The bards began playing quietly once the two knights were seated. Thankfully, there were no lyrics, at least not yet; perhaps he would even compensate them for their time if they kept this up. Though it was a hasty battlefield supper, their places were set up as if they were eating at a proper manorhouse. Both plates had slices of barbecued pork, along with some boiled potatoes and carrots. Sir Red worked on his meat with a knife that he pulled from his belt, cutting it into smaller pieces and trimming the fat. Unfortunately, he had not brought his hounds afield; they loved the cuttings above all else.
He listened to her speak, enjoying every accented syllable. They were from entirely different parts of the world, yet providence had brought them together. He wondered to what end, ever distrustful of the unseen hands of the gods above, but for the time he was not anxious. It was not often that he let down his guard, but it was easy around her.
"I left a great bull of a charger in Cagil; my sister is taking care of him on her estate," he offered, sympathetic to the loss of her prized horse. Carefully, he chewed a piece of the meat, confirming it to be well-prepared. Then, he changed the subject, suspecting she might be more at ease if he were to guide the flow. "Did you know that my cousin painted you?" He brought out the piece of parchment, and unfolded it, passing it across the table. It was a rough sketch in lead, a woman resting beneath a tree clad in what was unmistakably the padded clothes one might wear beneath heavy mail. "The painting hangs in her study. It was one of the first things I saw when I went through her things."
