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“Agreed, Thornden. Pride has its place, but men who are quick to challenge are not strong, but brash fools.”
Thornden looked swiftly at Coenred, his eyes sharp for a second, but Coenred did not follow his comment up with anything more, and he did not meet Thornden’s eye for more than a second. His glance was not challenging, more curious than anything.
Thornden considered Coenred silently for some second. Since the incident with Erbrand and Lithor, he and the captain had not been in close fellowship. There had been a rift driven between them that he had been unable to remove. The fault was his, he knew, but he wished Coenred would at least speak to him, instead of holding his thoughts in silence.
While he thought thus, Quin was answering Leof’s question.
“Your old eorl, Eodwine, just came in, and the first thing he did was go to Athanar, kneel before him, and offer him his sword while swearing loyalty to him! And he, looking half dead at that! We were just now discussing it. . .he is not well, you know. So ill he went out leaning upon lady Saeryn as though he were an old man. I mean no disrespect, Thornden,” he added, turning again to him. Thornden looked over at him. “That is just how he was.”
Thornden shrugged and stood up. He moved over to Coenred and sat down across from him. The men about them were speaking, leaning closer to discuss things more thoroughly with Quin and Leof, and Thornden bent across the table towards Coenred.
“What are you thinking, Coenred? You seem to wonder about Eodwine’s manner of return as much as Quin, but in your older wisdom, you keep silent.”
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