Page 95 of The Daughters of Avalon
Wilhelm frowned.
Giles explained. “If you believe for one instant that Morwen and Eustace do not anticipate retribution, you must think again. They will look for it, day in, day out, and then… one day… when they least expect it, we will serve give our salutes from a position of power, and they will drink. Merely because I do not speak of it, does not mean I do not have a plan.”
“Truly?” Wilhelm asked.
Giles reached out, clapping Wilhelm on the arm. “Truly. Have faith.”
Wilhelm offered a tentative smile. “Let’s drink to that,” he said, and he did, tipping the glass fully, quaffing the remainder of his ale. And then he grinned—a wide, face-splitting grin that Giles hadn’t seen in far too long. Pleased to see him smiling for the first time in so long, Giles ordered another round.
“For Lucy and Alice,” Wilhelm said, raising another toast, and Giles declared, “Hear, hear!”
But, then, against caution, Wilhelm ordered another round. “To Lady… Margaret,” he offered this time.
Three drinks in, and his brother was now grinning perpetually, even if his words didn’t suit his smile. “May her father rot in hell for not coming to our aid,” he said, swigging another gullet full. “I’ll put him there myself if I e’er see his face.”
Giles gave him a rueful laugh. “I warrant, there’s going to be a crush down there already.”
“So be it,” said Wilhelm, slamming down the tankard. “One more!” he shouted.
“Wilhelm nay…”
His brother waved vigorously at the waitress, who, without question, brought one final round and Giles pushed his own tankard aside as Wilhelm raised another toast. “This one… to Lady Ayleth,” he said, with a catch to his voice.
Giles sat back in his chair, disgusted, but not for the sake of the toast. And nevertheless, he reached out, raising his emptyglass, giving the girl her due, even despite his annoyance over Wilhelm’s persistence in bringing the lady up. Only then… as he set the glass down, he realized something by the look on his brother’s face…
“She loved youuu,” Wilhelm said, and the last word recalled Giles to a mournful howl. And, suddenly, he understood his brother more clearly—his fury and his grief, all those veiled barbs, and the constant needling…
So, it seemed, Wilhelm loved a lady who was lost to him, long before the fire. For his part, Giles had never even considered Ayleth of Bamburgh, and all these years, it must bedevil Wilhelm to know it. Perhaps he was looking for proof that Giles had not taken her affections for granted. And nevertheless, they were never betrothed, and Giles never so much as kissed the sweet girl. For all of five minutes, there had been a bit of flirtation between them, and yet, the moment Giles realized he was destined for the seminary, he’d put all his flirtations aside. So, all these months since the fire, every time Wilhelm brought up Lady Ayleth’s name, he’d done so becausehewas mourning her. There was grief in his countenance now, and it occurred to Giles belatedly that he must have harbored great affection for Ayleth of Bamburgh.
Alas, if there was any trace of resentment in his tone when he spoke her name, perhaps it was because his station had prevented him from loving where he would, and it was certain Wilhelm would never have been so bold as to speak his heart; therefore, Lady Ayleth had likely gone to her grave never knowing how Wilhelm felt.
This, then, must be their nameless discord?
It had never even occurred to Giles that Ayleth had caught his brother’s eye. Understanding dawned as he shoved his tankard forward, rising from his seat, anxious to be away. As the night grew colder, the inn had become nearly as much a crushas the palace, every bloke in the city filtering in from the streets, until there was scarcely standing room.
“Let’s go,” he said.
It was time to leave,now, before they turned into a pair of maudlin fools, weeping amidst London’sfinest. He skirted around the table, put his arm about Wilhelm’s middle, hoisting him up. “We have alongway to travel,” he said. “What say you we stop by Neasham?” he added for incentive.
“Why?”
“To give alms for Lady Ayleth’s soul.”
Wilhelm grinned, reaching one last time for his empty tankard, but Giles pushed it away. “That would be…” He hiccoughed. “Aye,” he said, surging to his feet and swinging an arm about Giles’ shoulder, giving him a rush of relief. The man was a bloody bulwark and if he planted his face into the table, there would be no human being alive who could remove him.
Chapter
Five
“As iron is eaten away by rust,
so the envious are consumed by their own passion.”
—Antisthenes
“My, my, wasn’t he a striking fellow?” I ask. “Tall, handsome, well-mannered—naught at all like the brother.”
“Aye,” my daughter replies, though nothing seems to discompose her. She wears a cloak of tranquility that grates on my nerves, like shards of glass in my slipper. Where in the name of the cauldron she inherited that trait, I do not know, for even now my smile is fragile and ready to shatter.
