Chapter 1365: Jocelynn’s Blunder (Part One)
"Baron Fayle," Owain said, letting a note of warmth into his voice that was entirely manufactured. It didn’t sound entirely convincing, but then, the audience would likely attribute the flaw in his performance to the discussion of his wife’s funeral. Besides, the youngest baron in the March warranted courtesy, even if he warranted very little else in Owain’s estimation.
"I appreciate you making the journey all the way from one of the furthest corners of the march," Owain continued, keeping the topic light to begin with. "I imagine the southern roads were harder than Lord Iriso’s."
Erling Fayle looked up from his plate with an expression that was cautious but not fearful. Up close, the young baron looked even younger than he did at a distance. Sandy-haired, slight of build, with features that seed designed by the Lord of Light to make powerful n underestimate him.
"The roads were passable, my lord," Baron Fayle said with a voice that carried a steadiness that didn’t quite match his boyish appearance. "Frozen mud is actually easier riding than the autumn rains. And I wanted to be here. It’s an honor to ride in your hunt," he said, raising his cup of spiced wine, though he stopped short of following Baron Iriso’s example to offer yet another toast.
There was no particular guile in his words. They were the careful, asured response of a man who understood that the incoming Marquis was watching him and chose to offer respect without embellishnt. Owain found it neither impressive nor offensive, which was about the best he’d ever felt about anything Erling Fayle had done.
"I notice you brought Sir Ives and Sir Peredur," Owain said, nodding toward the tables further away from the high table where a lean, weathered knight sat beside a younger man with a broken nose that had healed crookedly.
Owain had made a point of familiarizing himself with the nas and faces of every knight at the lodge, even though most of them were barely worth the effort. Hopefully, at least a few of them would prove themselves worth rembering in the coming Holy War.
"But I thought you’d arrived in Lothian with a much larger retinue," Owain observed with a hint of mild, performative concern in his voice. "I hope no one fell ill after the long ride through the cold. We’ve been plagued by hailstorms and all manner of foul weather this year," Owain said, offering up a reasonable excuse veiled in enough concern that Erling would have to respond to it.
"Sir Catach and Sir Austell are accompanying my mother to Lady Ashlynn’s morial, my lord," Fayle said, and sothing in his eyes flickered when he spoke his late lady’s na. Whether it was genuine grief or rely the practiced solemnity that any lord would display when referencing the death of the Marquis’s wife, Owain couldn’t tell.
"Sir Doran would have co," Erling added mildly. "But since his sister is here along with her husband and the rest of Baron Leufroy’s retinue, I gave him permission to spend the day visiting family," Erling said with a hint of what might have been reproach in his voice. "I’m sure that my lord understands very well how difficult it can be to only see your sibling once or twice a year because of distance and duty."
Beside him, Wes made a small motion under the table, tapping his toes against the younger baron’s foot in an unseen sign that Erling should watch himself. Erling was too young, too far from the center of power, and too poor to afford spies in Lothian Manor. There was no one who could warn him about how sensitive of a topic Owain’s brother had beco in recent months, and he was wandering into dangerous territory by ntioning Lord Loman.
"I brought my most capable n with , my lord," Baron Fayle added in a tone that managed to be both apologetic and matter-of-fact. "Sir Ives has hunted the southern hills since before I was born, and Sir Peredur is the finest hunter in Fayle after myself. We might not match up to Baron Aleese’s n, but you won’t find us lacking in today’s hunt."
The implication was clear enough. Fayle hadn’t sent his best n away; he’d kept them. The two at the morial were the ones he could spare, and another had been given the day to spend with the sister who had married into another knight’s family.
Owain could have taken issue with the young baron’s choice to let Sir Doran spend the day visiting family instead of attending the hunt, but doing so would doubtless lead Erling to point out that, had Owain allowed won to attend the hunt, Sir Doran could have both attended and spent ti with his sister. It had been Owain’s order that forced a decision between the two.
Not that Owain particularly cared about the distinction where Baron Fayle was concerned. The boy could bring his entire household, and it still wouldn’t amount to much in the larger picture. What mattered was the pattern that was forming. Two out of four for Iriso. Two out of five for Fayle. And both tis, the n had sent two of their knights to the ’small, private morial’ that Jocelynn had arranged.
"Your mother’s devotion to Lady Ashlynn speaks well of your house," Owain said, the words coming out more clipped and formal than he’d intended. "And I’m sure Sir Ives and Sir Peredur will acquit themselves well today."
Had Erling Fayle’s mother even t Ashlynn? Or was she just looking for an opportunity to cozy up to the future Marchioness since Jocelynn was arranging things? Owain didn’t know what motivated the old woman, and at the mont, he didn’t care. All he really cared about was that, once again, one of his vassals had left at least half their knights behind.
But then, at least Erling Fayle had co in person, which was more than could be said about any of the other barons...
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