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tension in Antoine’s voice. “My brothers and I both fought at Hastings, Lady Devona. If it’s any consolation I can tell you the Saxon warriors fought with tremendous skill and bravery. I’m sure if he’d survived Stamford Bridge, your father would have fought with honour. Hastings wasn’t an easy victory. It’s incredible to think that the Saxon army had fought that bloody battle against Norway’s King Harald Hardråda two hundred miles to the north just a few days before facing our forces.”
    Hugh saw the haunted green eyes well with tears, but then she glanced at Renouf, a look of abject fear on her face. His anger intensified as the din from the now sated men-at-arms increased.
    “You were without a man here to take care of the manor, before Hastings?” Antoine continued, almost shouting over the din.
    Devona didn’t respond, her eyes fixed on her food.
    Renouf took hold of Devona’s hand and squeezed it. “It’s as well I came along when I did, isn’t it, chérie ?” Hugh saw fear deaden her eyes, and something else—loathing.
    He could bear it no longer, afraid he might challenge his Norman host, and stood abruptly. “If you’ll excuse us, Sir Renouf, my brother and I must retire early. We’ve a long journey to Normandie on the morrow.”
    “Of course,” Renouf replied coolly, remaining seated.
    Hugh could not look at the lady as he left. He sensed she wouldn’t dare watch him leave, though he felt Renouf’s eyes on his back.
    ***
    When they reached their chamber Hugh said urgently, “There’s something very wrong going on here, Antoine.”
    “I agree. This is a fine manor, obviously a wealthy holding—at one time anyway. Look at these linens, and the tapestries. Though there’s evidence of neglect.”
    “What did you make of the old woman slumped against the wall? Did you notice she too has green eyes, just like Lady Devona?”
    Antoine turned abruptly to face his brother. “By the saints, Hugh, it isn’t like you to notice the colour of a woman’s eyes!”
    Hugh blushed. “Devona is a beautiful woman, but she’s terrified of her husband.”
    Antoine was scratching his head. “De Maubadon—De Maubadon—I didn’t hear of the name at Hastings. Perhaps he joined the invasion later?”
    Hugh paced. “I think Renouf de Maubadon is the worst kind of Norman—an opportunist who has seen no battle action, but who has taken this manor and coerced the daughter into marrying him. Did you see her bruises and the welts on her wrists?”
    Antoine perched on the edge of the bed and watched his brother pace. “Did you also see that the two serving wenches have green eyes?”
    “Three sisters then, and a mother who is obviously ill, whom Renouf treats like a serf.”
    Antoine put his hands on his thighs. “Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do about it. King William has turned a blind eye to, and even encouraged Normans to take over Saxon holdings. Renouf is a Norman. We need to be wary. He has his own men-at-arms and a rough bunch they are. Did you notice they paid no attention to his shouting? They’re evidently used to it. And Renouf’s henchman, Torod. He’s enough to make your skin crawl.”
    “Probably mercenaries,” Hugh replied.
    Antoine rose and examined the furniture in the room. “Trying to pay them and meet his own greedy needs could drain a manor such as this.”
    Hugh stopped pacing. “In some ways, I hope that’s the case. It will give me an excuse to interfere. I’m all in favour of Saxon obedience to Norman law, but it turns my stomach when men abuse women.”
    Antoine turned to look at Hugh. “Unfortunately, she’s his wife, if we can believe what he says. And a man has complete authority over his wife.”
    “She may not have wed him willingly.”
    Antoine shook his head. “Be realistic, Hugh, many women marry against their will, Saxon and Norman alike.”
    They were silent for a few minutes before Hugh said, “Perhaps the old man in the stables can shed