That was good to know. It might prove useful soon.

“Word has it that the King is still in a sour mood,” he said.

“He has been angry since his surprise return in November,” Rhys said. “Slipping back into the realm like that stunned everyone. His fury took a heavy toll. Most of his councillors have been replaced, and although Stratford avoided imprisonment, the King is still very bitter there.”

Stratford’s sudden fall had raised a lot of curiosity. The King claimed that his chancellor had mismanaged finances and left the army on the Continent short of funds. There were whispers that Edward’s anger had been stoked by other, more personal annoyances once Stratford’s activities had been examined.

The crisp summons to court that had arrived at Anglesmore right after the feast of the Nativity took on new meaning with such rumors. The summons had specifically included Nesta. Although the message had said that Edward wanted to hear about Carwyn and the rebels, Marcus suspected that the audience would not really be about that at all.

“Stratford is still the Archbishop of Canterbury. No king can undo that,” Marcus said. That was a useful detail. An archbishop fighting with a king would not be annulling any marriages at that king’s request. “He will survive. He always does.”

Whether Marcus of Anglesmore would survive so well remained to be seen. The King could make or break a baron at will.

The women emerged from the kitchen, bearing wine cups. Joan brought her husband one, and took the opportunity to whisper in Marcus’s ear. “I like her, Mark. For many reasons, but mostly because she appears to love you very much.”

Marcus found himself smiling at her use of his boyhood name. He had felt none of the old bitterness when he rode into this ward and entered this house today. The events of the last months had finally put the past to rest. Choosing his own destiny had reconciled him to the years when he had been both a victim and a beneficiary of others’ whims and risks.

“And I love her, Joan.”

“Then my prayers have been answered. I will confide in you that there is something you must do to secure her happiness, however.”

“What is that?”

“Her sister. You must find Genith, and bring her and the bard home.”

Marcus noticed Nesta and Moira dawdling near the kitchen. No doubt they hung back so that Joan could raise the matter of Genith.

Nesta and these ladies had formed a friendship fast. After only a few hours together, they were all already conspiring against him.

“I suppose our household could use a bard,” he said, although having a Welsh bard singing in a Lord Marcher’s hall would be a hell of a thing.

His voice carried. Nesta heard, and rewarded him with a mesmerizing smile. She came to him with the wine, and he pulled her onto his lap.