The Poisoned Serpent

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Cristen was giving haircuts. She had spread a large sheet under a bench in the middle of the great hall, and a procession of her father’s household knights submitted themselves to her ministrations during the course of the winter afternoon. As the last of them stood up, blowing the hair off his nose, she turned to the young man sitting in front of the large fireplace playing chess.

“You next, Hugh,” she said.

Hugh de Leon ran his fingers through his hair as if to assess its length. “My hair is fine as it is,” he said.

“It’s too long. It makes you look untidy.”

Hugh looked affronted.

Thomas, the young knight who was playing chess with Hugh, grinned. “The rest of us had to get Christmas haircuts, my lord. I think it’s only fair that you follow our example.”

“I hate to get my hair cut,” Hugh complained. “The hair always gets under my shirt and itches.”

Cristen flapped the large cloth she had been draping over the knights to keep the hair off of their clothes. “This will stop the hair from going down your neck,” she promised.

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