*THUNK* Connor Langford grunted as the axe sunk deep into the log, but failed to split it. He raised both log and axe above his head and dropped them to the chopping block again. *THUNK* He grinned as the stubborn knot parted and the two halves of the log clattered to the ground.
"Milord?"
Connor didn't have to turn around to recognize the wheedling voice of his advisor, Joffrey. Connor grumbled to himself as he reached for another log. As a boy, his father had often sentenced him to the wood pile as a form of discipline, but Connor had grown to like the time for thought that the mindless physical exertion provided. He did not care to be disturbed while doing it.
*THUNK* Another log split beneath his blade.
"Milord!"
Connor sighed. Joffrey had loyally served his family for decades, but the elderly man never could seem to grasp that when Connor had an axe in hand, he wanted to be left alone. He sank the axe into the chopping block and turned to his advisor. "Yes, I heard you, Joffrey. What's so damned important?"
The white-haired man bobbed his head nervously, the reality that his Lord was displeased to have been disturbed at last dawning on him. "Milord, the King has returned."
Connor grunted, wiping the sweat off his brow. "So? We knew the war was almost over when I returned. Small wonder that the King would himself return." King Richard had launched another assault for territory several months back. Kings seemed to have an insatiable appetite for new lands. Connor had considered it a damn fool exercise from the beginning. The scraggly, arid bits of soil they'd wrested from the enemy seemed a poor reward for the considerable loss of men and horse it had cost them.
Of course, Connor was a bit biased. He'd returned a month ahead of the King having taken a spear through his thigh. The physicians had thought it a mercy to let him die in his home. But against the odds, he'd recovered from the grievous wound. And since his actions had saved the King's younger brother Phillip (the damn fool would've gotten himself impaled had Connor not intervened), Connor's standing with the royal family was much improved. But had he to do it over, he would've stayed home.
"But there is news of the Tullys, milord," continued Joffrey. "Word has it both Percival and Johnathon perished during the final assault."
Connor's eyebrows lifted at this. The Tully's held the neighboring fief, a modest holding with great repute for its vineyards. Their relations with the Langfords had been strained for decades. Some minor offense three generations ago had descended into a low-grade feud that still simmered today.
But Randall Tully, the elderly patriarch, was now without sons, leaving only his daughters. Though by law his female heirs could inherit his holdings, as a practical matter the lands would ultimately be controlled by whatever man the eldest daughter married. Connor grinned wickedly. Why could that man not be him?
With his recent service to the King's family, Connor could expect the throne to be inclined to reward him, but Connor wanted no part of the arid scrubland that the kingdom had so recently acquired. But instead, he could point out how the neighboring Tully lands were now without a male heir. And here Connor was a widower (his wife had died three years prior) with no children and there was Randall Tully with a daughter who ought to be of marriageable age by now. Why not solve both problems with a marriage between the two. If the King could be so persuaded, then he would suggest such a solution to the Tullys. Randall Tully might care little for the Langfords, but he could not readily refuse such a suggestion from his King.
Connor chuckled. This could prove most fortuitous indeed.
"Come with me, Joffrey," he directed, striding towards the house and barely noticing the twinge of pain from his leg. "You may need to prepare for a wedding."
"Milord?"
Connor didn't have to turn around to recognize the wheedling voice of his advisor, Joffrey. Connor grumbled to himself as he reached for another log. As a boy, his father had often sentenced him to the wood pile as a form of discipline, but Connor had grown to like the time for thought that the mindless physical exertion provided. He did not care to be disturbed while doing it.
*THUNK* Another log split beneath his blade.
"Milord!"
Connor sighed. Joffrey had loyally served his family for decades, but the elderly man never could seem to grasp that when Connor had an axe in hand, he wanted to be left alone. He sank the axe into the chopping block and turned to his advisor. "Yes, I heard you, Joffrey. What's so damned important?"
The white-haired man bobbed his head nervously, the reality that his Lord was displeased to have been disturbed at last dawning on him. "Milord, the King has returned."
Connor grunted, wiping the sweat off his brow. "So? We knew the war was almost over when I returned. Small wonder that the King would himself return." King Richard had launched another assault for territory several months back. Kings seemed to have an insatiable appetite for new lands. Connor had considered it a damn fool exercise from the beginning. The scraggly, arid bits of soil they'd wrested from the enemy seemed a poor reward for the considerable loss of men and horse it had cost them.
Of course, Connor was a bit biased. He'd returned a month ahead of the King having taken a spear through his thigh. The physicians had thought it a mercy to let him die in his home. But against the odds, he'd recovered from the grievous wound. And since his actions had saved the King's younger brother Phillip (the damn fool would've gotten himself impaled had Connor not intervened), Connor's standing with the royal family was much improved. But had he to do it over, he would've stayed home.
"But there is news of the Tullys, milord," continued Joffrey. "Word has it both Percival and Johnathon perished during the final assault."
Connor's eyebrows lifted at this. The Tully's held the neighboring fief, a modest holding with great repute for its vineyards. Their relations with the Langfords had been strained for decades. Some minor offense three generations ago had descended into a low-grade feud that still simmered today.
But Randall Tully, the elderly patriarch, was now without sons, leaving only his daughters. Though by law his female heirs could inherit his holdings, as a practical matter the lands would ultimately be controlled by whatever man the eldest daughter married. Connor grinned wickedly. Why could that man not be him?
With his recent service to the King's family, Connor could expect the throne to be inclined to reward him, but Connor wanted no part of the arid scrubland that the kingdom had so recently acquired. But instead, he could point out how the neighboring Tully lands were now without a male heir. And here Connor was a widower (his wife had died three years prior) with no children and there was Randall Tully with a daughter who ought to be of marriageable age by now. Why not solve both problems with a marriage between the two. If the King could be so persuaded, then he would suggest such a solution to the Tullys. Randall Tully might care little for the Langfords, but he could not readily refuse such a suggestion from his King.
Connor chuckled. This could prove most fortuitous indeed.
"Come with me, Joffrey," he directed, striding towards the house and barely noticing the twinge of pain from his leg. "You may need to prepare for a wedding."