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Hugh laid a hand on Wharton’s arm when he would have stood to second the toast. He wanted to know his steward’s mind, and he decided to learn it now. “Gratitude? Why, pray tell, are you grateful to me?”
“For allowing me to remain as steward of Roxford Castle.” Burdett lowered his mug and spoke earnestly. “My lord, I am truly grateful.”
“But are you loyal?” Hugh asked.
“To you, my lord? You can be assured of that.”
“Why should I trust you?” Hugh challenged him. “Didn’t you pledge fealty to Pembridge? Don’t you have a passing pang of distress over his loss?”
Burdett looked down. Picking his words carefully, he said, “The former earl was my master for many a long year, and I have served him well and faithfully. Thus I would never scorn him in my speech.” He looked to Hugh over the watchful gazes of the knights. “Yet Pembridge freely sacrificed Roxford, and it is to Roxford Castle I am truly committed. My father was steward here and my grandfather. If Prince Edward had commanded I remain faithful to Pembridge, so I would have done. But the prince commanded I change my fealty to you, and so I do.”
Hugh liked the sincerity in Burdett’s tone. He liked that Burdett was committed to Roxford above all things, but—“That doesn’t bode well for me should I fail Roxford in any way.”
“I do not know you well, my lord, but you don’t seem to be a man who disregards the source of his title and nobility for ambition and greed.”
“When the prince calls, I will go,” Hugh answered.
“That is your duty, my lord.” Burdett leaned his knuckles on the table. “Mayhap I am but a quaint relic, but I believe in duty above ambition and loyalty above greed. In short, if Edmund Pembridge had kept his vows to King Henry and Prince Edward, I would not be sitting here drinking with you now. I would be holding you at bay outside the gates, and you would never take Roxford while I breathed.”
“Well spoken.” Hugh agreed and released Wharton’s arm, and Wharton tumbled Ethelburgha aside and rose to join Burdett.
“So I’ll join ye in yer toast t’ Lord Hugh, long may his line increase!” In a more personal tone, he said to Hugh, “’Tis glad I am I lived t’ see this day.”
The rest of the men stood also and clicked the mugs, and while they drank, Hugh found himself blushing as red as any maiden on her wedding night under the barrage of good wishes. Luckily for him, it was dark and smoky, or he’d be teased as if he were a maiden, too. “My thanks, good men.” Hugh lifted his mug in return. “It would never have come to pass without your stalwart company.”
He took care not to show Sir Lyndon extra favor, and all accepted the tribute with equal grace. Again they clicked their mugs, and again they drank. Then it was time for a refill.
Still on his feet, Wharton raised his mug. “To Roxford Castle, may it always be prosperous and the cornerstone of our good fortune!”
The men drank, and Dewey let out a belch loud enough to make Ethelburgha giggle.
Sir Philip raised his mug. “To our king, may he escape Simon de Montfort to reign again!”
A few heads turned to Burdett to see if he would drink, but he cried, “To the king!” with the rest of them.
They drank again, and Ethelburgha poured them another refill.
Still standing, Sir Philip said, “And to Prince Edward! May he triumph over the royal enemies with the help of Lord Hugh, and may we all live through the battles unharmed!”
“To the prince!”
Most of the men had subsided onto the benches by now, but Burdett managed to retain his footing. Lifting his mug, he toasted, “To the lady Edlyn. May her womb be ever fertile and her belly ever full, and may she continue in grace and compassion forever!”
Hugh’s men cheered, and Hugh lifted his mug with the rest.
Then he slammed it on the table. “Are all women so imprudent?”
The laughter and camaraderie stumbled to a halt, and the knights looked around at each other in bewilderment.
Only Burdett, flushed now with drink, seriously considered the question. Seating himself, he said, “I don’t know how imprudent the lady Edlyn is, my lord, but in my experience, women are usually…difficult.”
Sir Philip nodded wisely. “My wife was more than difficult. She was impossible.”
With a snort, Wharton said, “Me wives have been nigh t’ hopeless. Talking, talking, talking, even when we were humping, an’ then they were complaining about it being too short, or too long, or not often enough.” He noted the amazement that marked each face turned toward him and subsided into his ale.
Ethelburgha patted his head and filled his mug.
“My father always used to say he would have never married but he tired of his own hand.” Every head turned toward Dewey, and his fair skin turned red. “Well, he did!”
