Karay laughed. “Let’s go and see what Mathilde’s baking for lunch. Something nice, I hope, I’m starving!”
Adamo helped her down from her horse. Tugging her hair playfully, he remarked in his slow, halting speech, “You are always hungry, Karay!”
She looked up at him fondly. “Huh, look who’s talking. Have you noticed how much you can put away?”
Comical innocence shone in Adamo’s brown eyes. “I am bigger than you, Adamo needs more food!”
Arnela was sitting in the gazebo with a tiny month-old nanny goat on her knee. Dominic perched against the windowsill, painting them both. He had been given brushes, paints, canvas and an easel, a gift from the comte. Ned came lolloping along. Sitting next to the big goatherd woman, he placed a paw on her knee and gazed faithfully up at her and the goat.
The facemaker chuckled admiringly. “Stay like that, Ned, what a perfect tableau it makes. Well done, boy, good dog!”
The black Labrador held his pose, emitting thoughts that would never reach Arnela or Dominic. “Why d’you think I sat here? Anyone with half an eye could see the picture was off balance. Note the way I present a noble profile in just the right light. If only someone would let me paint, I’d dash off a few masterpieces with my tail. Hidden depths of talent, y’know, quite common among us Labradors!”
The baby goat bleated. “Maaahaaah!”
Ned flicked it a glance. “Huh, who asked you?”
Lunch that day was not a snatch-and-bite-in-the-kitchen affair. Mathilde would not even let them enter her domain; she shooed them all out.
“Go and get cleaned up, all of you, put on some fresh clothes, too. Go on!”
Adamo protested, “We are hungry people, feed us, ‘Tilde!”
But even his plea did not move the old cook. “The master wants to join you in the dining room, he told me so specially. Lunch will be served in one hour. Go away!”
Ned passed a thought to Ben as they went upstairs. “Maybe the comte wants to speak to us about something in particular.”
Ben paused on the stairway. “That’s what I was thinking, too. I’ve been getting an uneasy feeling for the past few days. We’ve been a long time in Veron, maybe a bit too long.”
Ned licked the boy’s hand. “Too much to hope that our angel has forgotten about us, I suppose?”
Ben sighed. “I’ll wager that angels never forget anything, mate.” He shrugged and tried to brighten up. “We’re probably worrying over nothing. Come on, let’s get dressed!”
He bounded up the rest of the stairs, laughing aloud at the dog’s reply. “Dearie me, what shall I wear to lunch?”
Vincente Bregon looked every inch the comte de Veron as he entered the dining roomdressed in the finest silks and linens, his hair and beard neatly trimmed, his step vigorous and steady. To the eyes of his guests he seemed many years younger. Seven places were laid for the meal. Ned was underneath the table, already making inroads upon a slab of roasted pork crackling. Ben, Dominic, Arnela, Karay and Adamo sat laughing and chattering with one another, each of them clad in new outfits provided by their host’s generosity.
The comte seated himself. Banging the tabletop with mock severity, he raised his voice: “What? My guests sitting here staring at an empty board! Where’s that lazy old cook of mine? Dozing in front of the oven fire, I wager. Can’t a man get a decent meal in his own house anymore?”
Mathilde entered, leading two young maidservants who were pushing a trolley laden with food. Her scornful wit was not lost upon her audience. She wagged a finger in the comte’s face. “The lunch has been ready this past quarter hour, waiting on you to dodder downstairs in your bib and tucker. Dozing in front of the oven fire, indeed? The only time I’ll do that is when I’ve got you in the oven, baking some life into those old bones of yours, you crotchety old codger!”
Ben and his friends shook with laughter as the pair exchanged good-humoured insults.
“Be silent, you frowzy old loaf-burner!”
“Yah, go and take a nap, you mumbling old chin-dribbler!”
The comte rose. “I’ll not stand for that in my house, Madame!”
Mathilde winked at Karay and Adamo as she retorted, “Then sit down!”
The comte chuckled. He patted the empty chair next to him. “No, no, Mathilde, ‘tis you who must sit down, here, right beside me. Let the maids serve our lunch today.”
Mathilde protested. “Cooks don’t sit at table with the master, who ever heard of such a thing?”
But the comte of Veron would brook no argument. “Madame, I am ordering you to sit and dine with us. When lunch is over, I have things to say which concern us all!”
The meal was delicious. A steaming mushroom soup was followed by salad and a collation of cheeses, ham, brown bread, eggs and a grilled carp. Over a dessert of hot summer pudding and cream they sipped cider, fruit juice and glasses of the local wine mixed with fresh springwater.
Ben nodded and smiled at the amiable banter and conversation of his friends. However, he heard little of it as he and Ned exchanged apprehensive thoughts.
The dog’s paw touched his master’s foot beneath the table as Ned voiced his opinion. “I don’t know why, Ben, but I’m beginning to feel rather uneasy about something or other. I can’t think what it is.”
The boy reached down and stroked his Labrador’s silky ear. He had forgotten the message that the angel had woven into his dreams when he first met Karay. That night in the forest seemed so long ago and faraway.
He answered Ned, trying not to sound perplexed. “I expect our angel will let us know if anything’s amiss. Strange, but I can’t remember any warning the angel gave me about moving on, can you?”
Ned poked his head out from under the tablecloth hem. “No, I don’t recall a thingthat’s what’s bothering me.”
Around the table it had gone suddenly quiet. Dominic nudged Ben’s arm and whispered to him, “Sit up straight, friend. You look half asleep there. The comte has something to say to us!”
Ben suddenly became attentive. “What? Oh, er, sorry!”
The comte drew from his finger the large gold ring that bore his family’s crest. It was far too large for him and slipped off easily. He placed it on the little finger of Adamo’s right hand, where it fitted snugly.
“This was your father’s ring. He was the rightful lord of Veron. The ring carries the Bregon seaclass="underline" a lion for strength, a dove for peace, and a knotted rope symbolising union and togetherness. Adamo Bregon, son of Edouard, my brother, you are now to be known as comte de Veron, as is your birthright!”
The others around the table applauded warmly. Even Ned emerged from beneath the table, his tail wagging furiously. Wiping a joyful tear away with her apron corner, Mathilde turned to the new comte. “Well, sir, are ye not going to say something to us all, a nice speech maybe?”
Adamo stood up. He looked so tall and strong, yet so calm and happy. His broad face broke into a smile, which touched the hearts of everyone present. Then he bowed and kissed Karay’s hand, speaking haltingly. “You will be my comtesse, Karay… please?”
The girl’s answer was inaudibleshe merely nodded once.
The old comte took both their hands in his. “I have watched you both. This is what I was hoping for. As for my other friends, Ben, Dominic and our faithful Ned, I have asked myself what I can do to repay you for restoring Adamo to me. You are not servantsit would be churlish and ill mannered to offer you money. But I know that you have no parents to care for you. In view of this I have reached a decision. In a few days we will go together on a journey. Toulouse will be our destination. There, at the cathedral, I will consult the bishop, and then I will speak with the justices of my wishes, so that all people will know: I intend to give you both my name, adopting you as my sons. Together you will live here as part of our family. As for you, my dearest Mathilde, you shall become a lady companion of our household. No more cooking and working in kitchens …”