Shadows and Strongholds by Elizabeth Chadwick Read Free Book Online Page B

thoughtful look on her face. After that first question, she had said nothing.
    'Marion will want to bear his babies,' Joscelin murmured.
    'And Hawise will lead him into more scrapes than a hound pup off the leash.'
    Sybilla eyed him. 'And that is not cause for worry?'
    He laughed softly and closed his hand over hers. 'Oh, yes indeed,' he said, 'but of the kind that I am glad to have.'
    'Since it will likely be me dealing with them,' she retorted, but she was smiling.
    They finished breaking their fast. Sybilla took Marion and Sibbi with her to the women's chambers to cut out some linen tunics. Usually Hawise would have gone with them, but her father beckoned her to accompany him instead.
    Mystified, but delighted, she dusted breadcrumbs from her gown, hastily dabbled her hands in the fingerbowl and joined him. 'Where are we going?'
    'Just a ride out,' he said. 'I want to look at the horses.'
    Hawise gave a little skip. She loved going with her papa to view their horses. The mares and geldings that made up the herd grazed together with the common saddle beasts. There were separate paddocks for his destrier and his hunting courser, both stallions.
    The grooms had saddled Rouquin for him and in minutes had tacked up Hawise's barrel-bodied chestnut pony, Sorelle. She was a competent rider and, with a boost up, settled herself in the saddle and drew the reins through her fingers. Her father smiled his approval. Surrounding them, his bodyguard and squires waited attendance.
    'So,' he said as they rode across the bailey and over the bridge beyond the gatehouse. 'What do you think of having a "foster" brother?'
    Hawise pondered the matter. She had been little more than a babe in arms when her father's younger squire,

Adam, had arrived in their household, and still a little child when he had entered adolescence. She had never played with him as such, and he had never encroached on what she considered her territory. 'I want him to come,' she said slowly. 'I'd like a boy to be my friend… but…' She bit her lip.
    He bent his head and looked at her from under his brows. 'But what, sweetheart?'
    'But how do I know that he'll be my friend? What if I don't like him?'
    Her father covered his mouth with the palm of his hand. She couldn't tell if he was thinking or smiling. The former it proved, for when he took his hand away, his mouth was straight. 'Brunin will need some time to adjust to our ways,' he said. 'Think of how it would be if you had to leave home and go and live amongst strangers. For the first few days everything would be different and unsettling—yes?'
    'Yes,' she said with a frowning nod.
    'Just remember that when you meet him and do not expect too much at first. But I see no reason why you and he cannot be friends.' He winked. 'It would be good to have a companion in arms when you play at sieges, hmm?'
    Again Hawise nodded. It would indeed and she felt a spark of excitement at the notion. But she would hate it if she was relegated to the role of admiring onlooker or binder of wounds. She had seen how the boys of the keep played and what they expected of their sisters.
    'When I go to fetch Brunin from Whittington, I want to take him the gift of a pony'
    Hawise gazed up at him in surprise. 'Doesn't he have one?'
    'Yes, but he's almost outgrown it. His father was going to find him one at St Peter's Fair, but for one reason and another, by the time he came to look, there was nothing suitable. I said that I would see what I had among our own herd… and I thought that you might like to choose.' He watched her through his lids.
    Hawise brightened at the thought and swelled a little with pride, for she recognised that the task was an important one, and he had entrusted it to her, not Sibbi or Marion.
    After much deliberation, she settled for a sturdy Welsh cob, built on the same lines as her father's Rouquin, but a pony, not a horse. Its hide was the hue of sweet black cherries, its tail almost swept the ground, and its mane