Chapter 10: Three Hens Aren't a Compliment

The first hen escaped before Lucan could answer the woman.

It landed on the entrance table and stared at the family crest.

The second landed on the first.

The third refused to leave the crate.

Winnie arrived carrying a laundry basket.

"Don't chase them," she told us.

Lucan stood still with a hen examining his boot.

"I wasn't planning to."

The village woman looked near tears.

I took the crate from her before she apologized again.

"Your hens aren't an insult," I told her.

"They weren't meant to be," she said.

She looked at the lord instead of me.

"I brought the better layers."

That hurt more than anything my aunt had said about gratitude.

Lucan crouched carefully beside the hen at his boot.

It pecked his signet ring.

He took off the ring and put it in his pocket.

The hen lost interest and walked toward Winnie.

She caught it with the basket without making anybody kneel.

I handed the crate back to its owner.

"Who told you to bring them?" I asked.

The woman's eyes went toward the passage.

I didn't make her answer before she felt safe.

Lucan straightened beside me.

"You don't owe me hens," he told her.

"Or payment for being left alone."

She looked confused rather than relieved.

"It's customary," she said.

His face changed.

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