The Wolf Hunt by Gillian Bradshaw

Author:Gillian Bradshaw
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2011-02-14T16:00:00+00:00

It was a Sunday. After attending Mass in the castle chapel, Hoel held court in the Great Hall. The hall of Ploërmel was larger than that of Rennes, and being older and less sophisticated, it was in some ways brighter. The castle’s wooden walls had been plastered inside and whitewashed, and the clay floor was strewn with rushes — pale yellow rushes now, in this bleak season. The smoke from the central fire rose blue to the high ceiling, and the white winter light fell steeply through the narrow windows, barring the oak tables with light, picking out armor, rich clothing of blue or scarlet, trimmings of fur and gold.

The duke took his place on his chair at the center of the dais, the table was moved aside, and Eline formally presented herself as the heiress to the manor of Talensac. She walked slowly through the tables toward the dais, looking tiny and fragile, her black mourning standing out starkly against the bright colors all around. She was leading the lymer Mirre on a leash of scarlet leather.

With Tiarnán declared dead, the fief of Talensac had returned to Hoel’s control, and Eline, as the widow of the duke’s liege man, had become the duke’s ward. It was a sign of the exceptional favor Hoel had shown to her husband that she had been invited to do homage and take control of the estate. Eline was miserably aware that the gesture was meant to remove her from the number of marriageable heiresses under the duke’s authority, and to leave her free to mourn Tiarnán for a long time. Hoel would not be pleased when she asked his permission to remarry at once. She knew that the whole court thought it was much too soon. Already the way she smiled whenever Alain looked at her had provoked disapproving frowns. She was desperate to be near Alain, however, and she couldn’t bear the thought of continuing for months or years alone at Talensac. The “simple, honest, good-hearted peasants” had turned against her. She had quarreled with the machtiern. It was because of her that he had disappeared. They did not dare disobey the lady of the manor, but they avoided her: when she entered a room, everyone else left. The only person at Talensac who would speak to her comfortably was the duke’s bailiff Grallon, who’d come to set the estate in order. For Eline, who had never known anything in her life before but love and admiration, it was almost unendurable: she was torn between rage and helpless bewilderment. Alain’s love, his adoring gazes and reassuring words, were like warmth to her frozen spirit. She needed them, and to get them she was willing to scandalize the court and dare whatever the duke would say to her. But she dreaded it.

She stopped before the duke and curtsied gracefully to the ground. Then she took one more step forward and offered Hoel Mirre’s crimson leash. “My lord,” she said shyly, “when you were

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