Metz, 1084

Bertin sat at the table he had positioned in the center of his chamber facing the door. To his right was situated his bed, which currently contained the sleeping naked form of the curvy blonde serving girl he had spent the night with.

An expected knock emanated from the door. Bertin whispered “enter” just loud enough for the man on the other side to hear, so as not to disturb the sleeping beauty on the bed.

Odo entered the room and cast a blasé look at the girl. This had become all too usual for Bertin since they had come to France. Looking back towards Bertin, Odo growled, “You wish to see me, boy?”

The girl in the bed shifted at the sound of Odo’s voice. Bertin shot a furtive glance in her direction. He was relieved to see that she remained sleeping. Turning back to Odo he angrily whispered back, “If she had heard you call me ‘boy’ our ruse would be uncovered. You will address me as chevalier when in the presence of others, even slumbering serving girls.”

Resuming a calm demeanor, Bertin casually continued, “I called you here to offer a gift for your valor during the assault on Metz. I have managed to procure some ale in this settlement. I know you have been yearning for it since we left Kent.”

Bertin gestured towards two goblets laid out on the table. Bertin picked up the cup closest to him and took a swig. Odo smiled and picked up the other goblet.

“Perhaps I have been a bit harsh on you, chevalier,” Odo quietly said back. With that Odo downed the goblet’s contents in one gulp.

The two sat across from each other for several moments, neither uttering a word. Bertin was writing a letter to Edward, informing him of the capture of Metz. Odo was helping himself to more ale. Finally, Odo looked into Bertin’s eyes with a panicked look of realization etched across his brutish face. “The cup…Poison,” was all Odo could say before he fell off his chair, dead, with a loud thump.

Bertin nonchalantly finished his letter to Edward. “Uncle, I regret to inform you that Odo died during the assault on Metz. May he rest in peace.”

On the bed, the now awake serving girl looked silently in shock at the dead body lying on the floor, which she certainly did not remember being there when she fell asleep.

“Gisela,” Bertin calmly said to the woman while indicating the remaining ale, “Dispose of zis swill. It is embarrassing to even ‘ave it around.”

Gisela hastily threw on her chemise and ran over to the ale. Bertin smiled and then waved her out of the room. With much bowing she quickly backed up to the door and then darted out of the room without even bothering to grab her bliaud.

Bertin dragged the body into a large chest he would use until he could dispose of the body that night. He felt confident that Gisela was too frightened to say anything about what she had seen. Even if she did, it would not matter. The delightful little thing spoke nothing but German.