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he’d promised to select another bride, so clearly, he was lying through his teeth.
    She peeked up at him.  “You have no intention of discussing it with her, do you?”
    “No.  You’re mine.  The matter is settled.”
    “Lord Hugh!” Blodwin snapped.  “I demand an audience.”
    On hearing her strident tone, Hugh stiffened, and Henry came to his feet.  The knights behind them stepped nearer to Hugh, as if expecting an attack.
    Blodwin was used to being in charge, was used to bullying everyone and having her own way—just as Lord Hugh was used to it.  She didn’t know that he could be dangerous, that he might strike back without warning.  He wouldn’t be slighted or snubbed, and his men would allow no insult. 
    Would she hold her tongue?  Or would she scold him, then be dragged out?
    Anne was anxious to diffuse the tension, and she touched Hugh’s arm.
    “Let’s not quarrel,” she pleaded.
    “Of course we won’t, my dear bride.”  He gazed at her with great affection.  It was calculated, but effective.  The women in the room sighed.
    “Blodwin, please,” Anne said, “join us up at our table.”
    “Yes,” Hugh concurred, “join us.  Master Cadel, you’ll dine with me and share my trencher.”
    Blodwin blanched and glanced at Cadel.  He had paled and appeared to be trembling. 
    “I’d rather not, my lord,” Cadel muttered.
    “I insist,” Hugh sharply retorted.
    The family hesitated, then approached the dais.  Servants hurried about, pulling out benches, arranging space for them.  Blodwin, Father Eustace, and Rosamunde sat on the other side of Henry.  Cadel sat next to Hugh.
    Hugh grabbed the trencher he would have shared with Anne, the one he wouldn’t let her nibble on, and pushed it to Cadel.
    “Have a bite, Master Cadel,” Hugh said.
    Cadel stared and stared, his cheeks aflame.  “Ah…Lord Hugh, I believe this soup has grown very cold.  I would hate to have you try a dish that’s not our cook’s best effort.”  He handed it to a servant.  “Perhaps you could bring Lord Hugh another,” he suggested.
    The boy ran off, as Hugh leaned across Anne and glared down the table at Blodwin.  “I have decided that I will take all my meals with Cadel.  He will sample all my food for me.”
    “What are you implying?” Blodwin had the nerve to inquire.
    “There may be people in the castle who wish me ill.  I wouldn’t want anything to happen to me, and if there is a misguided soul out there—one who might attempt to poison me for example—I’m sure they wouldn’t care to have Master Cadel suffer any injury in the process.”
    Anne gasped.  Cadel had tried to poison him?  How had the plot been hatched?  How had it been discovered?  At that moment, Lord Hugh seemed all powerful, able to bluster through their lives with the impervious supremacy of an ancient god.  Had he the ability to read minds, too? 
    Cadel would have to taste all of his food.  Cadel would have to check for poison.  Anne loathed Hugh but would never seek to have him killed.  Was Cadel insane, engaging in such a reckless misdeed?
    She was weak with shock and disgust.  She’d known Blodwin could be cruel, but she’d never have deemed her capable of such a heinous crime.  And Blodwin would have been behind it.  Cadel wasn’t smart enough—or brave enough—to have acted on his own.
    Blodwin was ready to explode, ready to castigate Hugh and defend herself as to any charges of perfidy, and Anne intervened again.
    “Lord Hugh, it’s been such a long day, and I find myself famished.  May we begin?”
    Hugh nodded to her.  There was a trio of musicians off in the corner, and he gestured for them to play their instruments.
    A lively tune was commenced, a new trencher delivered to Hugh.  He offered it to Cadel, watching until he’d swallowed three large mouthfuls.  Only then did Hugh judge it safe.
    He offered it to Anne, taking his first bite with her.  Anne flashed a tremulous smile to