Chapter 26: Enquired your marital and betrothal status

As you can probably guess, things went rapidly downhill from there.

Sir Robart, the under sheriff, staggered away from me as my boot managed to collide with his head with the heel hitting the top rear of his helmet with a crash.

His arms cartwheeled as he staggered forwards. And he grabbed at my horses bridle in an attempt to right himself and reclaim his balance.

Unfortunately for him, the horse I was riding wasn't my normal horse. Normally I ride a fairly spritely but undeniably stupid riding horse and I call her Peanut because that was how she was introduced to me. She was chosen for endurance and speed more than anything else but she needed to be controllable in the event of a monster attack. She had been left back at the inn where I had first learned about Fathers injury and she was being brought back by one of Sir Rickard's men.

The horse I was riding at the moment was a trained military horse. Feeling a strangers hand on his bridle he immediately reared up and kicked Sir Robart in the chest before springing forwards.

Someone laughed aloud although I couldn't tell who it was, it definitely wasn't me. People tell jokes about the red mists of fury descending over their vision but that really was what it was like and I was consumed with an absolute fury. First of all, how dare he? HOW DARE HE?

I've only ever killed in self-defence or when it was a choice between killing and the life of someone else. So the thought that I might have actively killed anyone else was a problem.

Then a fury of a different kind swept me up in it's grip.

My Brother.

I kicked the horse in the side. It was only too happy to lunge forward and accelerate to a gallop on my instructions as I sped through the now milling collection of guardsmen who clearly didn't know what to do. If I had had time I might have been insulted that they clearly didn't think that I might make a run for it but my horse had the bit between it's teeth now and I was racing up the tree lined path up towards the family castle.

People shouted behind me but they were soon left behind.

My Brother?

Which brother. Edmund, I don't like him but he's still my brother and at a time when the laws of inheritance were suddenly going to become very valid indeed, the family needed stability and the quick and easy transfer of the title of Baron Coulthard.

Or Sam. Sammy. A brother so close in age that we might as well have been twins. Each of us the others polar opposite.

What about Mark. The death of an Arch Bishop though. Surely that arrest would have been attempted by church guards and Inquisitors rather than some Watchmen from Oxenfurt?

Surely.

This work is hosted on mananovel.com

My mind raced and as my horse galloped the fear fed itself into my brain and fuelled the fire of my rage.

How dare they try and keep me from my family at a time like this?

A horn sounded behind me. I could see the castle gate now in front of me and armed men were running to block my passage. I could hear hoof beats behind me. At least one horse, probably more but I didn't care. I pulled my spear from my saddlebags, aimed the horse at the gate with the still assembling men and leapt from the saddle.

Some people might say that I should have stayed on the horse and they might be correct except for the fact that I know how to fight on foot. I know how to ride a horse. What I don't know is how to do both at the same time.

I connected the two halves of the spear as I ran. The armed men, maybe seven of them moved to block the way. They had spears of their own that were levelled towards me behind a row of shields. That had been the other reason I had dismounted as horses are traditionally reluctant to charge down a spear formation. I ran towards them.

I must have been screaming. Behind the guardsmen I could see some of my families guardsmen tumbling out of various buildings. Two of them in full armour and a few more in various states of half dress and half armour. All of them armed.

Sam was with them buckling his own sword around his waist and I felt a rush of gladness that it wasn't him that had died. That had been murdered.

I slowed a little, desperately trying to control my anger. That losing my temper was a quick way to get killed was one of the first lessons that I had ever been taught in any kind of martial pursuit. So I planned my first maneuver to knock some spears aside and get past the points.

There was a crash and Kerrass had leapt off his horse and landed gracefully next to me. His own face was wearing a fixed grin of fury as his sword swept from his scabbard and we charged the small formation of watchmen.

“Seize them.” Screamed someone. Sir Robart was coming up behind us on his own horse, his armour was flecked with vomit and he was obviously struggling for breath. The other Watchmen were sprinting up the steps behind him crossbows pointing. “Arrest them!” It was definitely Robart that was shouting. “Kill them!” He gave as his last scream. Thanks for reading on ManaNovel!

I laughed. The entire thing was so ridiculous that I could do nothing else. I leapt forward with a feint left before springing to my right, my spear moving. Kerrass had swung low aiming to come up under the spears. My initial movement having distracted the men we were attacking.

We had practised this.

