“Out on the practice field?” Marie made a face.
“Of course, out on the practice field. After all, that is where he is and where he needs it.”
“Oh.”
“Is there something wrong, Marie?” She didn’t like the woman questioning her decisions.
“Nay, of course not. I’ll be on my way then.” Marie grabbed her cloak, tucking the pouch under her arm, and headed out the door.
Pippa hurried out to the practice yard clutching the blanket, feeling aggravated with Étienne for being foolish and, at the same time, disappointed with herself for not keeping a closer eye on her brother. It had stopped snowing lately but was still frigidly cold. Franklin shouldn’t be outside in this weather. Still, that didn’t seem to deter Étienne from training the boy.
“I don’t like this,” Pippa said to herself. “Franklin is going to get sick.” She shifted the blanket from one arm to the other. As she approached the wooden rail that separated the spectator benches from the practice area, she leaned forward, waving her arm in the air trying to get her brother’s attention.
“That’s much better,” said Étienne, taking it at a slow and gentle pace as his sword met with Franklin’s. They sparred alongside the other knights at the morning’s practice session. They had trained for an extra hour before the others even arrived. While the boy had shown growth in the past few days and much promise, Étienne knew Franklin was not used to this and he was becoming tired. The baron had yet to show up, but that obnoxious Wilbur was here watching Franklin, looking like he wanted to start trouble all morning. “You are a fast learner, and your wrists are strong,” Étienne told the boy. “You have mastered the grip perfectly. Now you just need more work on your swing.”
“Thank you for not making me start out with a wooden sword.” Franklin’s eyes darted over to Wilbur when he spoke. Étienne knew what was bothering the boy, and he needed to teach him a lesson. In that split second, Étienne disarmed him. Franklin’s sword flew out of his grip and landed at his feet. “Oh!” The boy jumped back with his hands in the air and his eyes opened wide in surprise.
“Never let yourself become distracted, because in that mere second it could mean your death.”
“Sorry,” said the boy, picking up the sword. “Can we try it again?”
“Of course.” He had just started to spar with him once again when he heard Pippa calling out from the lists.
“Franklin! I’ve got a blanket to put around your shoulders. Brother, you’re going to get sick in this nasty cold weather. Come over here at once.”
“What the –” Étienne blurted out in disbelief, letting his gaze wander over to the rail. Sure enough, Pippa stood there with a blanket in her grasp, waving her arm over her head, making a spectacle of herself by calling out for everyone to hear. Not to mention, it was embarrassing him as well as the boy.
To Étienne’s surprise, Franklin disarmed him, causing his sword to clatter to the ground. Étienne’s head jerked back in utter amazement, not expecting this at all.
“You are right,” said the boy with a wide smile. “Being distracted might cause one to lose one’s life.”
“We’ll take a break now,” he grunted, picking up his sword, not having the nerve to look over his shoulder to see if the other knights noticed. He sure hoped not. No man wanted it to be known that he’d been disarmed by a ten-year-old boy in training.
“Over here,” Pippa shouted, still waving her hand in the air like a fool. Étienne replaced his sword at his waist and stormed across the field to stop her.
“Enough with the shouting,” he commanded, walking up to face her. He grabbed her wrist and lowered it to the rail. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I am here to make sure my brother does not catch cold. I have brought a blanket to keep him warm.”
He gritted his teeth. “Nay. What you’ve done is not only interrupted our training session, but also embarrassed your brother in front of the rest of the men.”
“Embarrassed him? Nay, why would you think that?” Pippa looked over his shoulder and called out. “Franklin, come in out of the cold before you become sick. This cold air isn’t good for you.”
“Stop it,” Étienne commanded, clasping his hand over her mouth to shut her up. “You are making a spectacle of yourself and causing the other men to think your brother is weak. The truth of the matter is that he is henpecked by his doting, overbearing, overprotective sister!”
She bit down hard. Étienne yanked his hand back, seeing that she drew blood. “Ow!” he cried. “What on earth are you doing?”
“Lord Étienne!” called out the baron, heading over from the keep with Lady Martha holding on to his arm.
“It’s your father,” Étienne said under his breath. “Please, don’t do anything to embarrass me.”
“Embarrass you? I thought you said I was embarrassing my brother.”
“You are embarrassing every man here, now stop it.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“How is my son’s training coming along?” asked the baron, meeting them at the lists.
“Just fine,” said Étienne, putting a smile on his face so the baron wouldn’t know anything was amiss. “He is coming along splendidly and is already sparring with one hand.”
“Speaking of hands, what happened to yours?” asked Lady Martha, staring down at the bite marks and blood pooling in his palm.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a scratch, that’s all.”
“Philippa, what are you doing here with that?” asked the baron, his eyes fastening on the blanket under her arm.
“Your daughter came to watch Frank’s progress and brought the blanket to keep herself warm,” Étienne blurted out before Pippa could answer.
“That’s not true,” said Pippa, glaring at him. “I was writing out the invitations to my upcoming St. Valentine’s Day dance when –”
“Invitations?” The baron’s eyes flashed over to Étienne and then back at her and he scowled. “You are not really planning that silly gathering.”
