The Sword and The Swan Read Free Page A

Maud's hand tightened on Rannulf's arm and she drew a hasty breath, but there was no need to speak, for the harsh laugh of her escort forestalled her.
    "Nay, Hereford, you are an honest enemy and, though our swords may cross on the field in the future as they have in the past, I will break bread with you and welcome when we have space to breathe."
    Leicester had glanced up at Rannulf but still said nothing.
    "Sit down, my cockerel.” William of Gloucester interposed in his silken purr. "The barb was meant for me. But he who is well-armored by righteousness need fear no feeble shaft of wit. I hope your arm is still stronger than your tongue, Tefli. Besides, I am no enemy to any man—"
    "Except him who has a wife or a daughter or a young son—"
    "My lord," Maud pleaded softly, cutting off Sleaford's choking voice. "We are all at peace now. Let us not unearth buried sorrows to bring us new grief."
    Indeed, there was little sympathy, even among his companions, for William of Gloucester's wanton provocation of Rannulf. Perhaps Tefli had not been civil—he never was—but it was no secret, considering his manner of entrance into the hall, that he was out of temper and the insult, if insult there was, had been directed at Robert of Leicester, who was well able to take care of himself. The earl of Hereford cast a glance of passionate dislike at Gloucester and stepped across the bench he had been seated upon.
    "I give you thanks for those just words. I am not sorry to see you, Sir Rannulf, for I have long desired to tell you that I bear you no ill will for the trick you played us at the battle of Devizes."
    For the second time in a few minutes, Rannulf wished he had controlled his hasty tongue. He should have known better than to play at talk with William of Gloucester, and he should, by now, have been able to control the inexplicable loathing he had for the man, who, after all, had never done him any more harm than to prick him with words. He turned now, almost smiling with relief to Hereford.
    "Nay, why should you? I did my duty as you did yours. That we see our duty in different lights is no cause for ill will between us as men when the battle is over."
    "True. Moreover, I hope for the future that our paths will lie side by side rather than at cross-purposes."
    Rannulf looked at the young man who was now walking beside him and the lightness died out of his face. "I do not think of the future, nor of the past, my lord Hereford. As each day comes to me, so do I live it, looking neither forward nor back. I am too old—"
    "That you are not, and it is needful in these times to look forward." Hereford checked his own hasty tongue, suddenly conscious of the silent woman who kept pace with them. "Do you stay long in London? As my lady the queen says, it is useless to talk of any matter when the mind is clouded with weariness and the body restless with discomfort. I will leave you that you may take your ease, but I hope we will speak together again at a more suitable time.
    "Here I am at leisure," the older man replied in a more normal tone of caustic indifference, "if you wish to speak; no doubt I will be constrained to listen. I know not how long I will stay, except that it be until my … private matter is settled."
    As Hereford left, Maud sighed. "Alas, I do not know whether it is easier when they are in open rebellion or when they come here in 'peace' to breed more war in those who are yet faithful to us."
    "Save your speech for those who have need of it, madam. From me you will get neither more nor less than I have ever given since the day I gave sword-oath to your husband."
    "Nay, my lord, I know you cannot be turned from the true course, nor did I think of you when I spoke," Maud said hastily, standing aside while Rannulf opened the heavy door to her quarters on the floor above the hall.
    Only she did doubt, because Maud doubted everyone, and Rannulf had been seriously provoked by Eustace's behavior. He had shown his