I had my target now. I was past the spear point and I had chosen his groin as my target. I saw the fear then as he dropped his spear and tried to draw his club but we both knew that he wasn't going to make it in time.

He was already dead and I was bellowing in rage and triumph.

Then he vanished.

It took me a moment to see that he had been punched backwards as if by a huge and invisible fist. Then my ears registered that there had been an almighty crash of metal.

“That's enough,” A cold, quiet and hard voice came from behind us spoke into the dead silence after the crash.

I spun, spear up and ready to deflect incoming blows. “I learned an interesting thing the other day,” the voice continued. “Apparently, when people are hunting birds such as pheasants or pigeons for game they don't use pointed arrows as a skewered bird is a spoiled bird. So they put solid balls of metal on the end of the arrow to literally knock them out of the sky. It's of no use in war as men in armour generally survive the impact although I'm told they still feel dreadful afterwards. Still deadly to the bird though. I wonder how it works on watchmen.”

Sir Rickard sat his horse nearby. He had drawn his sword, his shield was on his arm and he sat easily and relaxed. I had travelled with him, drank with him and yelled at him but this was the first time that I had thought of him as a leader of men. I had wondered why Constable Natalis of Temeria had knighted him but there and then, it seemed obvious that he was too much a leader to remain in the ranks as he dominated the small area with his presence.

Kerrass slid in behind me, still facing the other men that had surrounded us so that we were guarding each others back.

Sir Rickard waited until everyone was looking at him.

“Sergeant?” he said, his voice carrying and seeming calm despite the very deadly threat that was implied in his tone of voice.

“Sir,” bellowed the huge Skelligan second in command. The man was huge, hairy and carried the largest crossbow that I had ever seen.

“Remind me of our general orders Sergeant.”

“Sir, that all men should be allowed to travel the roads of Redania freely and without harassment, Sir,”

The giant crossbow was levelled indiscriminately at the knot of men surrounding me. Sir Rickard's other men had taken cover around the area, behind trees and bushes. They were crouched, making themselves small but every one of them had their bows out and arrows knocked. The jovial men that I had travelled with had vanished to be replaced by hardened killers.

“What can I see in front of me Sergeant?” The tone had become more conversational but Sir Rickard's eyes promised a painful and violent death to anyone who challenged him.

“Sir. Some travellers have been detained sir.”

“Against their will?”

“It would seem so sir,” The Skelligan's tone was also more conversational now. The crossbow was not lowered however. “You can tell by the fact that they're about to fight a dozen armed men by themselves. Sir.”

Sir Rickard nodded.

“Lads, if one person. Just one, moves their weapons at anyone else in an aggressive manner. You may kill them.”

“HOW DARE YOU SIR?” Sir Robart recovered from his shock and spat blood.

The change in Rickard's attitude was sudden and shockingly violent.

“HOW DARE I SIR? HOW DARE YOU SIR?” He was off his horse and covered the distance to Sir Robart in two strides.

“What do we do?” I muttered to Kerrass, the scene felt balanced on the edge of a cliff.

“Wait,” he muttered back. “Do nothing to provoke but be ready to react violently and horribly.”

I felt for my earlier anger. It was definitely still there.

“I can do that,” I said.

Sir Rickard was in full flow. His face was inches from Robart's, red with spittle flying.

“YOU STOP A RAPID MOVMENT OF SOLDIERS ON KING'S BUSINESS, DETAIN AND SEARCH ONE OF THEM AND ATTEMPT TO ARREST A MAN IN THEIR CARE WITHOUT EXPLANATION. YOU ENDANGER US ALL, SIR, BY BECOMING A COMMON BRIGAND. YOU RISK EXPOSING US ALL TO BIAS AGAINST THOSE WHO WEAR MY UNIFORM AND YOURS.”

“He...”

“I DON'T CARE WHETHER HE SHIT IN THE EMPRESS' BED. THERE ARE RULES AND REGULATIONS SIR AS WELL YOU KNOW.”

Sir Rickard withdrew, the colour fading from his face until he was absolutely normal again.

“This isn't about me is it,” I muttered.

“Not really,” Kerrass answered. “I think you're an excuse. Not that it would be Ok that you would be an excuse hanging from the nearest tree or in the dungeon though.”

“Explain yourself sir,” Sir Rickard said calmly.

“His brother Edmund is dead.” I felt a s though I had been punched in the gut. “Murdered with a dagger in his throat.” Robart continued but I was no longer listening as I staggered and fell to one knee. My breathing was coming in hisses through my clenched teeth. I merely thought I had been angry before.

