Hearts in Cups Read Free Page B

wondering where
you had got to. Have you eaten? Good, good, yes Alaric said that food had been
sent to you, though the silly man forgot to say where you were, and of course,
when I went to ask him, he had disappeared too. Rumour is out that you are
going to leave for the council session earlier than planned. Oh dear me, well
don't you fret, I'll see that all the arrangements are made. Will you be having
Benedict ride with you?" Sir Benedict Heath was Edwinna's husband and
Castle Lir's seneschal.
    "Yes, Edwinna, I
will be leaving early, and yes, Benedict will be riding with me." Hollin
was nonplussed by the woman's chatter. "Lord Ian will act in my stead
while I am gone." Edwinna pursed her mouth into a small moue of resignation
at this news. "You and Alaric will see to the daily running of the castle
and Ian will act as my steward."
    "Yes, your
grace." Edwinna managed a short curtsey.
    "Please go now and
tell Benedict to join me in an hour to discuss the arrangements for the
journey. Send a message to Griswold as well. Tell him to meet me in the
training court later this afternoon. I want to get some practice in before I
leave."
    "Yes, your grace.
Will you be having anything to eat?" Edwinna asked solicitously.
    "Not now. That reminds
me, I'm dining with Lord Ian tonight. Please have dinner served in my rooms.
Tell the cooks to keep it simple." Hollin rose and went to her desk.
"That is all, you may go," she said picking up the first page of a
sheaf of documents.
    "Very well, your
ladyship." Edwinna curtsied for the last time and swept out of the room.
     
    The sound of steel on
steel echoed off the stone walls in the late afternoon. Lord Ian's hawk moved
restively as Ian dismounted near the mews. The falconer moved forward and deftly
removed the bird as a groom caught the horse's bridle and led him away. Pulling
the heavy leather gloves off, Ian handed them to his personal attendant. As the
clash of metal continued, Ian grew curious and moved into the archway leading
to a small courtyard used for individual sword practice. Several men stood at
the mouth of the archway peering in, but they moved aside with quick bows as
Ian strolled over.
    Standing in the shadow
of the wall, Ian observed his cousin in tunic and breeches, her braided hair
coiled around her head, engaged in a bout with Sir Griswold, Swordmaster of
Castle Lir. Swordplay was not an activity that many women participated in, and
her costume would have scandalized many outside her own castle, but she had
shown an interest and an aptitude as a child, and her father had seen fit to
indulge her by instructing her himself.
    The swords clashed
again and Ian marveled at the display. The man's weight, length of arm and
experience were formidable and Hollin's skill was hard pressed; only her
extraordinary reflexes and agility kept her out of her opponent's range. Back
and forth they moved across the yard in a deadly dance of attack and retreat.
Ian crossed his arms and quietly leaned against the wall. Finally, an
excellently timed riposte slipped under her opponent's defense and lightly
touched him on the chest.
    "Well done!"
he roared at her, raising his sword in salute.
    "Luck," she
gasped, returning the salute and removing her face shield.
    "Never disparage
luck, your grace," he replied as he doffed his own shield. "Sometimes
luck does you better than skill, though to my mind 'tis best to have
both." She laughed and, seeing Ian against the wall, waved her sword in
greeting.
    "You'll soon be
besting Griswold two out of three matches," Ian chuckled as he pushed
himself away from the wall.
    She laughed again and
Ian felt an odd pull in his chest. "I doubt it," she said, and wiped
the stray hairs off of her face. "As I have just explained to Griswold, my
skill is generally surpassed by my luck."
    "Nay
mistress," the older man admonished gravely. "Your father was a
swordmaster and your grandfather, the baron, is still a good man with the
blade. 'Tis in the blood I tell ye.