Knight's Wager

by Ling, Maria

  "The man who brought us," Matilda said patiently. "Eustace, I think you said his name was. I couldn't mention it in front of others, but that ride of yours... It did not look well, dear."

  "It was fun," Aline said defensively.

  "I dare say it was. That is part of the problem."

  "You want me to be bored rigid for the rest of my stay?" Worse, for the rest of her life, if she was bought by a man who never let her out. She couldn't bear that thought, she felt as if she'd suffocate.

  "No," Matilda said. "Just demure. Sensible. Cautious."

  All the things she didn't want to be.

  "I like him," Aline said.

  "He is beneath you."

  "He's nothing of the kind. Why shouldn't I like a man who's kind and good and handsome and fun to be with, who makes me laugh, who makes me feel happy and comfortable and -- " She broke off, met Matilda's horrified stare, checked her stride. "I'm not in love with him. I just like him, that's all."

  "Are you sure?" Matilda asked. "Because it sounded very much as if -- "

  "Of course I'm sure."

  But she wasn't. Not at all. Because she ached with missing him. Just wanted him to be there, cheerful and indefatigable, her friend and companion. She didn't feel right without him near her.

  She'd have to get used to it, though. Somehow.

  He wasn't on guard by her door either, she knew that because she checked surreptitiously as she went to knock on the door to her hostess' chamber. Where she was well received by kindly women, and graciously favoured by the lady herself.

  "Come and sit beside me. I am Ysolt, and these are my children." Two little girls, neatly done up in tunics and ribbons, curtseyed politely. "The boys are at swordpractice, of course."

  "Of course," Aline agreed. She took her assigned seat, fished out the sewing she had brought into the room with her, fell to listening and conversation. She liked this lady too, in fact both the earl and his wife seemed kind people. She just wished they'd let her have her own way.

  Which there was no chance of here either, as Aline soon discovered.

  "So you'll probably marry either the baron or his son," Ysolt concluded after comparing the wealth and status and mourning periods of her expected guests. "I think one of them is likely to offer, especially with that family wanting your father's lands for so long. Which will be very suitable, don't you think?"

  "I suppose so," Aline said miserably. "Do they ride?"

  "Naturally. What man doesn't? Unless he's crippled. But they're both whole, as far as I'm aware. And they're both very fond of music. We shall have a lot of singing while they are here."

  "And lute-playing," Aline said, with a smile as she thought of Eustace.

  "I'm so glad you favour it too," Ysolt said. "Your eyes just sparkled from thinking about it. Yes, we are lucky to have some very talented minstrels in our pay. You shall hear them at supper. My husband believes in music at mealtimes. It aids the digestion, you know."

  "Really?" Aline cast around for a way to bring the conversation towards her own interests. "It must be a particular delight to the servants and men at arms to share in such cultured pursuits. I'm afraid my father's troops were always rather on the rowdy side. We did have minstrels for a while, but no one could hear them. Father just laughed and said he liked to see high spirits among men and women both, so he dismissed the players. I don't know where they went afterwards."

  "Goodness," Ysolt said with a chill frown. "That sounds dreadful. We do not tolerate such things here. Everyone is to remain silent and attentive at table until their lord tells them they may leave. No speech of any kind is permitted at the lower tables unless it is absolutely necessary."

  "That's...commendable discipline," Aline said, and stifled a sigh. She would be bored stiff in this place, she just knew it. With no Eustace to liven things up. And all her family dead... She broke that thought as tears welled into her eyes.

  "I think we'll take some hot wine," Ysolt said. "Usually I do not allow eating or drinking at any time or place other than main meals in the hall. But for guests newly arrived, one must make an exception."

  "You are very kind," Aline said, wincing. She relied on her evening snack with Matilda in her chamber, where they talked over the day's events. Maybe she could get a rescued trencher smuggled upstairs, before it was disposed of among the pigs.

  Eustace would do it, she thought. He'd be just the man. And even if he refused -- she didn't want him to risk a whipping, after all -- at least she felt certain he wouldn't betray that she'd made the request.

  Oh, she longed to see him. Just to be with him, hear his voice, watch that gleam of humour light in his eyes.

  "I like to ride out in the afternoons," she said innocently. "Do you care for such exercise, madam?"