My brother.

I didn't like Edmund. Sometimes I had even hated him but he was my brother dammit. You don't just tell a man that his brother has died like that.

Then again, there is no good way to tell a man that his brother has died.

Kerrass told me what happened in the rest of the conversation as I wasn't really listening any more rather than thinking of ways to murder Robart.

“I should kick the shit out of you,” said Sir Rickard. “You didn't tell him because you knew his reaction would prove his innocence didn't you?” It wasn't really a question. “You just wanted a quick arrest of a nobleman to make your name and confirm your prejudices. Get him back to the torturers that still infest the watch-house in Oxenfurt from the Witch-hunter days and he'll confess to anything and your promotion is assured. That was the plan wasn't it?”

Sir Robart opened his mouth to speak.

“Don't answer that,” said Sir Rickard, “It would make me angry and you might not survive. When did this murder happen?”

“Two days ago.”

“Then you're more stupid than you look. Two days ago Lord Frederick was under my care. We spent the night in road Garrison No 12 north of Novigrad. It's commander, Sir Garth Chvatil will vouch for that.”

“He could still have...”

“We rode damn fast to get here. He would have needed magic to get here and back.”

“He associates with a vampiric sorceress now and....”

“Really? Then the Oxenfurt mage's, as I understand a couple have come back would be able to answer that wouldn't they. As for the Vampiress herself it's my understanding that the lady holds a high rank and as such bringing such a charge against her would be... problematic. Also, where's the motive?”

“They were well known to argue...”

“As brothers so rarely do?” Sir Rickard waited for a while. “Be gone Robart. Check his alibi if you must but be gone.”

“Or else what?” Sir Robart was trying to get angry.

“Or else what you are doing is calling me and the lads, liars. I'm a knight nowadays and that comes with a certain number of responsibilities and privileges. One of those is the ability to defend my honour when lies are so clearly said about me and the people under my care.” Sir Rickard grinned. “You deny this and come for him again on that basis calling me a liar then I shall see you on the field of honour. Where I will kill you.” He said it with a certain relish. “My men however have a similar but entirely different code of honour. One which they take no less seriously than we take ours and they like being called liars even less than I do.”

There was a long pause while someone audibly sniggered.

“He struck me.”

“After the accusation of Fratricide that you had just made, I would have killed you.”

There was another long pause.

“But there's no other suspect.” Robart whined.

“That is not my problem. Nor is it his. Go off now and do your job.”

Sir Robart straightened his armour and sheathed his sword.

“Withdraw,” he called and his men started putting their weapons away and moving around Kerrass and myself, giving us both a wide birth. He changed his mind and came and leant over where I was still kneeling wanting to vomit, scream, cry and kill things all at the same time. “This isn't over, I'll be back for you.” He said before turning away.

On any other day I might have just let the comment roll off my back. On any other day I would have seen it for the weak grasping of a weak man who wanted to exert his authority to shore up his confidence and ignored him.

But it wasn't any other day. I was in front of my home and I had been accused of killing my brother.

I heard Kerrass' protest at Robart's words which was a kind of growl but I moved, surging to my feet and dropping my spear.

I had taken to wearing a dagger across my belly.

I grabbed Robart by the back his chest plate and spun him catching hold of the breast plate. My dagger was out and I held it with the point a fraction of an inch from his eye.

I so desperately wanted to kill him then. So badly did I want to plunge my dagger forwards, through his eye and into his brain.

He didn't struggle.

But I am not a murderer.

“Today you called me Fratricide.” I said. It didn't sound like my own voice. It sounded hard and unpleasant.

“Today, when I come home for the first time in several years to help my family through a crisis which involves my fathers health. You choose to tell me of my brothers death by accusing me of that murder.”

He was plainly terrified.

“I should kill you here and now,” I ground the words out through clenched teeth. Silence reigned.

“I should kill you here and now and no-one would blame me after the shock that I have suffered and the insult that you have subjected me to, and unlike Sir Rickard, I am not bound by a duty to uphold the law.”

I wanted to kill him so badly that I could taste it. It was a sour, metallic taste, like the taste of a metal spoon after the food that it carried has been eaten.

“But I am not a murderer.”

He seemed to subside a little.

“But I have killed men and creatures that would have you pissing yourself in fear.”

He tensed again.

