Hugh

“An interesting turn of events,” his father muttered next to him. As they watched the newly wed couple dance, Hugh attempted to find his cousin. Haydn had told him earlier he’d learned a new blocking technique that Hugh wished to inquire more about.

“Aye. An English earl. Pexford was a loss for Edward in more ways than he could have thought possible.”

“I speak of her, not Conall.”

Hugh followed his father’s gaze to the woman standing alone. He could not see her face as she wore a hood and was partially turned away from them. “Who is she?”

“Lady Criseyde di Vilardino.”

Hugh did not recall the name. “She is Italian?”

“From the Republic of Venice, apparently.”

“Why does she hide her face?”

“’Tis precisely what I wish for you to uncover.”

“Me?”

“Aye. She will speak more openly to you than an old man such as me.”

“Old man,” he snickered. The last time  he had attempted to best his father in training, Hugh’s shoulder had not recovered for nearly a sennight. 

“I like it not that she hides her face,” his father said.

“You believe she could be a threat to Conall and Isolda?”

“I believe anyone who stands in the shadows as she does has a reason for it. I spoke to the steward, who identified her. He said she was a guest of the priest’s.”

“A nun, then?”

“Nay, he knew little of her except that she arrived as the weather turned cold and does not plan to stay. He knew her name, the country of her origin, but nothing else.”

Hugh attempted to conjure a reason why a woman would be the guest of Bramton’s priest or why she might be standing in the hall, alone. Though he could understand the hood as it was the current fashion in France. If Lady Criseyde was truly from Italy, as it seemed she was, given her surname, she would likely be well traveled. Even so, he could understand his father’s suspicion. 

“I will speak to her,” he said just as Conall reached them.

“A word?” Conall asked. 

Hugh nodded to his father to assure him he would speak to the woman. “Is all well?” he asked, Conall appearing concerned.

“Very well,” his cousin said. “I did not expect your father’s support after Haydn warned me about marrying Isolda.”

“Haydn’s caution has served him well in the past,” Hugh admitted. “But in this, he was wrong to advise you to break your vow.”

“You owed nothing to a man who’d raised a sword against you. Do those words not sound familiar to you?”

Hugh waved them away. “I altered my thinking easily enough. And ’twas for the best. Now, what is your concern? There is a woman I must speak with.”

“There is always a woman you must speak with. The maid, I presume?”

“Nay, not the maid. And by the by, it might be prudent if you would wait until I’m gone from Bramton to speak my name to her.” Hugh waved away Conall’s frown. “She is not with child, at least.”

“Oh, how happy a day it is indeed. I shall tell Isolda straightaway. She will be most pleased to hear of it.”

“I leave the maid well enough. She was pleased with my interests, which, I will remind you, served you and your wife well when you—”

“I’ve a favor to ask,” Conall interrupted. Hugh crossed his arms, waiting. “I fear I’ve put a target on your family’s back. Do not bring attention to yourself. Do not fight with Wallace, or anyone, against Edward’s forces come spring. After Isolda’s mother returns, we will travel to Brockburg but will make our way to Bristol first. I’ll bring the same plea to Rory.”

“I cannot promise you that, Conall. We know not what the future holds, but my brothers and I, indeed every Waryn, will never allow a member of the Brotherhood to come to harm.”

“Vow to me, then, you will at least not do anything foolish.” 

Hugh was reluctant to make even that vow. Caution had never been a treasured acquaintance of his. 

“I fear,” Conall continued, “I have put our family at risk. If we could stay out of Edward’s crosshairs for the foreseeable future . . .”

He understood what his cousin was asking. And though it might be impossible to avoid, it was in both his interest and that of their family’s to do as Conall said. “I will do as you say until our family is threatened.”

His cousin, unable to take his eyes from his new bride, reached out his hand. Shaking it, he said, “You are a good man, Hugh.”

As Conall made his way back to his wife, Hugh thought on his cousin’s words. He’d made a vow knowing it would not be one Hugh could keep for long. He feared, come spring, King Edward’s fight with the Scots would extend to all Northumbrians who dared stand against him. But those worries would have to wait.

For now, he had a mysterious Italian lady to speak with. 

Or did he? 

The lady in question seemed to have simply . . . vanished.