Читать книгу Fire Song - Catherine Archer - Страница 10

Roland strode through the outer door to the great hall, and halted in the act of removing his gauntlets. His amazed gaze swept the wide stone chamber once, then again.

As he shifted to take in every corner of the room, the rushes beneath his feet gave off the fresh sweet scent of wild mint. The trestle tables that had been set up for the evening meal had not yet been removed. For the first time in his memory they seemed to be completely cleaned of grease and food stains. His dogs, which usually raced to great him the moment he entered the hall, were chained near the hearth, which was conspicuously devoid of the drifting smoke he had become accustomed to.

If he had not seen the familiar faces of his own men, he would surely have wondered if he might have stumbled into the wrong keep. Yet he did recognize the few still scattered about the hall, most assuredly Sir Simon, who sat gaming with several of the men at the far corner of the room. None of them seemed concerned with the alterations. They did, in fact, appear quite relaxed and contented as they jested amongst themselves.

His gaze swept the room again.

These changes could have been wrought by only one person, his wife. That they were an improvement was irrelevant.

What right had she to come into his home and rearrange all to suit herself? Remembering her open defiance as he had left her, Roland knew he should not be so very surprised. He very pointedly disregarded the fact that he could also recall feeling admiration of her strength of spirit. Strength was not a trait he desired in a wife. Quite the opposite was true. His mother had been known to be a woman of spirit, and that spiritedness had led her to seek adventure in the arms of a man who was not her husband. Roland brushed the old familiar ache away without thinking, so accustomed was he to doing it after all these years.