“So I shall give you this warning. You have ten minutes to get out of my sight, followed by an hour to get off my families lands. Then, if you come back without express invitation from me, or a member of my family, for any reason at all. I will kill you on the field. Bring seconds if you come and get your affairs in order before you do so.”

I dropped him.

“Be gone,” I snarled.

“Duty may...” he stammered from where he had stumbled.

“Send someone else.” I said before turning away.

I heard him get to his feet and start moving towards me before a jangle of armour told me that Kerrass had put his hand on Robart's shoulder.

“I wouldn't,” growled the Witcher. “I would be his second and would be happy to kill you in his place.”

The Watchman fled.

I managed to keep my legs rigid and still until they were out of sight before letting my knees buckle and crashing to the floor.

My brother Sam approached us then putting his sword away.

He was grinning foolishly.

“That.” He said pointing in the direction of the departing Watchmen, “was amazing.”

“It was something special.” Kerrass agreed.

“I thought he was going to wet himself,” Sam went on with amused admiration.

“He did, but it was hidden in his armour” Kerrass grinned and turned to me. “I didn't think you had it in you.”

I groaned and put my head between my legs.

“You alright?” Sam asked.

“Just a little light-headed.”

“No wonder, running off a man of the law like that.”

I groaned again.

Kerrass levered me to my feet.

The Sergeant was shouting at Rickard's men to form up and remount and I shook myself back to awareness.

Also my sister Emma had appeared out of nowhere, looking all regal and fierce despite, or maybe because of the austere nature of the black, mourning dress that she had on.

She was talking with Sir Rickard as I approached.

“All done?” Sir Rickard asked as I walked up.

“All done,” I nodded. “Thank you Sir knight for your help there.”

He grinned and was suddenly back to being the informal man that I had travelled with over the last few days.

“Don't worry,” he said, “It was my distinct pleasure.”

“Will your interceding on our behalf get you into any trouble?” My sister asked. She has this trick of smiling with her eyes even though her face was absolutely still. She was also clearly enjoying herself.

Sir Rickard considered.

“Nah, he'll make a complaint. I'll make a report. No-one cares enough though. Robart knows that I can kick his ass with my eyes closed on horseback or on foot.” He turned to me. “He might come after you though.”

“Not to worry,” Kerrass spoke up. “Frederick would kill him in six, no, five moves.”

My family took that comment in silence.

“That's a bold claim,” Sir Rickard said with some surprise. “Robart's good with a sword.”

Kerrass shook his head. “He might be a good fencer but he's not a fighter.”

I saw the comment hit home with Rickard who nodded thoughtfully.

“Anyway,” Rickard got back on his horse. “I'd best be off. I'll leave you your horses in case you need them in the meantime. Someone'll come for them. Eventually.”

“We are grateful though Sir Rickard.” My sister again. Her voice radiating gratitude and warmth. It was like honey and I could see it working on Rickard who looked at her with obvious appreciation. “If you do get in trouble, please get in touch. We could use a number of men to keep our roads safe and if our roads are safe, I have no doubt that our immediate neighbours would welcome our offer of help.”

She managed to include everyone in the “our offer of help.”

Sir Rickard's tone and posture changed. He was all military now although his face betrayed some mischief.

“Should the army decide to reduce my pay, I may consider it Ma'am,”

He turned to us and shook hands with Kerrass and myself, “Take care of yourselves lads,” it felt like we were being included in amongst his men. It felt like high honour. He shook hands with Sam and bowed over Emma's hand when she offered it. I noticed that his posture was perfect and would not have been out of place at court.

“Your servant Milady.”

Emma glowed at the formal farewell.

Sir Rickard mounted up as the Sergeant called the Salute. The men saluted with a precision that, to my eye, would have made a drill-sergeant weep with pride and in 'perfect' order they turned and rode down the hill.

“I think you've got another devoted follower there sister mine.” Sam commented with a grin.

Emma also smiled and transformed from the lady of the house to being my sister again. It seemed that it was a day for masks. “Nah.” she said with a grin. “That man likes the idea of a lady but what he wants is something else.”

“Amazing how you can see such things.” Sam said before turning to me. “Welcome home brother, I'm not as certain that I could whip your ass on the practice field anymore.”

I smiled. I was tired and the jovial atmosphere was at odds with what I had expected from the meeting but I held out my hand to him. “I wish I could say it was good to be home but...”

