The Brat Page 0,7

of the bushes on the far side of the bower where Murie and Emilie had just been.

"Aye," Lauda said with a faint smile. "She is not the terror everyone thinks."

"And everyone is terrified of the girl due to her reputation," Malculinus crowed. "Halstaff has already claimed a sick mother as an excuse to flee court for fear she might consider him a candidate for her hand in marriage. And Harcourt swears he will do everything he can to escape her notice. The men are fleeing court like rats abandoning a sinking ship. There will be no competition at all for her hand."

"The way will be clear for you," Lauda agreed with a grin.

"And just imagine the favor you will curry as the husband of the king's beloved brat."

"Aye." Malculinus almost sighed the word, his eyes faraway as he savored the idea.

"Still," Lauda said suddenly, "we should not count her won already. There are those desperate enough to court even someone they believe so unpleasant."

"Aye." Malculinus frowned. "Gaynor needs the coin. Did you see the clothes he and Osgoode are wearing? I would have been too ashamed to show my face at court dressed thusly." Balan's mouth thinned at the insult.

"But I want her, Lauda," Malculinus went on with determination. "I want Lady Murie and the political connections she brings with her."

"Then we shall have to help her see that she should marry you," Lauda said calmly.

"How?" Malculinus asked abruptly. "Have you a plan? I know you do. I can see it on your face."

A slow smile drew his sister's lips apart, and she nodded. "Aye. We shall use her superstitious nature against her."

"Tell me," Malculinus insisted.

"Not here. Someone could come upon us at any time and overhear," she cautioned. "The maze is a safer place to have this conversation. Come."

Nodding eagerly, brother followed sister out of the bower.

"Come on," Osgoode hissed, standing to follow.

"Where?" Balan asked suspiciously.

"You heard them - they are going to the maze to plot. We have to find a way to listen." When Balan just stared at him, he frowned and added, "Surely you are not going to leave them to trick Lady Murie into marrying that snake? She hardly deserves such a fate. Besides, now that we know she is not the brat everyone believes, you should court her yourself. She could save Gaynor!"

Balan still hesitated, and his cousin repeated, "She does not deserve being tied to that man. I hear he beats his horse, and you know what they say about a man who beats his horse."

" 'He beats his wife twice as hard,'" Balan recited with a frown, not at all liking the idea of Murie marrying someone who would beat her.

"Aye. Surely you know you would be the better husband. You are always gentle with beasts and women. Besides," Osgoode added, "if you do not marry her, it will be Lady Brigida." Balan winced, then stood with a nod. "Very well, we shall make sure Malculinus does not do anything to trick the girl," he agreed. But he added firmly, "That is all."

Chapter Two

"Move over a little; I am standing half in the bush here," Osgoode muttered.

"Hush, they will hear you," Balan growled back under his breath. He added, " 'Sides, I have nowhere to move. I am half in the bushes as well. Now just hush and listen."

Ignoring the way his cousin continued to shift and mutter, Balan turned his attention to Malculinus and Lauda Aldous on the other side of the hedge. They'd had no difficulty keeping up with the pair making their way into and through the maze to a spot they deemed suitable; the problem had come when Balan and Osgoode needed a place close enough to listen but not be seen. They'd finally settled on a dead-end aisle between the hedges that backed onto the spot the couple had chosen. Unfortunately, it was really far too narrow for the two of them to hunker together comfortably, but neither of them wished to miss what would be said.

"It is St. Agnes Eve tonight," Lauda announced, as if this were a matter of some importance.

Balan didn't see what the significance could be,but then, apparently, neither did Malculinus, who asked with irritation,

"So? There will be a feast tomorrow. How does that help me?"

"It does not," Lauda said patiently. "It is St. Agnes Eve and Lady Murie's superstitious nature that are of import here."

"Tell me," Malculinus demanded.

"Surely you have heard what they say about St. Agnes Eve?" Lauda asked, and