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Hugh said, “Edlyn was angry because Neda kissed my boot.”

“Whose boot did she want her t’ kiss—hers?” Wharton laughed briefly, then read the answer in Hugh’s face. “Naw, ye’re jesting!”

Burdett groaned. “Women. Always making a man’s business their business.”

“Trying to take credit for the lord’s generosity,” Sir Lyndon said, and he sounded surly.

“But you wouldn’t have said they could stay if Lady Edlyn hadn’t begged you,” Dewey said. Everyone turned and looked at him again, and he turned redder than before. “Well, you wouldn’t!”

“’Twasn’t her decision,” Wharton said.

“Don’t you worry, my lord.” Burdett watched as Ethelburgha refilled the pitchers and set them on the table, then he poured ale into every mug he could reach. “My wife’ll set your lady straight. She said she would.”

Hugh lifted his brooding eyes from the swirl of ale in his cup. “How?”

“Well…” Burdett clearly squirmed on his stool. “My wife’s a proud woman. When she kissed your boot, I was surprised. I wondered if she…ah…I wondered…that is, I thought she did it for…me.”

No one laughed. If anything, they were horrified at the emotion his unchecked phrases revealed.

Burdett hurried his speech, and he slurred a few words. “Her public demonstration of gratitude would be supplemented by a much warmer, sincerer demonstration of gratitude in private to Lady Edlyn, and I pray, my lord, that that will ease Lady Edlyn’s chagrin, and thus your discomfort.”

“That’s not fair!” Wharton objected.

“Ah, leave it.” Sir Philip turned his mug around and around. “Women are powerless. None of them have a man’s good sense, but it still can’t be easy.”

“What would a woman do with power?” Sir Lyndon demanded. Then he answered his own question. “Squander it, that’s what.”

Wharton stood on the bench, and he pointed his finger around the small room with a scowl. “A woman doesn’t know what t’ do with power. Most women don’t know what t’ do with a cooking pot. I tell you, when we let women rule our lives, they create nothing but havoc. We’ve got t’ start treating them like they deserve, giving them an occasional smack, using th’ stick fer—”

Hugh heard the thunk before he realized anything was amiss.

Wharton flew up. His feet whipped around. He hit the ground on his back, and all of the breath left his lungs with a grunt.

In the place of Wharton, Ethelburgha stood. She bristled with indignation, like a hedgehog at the sight of a wolf pack. “Ye’re all a bunch o’ asses an’ lickspits.”

“Ethelburgha!” Burdett staggered to his feet.

Ethelburgha pointed at him, and as if her finger contained power, he sat back down.

She said, “Every time yer armies march through this village an’ burn me alehouse, I wish men’d learn what every woman knows. Th’ sense is peace at all times an’ in all places, not yer eternal squabbling’. If one o’ ye had th’ brains God gave every girl-baby, ye’d go thankin’ yer women fer teachin’ ye all ye know about kindness.”

Dewey muttered something.

Hugh thought it sounded like respectful agreement.

“What her ladyship’s askin’ is but credit fer her wisdom, an’ ye men’re too blinded wi’ pride t’ give it.”

Sir Philip could scarcely speak for choking. “You can’t talk to the earl like that.”

“I suppose she can.” Hugh stood and wrapped his cape close around his shoulders. “What am I supposed to do, kill the village alewife for insolence on my first day here?”

“Some men might,” Ethelburgha said.

“You gambled well,” Hugh started for the door. “Whatever your opinion of me, I’m not so asinine as that.”

“So go an’ give yer lady thanks fer doin’ what ye wished when she married ye, an’ that’s givin’ ye th’ benefit o’ her experience managin’ estates.”

Hugh’s head snapped around, and he stopped before exiting. “How did you know that?”