“Of course, I am,” said Pippa. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Lord Étienne, what is this all about?” growled the baron.
“Father, why are you asking him?”
“I thought you agreed that the dance would be a good idea. For when my brother comes to marry her,” said Étienne, trying to smooth things out.
“The invitations were already sent, and I am planning the rest of the festivities this afternoon.” Pippa’s spine straightened and she raised her chin in defiance.
“If Lord Étienne thinks the dance is a good idea, then I guess I won’t object,” said the baron.
“Lord Étienne has no say in my affairs,” complained Pippa. “As far as I’m concerned, he shouldn’t be training Franklin to fight either. Father, Franklin is going to get hurt.”
“Nonsense,” said Étienne. “He is doing just fine in his training and I am taking it at a slow pace. I assure you I’m not going to hurt him.”
“Mayhap not,” said the baron, looking over Étienne’s shoulder. “But I’m not so sure he won’t be hurt by Wilbur. Wilbur has a lot of power behind his swings.”
“Well, don’t worry,” Étienne answered. “He won’t be sparring with Wilbur for a while yet.”
“Then what do you call that?” asked Lady Martha, pointing over at the practice field.
Pippa looked up and screamed.
Étienne turned around to see Wilbur bearing down on Pippa’s brother. He came at Franklin with his sword, attacking him as if he were in battle. Franklin tried to fight back, but with his inexperience, he had no chance. Wilbur disarmed the boy and pushed him to the ground and continued to poke the tip of his sword at Franklin.
“Somebody stop him!” cried Pippa.
“Nay!” shouted Étienne, taking off at a run to stop this madness. Grabbing Wilbur by the back of the tunic, he flung him to the ground. Wilbur dropped his sword in the process. “Don’t you ever do that ag
ain or you will have to answer to me,” Étienne warned him.
“Wilbur!” Lady Martha ran to her son while Étienne reached out his hand and helped Franklin to his feet. The boy’s arm was cut and bleeding.
“Franklin! You’re hurt,” shouted Pippa, running up and gathering her brother into her arms. “You’re bleeding!”
“I’m all right, Sister,” said Franklin. “And next time, I am going to make Wilbur bleed!”
“Stop this talk at once,” Pippa scolded, taking her brother’s hand and dragging him away. “We are going back to the keep where you belong.”
“Wilbur, I think it is time for us to get something to eat,” said Lady Martha, escorting her son to the keep as well.
“Sorry about that,” Étienne apologized to the baron.
“Nay, don’t be,” answered the baron. “It was good to see my son defending himself. I am grateful for you training him. You are doing a fine job.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“However,” continued the baron with one finger in the air, “what you have failed at doing is controlling my daughter as you’ve promised.”
“My lord?” Étienne waited to be reprimanded because he knew he truly had let the man down.
“You told me you were going to stop her from acting improperly. But now the invitations have been sent for the dance and there is no going back. If I stop it, I will make a fool of myself in front of all the neighboring nobles.”
“I apologize for that. I didn’t know she had sent out the invitations, my lord. And as we’ve discussed, letting the gathering happen will ensure a celebration for my brother when he arrives to marry her.”
The baron grunted. “You’d better be sure about this, de Beynac. Because if I let this continue and your brother breaks the betrothal in front of everyone, I will have your neck.”
“Don’t worry, my lord. I will do as promised. I assure you that you have nothing to worry about concerning your daughter. I have her under control.”
“Do you, now?” The baron nodded to Étienne’s hand, and Étienne closed his bitten, bloodied palm into a fist to hide the wound. He bit the inside of his cheek so hard that he tasted the irony tang of his own blood. Who was he fooling? He didn’t have anything under control and he sincerely doubted that any man on this earth could stop Lady Pippa from doing something once she made up her mind.
Perhaps it was time he took a more serious approach concerning this matter. But what he had in mind was sure to be something that Brother Paul wouldn’t agree to at all.
Chapter 8
“How is the boy?” asked Brother Paul when Étienne entered his chamber that night.
“He’ll live.” Exhausted and cold, Étienne pulled off his tunic and wandered over to stoke the fire in the hearth. “It was only a surface wound.”
“Then why do you seem so upset?” The monk had been praying, kneeling on the hard floor when Étienne entered the room. He blessed himself and stood up, tucking his rosary into the pocket of his robe.
“I’m not upset.” Étienne grabbed the poker and thrust it at the logs, causing the flames to shoot up.
“It’s not admirable for anyone to lie. Especially not a novice training to be a monk.”
“Who am I trying to fool?” Étienne threw the poker down, the sound clanging against the stone. “I’m not destined to be a monk and we both know it.”
“I knew it from the moment you showed up at the door to the monastery. What is it you’re hiding from, Étienne? Locked behind the monastery walls is no place for those hiding from anyone or anything.”
“What does it matter?” Étienne kicked off his shoes and plopped down atop the bed. The monk had been sleeping on a simple pallet at the foot of the bed, refusing to get used to luxury.
“It matters because I want to help you.” Brother Paul sat down on his chair and stared at Étienne.
