Knights of the Hawk (Conquest #3)

Malet sighed. His eyes closed again. Long moments passed before finally he said, ‘Leave us.’


His voice was hardly strong enough to sustain a whisper, but in the silence it was clearly enough heard. At once all eyes were on me. I found myself besieged by Dudo’s unfeeling gaze, by the thin-lipped man’s indifferent regard, and by Elise’s hard, spiteful stare. She had never liked me, from the moment our paths had first crossed. Only Beatrice’s eyes held any sympathy, although she made no protest on my behalf. Not that I blamed her. Her father had spoken and his wishes were to be respected. I had done everything I could, and yet even in his dying hours the old man couldn’t find it within his heart to finally lay to rest this quarrel of ours.

‘I’m sorry, Tancred,’ said Robert. ‘But perhaps it would be for the best if—’

‘It’s all right,’ I muttered, and looked around the chamber, meeting the eyes of each of the Malets in turn. I was thinking about saying something more, but the only words that came to mind were ones that I dared not utter in my lord’s presence, and so I kept my tongue inside my head as I made for the door and grasped the handle—

‘No,’ said Malet. ‘No.’

I halted with my fingers wrapped around the twisted rods of iron, and glanced over my shoulder.

‘What is it?’ Robert asked.

Malet’s chest rose and fell several more times before he was able to muster the strength to speak again. ‘I don’t mean that Tancred should go,’ he said at last.

Robert frowned. ‘Then I don’t understand.’

‘I mean the rest of you must leave.’

‘Guillaume,’ Elise pleaded. ‘You have no need to waste your strength speaking to such a worthless creature. What more do you have to say to him?’

‘I will spend the strength I have left how I choose,’ Malet said. ‘And I would speak to Tancred alone.’

Elise looked despairingly first at Robert and then at Beatrice, evidently hoping for one or both to lend her their support, but none was forthcoming.

‘Come, Mother,’ said Robert. ‘We should go, and let Father say what he must.’

Elise pointed at me, her cheeks red. ‘How can you defend him, Robert? You know how he betrayed your father. He is nothing but a perjurer!’

‘Peace, Elise,’ Malet whispered, while Robert was still struggling for words. ‘What has passed, has passed.’

Elise’s eyes bored into me. ‘Guillaume told me how you broke your oath to him when you were in his service. But even if he has forgotten, I have not! It sickens me how you prosper while our house and our name is brought ever lower. May you be damned!’

‘Mother—’ Beatrice began, but Elise was not listening. She rose and pushed past us, hastening from the room. I heard her footsteps disappearing down the passage.

‘Let me speak to her,’ Robert said, and darted out after her.

Beatrice’s husband held out a hand to help her to her feet, and then they too made to leave.

‘I knew you would come,’ Beatrice said when she passed me. She took my hand in hers, just for a moment, and I felt the warmth there. I had loved her once, or thought I had, and she had loved me. Those feelings had faded now, but in their place had arisen an understanding and friendship that I valued far more.

Her husband regarded me with that same indifferent expression as before, as if appraising me in some way, but said nothing. Apart from Malet, only his chaplain remained.

‘Perhaps it would be wise if I stay,’ Dudo suggested as he fingered the carved wooden cross that hung from his neck.

‘If I have need of you, I will have Tancred send for you,’ Malet said.

‘Lord—’

‘Do not argue, please. I am too weak for that.’

The priest pursed his lips and bowed in deference to his lord’s wishes. He did not look at me as he went, closing the door behind him.

Now that the chamber was empty of people, I saw how sparsely furnished it was. A threadbare rug covered the floor, while in one corner stood an iron pail filled with water, in which floated a scrap of cloth.

Malet raised pale fingers, beckoning me closer, and I knelt down by his bedside.

‘It’s good to see you, Tancred.’ He managed the faintest hint of a smile, but there was pain in that smile and it was short-lived. ‘I’m glad you came.’

‘You are, lord?’ I asked, surprised and confused in equal measure.

‘I am. Dudo told me yesterday evening that you wished to speak with me.’

‘He did?’ Wonders never cease. The toad had delivered on his promise after all.

‘He urged me to summon you, but I, in my stubbornness, refused. I have since been regretting that decision.’

‘You changed your mind,’ I said. ‘Why?’

Malet did not answer straightaway, but gave a deep sigh. ‘There are things that privately I have long wished to say, but which I have been reluctant to admit openly.’

He was speaking in riddles. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Pride,’ he said. ‘I have always been too proud. You would agree with that, wouldn’t you?’

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