Knight's Honor Read Online Free PDF

decorative, for they were hung to reflect heat and keep out the chill of the stone walls. It was impossible to make out the subjects clearly because the room was rather dim; although it was full morning, the shutters of the large windows being drawn to keep out the cold. To the left of the door stood the huge curtained bed, and Lady Hereford glanced at it briefly with a faint look of distaste as she approached her son.
    "I have a letter for you, Roger, from Lord Chester."
    "Mamma!" Hereford exclaimed. He smoothed the troubled frown from his face and got to his feet, extending one hand and using the other to pull his robe closed. Lady Hereford twitched the robe aside.
    "Let me look at you."
    Obligingly, with a faint smile, Lord Hereford slipped off what he was wearing and allowed his mother to examine him.
    "That is an ugly scar, child," she commented, touching a red, angry mark that ran halfway round his right thigh.
    "Yes. I was fighting with Henry in Normandy and had no time to let it heal. I tell you, I was lame for six months with it, but it mended as all wounds do eventually."
    "As they all do unless you die of them. I wish you would have more sense, Roger. This letter came last night," the countess said, reverting to her reason for intruding upon him once she was satisfied that he needed no care. "The messenger said it was not urgent, and, under the circumstances," Lady Hereford again glanced briefly at the curtained bed with obvious displeasure on her face this time, "I felt it would keep until morning."
    Hereford laughed at the look and walked with his swift, nervous stride to fling back the curtains, showing the empty bed. He returned just as quickly to shrug on his robe again and take the letter.
    "She is gone. Sit down, Mamma, and do not look so black at me. I am not so very wicked, after all."
    "No, Roger, you are not. You are a good son and, I think, a good man. Your father would have been proud of you." She stopped to look at the fire for a moment. Her husband had been dead for six years, but she still missed him, for they had been an affectionate couple, very happy in their marriage. Her son had been good to her; he had allowed her to choose to remain a widow and had protected her from molestation in that state. He could have forced her into marriage and obtained a good bride price for her, since her dower estates were large and at that time she had still been capable of childbearing. "Nonetheless, Roger," she continued firmly, putting those thoughts aside, "I would like to know what you plan to do with those women."
    "What women?" her son asked, his brows knitted over Chester's letter. He had gained much facility in reading and writing over the two years he had spent with Henry of Anjou, for that young man was an inveterate scribbler and message sender.
    "Your whores."
    "Oh … marry them off, I suppose, and in all haste too." Hereford's eyes gleamed with mischief. "It is as well you mentioned it. You had better seeabout that, Mamma, and do your best to please the girls, if that is possible. Lord! What Elizabeth would say if they were still about when she came."
    "And the children?"
    Roger's mouth hardened, and the laughter disappeared from his eyes. "She may say what she likes about them. They are only two daughters, after all, and I will not cast my girls out or permit them to sink to the level of serfdom."
    "You are right, of course; they are of your blood, but Elizabeth is of hasty temper. When she is mistress here, it is possible that she may not be overkind to your bastards. Also, child, there is the question of myself and your sisters. Have you given any thought to what arrangements you wish to make about us?"
    "No, I have not, Mamma." Roger laughed. "But I am sure you have. I have had a few other things to think about."
    "It might be best," the countess said slowly and regretfully, "if we all moved to my dower castle."
    Lady Hereford did not wish to go. She loved this house and had been very happy in