Page 147

“Is that why you won’t take Cuthbert for a squire?” asked Mason suddenly.

Roland looked startled, but then looked away. “Probably,” he muttered.

“Did Fen tell you I have scars?” asked Oswald, getting his breath back. “You should know women are prone to exaggerate these things.”

“She never mentioned scars,” said Roland heavily. “She’s very loyal, not that you’ve ever noticed.”

The brothers sat in silence a moment.

“Very well,” said Oswald sitting up straighter. “Ask what you will. I’ll answer you to the best of my ability.”

“I want to see the scar on your back,” said Mason.

“What?” This pulled Oswald up short.

“I don’t believe your wife is prone to exaggeration,” said Mason deliberately. “I think your wounds must have been grievous after Adarva, and for some godforsaken reason, you refused to let our father or anyone else know of it.”

Oswald let out a short, bitter laugh. “What the hells does that matter now?” he demanded.

“It would be a start at least,” retorted Mason. “A step in the right direction.” He looked toward Roland. “What say you?”

Their younger brother shrugged. “Better late than never.”

Oswald appeared to struggle inwardly a moment. Then, with an exclamation, he started unlacing his tunic. “Very well, if it will make you happy,” he muttered. After a few tense moments, he shucked it over his head and turned his back to face them.

There was a deafening silence and then someone let out a hiss.

“Holy shit,” said Roland hoarsely. “A sword never wrought that damage… I was right wasn’t I? It was an axe.”

“Battle axe,” agreed Oswald. “You were right.”

“You nearly died then,” said Mason flatly. “And you never saw fit to tell any of us.”

“What would have been the point?” Oswald threw over his shoulder. “Have you had your fill?” he asked, reaching for his tunic.

“You could have died,” persisted Mason. “It’s a miracle you didn’t.”

Oswald sighed, pulled on his tunic and dropped back into his chair. “I wouldn’t be the first soldier to die in battle.”

“But I wouldn’t have known,” said his brother angrily. “Everything you’ve done for me. You only joined the army to keep a watch over me.”

Roland looked surprised by this. “Did he? I thought he did it to please Father.”

Mason shot an exasperated look at Roland. “When did he ever do anything to please the old man?” he asked. “Oh aye, he said nay and yay where he was supposed to, but Father knew deep down Oswald never gave a damn about following in his footsteps. That’s why he used to get so frustrated with him. That and the fact he was ten times cleverer than the rest of us.” He turned back to Oswald and pointed a finger at him. “You let me, and Father, think you were four months languishing as a hostage, when actually, you must have been hovering at death’s door the whole time,” he said accusingly.

“I’m a very fast healer,” said Oswald. “My recovery almost alarmed the surgeon. I was up and about by the end of the second month.”

“You’re doing it again,” said Mason heavily. “Twisting the facts to suit your own purpose. Playing down the truth.”

Oswald rubbed the side of his face tiredly. “It’s second nature to me now, Mason,” he said quietly. “Half the time I don’t even know I’m doing it.”

“You mean lying?” asked Roland with a frown.

“Manipulating the truth,” Oswald corrected him.

Mason snorted, but sat back in his chair.

“But right now, you’re being open and above board?” Roland persisted, narrowing his eyes.