“Nay,” Sir Leland said. I saw him lean closer to Branford, though he did not lower his voice. “She cries every time I stick her. She just does not seem to get used to her place—on her hands and knees, servicing my sword!”
As Sir Leland ended his sentence with a hearty, drunken laugh, I felt my stomach clench, and my eyes closed of their own volition. Ida touched my arm, asking if I was all right, but I could only nod my head and wave her off her concerns, claiming the ale was just not to my liking.
“I am still interested in the purchase,” Branford finally replied.
“You know what?” Sir Leland exclaimed. I glanced at their table from the corner of my eye and watched Sir Leland stand up. Branford followed. “I think what we really need here is a wager!”
“A wager?”
“Of course!” Sir Leland placed his meaty hand on Branford’s shoulder. “I was truly looking forward to hand-to-hand combat with you, Sir Branford. And you knocked yourself out of the running too quickly for that, did you not?”
Branford grumbled in response.
“So how about we fight tomorrow morning, hmm?”
“With your slave as the prize?”
“Exactly!”
“And if, by some small miracle, you should best me with sword?”
“Then I get your horse.”
Sir Leland’s grin rivaled those of lunatic jesters.
“Are you insane?” Branford scoffed and took a step backwards.
“No, I am making a bet,” the other knight said as he stepped closer to my husband. “I will bet you my slave for your horse that I can best you with sword tomorrow morning.”
“Bet one of the finest stallions in Silverhelm for some slave?” Branford said. “Ridiculous!”
Sir Leland’s eyes widened and he laughed, stumbling slightly to one side.
“Take it or leave it!”
I looked to Branford then, and for the first time since he had walked to the other side of the room, he stole a glance at me. I could see it in his eyes as soon as they met mine—he would not risk Romero. Whether he thought he could beat this man or not, he would not take such a chance with his horse.
“I suppose I will leave it, then,” Branford said quietly enough that I could only barely make out his words. He turned from Sir Leland and walked
back to our table. He dropped himself down in his seat without looking toward me at all.
“I tried,” he said simply.
“Branford—”
“Not Romero!” His voice raised in volume. “Not for some slave girl.”
“What are you doing, Branford?” Ida asked.
“It is none of your concern, Ida.” He growled as he picked up his mug and drank deeply. His gaze shifted over to me briefly as he mumbled. “I did what I could.”
“Everything all right?” Sir Parnell asked.
“Fine,” Branford said to his cousin suddenly. “Now will you find someone else to harass?”
All those at our table sat silent as Parnell and Branford locked stares. Ida’s eyes were wide, and she looked for a moment like she would say something when we were interrupted from the other side of the hall.
“Oh, all right, Sir Branford!” Sir Leland yelled from across the room. “Your second horse, then.”