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“Making a nuisance of herself,” Hugh snapped.
That made her smile at the ferryman all the more.
“Aye, I was handsome in me day, but since I lost me last wife, women heave come only t’ board th’ ferry.”
“Aye, to board the ferry.” Edlyn winked at him as she gave the phrase a salacious intonation, and the old man almost collapsed from pleasure. “What’s your name, if I may ask?”
“I’m Almund, m’ lady.” He reached up to pull his forelock and had to settle for touching his bald head. “At yer service.”
With a flourish, he showed her his place on the log. He’d worn the bark away, he’d been there so long, and she seated herself, ignoring the men, the horses, the carts, her sons, and her new husband, all lined up on the road and waiting for attention. She had none to give them right now. She needed it all for Almund. Stretching out her hands to the feeble fire, she said, “I noticed, Almund, you have a boil on your cheek.”
He touched it gingerly. “Aye.”
“It looks painful.”
“I’ve tried everything. Killed a toad by th’ new moon an’ slept all night wi’ it on th’ damn boil, an’ all that toad did was make it worse.”
Edlyn touched the pouch that hung at her waist. “I’m an herbalist of some renown. If you would permit me, I would be glad to try one of my poultices to draw out the poison.”
“If th’ toad doesn’t work, why would yer poultice?” Almund asked.
“No harm in trying.”
Almund would have refused, but Hugh took that moment to appear next to the fire. “Woman, go back to your palfrey.”
“She can’t,” Almund snapped. “She’s goin’ t’ fix me a poultice.”
Hugh groaned and spread his arms wide to the skies where the evening star shown above the horizon. “God grant me patience.”
The old man cackled wickedly, and Edlyn said tartly, “I prayed for release, and God granted me you, Hugh of Roxford, so be careful what you pray for.” Standing, she asked, “Are we carrying mead?”
“Are you going to drink with him, too?” Hugh asked.
“Temper,” she chided. “The mead makes a good base for the poultice, and the rest of my herbs are in the cart with the lads. If you kind men would excuse me?”
She moved away, and Hugh glared at her back.
Almund squatted down and pocked the fire. “Women. Can’t live wi’ ’em, can’t make ’em do a damned thing worth sense.”
It was the first thing Hugh had heard from he ferryman he knew to be the truth. “We just got married,” he found himself blurting.
“Guessed that. Ye look at her as if she is a foreign country ye need t’ conquer.”
“Oh, I’ve conquered her.” Hugh remembered how she looked as she slept after he’d swived her into oblivion. “How many times do I have to conquer her before she stays that way?”
“Why would ye want that? She’s got that beauty that goes bone deep. I mean, look at her. She wants t’ make sure I stay alive, so she steps in front o’t yer knife. An’ she wants t’ make sure ye get what ye want, so she offers t’ cure me boil.” He nodded wisely. “Me guess is I’ll be takin’ ye across at moonrise.”
All of Hugh’s masculine pride rose in indignation at the old man’s words. “You know she’s manipulating you and don’t object?”
“Why should I? I get me boil cured, ye get yer way, an’ she gets t’ think she created peace from strife. Which she did, God bless her soul.”
Hugh stared at the old man in silent admiration. Almund saw more than Hugh himself, and despite Edlyn’s opinion, Hugh considered himself insightful.
“Sit down, ye’re givin’ me a kink in me neck.”
Hunkering down, Hugh experienced a pang of discomfort. He grunted and stomped one foot until grains of wheat showered out of his garter and planted themselves on the ground around him. “She lived at the abbey, and they gave us a proper send-off as we left late this afternoon. They rang the bells and banged pans and threw wheat.”
The old man didn’t look nearly as surprised as Hugh felt. “’Tis a proper thing t’ do after a weddin’.”
