Page 62

“The former earl of Roxford,” Hugh answered.

“Ah, him. Nay, not him, although I hear he’s a right wretched knave, too. Nay, I’m talkin’ about him what took Castle Juxon.”

“Hugh’s pulse quickened. “Richard of Wiltshire took it?”

“Aye, an’ from all accounts, a more feckless brig had never lived.”

“I’ll not quarrel with that,” Hugh said. “He’s lacking in honor.”

“Honor?” The old man laughed until a cough racked him. Grasping the paddle, he leaned over it until he got his breath, then said, “He’s nothin’ but a thief who speaks wi’ yer fancy tongue an’ entertains travelers while pluckin’ them clean o’ every bauble an’ coin.”

Hugh scowled. “He’s a knight, a younger son thrown out into the world to seek his fortune. Not a pleasant prospect, of course, but common. Most men don’t immediately turn to robbery.”

“He’s good at it.”

“Aye, he had plenty of practice.” Hugh had met Richard of Wiltshire and despised him with all his heart, and that had done nothing more than amuse Richard.

Richard’s reputation as a merry master had attracted a troop of disaffected knights, and they hired themselves out as mercenaries. They fought for whoever paid them. They had nothing to lose and everything to gain, and now they’d gained a castle. When the rebellion was over, the king would reorganize and recover those lost lands, but until then Richard and his men would laugh and swive and drink the castle cellars dry.

“There’s been a few he let go wi’ out their fancy clothes or their gold, o’ course, an’ they’ve come through here. I wouldn’t like t’ think o’ m’ lady—or any lady—in his hands, if ye know what I mean.”

The old man cast a meaningful glance at Edlyn, and Hugh vowed, “I will keep her safe from him.”

12

The tug of the current on the ferry felt like the hand of God to Hugh. Almund grabbed for the paddle, but the handle twisted right out of his hands. The Ferry lurched, then slowly, inexorably, it tilted up on its side. Hugh fought to grab the rail, but the rotten wood broke when he leaned on it and he went over the side with a shout.

“Hugh!”

He heard Edlyn cry before the water closed over his head.

He fought for the surface, but something floating knocked him back down. The second time, he came up and stayed up, and he saw the ferry breaking up in the water. “Edlyn,” he roared, treading water and looking frantically around him.”

“Hugh.”

Her voice sounded from the side. she was climbing up on the bank, assisted by his knights.

“Hugh!”

She pointed at something off to his left, and he saw a jumble of their belongings floating by.

Did she expect him to save them? With this current, he’d lucky to save himself. The river took him in a swirl, and he saw a thin shape floating not far away.

“Hugh, ’tis Almund.”

He heard Edlyn at the same moment as he recognized the limp figure of the old man and started swimming toward him.

“You’ve got to save him,” she called.

Of course he would save him, Hugh thought with irritation. Did she think him incapable of a compassionate intention without her teaching? Reaching Almund, he wrapped his arms around him and towed him to shore. The treacherous currents spun them in circles several times, and once a trunk floated up behind Hugh and gave him such a blow on the head he almost lost consciousness.

One thing kept him going, though—anticipation of Edlyn’s gratitude. When he towed the old man to shore, she’d see him for the hero he was, and that would be the first step to capturing her affection. Her true affection.

Hands stretched out to him as he neared shore, but he shook them off and reached with his feet for the bank below him. Gasping, he dragged Almund behind him, then picked him up, placed him on his shoulders and carried him to a soft place in the grass. Carefully he lowered him, then straightened, waiting for his reward.

Just as he’d hoped. Edlyn ran right for him. He opened his arms wide—and she dashed past to kneel at Almund’s side.

“Is he breathing?” she rolled the old man over. “Push the water out of him!”