Rogan, in the Great Hall, lying on the floor in a drunken stupor, had difficulty rousing himself. Severn was there before he was fully aware of what was happening.
“You sicken me,” Severn said, then tossed his brother a sword and ran out of the room.
Rogan made up for lost time. If his head did not clear instantly, his body remembered its long training. He kicked his men awake and within seconds he was in the courtyard fighting beside Severn and Baudoin.
It didn’t take long to kill the Howard attackers, and as Severn meant to slay the last one, Rogan stopped him.
“Why?” he demanded of the man. “What does Oliver Howard want?”
“The woman,” the Howard man said. “We were to take her and hold her.” The man knew he was going to die. He gave Rogan an insolent look. “He said his younger brother needs a wife and the Peregrine brides make excellent Howard wives.”
Rogan killed the man. He thrust his knife into the man’s heart and twisted and kept twisting until Severn pulled him away.
“He’s dead,” Severn said. “They’re all dead. As well as four of our men.”
Fear was coursing through Rogan’s body. If Se
vern had not been here…if he’d been a little drunker…if his men hadn’t heard…They could have had Liana by now. “I want this place searched,” he said. “I want every granary, every garderobe, every chest searched. I want to make sure no Howards are here. Go!” he shouted at the men standing near him.
“At last you care about the Howards,” Severn said. “But only because of her. You have placed all our lives in danger—me, Zared, yourself. You risk what little property we have left because of her. Is it nothing to you that tonight four of your men were killed and a dozen others wounded while you were in a drunken stupor? And why? Because of a quarrel with that woman? You have killed two brothers over a wife. Will it take the deaths of the rest of the Peregrines to satisfy you?”
At that moment Liana came flying down the stairs, long blonde hair streaming behind her, her robe opening to show slim bare legs. She threw herself at Rogan, her arms about his neck. “You’re safe,” she cried, tears wetting his shoulder. “I was terrified for you.”
For a moment Rogan forgot the bloodstained men around him, as well as his scowling brother, and hugged her trembling body to his. It was only luck that she was still here and not taken by Howard’s men. He stroked her hair and soothed her. “I’m unhurt,” he whispered.
He looked up to see the face of one of his men, one of his father’s men, a man who’d followed Rowland into battle, and he saw disgust on the man’s face. Disgust that a Peregrine would be standing here in the early dawn, two dead men at his feet, and cooing to a woman.
Over the past few weeks, Rogan knew that his men had sided with him over Severn because Rogan had never slacked in his training. And they hadn’t seen the way Rogan sat in the solar with his wife in the evening and listened to women singing. Nor had they seen Rogan allowing his wife to help him design machines of war.
But now, as Rogan looked into the eyes of his men, he knew their loyalty had just changed. How could they follow a man who, because of a quarrel with his wife, was too drunk to hear an attack? How could he control them? In the village play, the peasants had portrayed him as being “tamed,” as a man whose wife had put a collar on him and led him away. At the time, the idea had seemed too absurd to consider, but now he saw some truth in the play.
He had to establish his control before his men or lose their respect forever.
He abruptly pulled Liana from him, then shoved her away. “Get back to the house, woman, where you belong.”
Liana had some idea of Rogan’s embarrassment. She straightened her shoulders. “I will help. How many wounded are there?” She turned to the man who’d been watching Rogan with so little respect. “Take these men to the kitchen, it’ll be warmer there. And fetch—”
Rogan had to stop her. “Obey me!” he bellowed.
“But there are wounded men here.”
His men, wounded and well, were watching him intently and Rogan knew that it was now or never. “I married you for your money,” he said evenly and loudly enough for all his men to hear, “and not for your advice or your beauty.”
Liana felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. She wanted to reply, but her throat closed and she couldn’t speak. Around her she could feel the men’s smirks. Here was a woman who had been put in her place. Slowly, she turned and started back into the castle.
For just a moment Rogan almost went after her, but he didn’t. “Get these men up,” he said. He’d make it up to her tonight. Maybe a gift. She had liked that little doll from the fair so much, maybe—
“Take them where?” Severn asked.
Rogan saw respect once again in his brother’s eyes. “The Great Hall,” he said. “And get a leech to sew them up. Then bring me the men who were on guard duty.”
“Yes, brother,” Severn said, and for a moment put his hand on Rogan’s shoulder.
To Rogan, the hand felt heavy with responsibility.
“He did it,” Severn said proudly to Iolanthe. “I knew that when we needed him, he’d be there. You should have seen him yesterday morning. ‘I married you for your money, not for your advice or your beauty.’ That’s what he told her. Now maybe she’ll stop interfering in Peregrine business.”
Io looked at him over her tapestry frame. She’d heard all about what had happened yesterday. “Where did your wise brother sleep last night?”