of this kingdom. Surely you cannot doubt that? My only desire is to build upon the foundations that our fathers have laid. It is simply a case of . . . Wyn, there are some things you simply do not yet know.’
‘Then educate us,’ said Razi quietly. ‘Please, your Highness. Help us to understand.’
Alberon turned to look at him, his face sad. ‘Razi,’ he said, ‘must you still play the courtier?’ At Razi’s lack of comprehension, Alberon sighed. ‘Call me brother, for Christ’s sake. At least while we are alone.’
Razi looked uncertain. His eyes slid to the shadows of the guards standing just outside Alberon’s tent, and Alberon followed his gaze, frowning.
Just then, a small voice piped up, and Alberon’s servant announced himself at the door. Alberon smiled fondly in the direction of the boy’s voice.
‘Good chap, Anthony,’ he called. ‘Set up at the map-table, there’s a boy, then come fetch the pillow from my bed, that the Protector Lady may have some comfort.’
The little lad squeaked, ‘Aye, your Highness,’ and Alberon turned to Razi again.
‘Come, Razi,’ he said softly. ‘Let us eat our supper outside, shall we? We can sit side-by-side in the sunset, you and I: the heir and his loyal brother talking peaceably together for all my men to see and marvel at. What say you? Do you feel up to the fresh air?’
There was a moment of wordless communication between the two men, then Razi nodded. Alberon grinned. ‘Good man,’ he whispered.
‘And you, Protector Lady?’ He bowed with a courtly flourish and offered Wynter his arm. ‘Would you do me the honour of adorning my table?’ She hesitated, unwilling to be made little of. ‘I promise,’ he said, sparkling a sly smile, ‘I shall leave no question unanswered.’
Wynter took his arm. ‘In that case, your Highness,’ she said, ‘I shall be pleased to oblige.’
SUPPER
‘ANTHONY! DID you take this from the men?’
‘And risk thee clapping me in irons? Indeed I did not, your Highness. They gave it up to thee as a gift.’
Alberon leaned over the little pot of stewed meat and inhaled gratefully. ‘Who caught it?’ he asked.
‘Who dost thou think?’
‘Surely not?’ laughed Alberon, turning to grin at the little servant, who was busy plumping a threadbare pillow into the crook of the chair he had reserved for Wynter. ‘Not the Italians again?’
‘Aye. Again. There’s none can beat them.’
‘Good Christ,’ said Alberon. ‘There’ll not be a boar left alive by the time we head home. Where are they?’
‘Loitering at the base of the hill this last twenty minutes, pretending to haul wood and hoping for a word of praise.’
Alberon strode across to the head of the slope. The boy patted the cushion and glanced shyly at Wynter. ‘Protector Lady,’ he said. ‘I have made it all comfortable for thee.’
His bashful courtliness and use of formal speech had Wynter unconsciously smoothing out non-existent skirts and nodding in gracious thanks as she took her place at the table. In his beautifully tailored scarlet long-coat and freshly polished boots, Razi looked far more the part, and the wee servant waited with tense anxiety as the Lord Razi surveyed the rock-hard cheese, tiny portions of unleavened bread and scoopful of boiled meat that were being served for dinner.
‘There’s onions in the stew, my Lord,’ he said hopefully.
Razi gazed at him for a moment, then turned to Alberon, who was watching two men drag a wood-cart around the base of the hill. ‘You set a generous table, your Highness,’ called Razi. ‘I am most grateful for your hospitality.’
Alberon glanced wryly at him, but the young servant drew himself up with surprised delight. He enthusiastically lifted the jug of small-ale. ‘May I pour thy drink, my Lord?’
Razi eyed the rather thick-looking concoction, and Wynter hid a smile at his strained expression. ‘You may,’ he murmured and the little lad poured with careful ceremony.
‘Thank you,’ smiled Wynter as her own beaker was filled. She took a sip and eyed Alberon, who was standing, hands on hips, watching the two men. His face was grave as he took in their ostentatiously slow progress.
‘Did all the men get a little meat, Anthony?’
‘Pickets and all, Highness. All equal.’
‘You are certain? None was left out?’
‘No one left out, your Highness. ’Twas two full-grown boar, plenty to go around.’
‘And the guests?’
‘All but them newcomers, your Highness. They having arrived after ration-up.’
‘Very well,’ whispered Alberon. Then he stepped forward and lifted his arms.
‘Eduardo and Phillip di Oliva!’ he yelled. ‘Is no boar safe from your spears?’ The two men