Sam took it my hand in the warriors grip I noticed and pulled me into a bear hug. I had been wrong. The smiles were masks as the fierceness of Sam's hug displayed. He let go and turned away so that I couldn't see his face. “We'll catch up later yeah? You can introduce me properly to your Witcher friend then.” He scrubbed his face a little suspiciously and then his jovial mask was back. “I'll take care of the horses and get everyone back to work.”

Emma nodded and he left calling for someone called Gregory as he caught up the reins of our horses.

I watched after him. I felt like he had grown somewhat in a way that I couldn't put my finger on. Then again, I was hardly the same man that had last left these walls.

“Won't you introduce me?” Emma said pointedly bringing me back to earth.

“Of course,” I shook my head. “I have the distinct honour of presenting Master Kerrass. Witcher of the Feline school. Kerrass, may I introduce my sister Emma von Coulthard.”

Kerrass bowed formally but left out the flowery hand movements. His hands by his sides pending only at the waist. It gave him a formal, lordly appearance.

“Your servant Lady Coulthard.” he said, equally as formally.

“Come inside both of you.” Emma took Kerrass' arm through hers without missing a beat. “We'll get the hospitality done and you settled but then I must take Frederick off to see to some family business.”

“I would be grateful Lady,” Kerrass said, keeping his formality in the face of my sister's friendliness while allowing himself to be led towards the castle keep.

Some more background information now I'm afraid.

The home of the Baron von Coulthard was a fighting castle. Even though nowadays it is mostly a family residence my father insisted that it retain it's ability to become a fighting castle again when he took over and extensively renovated it. He brought in professional siege engineers from Temeria and Redania to best advise him on how to do so and where to station men and horses, Siege equipment, provisioning and other such things. As a result, to get to the keep you have to go through a large and terrifying double portcullised killing ground where archers can be stationed above to rain death on any attackers. From there you come into the first of three sections of courtyard. Each section is divided by thick walls and large gatehouses, same as the first so that should attackers get into the first courtyard then getting into the next one is difficult and then there is still the keep itself to be taken which is no small feat.

There are fresh wells in each courtyard for water and the outbuildings that spring up wherever there are castles are made of wood and easily pulled apart so that, in the event of an actual siege then they couldn't be used as cover. The first courtyard is the largest being home to my fathers stables, falconry and kennels. There is also an area for the training of horses. There are regularly other temporary structures as well that are built and demolished according to need. The chief groom, as well as the other stable-boys live in this area while working. In colder weather they can move to the more secure areas in the keep but in the summer they preferred to be on hand in case any of their charges needed anything.

Anything that could be used for the care of horses was also in the first courtyard. There was a tannery to make their own horse tack according to the chief stable-master's exacting specifications. Also a herb hut where any medicines that the animals might need were made and mixed after the raw ingredients had been bought at the market.

The next courtyard housed the armed men. From the heavily armed professional soldiers to the more lightly armed scouts and archers. There was an archery range and a tilting dummy (It had once been pointed out that you had to bring the horse up to the tilting dummy from the lower courtyard which was far from easy. Also shouldn't the dummy be near where the horses were. The arms-master and the Stable-master looked at me when I pointed this out as though I was deficient in some small and significant way.) This was also where the barracks was situated at my parents insistence. Again there was room for them in the citadel itself but the arms-master would call emergency drills in the early hours of the morning to keep the men on their toes but that could interfere with guests or family. There was also an extensive forge and armour-smith that was run by an extremely highly paid dwarf who mercilessly bullied his staff but if anyone else got hostile towards them then he would be the first to leap to their defence. The quality of the work they produced was exceptional and sold for a high price. Another sign of my fathers business skills.

The final courtyard was where things were devoted to the comfort of guests. Luxuries that had not been thought of when the main keep had been built such as baths, gardens and extra guest houses were here. There was also a newly walled off area where things like butchery was done for the evenings feasts and things but it was kept well out of the way.

Father was always tinkering with the layout. It was kind of like a hobby to him, thinking up new things to be built and new ways to organise things. He liked to think that the people that worked in his castle should always be kept busy to avoid mischief and display industry to his peers. Constantly in search of the perfection that he craved but had come to realise that he would never attain. Now he called it “building for the future,” It's a nice place and if it was free from the bitterness and general dissatisfaction of the lord of the castle I think I could've been happy here.

But then there was my father.

Poor man.

Siege catapults, ballista and trebuchet's lined the walls and sat atop the towers. I knew from experience that they were well made, maintained and were regularly drilled. All of my fathers men were expected to be able to operate all of the machinery and that all of the machinery should be usable at a moments notice. He drove people mad by ordering demonstrations at odd hours so that this could be proven and would invite his peers to watch his siege crew at work.

