“How?” I demanded.
“The same way you’ve shown yourself a man elsewhere. Accept the discipline, live up to the task. So you cannot see her. If I know anything of women, it does not mean she does not see you. Keep that in mind. Look at yourself. Your hair looks like a pony’s winter coat, I’ll wager you’ve worn that shirt a week straight, and you’re thin as a winter foal. I doubt you’ll regain her respect that way. Feed yourself up, groom yourself daily, and in Eda’s name, get some exercise instead of moping about the guardroom. Set yourself some tasks and get onto them.”
I nodded slowly to the advice. I knew he was right. But I could not help protesting, “But all of that will do me no good if Patience will still not permit me to see Molly.”
“In the long run, my boy, it is not about you and Patience. It is about you and Molly.”
“And King Shrewd,” I said wryly.
He glanced up at me quizzically.
“According to Patience, a man cannot be sworn to a King and give his heart fully to a woman as well. `You cannot put two saddles on one horse,’ she told me. This from a woman who married a King-in-Waiting, and was content with whatever time he had for her.” I reached to hand Burrich the mended halter.
He did not take it. He had been in the act of lifting his brandy cup. He set it down on the table so sharply that the liquid leaped and slopped over the edge. “She said that to you?” he asked me hoarsely. His eyes bored into mine.
I nodded slowly. “She said it would not be honorable to expect Molly to be content with whatever time the King left to me as my own.”