Hastings’s breathing speeded up again. Sir Roger had just proven

himself a fool.

“Glenda,” Sir Roger said, “fetch our lord and lady some of the special wine and bread and cheese.”

The girl gave him a sullen nod and left the hall. Perhaps, Hastings thought, Glenda had eaten her mother-in-law’s food. Her bottom was eood-sized. She would be as fat as that serving woman when she was

b

twenty.

Sir Roger rubbed his hands together as he motioned Severin to the

lord’s chair, its beautiful carved arm posts dull and dirty. He looked at Hastings and shrugged.

“You may remain standing by your lord,” he said to her.

“There is no lady’s chair?” Severin asked.

“It is in the lord’s bedchamber,” Sir Roger said.

Severin patted his leg. “She will sit here until you have the lady’s chair fetched for her, Sir Roger.”

“Oh, aye, my lord.” Sir Roger called to a ragged serving boy and spoke quietly to him. Then he straightened, his eyes going to Glenda, who was directing two servants who carried trays with wine, goblets, bread, and cheese.

The food was set upon a trestle table. Hastings rose and waited. Severin rose slowly, saying, “Sir Roger, bring my chair to the trestle table.”

The man gaped at him, then managed to pull the large chair to the nearest end of the table. “My lord,” he said. Severin knew exactly what he was thinking. He was a knight. What right did Lord Severin have ordering him to do a servant’s task?

Hastings sat on the bench at her husband’s right.

They drank the wine and ate the bread. No one said anything. Glenda sat herself at the other end of the trestle table beside Sir Roger.

ï ou told me that the money I have sent isn’t enough,” Severin said

matter-of-factly. He tore a piece of bread off with his teeth.

“A Aye, my lord. Mayhap I should not have mentioned it to you so soon

you arrived, but it is a concern. I have used the money wisely, but

there is so much that needs to be done before Langthorne regains its nre_ vious grandeur.”

Hastings kicked up some of the dirty reeds with the toe of her boot “Aye, you are right, Sir Roger. I have always found that one must have money to keep a great hall clean. Sweeping up old reeds and replacing them must be more costly, though, than even I imagined.”

Sir Roger paid her little heed, merely shrugged and said, “There are few enough servants and they are a surly lot. Some even escaped Langthorne after the marauders devastated the area and killed your brother. I didn’t have enough men to catch them. My Glenda does her best with them, but it is difficult.”

“Aye, my lord,” Glenda called out. “The lot we have are pigs.”

She had a lovely musical voice. Her teeth were white and straight. She was rubbing herself against Sir Roger’s arm. The man’s eyes glazed. Sir Roger was an even bigger fool than Hastings imagined.

“There has been no work done on repairing the outer walls,” Severin said as he pushed the pewter plate out of the way and leaned forward on the trestle table. “Why?”

“There aren’t enough men, my lord.”

“Gwent told me that you have nineteen men. What do they do all day?”

“fhey patrol the area and improve their skills on the practice field.”

“As of tomorrow, you will divide the men into three groups. Whilst one group practices, another will patrol, and the third group will begin repairs.”

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