Page 2 of The Earl

It was enough to drive a man mad.

“It was quite surprising, really,” Guy continued. “It said your continued vigil for a missive is likely to drive away your friends, your steward, that lusty widow, and all those who come into contact with you.”

Conrad crossed his arms. “I do not fare well with all this waiting,” he admitted.

“I had not noticed.”

“My lord?”

Wyot pulled on his bushy red beard as he approached them, a sure sign he had something important to impart. The steward bowed to them, his back slightly hunched with age, a habit he persisted in despite the fact that Conrad had long ago entreated him to stop.

“A party approaches,” Wyot said.

Conrad waited for more information, his heart beating out of his chest, but the steward didn’t seem to be inclined to offer it. “Who?” he finally asked, running his hands through his hair.

“We do not know yet.”

Conrad had waited all winter, preparing the men. Preparing to defend Licheford against siege or an attack.

Preparing for war.

Perhaps he was foolish, but he would wait no longer.

“I will meet them,” he said, striding toward the door that would lead to the first floor and outside the keep. He could feel Guy’s presence behind him, but Conrad did not slow his pace.

Finally, the waiting had come to an end.