“Oh, my lord has ridden hard this day. You must come to the fire and refresh yourself while I share with you all I know.” Edmund tried to seize Amaury’s hand, but Amaury evaded his touch. The older man cast him a sly glance. “And where have youbeen these days, my lord? Your brother would not confide in me, due to his unjustified suspicions.”
“Perhaps Roland did not tell you because he did not know,” Amaury said mildly. “My choices are not for all to know.”
“Of course not, my lord, Of course not! But you can trust old Edmund, surely?”
Amaury settled by the fire, smiling with gratitude at the cup of wine he was granted and the bowl of stew. He watched as one of the men led away both Ténébreux and Philip’s horse, gesturing to the boy that he would see them tended. Amaury caught Philip’s eye and beckoned to him, indicating the place beside himself. When his squire, too, had been served, Amaury looked up to find Edmund watching him. “I come to wonder if you have any tidings to share, Edmund,” he said easily.
“Oh, so much news to share, my lord. Shall we confer in private?”
“No, Edmund. You may speak freely here.”
The older man hesitated, casting a slow glance over the company who could not entirely hide their interest in whatever he might say, then sat at Amaury’s knee, his manner confidential. “I have seen the Lady Isabella,” he began.
“I imagine most at Marnis have done as much.”
Edmund cackled. “Nay, nay, sir, that is not so, for she was ordered to tend the corpse of her brother for burial, and locked into a chamber to do as much.”
Amaury looked up, unable to hide his outrage at this.
“Aye, my lord. Secured with only a dead man for company, with neither food nor wine, and still barricaded there when I left.”
“And when was that?”
“Two nights ago, my lord. They must have released her on this day, for the funeral of Lord Denis is to be on the morrow, at noon.”
“I thank you for these tidings,” Amaury said, already determined to attend the rites and see Isabella.
“But there is more, sir,” Edmund crowed. “So much more.”
“Aye?”
The older man nestled closer and lowered his voice. “On the night you left that keep, the Lord de Marnis dispatched his wife’s brother on an errand of great secrecy.”
“His wife’s brother?”
“Faydide, his second wife, is the daughter of the Duke de Sancerre and the mother of Lord Denis. Her older brother – well, a half-brother, truly, for they shared a father but not a mother – is Mallory de Sancerre. He is in the closest confidante of the Lord de Marnis.”
“I see.”
“I suppose no one knows his destination or errand?” Roland said, his tone filled with skepticism.
“No one but the lord himself,” Edmund said. Roland had time to roll his eyes before Edmund spoke again. “And me!” He cackled again to have regained Roland’s interest. “I was there. I read the missive. I know where he went and why.”
There was a long pause.
“Then perhaps you might tell us,” Amaury suggested quietly.
“He went to Haniers,” Edmund said, speaking with defiance as if he might not be believed.
Amaury exchanged a glance with Roland, who shrugged. The location was not known to him, or at least he did not recognize its importance. “Where is that?” he asked Edmund. “And why is it of import?”
Edmund’s eyes shone. “Because the sole daughter of Haniers was to wed Denis. The arrangements were a great secret. Even Lady Faydide did not know of it, but the king recommended the match to the Lord de Marnis for he thought it a good one. And the Lord de Marnis agreed most heartily. There wasa considerable sum to be paid as the lady’s dowry, plus she is young and lovely.” He nodded with authority. “They say she is guaranteed to bear.”
“And so he sent this Mallory to tell them of Denis’ death?”
“Not only that!” Edmund said with glee. “To propose himself as the bridegroom instead!”
“Mallory de Sancerre?”