To be fair that work paid off. The ballista in particular were now frighteningly accurate but those nobles who did visit, rather than being impressed had felt as though we were threatening them and showing off.

Can't think why.

This time though the castle was subdued. Although the work was still carrying on there were many many faces missing. Soldiers and young men lost to the wars and returned crippled and broken. I saw a couple of new additions including what would turn out to be a hospital and caring house for those men who had fought under my fathers colours who had come back injured.

Again, from a distance these were good and kind acts by my father. Kind and charitable acts but I could never help but feel that they were done so that they could be driven into other people's faces rather than because they needed to be done.

“Who's Gregory?” I asked of my sister as we passed the stables not recognising the name that my brother was calling out.

“The new Horse-master,” she answered shortly.

“What happened to Reese?”

“You know how he was. He was absolutely devastated about fathers accident and left.”

I was shocked and said so.

“I always thought that we'd be carrying him out of here feet first.”

“We all did but he was distraught, thinking it was his fault and came to us the day after and asked to be given leave to go.”

I nodded, the old stable-master was one of the few men who my father seemed to get on with.

My sister threaded us through the activity, expertly dodging movements while at the same time acknowledging greetings and sympathies. It seemed that many people were bringing in supplies, presumably for the feasts and things that would be happening to accompany anyone's death. I was unaware of my fathers wishes on the matter, or Edmund's, but any kind of funeral for them would be a burning or internment which would depend on Mark's and mother's influence. That would be a small family affair which would then be followed by a wake where people would gather, wear their favourite, most sombre clothes and stand around drinking my fathers wine and saying how wonderful he, and now, my brother were.

A great anger was burning in the pit of my stomach. I felt it like a small burning ember at the bottom of a fire-place that could be exposed to air, fed new fuel and encouraged to take spark and flare up. I didn't notice the people that worked in almost silence to take down the flags, the tapestries and the decorations from the public areas of the castle as well as those people that were working hard to bring in the food, drink and other supplies. I did not see the soldiers salute as my sister and I walked past, nor did I hear the greetings from the gate-guard into the upper courtyard. I know that my sister kept up a relatively cheerful speech explaining how things stood to Kerrass as well as giving a relatively simple tour of the castle along with various embarrassing childhood stories about myself.

Somewhere I registered the fact that Father was still alive but only just. That he spent most of his time sweating and shaking with the effort of staying alive as whatever poison had gotten into his bloodstream from the injury finally finished the job of killing him. When he did wake he struggled to speak and moving was even more difficult.

Mark was also here and when he wasn't standing vigil over father's death bed he was found praying in the chapel.

It seemed that the castle was mostly in shock. My father's injury and illness had been given enough time to seep into the collective consciousness and people were starting to come to terms with his death and for brother Edmund to take over. But then he was dead too and now people didn't know what to think or what was going to happen. I was the same. I was faintly aware that there was some kind of rule regarding inheritance when it came to churchmen inheriting estates and wealth from family but I couldn't for the life of me remember what it was. I was probably alright and able to continue my work as Mark approved of scholarly pursuits however my methods would probably be strictly curtailed. Emma might struggle as she would be married off in moments as I could well imagine that her current lifestyle would be considered “improper” by Brother Mark.

We got to the citadel and just before we went in the three of us stood at the entrance and looked out over the walls.

“So what do you think of our little home?” my sister enquired innocently.

“Little?” Kerrass asked with an immaculately timed raised eyebrow before turning to me. “Frederick I was aware that your family was wealthy but I had no idea. If and when we do get back on the road...You are paying for the drinks and I should warn you that I have a tendency to become thirsty on the road when other people are paying.”

He turned back to Emma with a certain increase in the formality.

“Milady may I say that your home is a joy to behold. Industry, beauty and care given to the buildings and those people that live in them. It and the lands surrounding it are a tribute to your families wealth, charity and intelligence that you have so clearly invested in these lands.”

My sister realised that her eyes had widened and her mouth had fallen open.

“However,” Kerrass said neutrally but I could tell that he was feeling mischievous. “May I also say that, despite the beauty of our surroundings, they pale in comparison to the beauty of the lady before me whose Intelligence and Kindness I see evidence of in those same people and buildings that fall within her care.”

He bowed formally.

Emma was clearly astonished.