“If you want to help me, then don’t object when I tell you how I am planning on keeping my word to the baron about stopping his daughter from doing things he doesn’t want her to do.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“I am going to seduce Lady Philippa. It’s the only way I can get close enough to her to convince her to give up matchmaking as well as doing things that her father doesn’t approve of.”
“I see.” The monk looked down to his hands on his lap, folding them in prayer.
“Is that all you have to say? Aren’t you going to object?” Étienne pushed up to a sitting position on the bed.
“Sometimes, it isn’t right to intervene.”
“I made a deal with the baron. He let me train the boy and, in return, I am supposed to make Pippa act like a respectable noblewoman. I promised to make her change her mind about not wanting to marry my brother.”
“It’s more than just the deal you made,” the monk answered knowingly. “You are smitten with the woman.”
“Me?” Étienne raised a brow, pretending to be shocked. “The woman irks me. She coddles the boy and acts like an overbearing mother. Plus, she sneaks off to the village to play matchmaker when she should be in the ladies solar or at chapel.”
That made Brother Paul laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“You point fingers at her but you are no better.”
“What does that mean?”
“I know you’ve been sneaking drinks as well as gambling, and right inside the walls of the priory, so don’t try to deny it.”
Étienne looked down in thought. “I have stayed true to my vow of celibacy, if you are wondering about that.”
“I have a feeling that might change soon as well,” said Brother Paul. “Lord Étienne, why do you want to keep pretending to want to become a monk when I know that you have no intention of joining the Order?”
“It’s what my father wants,” he said softly, a part of him not wanting to defy the man who sired him. “Besides, I am not a knight and, with my reputation, I have nowhere else to go.
“Interesting.” The monk got up and headed for the door.
“What’s interesting?” asked Étienne.
“I find it fascinating that one of you is afraid to stand up to your father while the other is more than willing to stand up for what she believes.”
“You’re calling me a coward?”
“I didn’t say that.” He opened the door but looked back over his shoulder to say one last thing before he left. “I’ve known your family for a long time, Étienne. Your father and I grew up together in France, even though my family was English. My family was visiting France at the time and got into the middle of a bad situation. My father was a baron. We were taken prisoners by the French.”
“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Your father gave me the idea of joining the Order and that is what saved me from being killed. The rest of my family wasn’t so lucky.”
“Why are you telling me this? What does it have to do with me?”
“I am telling you this because your father might be trying to save you, too, in a way.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You are the youngest of six boys. He knows you will never inherit anything from him and, perhaps, it is his way of trying to protect you from feeling as if you are not as important as your brothers.”
“Nay, my father doesn’t care for me like he does my brothers. He sent me to the priory as a punishment, not to protect me. I will never forgive him or my brothers for the way they’ve treated me.”
“Don’t let your hatred get in the way of making sound decisions.”
“What does that mean?”
“Is the reason why you want to seduce Lady Philippa to convince her to marry your brother, Giles? Or is it to convince her not to marry him instead?”
Before Étienne could answer, Brother Paul left the room and closed the door.
Chapter 9
“Come along, Franklin,” commanded Pippa, leading the way to the ladies solar. Her bro
ther’s arms were loaded down with woolen fabrics of red and pink. Pippa’s handmaid followed behind the boy with a sewing basket and shears. Pippa held on to a long parchment of paper that she’d rolled up that contained the names of every person who was single in the castle.
“My lady.” Lord Étienne met her at the door to the solar.
“What is it, Lord Étienne?” she asked with a sigh. “I have much to do to prepare for the St. Valentine’s Day dance and I cannot be interrupted.”
“I have come for Frank. It is time for his training on the practice field.”
“Nay. There will be no training today.” She opened the door to the ladies solar and hurried inside. Étienne and the others followed.
“Whatever do you mean?” Étienne touched her on the elbow, causing her breath to hitch. She stopped in her tracks. Just from his touch she felt a surge of excitement run through her. This had to stop. He was a monk! She turned to look into his concerned eyes. “Is something wrong?” he asked her.
“Nay.” She flashed a quick smile, hoping he hadn’t noticed her reaction. “Of course not. Nothing is wrong, why would you think that?”
“I heard you gasp and take a deep breath.”
“I need Franklin to help me today to prepare for the dance.” She changed the subject, opting not to respond to his previous comment.
“Frank?” His face screwed up as if he thought the idea was absurd. “That is ladies work. He can’t do that. Frank, are you ready to go?” he asked the boy.
“Franklin, don’t you dare leave me,” Pippa warned her brother in a firm voice. “Your wound is still not healed and you need to rest. Besides, you told me you wanted to help me. I am so far behind in making the preparations that I will need all the help I can get.”
“Frank?” Étienne, looked at the boy and motioned with his head for the ten year old to join him.
Franklin glanced back and forth from Pippa to Étienne, confused, not knowing what to do. Finally he answered with a deep sigh. “I’m sorry, Lord Étienne, but I did promise my sister that I would help her.” Pippa smiled.
“I see.” Étienne scrutinized Pippa from the sides of his eyes. It made her feel uncomfortable.
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