Page 102 of A Knight’s Reward

CHAPTER 18

“Mama, you must eat some bread.” Ewan stuffed more of the grainy loaf into his mouth while he spoke. “’Tis delicious.”

“Mmm,” Gisela said, picking at the wondrously soft, fresh bread before her. She should try to break her fast, but her stomach still clenched with nerves.

She and her little boy sat in the great hall, cleared of the sleeping servants. The pallets on the floor were gone, replaced by trestle tables arranged in rows. Servants hurried about the hall, some adding logs to the blaze in the hearth, others delivering wooden boards of bread and jugs of ale to the tables. A wolfhound sat at Ewan’s elbow, watching every morsel that went into his mouth.

The frantic activity began after she finished telling Lord and Lady de Lanceau her tale. Gisela had relayed the events in detail, including her involvement with the stolen silks. Holding de Lanceau’s gaze and confessing her deceptions was difficult. However, at the same time, a tremendous weight had lifted from her conscience.

She withheld naught. Naught, that is, except Ryle’s slashing of her breast. While Ewan knew she was unwell months ago, she had never shown him the wound or told him of it, and she still preferred to spare him the grim truth. Neither did she reveal that Ewan was Dominic’s son. Until she and Dominic were able to tell the little boy themselves, she reserved the news to share with de Lanceau in private.

As soon as she finished, de Lanceau turned to Aldwin. “Rouse the servants. Rally the men-at-arms. Tell them to break their fast and prepare to ride.”

“Aye, milord.” Aldwin strode away.

His gaze returning to her, de Lanceau said, “You have given me much to consider, Gisela, including your role in what has happened.”

“I do not deny my guilt,” she said quietly. “I will accept whatever punishment you wish, milord. Please, I ask only that you… that Ewan is well cared for.”

If necessary, she would fall to the floor and beg him to keep her son at Branton Keep. Her little boy would fit in among the servants. Now and again, she might be allowed to see him. To still be part of his growing up, even if their lives must be separate.

As though attuned to her desolation, the lady’s face shadowed with sorrow.

De Lanceau’s mouth flattened. “We will speak again, Gisela.” He nodded to his lady wife and walked out of the room.

Fighting to hold back her tears, Gisela smiled down at her son, standing at her side, holding tight to the embroidered dragon.

“Mama,” he whispered. “What will happen to you? What about me?”

“Well…” How did she tell him they might be separated? Pressing her hands over her heart, Gisela tried to quell the ache threatening to destroy the last of her composure.

“You must both be hungry,” Lady Elizabeth said, “and weary after your journey. Come with me to the great hall, and I will have one of the servants bring you some fare.”

Ewan’s face brightened. “I am starved.”

The lady smiled. “I imagine a growing boy like you is always hungry, just like my Edouard.” Turning with an elegant swish of her gown, she said, “Follow me.”

Gisela carefully took the dragon from Ewan, set it back on the oak chest, and then led him out of the chamber.

At an insistent tap on her hand, Gisela blinked. “Mama, you are not listening.”

The memory of heading down to the hall dissipated, and Gisela was aware again of the servants rushing around the tables, the excited chatter, and the tang of a recently stoked fire. Men-at-arms tromped into the hall, many wearing chain-mail armor. Talking among themselves, they sat on benches along the tables.

“Look at Lord de Lanceau, Mama.”

Gisela glanced in the direction her son pointed. His lordship stood before the raised dais, on which rested the dining table reserved for him, his family, and their noble guests. He was speaking with Lady Elizabeth, who offered him a goblet of wine. A chain-mail hauberk draped to his knees. A broadsword hung by his side, while he carried an iron helm tucked under his arm. Sipping his wine, nodding as his wife spoke, he looked every bit the ruler of an important castle.

De Lanceau handed back the wine goblet. The lady touched his arm, but he shook his head. Gisela fought a jolt of misgiving. Something in his expression…

He glanced her way.

When he started toward her, dread cinched her innards.

She forced herself to calm. Now was not the time to succumb to despair. Whatever punishment he meted out for her crimes, she would accept it with courage and dignity. She must be a good example for her son, in the few free moments she might have left with him.

Gisela bowed her head. “Milord.”

De Lanceau halted before their table, his wife strolling close behind. When he frowned down at her, Gisela shivered.