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Show his feet. "Go we m u s t . . . " He brushed and straightened Armand's garments and steered him into the street and on toward the Alehouse door. But, of course, the purse was nowhere to be found. A curse be on the Commendium clan along with him for he'd had the besotted man hanging on his shoulder ever since, as though the bloated clown had never known friend afore in his life. And payment for a pint in each alehouse they passed on the way to the court had made a sad dent in Hoqqam's own pocket. "But y'll get a fine meal a' the manor," said Armand, patting the little man's far shoulder with his puffy hand. And Hoqqam nodded his head grimly as he handed him up in the carriage and dug again into his flat purse to pay the stablehand the prescribed fee. "Aye, and I be sure of that, fair sir," he muttered. "Aye and aye again." The Gundarholts, ill with weak hearts by then, tolerated Hoqqam's presence since he seemed to please their son, although because of the strange little man's servile attitude and the cunning cast to his features, the old couple denied Hoqqam the run of the Manor House proper and assigned him a Cottage instead among those of the landless Yeofolk. Armand, used to the more relaxed atmosphere of the stables, alehouses, and Cottages anyway; was hardly discomfited by this restriction. Nor any more was Hoqqam. By this time, the Gundarholts had turned over all the management of the Hold to Dr'Anya and the HeadHerdsman had come to her with his complaints about Armand. Now that Armand had Hoqqam to back him up, he'd taken to inviting them both into the Cottagers' kitchens-and bedrooms. Dr'Anya had just gathered up her courage one afternoon to have a talk with 116 |
