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She smiled just a bit, and finished what was on her plank. Garron speared another steak for her. “It is odd not to hear children’s voices. None survived?”
“Some managed to escape and hide in the forest.” What was the forest’s name? She couldn’t remember. “The Black Demon’s men were merciless. When they couldn’t find the silver, the Black Demon was enraged and encouraged his soldiers to kill, and so they did. The young girls they didn’t kill, they took with them, as you know.
“I never realized how the laughter of children filled the air, but now, there’s only silence. It’s a fearful thing. Mayhap by killing or taking the children, the Black Demon wanted to erase the future of Wareham.”
“Aye,” he said thoughtfully, and wondered for perhaps the dozenth time why Arthur had stolen the man’s silver and brought it here to Wareham. Hadn’t he realized this Black Demon knew who he was? “I see you are not as thin and gaunt as the others.”
Her brain went blank. She shrugged. “I was heavy. I had flesh to lose.”
She saw clearly on his lean face that he didn’t believe her. What else didn’t he believe? She added quickly, “Did you come from London?”
He chewed, swallowed. “Aye. I was in the king’s service. It was he who told me my brother Arthur had died and I was now the Earl of Wareham. However, the king had not yet heard of this—Retribution. Do you know the Black Demon’s real name?”
She shook her head. “Mayhap another will know, but I do not.”
“No one appears to know. Very well. What do you know of my brother? What sort of master was he? Did you know about the silver coins he’d stolen?”
“No one knew anything about it. I know only that the Black Demon was powerful and deadly. I am sorry, my lord, but mayhap others, once their bellies are filled, will be able to tell you more.”
He chewed slowly as he looked out over the great hall, watching his people finally eating their fill. He wouldn’t be surprised to see them licking the juices off the planks. A fine idea, these makeshift tables, and probably hers. “Everything looks better. The filthy rushes are gone from the floor, and it seems some of the stone floor was washed as well.” He paused a moment, then added, “There is something else as well. The very air feels different. It no longer seems to weigh down on my head.”
“That is because it no longer smells bleak.”
She’d put his thoughts into excellent words. “Aye, that’s it.”
“There is still so much to be done. Everyone was so very weak, I didn’t want to risk anyone collapsing. Tomorrow, everyone will be stronger, and we will accomplish more.”
He watched her lick the steak juice from her fingers. “How did my brother treat you, the priest’s bastard?”
He watched her lick her fingers frantically.
11
Her father had always told her she had quick wits. Prove it, prove it. “He ignored me for the most part. It was his wife, Lady Anne, who was kind to both my father and me, who taught me housekeeping.”
Arthur ignored her? He looked at her beautiful red hair, at the thick plaits wrapped around her head and threaded with a green ribbon. He looked at her dark blue eyes, and her white skin, her white teeth. The older brother he remembered wouldn’t have ignored her; mayhap when she was a child, but not now, not in the past several years. Come to think of it, no breathing man would ignore her. Garron looked over at the four remaining boar steaks on the plank of wood in front of him. He was full, he realized, but he knew Pali was always hungry, his long legs empty until he’d stuffed himself with enough food for three fat women, Gilpin would say, then run before Pali could clout him.
He pointed his knife at Pali and the meat. “I can hear your knees knocking together, Pali. They still sound hollow. Feed them.”
He turned back to the girl seated cross-legged beside him. “How old are you?”
“I am eighteen.”
“How old were you when you arrived at Wareham?”
“Twelve.”
So Arthur had watched her grow into a woman. He’d ignored her? Not likely.
“How old are you, my lord?”
“I am just turned twenty-four in April. Do you know how to make soap?”
She grinned. “Aye, I can make soap. I will put it at the beginning of my list.”
He could but stare at her. He was the only living being he knew who made lists. A dark eyebrow shot up. “You make lists?”
She sounded proud as a peahen as she said, “I am the grandest listmaker in Christendom, so my father told me. Unfortunately, lists are much better when they are written down, and thus cannot be easily forgotten. We have no parchment and no ink.”
