The Shortcoming (Unexpected Circumstances 4)

Sawyer Inn reeked of pipe smoke and the odor of strong ale. The building itself was quite large and more of a banquet hall than a drinking establishment. With my hand on his arm,

Branford led me to the right where there were several ladies with their respective knights as well as Lord and Lady Sawyer. I glanced to the left, which appeared to be primarily men who had obviously been at the drink for some time.

We sat at a round table with Ida and Parnell along with another knight from Seacrest and his wife, Sir Rylan and Lady Suzette. Parnell’s parents were near us along with a host of other lords and ladies. Tankards of ale were brought around, and I tried to sip mine respectfully though I did not enjoy the taste as did the knights, who seemed to finish their first mugs with a single gulp.

Lord and Lady Sawyer were quite pleasant toward me, and though Ida was right—Lady Sawyer did seem to like to hear the sound of her own voice—I did not mind listening to her talk about the upcoming wedding of Parnell and Ida as well as talks of the mischief both Parnell and Branford got into as young boys.

“…and then Parnell ran inside, his face and clothes simply covered in mud, screaming that Branford had thrown him down¸” she said with a laugh. “Branford stormed in afterwards, instructing him on how he should have held his ‘sword,’ which of course was only a stick, in order to defend himself!”

“Mother, I really wish—” Parnell tried for the tenth time to silence her but to no avail.

“And here they are, half a lifetime later, still doing the exact same thing!” She laughed again, and her honey-blonde hair shook with her shoulders. “Every time they compete in a tournament, they spend the next week telling each other what they should have done instead.”

“It is not as if they speak of such things only after tournaments.” Ida laughed this time as well. “You would think there was nothing more to their lives apart from the games.”

“There is always you to consider,” Parnell said as he leaned to kiss Ida’s cheek. “I could speak about you for hours, but Branford only rolls his eyes at me. I thought it was always best to stick with other topics lest I feel the need to defend my fiancée’s honor from her own brother.”

“Well, now at least he can bore you with talk of Alexandra,” Ida said with a smirk in my direction.

I blushed, of course, and looked down at my hands as the conversation continued.

Though the area of the inn where we sat was relatively subdued, the group on the far side continued to increase in volume the longer we were there. I tried not to look over that way, for I feared what—or rather who—I might see. Sir Leland and his group had planned to be here, and I suspected they would be on that side of the hall. I did not wish to see them, so I tried not to look.

Unfortunately, averting one’s eyes is easier than averting one’s ears.

I heard Sir Leland’s voice and recognized the laughter from them all. I did not look but felt my shoulders tense, which seemed to catch Branford’s attention. He glanced over his shoulder as a group of men walked behind us and over in the direction of the rowdy crowd.

“Get me ale, girl!” I heard Sir Leland call out. From the corner of my eye, I could see the slave girl, Janet, as she rushed to do her master’s bidding. His voice sent further chills down my back.

Branford began to tap the tips of his fingers on the table in a short, rhythmic pattern. I looked to his face, but he kept his eyes on his fingers and did not look at me. Sir Rylan leaned over and asked Branford a question about hunting, which Branford answered but then went silent. Again, Sir Rylan tried to engage Branford in a conversation about the horses bred at Sawyer, which were apparently the finest anywhere, but Branford was polite only, his eyes and presumably his mind kept returning to the group of men across the room.

I took a sip of my ale and cringed as I heard the all too familiar laughter again. I dared glance in their direction and saw Sir Leland shove at Janet’s back, causing her to spill the tankards she carried.

“Stupid girl!” Sir Leland yelled. “Look at that mess!”

I closed my eyes briefly and then looked up to find my husband’s gaze focused on my face. As he looked at me, I tried to understand his expression. He seemed hesitant about something, and I wasn’t sure if I should say anything to him or not. Before I could take any action, Branford mumbled under his breath and looked away from me. He ran his hand through his hair and then huffed out a long breath. Branford grabbed his tankard, drained it completely, and then shoved the chair back as he stood. He took one more look at me and then stomped over to the far side of the tavern, where many of the other knights were becoming even louder and more raucous. He walked with purpose to the very table where Sir Leland sat with his group.

I tried not to look directly at them, but I craned my neck and tried to tune out all other sounds but their talking. I had no idea what Branford planned to do or say, and my tension continued to grow as he spoke to the other knight.

“Sir Branford!” Sir Leland called out. “Good to see you here! I thought you might have gone home early.”

Laughter ensued.

“Good eve, Leland,” Branford said. I could hear the sharp edge in his voice. “Congratulations on making it as far as you did. I cannot recall the last time you made it past the first trials.”

More laughter.

They went back and forth in their seemingly good-natured banter for a while until some of the other knights began to engage in other conversation. I glanced to see Branford as he leaned close to Sir Leland.

“I would like to discuss a business transaction with you,” Branford said simply.

“And what would that be?”

“I want to buy your slave girl,” Branford said as my heart began to beat faster.

“She is not for sale,” Sir Leland responded. “Besides, you would not want her.”

“I would not?”