“I won’t delay you long, Frater. These riders of the King’s Eagles approached me yesterday, looking for healthy young persons who might be suitable for service as messengers for the King.” Then, oddly, Marshal Liudolf stopped and looked questioningly, almost obediently, at the elder rider.
“I am Wolfhere,” said the older man. He had deep-set eyes under silver brows; his hair was almost all silver, with a trace of ancient brown. “You must understand that with the increase in Eika raids, and rumors of trouble in Varre with Lady Sabella, we are in need of young persons suitable to ride messages for the Eagles.”
Hugh held the gelding on an uncomfortably tight rein. “I am sure you are. I believe Count Harl has two younger children he might be persuaded to part with.”
“We are not looking for children of the nobility,” said Wolfhere smoothly, “as you know, Frater Hugh, since you were educated in the king’s schola. Indeed, I have always heard it said you were one of their finest students.”
“I learned all they had to teach me. You, of course, would not have had the opportunity for such an education. I don’t recall your parents’ names, or their kin.”
Wolfhere merely smiled. “None of the Eagles come from the king’s schola. But neither are we looking for landbred children who are unsuitable for this responsibility. I understand that you have recently acquired a young woman who might be of interest to us.” He said this without glancing at Liath, although surely he knew she was the young woman he was talking about.
“I paid her father’s debt. I am not interested in selling her.” Hugh’s tone was cold and flat.
“But my dear frater,” said Wolfhere, smiling suddenly much like his namesake might bare its teeth in a wolfish grin, “I bear the King’s seal. Marshal Liudolf tells me you paid two nomias for her. I have the gold. I want her. You may protest this action, of course, but you must do that in front of King Henry. Until such time as King Henry renders a judgment, it is my right to demand her presence in the king’s service.”
It was so quiet Liath could hear the soft wind rustling in the trees and the stamp of the old plough horse in the inn stables. Sunlight painted the road the yellow of light clay. The marshal’s horse flattened an ear. From out back came the sound of Karl, singing off-key as he worked.