  "Not a great deal," Ysolt admitted. "I would rather sit quietly. Frankly, after seven children, I relish every opportunity I have to be still. And comfortable." She touched the soft cushion she sat on. Aline, with sudden understanding, winced in sympathy.

  One of the girls looked up from a neat and even seam. "I'd like to ride."

  "That's for boys," Ysolt said.

  "Not necessarily," Aline argued, keeping her tone mild and respectful. "I love to ride, and my sisters were learning well."

  "Here," Ysolt said firmly, "we do not encourage such things."

  Aline pressed her lips together to avoid making a curt remark. This was a lot harder than she'd thought it would be. She was pleased with herself for managing it, though.

  They sewed amicably for a while, drank the cupfuls of hot sweetened wine that arrived, spoke of the estate and the various other interests that both the earl and his wife held, anticipated festive food.

  "We get excellent geese," Ysolt said, "every year, our man is so clever at raising them. Of course, he makes a little on the side from selling to the town. And why not? It keeps him healthy and happy, and feeds our household every year."

  "Quite," Aline said absently, and thought with longing of the crisp day outside.

  "I shall send Eustace," Ysolt said.

  Aline gave such a start that she dropped the needle, pretended to scrutinise the hem while she fingered it up. "Who?"

  "Didn't he bring you? I thought my husband said... Never mind. He's useful for sending on errands. Never grumbles, or if he does it's out of my hearing. I do detest giving an order to men who look as if they're about to roll their eyes."

  "Yes," Aline said. "I can see how that would be most annoying. You are fortunate in having good men about the place. Some can be remarkably pert." She bit the inside of her lip hard to stop a smirk.

  "Indeed," Ysolt said, warming to her subject. "Well, you would scarcely believe what one of them said to me the other day." She went on, entertainingly enough, but Aline paid little attention. They liked Eustace, thought well of him, it wouldn't be so impossible after all...

  Not that she'd ever consider such a thing.

  Nor that he would, either.

  ***

  Eustace stifled an oath. He'd walked and groomed his horse, cleaned and hung the tack, brushed down the blanket and folded it away on its shelf. All with brisk movements, not exactly rushed, but he wanted to be done as quick as he could. The earl had taken Aline to the family stable, her palfrey once walked and cooled would be kept there. Given the earl's passion for horses, there was a chance the pair of them would linger. In which case Eustace stood a chance of seeing Aline just once more, flushed and lovely, before she was led away.

  So he hurried across -- or no, not hurried, that would be unseemly -- he just strode fast, stretched his legs to get them used to being out of the saddle, that was all. But she was gone, the palfrey nibbled lazily at a tuft of hay while the groom cleaned her tack, and the rest of the stable lay deserted.

  Eustace backed away before he was caught and challenged. He didn't have an errand there, he'd intended to feign concern over the lady's horse, check the legs for heat maybe. But the beast had been well cared for already, he
'd only draw attention to himself if he mentioned it now. That wasn't what he wanted, he'd have to remain cool and distant if he was to have the smallest chance of accompanying Aline during her rides. Or attend her in any way, he didn't mind what the task was, just wished to be near her. With her, even, close enough to catch that glitter in her eyes.

  She was beautiful. Desirable. Some lucky man would have her, and soon, but until then...

  He could dream, maybe. Just for a little while. That he could win someone like her one day, if he served his lord well, proved himself worthy. But coin barred his way, he owned nothing of wealth. Had a family connection of use, and courage among his ancestors, he liked to believe he'd inherited some of it himself. That was all, though. Wealth he could not offer, and he possessed no power to barter for favours.

  The lady Aline could never be his wife. He wouldn't imagine that, of course -- not her, she was much too well born, so far above him that he flinched to realise he'd even considered it. Would go on considering it, too, as he recalled the lush outlines of her body and the shiver that coursed through him when she smiled.

  No, it was impossible. And even if by some miracle it weren't, she'd never regard him in that light. What had he done to impress her or ingratiate himself? A mere servant, too cowed by fear of his master to consider anything but his own skin. He should have let her dawdle if she chose, should have brought her out on long fast rides far from the earl's court, while he still had the chance. Could have lingered at her home, maybe there she'd have seen him for something other than the earl's man.

