KIND
EYES AND A LION’S HEART
CHAPTER
THREE
PART
THREE
“Good ol’ Melvin,”
Barengar muttered as Melvin helped him onto the bed in the chamber given over
to his use while at the tournament.
Like
Melvin’s, it wasn’t large, but big enough for a bed, a washstand with a basin, ewer,
linen and a candle, as well as a wooden dummy holding his chainmail, helmet and
shield. A chest at the foot of the bed
contained his clothing. His squire,
Theodore, noticeably absent, slept on a pallet rolled up by the door.
“Where’s
Theodore?” Melvin asked as he tugged off Barengar’s boots none too gently and
let them fall to the ground. Not only
had Barengar disgraced himself by acting no better than the village sot and was
likely leading Theodore down the same path,
he’d called him “Fatty” in front of everyone in the courtyard.
Including
Lady Viola.
“Theo’s
in th’ tavern,” Barengar slurred. “Passed
out a while ago. Young fool still can’t
hold his drink.”
He
shouldn’t have to, Melvin thought with disgust.
Barengar hated to drink alone, and he’d no doubt insisted the lad
accompany him if no one else had a mind to.
“Wha’s
the matter?” Barengar asked, hoisting himself on his elbows, his brow
wrinkled.
“Go to
sleep,” Melvin replied. “I’ll find
Theodore and bring him back.”
He’d
also offer the lad a word or two of advice about making himself scarce at the
end of the evening so he wouldn’t feel compelled --
“I can
always count on you, can’t I, coz?” Barengar said, grinning drunkenly as he sat
up again. “I’ve got a favor to ask you, old
man.”
Melvin
crossed his arms over his broad chest. “If
it’s to help you pack your baggage so you can go, I will be only too glad to
assist.”
Barengar
frowned. “Wha’s got into you? Just had a harmless bit o’ fun last night.”
Melvin
didn’t answer as he started for the door.
“Melvin!”
He
hesitated, then turned back.
“I
need your help, old fellow. Really.”
Melvin
regarded him warily. “I’m not fetching
you any wine.”
Barengar
got up and lurched toward him, taking hold of Melvin’s arm and regarding him
with a pleading expression that actually looked sincere. “No, I really need your help! I wanna get married. It’s about time, don’t you think?”
“Perhaps,”
Melvin replied with a sick feeling in his stomach that increased when Barengar
continued. “To Lady Viola.”
Melvin
tried to remain calm, telling himself Barengar would abandon this plan when he
woke up and realized the lady herself wasn’t interested, even if her aunt and
uncle might be. “Go to sleep.”
Barengar
threw his arm around Melvin’s shoulder.
“You don’t believe me? I really
mean it, Melvin. She’s rich and she’s clever.”
“Don’t
you think she may be too clever?” Melvin
asked. He’d always assumed Barengar
would want a dim-witted bride who wouldn’t realize the unfaithful, feckless
husband he would be.
“Not a
bit!” Barengar cried, smacking Melvin on the chest. “I need a clever woman to manage things. Granted, she’s not very pretty, but the
bedchamber’ll be dark.”
Melvin
threw off his cousin’s arm. “I think you
should discuss your marital plans with somebody else.”
“Her aunt
and uncle, you mean. That’s true. Her aunt’s keen, though, and as for --” Barengar’s eyes widened with a look akin to
dismay. “Oh, God!” he cried before he
rushed to the bucket, where he lost a good deal of the wine he’d imbibed.
This
was not the first time Melvin had seen his cousin in such a state, or the first
time he’d helped his cousin back to bed, where Barengar flopped down and started
to snore.
It was the first time Melvin felt not a jot
of pity for him.
This work is protected by copyright. See sidebar for notice.
Note: This novella is PG13. With the exception of GWYNETH AND THE THIEF
and THE WASTREL, my books are usually steamier.
No comments:
Post a Comment