Medieval 01 - Untamed

keep Meg as your wife. You will set her aside and soon the keep will have a new lady. And you, lord…then you will finally have the sons you want more than you want anything else on earth.”
    â€œ Simon .”
    Though Dominic said no more, his brother answered the unspoken question.
    â€œYou are renowned as a tactician,” Simon said, choosing each word with care. “It would be a poor tactician who lost a war trying to win a battle that would gain him nothing.”
    â€œExplain.”
    Simon hesitated. He had never heard quite that tone of voice from his brother. Simon would be well pleased if he never heard it again.
    â€œYou came here for land and sons,” Simon said after a moment. “That is your war. Half of it is won. The land is yours.”
    Dominic said nothing.
    â€œIf you fight this battle on the Reevers’ terms,” Simon resumed, “you have nothing to gain and much to lose. Nor will the vassals of Blackthorne Keep require that you sacrifice everything—including them—in a futile battle.
    â€œMeg knows that as well as you do. So, now, do the Reevers.”
    Simon looked away from his brother. Like Dominic’s voice, his expression was a terrible combination of rage and anguish.
    â€œFinish it,” Dominic said bleakly.
    â€œGod’s blood,” muttered Simon. “’Tis clear enough. Meg does not expect you to ransom her.”
    With a speed that made his heavy war cloak flare, Dominic turned his back on the people in the great hall. He didn’t want them to see what must lie naked in his eyes, memories and Meg’s words turning like knives in his soul.
    I could be a liar, a cheat, a robber, a felon…none of it matters to you. One womb serves as well as another, so long as it comes with Blackthorne Keep .
    Gauntleted hands became fists.
    Is Dominic unkind to you?
    To his Glendruid wife? To his sole hope of legal heirs? Does my husband strike you as a stupid man? My jesses, after all, are almost the equal of his fine peregrine’s .
    Dominic stood rigidly, his fists clenched at his side.
    You are in pain. Let me heal you .
    Only one thing can heal me .
    Then I give it to you .
    A tremor ripped past Dominic’s control.
    Send for the priest, for I will surely die .
    For a long time Dominic struggled for the self-control he had learned at such cost in the past. He had been very certain he had nothing new to learn about pain.
    He had been wrong.
    Meg, I never meant to wound you so. You saw into me so clearly, yet you gave to me so generously .
    Would that you could see into me now ….
    A low sound came from the bailey, hundreds of voices held in unnatural restraint while whisperings gusted through the crowd like fickle winds.
    â€œThey still gather, lord,” Gwyn said calmly.
    â€œFor what?” Dominic asked.
    Even the old Glendruid witch flinched at the sound of Dominic’s voice. After a moment she answered.
    â€œFor you. They are in need and you are their lord.”
    Without a word or a backward look, Dominic strode through the great hall to the forebuilding. When the vassals saw him appear in the wide doorway with chain mail glittering beneath his heavy cloak, silence spread through the bailey.
    Before Dominic could speak, Harry climbed the steps. In his hand was a small leather bag. Coins jingled within.
    â€œAdela and I heard what happened,” Harry said. “’Tis a terrible ransom they demand.”
    When Harry extended the bag, Dominic was too surprised to move.
    â€œTake it,” Harry urged. “’Tis not much, I know, but ’tis all we have. Please, lord. When Adela was in pain, Meg came to her.”
    Before Harry turned away, the falcon master was climbing the forebuilding’s stairs. In his hands was a wooden bowl holding a few precious coins.
    â€œMy second son was trampled by a war stallion when he was four. The lady knelt in the mire and eased his dying pain. She was not yet nine herself.”
    No sooner had the falcon master set the bowl at Dominic’s feet than other vassals stepped forward one by one, holding in their hands whatever small treasure had been gleaned from a lifetime of hard labor. With each gift came a sentence or two.
    â€œShe stayed at my father’s sickbed.”
    â€œWhen my brother was ill and there was no straw to burn, she gave him her cloak.”
    â€œShe healed my son.”
    â€œMy babe would have died but for