Shadows and Strongholds Read Free Page B

buckled.
    'For the love of God, send him back to your lodging,' Joscelin said, his expression filled with appalled pity. 'He is beyond his endurance. He could be descended from King Arthur himself and it would make no difference just now.'
    Grimly, FitzWarin swept Brunin into his arms, his strength making nothing of the boy's weight. He felt beneath his fingers the dampness where Brunin had pissed himself and was filled with a deep and tender rage, not least because he was ashamed that his son had been frightened enough to lose control of his bladder. Did such a trait show a predisposition to cowardice? The thought was like a small pebble in his shoe. What if Brunin lacked the qualities he needed to guide his family's interests when the time came? It would not have mattered if he were one of the younger boys, but he was the heir. And because he was ashamed, FitzWarin was angry with himself too. He should be thanking God that Brunin was safe, not agitating over the child's lack of backbone. Torn both ways, he hugged his son before handing him abruptly into the custody of two of his knights.
    'Guy, Johan, take him straight to my lodging and give him to the women. Tell them as little as you can get away with. I'll deal with it myself when I return.'
    'Yes, my lord.' Guy hoisted Brunin across his shoulder like a deer.
    Frowning heavily, FitzWarin watched them leave. Then, shrugging his shoulders as if to level and settle a heavy burden, he sent another man to call the searchers away from the river and turned back towards the fair.

----
Chapter Two

     
    'You will be hunting for a needle in a haystack,' Joscelin warned, striding beside his friend. 'And if you start a brawl, you'll have the sheriff down on you like a stone from a trebuchet.'
    FitzWarin bared his teeth. 'You need not come with me.'
    'I know.'
    They walked in silence, eyes darting and assessing the crowds through which they shouldered. Joscelin was the taller, standing a finger's length above two yards; with his thick, garnet-red hair and leonine prowl, he caused heads to turn. The men were followed by their retinues who were out of earshot of the conversation, but close enough to be summoned at need.
    'I will understand if you decline to take my son,' FitzWarin said as they skirted a tumbler performing handstands on two sword points.
    A kitten-pretty girl in a gown that exposed an indecency of ankle twirled up to the men and shook a painted bucket under their noses. FitzWarin glared at her. Joscelin thumbed a quarter penny into the bucket and folded his arms, indicating it was all she was going to get. He had been balancing on sword points of one kind or another for most of his life.
    'You said that he was like you,' he murmured with a sidelong glance. 'Do you still hold to that?'
    FitzWarin pushed his hair off his brow and clutched a fistful of the heavy brown strands. 'God's bones, I don't know.' He sucked a breath through his teeth. 'Yes, I suppose, although at his age I had more—' He broke off and grimaced. 'I was going to say courage but that is not the right word. Spirit, perhaps. I'm certain he has it within him, but he keeps so much to himself that it is difficult to know where to begin looking.'
    'And that is why you said he needs to spread his wings?'
    'I stand too close and I will only hamper him.'
    Joscelin nodded. 'I make no promises, but I will think on it,' he said. 'First I need to speak with my wife.'
    FitzWarin eyed him with surprise verging on disapproval. 'If I take a squire into my own household, I do not seek permission from Eve. It is my business and she would not dream of meddling.'
    'But your mother would,' Joscelin said with a smile.
    FitzWarin shook his head. 'Not in such a matter.'
    'Perhaps not directly, but you would soon learn if she objected to your choice. The lady Mellette is not one to hold her peace—and I say it with the greatest respect. And it is out of respect that I will first consult with Sybilla. She is lady of Ludlow