Fire Song. Catherine Archer

her own mind. It was not Einid’s fault that Roland was unthinking.

      Yet again, she had no intention of discussing her feelings about her husband. Better to concentrate on things she could change.

      She turned to Anne. “Can you do better than this?” Her condemning gaze swept the room.

      “I can, my lady. And the time for it is well past due.”

      Meredyth handed her the ring of keys. “Now take me to a suitable chamber. As soon as I have approved of the accommodation, you may send—” she motioned to the servants who hovered in the dimness behind them “—these men to unload the wagons and the women to clean my chambers.”

      Anne nodded. Like Sir Simon’s her gaze was thoughtful and assessing as she watched Meredyth. “There are chambers in the tower. They were occupied by Lord Roland’s mother, the lady Jane, before she…died. There is a large bedchamber, a room for a lady’s women and a comfortable solar. But I do not know if Lord Roland would wish for me to—”

      Meredyth was not deaf to the odd hesitation in the serving woman’s voice as she spoke of Roland St. Sebastian’s mother, yet she could not find the necessary energy to think on this at the moment. There were already too many troubles crowding her mind. Meredyth interrupted her, evenly, quietly, unwaveringly. “Please take me to those chambers.” She was silently glad that her agitation was not reflected in her tone.

      The serving woman lowered her gaze. “Of course, my lady.”

       Chapter Four

      Roland strode through the outer door to the great hall, and halted in the act of removing his gauntlets. His amazed gaze swept the wide stone chamber once, then again.

      As he shifted to take in every corner of the room, the rushes beneath his feet gave off the fresh sweet scent of wild mint. The trestle tables that had been set up for the evening meal had not yet been removed. For the first time in his memory they seemed to be completely cleaned of grease and food stains. His dogs, which usually raced to great him the moment he entered the hall, were chained near the hearth, which was conspicuously devoid of the drifting smoke he had become accustomed to.

      If he had not seen the familiar faces of his own men, he would surely have wondered if he might have stumbled into the wrong keep. Yet he did recognize the few still scattered about the hall, most assuredly Sir Simon, who sat gaming with several of the men at the far corner of the room. None of them seemed concerned with the alterations. They did, in fact, appear quite relaxed and contented as they jested amongst themselves.

      His gaze swept the room again.

      These changes could have been wrought by only one person, his wife. That they were an improvement was irrelevant.