that he could not abide slovenly habits in himself or in those around him. One had only to hear Ulrich complain to know the truth of that. And now William had his land and his estate and his people, and the people had passed dirty six months ago. If Rowland had been of a lighter temperament, he would have laughed.
William watched Cathryn as she spoke with the steward. She was thin, with the willowy grace of tall grass moved by the wind, but he could see now that she was a full woman. It was not the look of her, for she was as slender and shapeless as a child, but the manner she possessed. She was in full command of the hall and its people; for all the hurried activity of the folk brushing past her, each and every one looked in her direction not once, but often. Sometimes she would nod or make eye contact, sometimes she did not acknowledge them at all, but still they looked to her. William, watching her, suddenly felt distinctly unnecessary.
"The hour is past for the main meal, my lord."
Her voice was low and soft, yet carried to him clearly across the clamor of the hall.
"Yet a full table has been prepared for you and your company so that you might refresh yourselves after your journey to us."
He could see that it was so. The high table was being set with steaming trenchers, and the goblet that was positioned in the place of the lord's chair was of finely worked silver. There was nothing in her words or her manner to feed suspicion. He was hungry. His men were hungry. The food had clearly been prepared in advance of his arrival. Still, he could not ignore the alarm that jangled in the heart of his thoughts. For all of her sweet words and her open-door welcome, he did not quite trust the lady of Greneforde. Something was amiss, and if he did not know now what it was, he was certain he would know ere long. Until he did know, marriage to her was his best security against open warfare with the people of Greneforde. Armed battle was not how he wanted to begin his lordship. From such a beginning it might take years to heal.
"Lady," he began, "your hospitality is welcome as has your welcome been most hospitable, yet I would not delay the signing of the marriage contract and the nuptials that will join us as the lord and lady of Greneforde." William paused to smile. "I am Henry's man, and he has sent me here to secure the land in his name; I would be a churlish knight if I chose my own comfort over quick obedience to the king's command."
Cathryn heard his words without any wisp of expression crossing her features, but her very lack of response was response enough.
"Lady Cathryn," William continued, "you have prepared a fine banquet for your betrothed." He paused again to smile, but his eyes shone like unsheathed steel. "I would have it be our wedding feast and eat it with my wife beside me."
In those long and silent moments, Cathryn regarded William le Brouillard as she had not yet done. Courtly of speech he was, certainly, but the steel of him was a barely concealed blade that, while not aggressively seeking to hurt, also would not hesitate to do so if provoked. He seemed a strong man, one not accustomed to having his will thwarted, who would fight, even if gently, to achieve his purpose. All this she thought as she faced him and heard his prettily spoken words that all the same said that he would not eat now, that he would not eat until Greneforde was lawfully his.
This glimpse into the character of the man who would rule Greneforde did not dismay her, indeed, such traits would serve Greneforde well, if Greneforde's welfare was important to him. Of herself and how she would fare with him, she did not, would not, ponder.
"Your duty rules you, my lord, and I am ruled by it," she answered simply with a graceful nod. "Your chamber awaits you. When you have changed out of your battle gear, you will find me in the solar; if that is in accord with your desires."
He would rather have gone directly to the chapel and signed the