The Brat Page 0,88

I have had it pointed out to me that he would inherit everything if you were to die."

Balan frowned as he realized that truth, but shook his head.

"Nay. Osgoode has watched my back since we were children. He saved my life countless times while in France. And I his, for that matter. I trust him with my life. Nay, 'twas not Osgoode," he assured her, but found it amusing that each seemed to think the other was trying to kill him. Turning his gaze back to his trencher, he reached for more meat, then paused in surprise when he realized he'd eaten it all.

"Would you like more?" Murie asked, noting his expression.

"Nay," Balan answered, and instead broke off a piece of bread from the trencher and popped it in his mouth. The hollowed out and stale bread had been softened and flavored by the meat juices, and was almost as good as the meat itself.

Catching his wife glancing toward the dress she'd been working on, he said, "Finish what you were doing. Do not let me stop you."

Murie smiled and shook her head. "I would rather visit with you."

Balan shifted restlessly in the bed. "We could play that game of chess you promised me."

His wife's eyes brightened at the suggestion, and she stood at once and started toward the door, saying, "I shall fetch it right away. Do you wish me to fetch you something to drink while I am below stairs?"

"Aye, a tankard of ale, if you would," he said, and then changed his mind. "Nay, fetch wine for us both." Murie grinned at the suggestion and teased, "Hoping that I will imbibe too much and give you a better chance of winning, my lord?"

Balan just chuckled and shook his head.

As she slipped out of the room, he lay back to await her return, then scowled as the scent of onions immediately became stronger. Shifting onto one elbow, he peered over the side of the mattress, his eyes widening at the sight of the onions lined up on the floor beside him. There must've been two or three dozen, cleaned, peeled and halved, just lying there lined up like a small fence. His gaze drifted past them to see there were more in each corner of the room and along the walls, but these were interspersed with various other items. He recognized clover and ash leaves as well as ash-keys, but had no idea about the branches and twigs strewn throughout.

No doubt they were something considered lucky. His wife did seem to have a penchant for superstitious nonsense. Balan had never seen the like. While he was watching over Murie's sick bed at Reynard as she recovered from the poisoning, Reginald had told him that Emilie had told him that Murie had been superstitious ever since her arrival at court. Emilie seemed to think it was Murie's way of dealing with the uncertainty of life and had to do with the death of her parents. One moment she'd been the happy, laughing child of Lord and Lady Somerdale, and the next she was their orphaned daughter, living at court and being made as miserable as a child could be. Emilie suspected that Murie's penchant for superstition was her way of trying to be prepared for whatever life threw her way.. . and to combat it. That being the case, Balan supposed he should be happy she was placing lucky charms about the room and not decorating their chamber with the white maney flower of the hawthorne, which he knew was unlucky. It was said that, when brought into a home, death followed. Except on May Day, of course.

Smiling faintly, he lay back in the bed and then glanced toward the door as it opened. Murie bustled back in, bearing the chessboard. She was followed by Cecily, who was bearing wine.

"Thank you, Cecily," Murie murmured as she set the board on the bed and began to open the leather bag that held the chess pieces. "You may go to bed if you wish. I will not need you again tonight."

"Aye, my lady," Cecily replied, and slipped out of the room after setting the wine and chalices down by the straw mattress.

"Who taught you to play chess?" Balan asked as he helped Murie set up the pieces. "The king?"

Murie hesitated, then admitted, "Nay. My father taught me. But the king also offered to teach me, and rather than hurt his feelings, I let him think I did not know how to