  He hated himself, now, for the chances he'd wasted. Despised himself, for the way he'd kept himself aloof.

  Not that it would have mattered what he did, because she'd never think of him as a man. Just 'your man', as she'd called him with that supercilious tone of dismissal, the earl's man, nothing like those she might marry.

  He ought to hate her, too. But he couldn't. Just ached with longing -- and despised himself for that as well.

  ***

  CHAPTER 5

  "Don't see how I can do both," the head groom complained. "He wants me to stay with his own horse -- no argument there, it's a fine beast and I prefer to care for it myself. But my lads are run off their feet as it is, and we have a string to exercise this morning. I don't have time to traipse after some girl and her suitor, just because the earl wants it done."

  "I'll go," Eustace said. He'd sneaked into the stables on pretence of seeing to his own horse -- which he had done, though the beast was happy enough under the friendly hands of the grooms. It would get him the chance to see Aline mount and ride away, even with the pang of not being allowed to follow.

  A couple of times he'd hinted to the earl that if the lady Aline wished for a riding companion, he could easily forgo afternoon table games in the great hall. But the earl reminded him inexorably that she had two grooms in attendance, and that his afternoons were not his own to spend. And set him to greasing armour like a lowly squire, in a closet that reeked of stale lard.

  "Suppose you could, at that." The head groom considered. "Just make sure it all stays sensible. I have your word on it? Because if not, the earl will rip off my skin."

  "You have my word," Eustace said, and went to saddle his horse.

  They rode out through snow-smothered fields, with even the warhorses stepping dainty as foals and dancing with delight. Eustace held back a little, though the flash of Aline's eyes as she saw him warmed him still. But even a length behind, he could admire her upright figure and confident seat, well the match of the man by her side.

  Whom he wanted to kill. But that was the baron's son, and her suitor, and a man Eustace must be content to obey.

  "Very fetching." The second groom winked at Eustace, who scowled back. "They make a pretty couple, eh?"

  "I hadn't noticed." He'd been cursing the contemptuous tone in which her suitor forbade her to indulge in anything beyond a walk. As if the man couldn't tell she knew how to handle a horse, didn't long to see her rip through the snow in a flurry of sparkles, turn back laughing with those brilliant eyes --

  He had to stop there. Really he must. Because he'd imagined, too many times already, what followed after. Or would follow, if he got her alone.

  Which he never would. He realised that now.

  If he could get her alone, just the two of them out here in a glory of white light, he'd remind her of that challenge. Ride fast and hard for as long as she wished, let her win if she cared to. Wait for her to slow, and turn, and offer him that shining face he'd seen only the once in real life, but over and over again in his dreams.

  And she was to go to this hard-handed lout who stared at her breasts and backside as if they belonged to him, and told her women were not capable of staying mounted during a gallop. Or to his buffoon of a father, who spoke loudly of her fat inheritance without noticing the way she flinched, without once considering how distraught she was to have received it. She'd give it all to have her family again, Eustace was sure of that. But those two never thought of it, or else didn't care.

  He despised them. Both of them. So violently it was all he could do to remain civil when they ordered him about. He'd slipped a couple of times, drawn the earl's sharp eye, but he'd smoothed it over as best he could and in the general bustle it was soon forgotten.

  But now...

  What he could do with, he thought, was a way to get rid of the suitor and the rest of the men, but in such a way as to let him and Aline lag behind.

  An accident? It was tempting. But it must be done without risk to the horses. Eustace turned over various possibilities in his mind, liked none of them. Too much chance of a strained tendon or worse, and he'd never willingly harm an animal.

  "Now that looks tempting." The baron's son halted to admire a stretch of level ground, smooth and white as new-laid sheets. "We'll take a run here. You stay with the lady." He flicked a hand at Eustace, who was sorely tempted for a moment.

  "I wouldn't advise it," Eustace said, his better self triumphing over temptation. "That's boggy ground. Looks clear and even now, but there's no telling what's underneath."

  The man gave him a condescending look. "In my family we do not fear such trifling dangers."

  "I was thinking of the horses," Eustace said. "They could break a leg, if a hoof got caught."

  The man shrugged. "So let them break it. I can buy another horse, or a dozen at need."

  "It would mean their death," Eustace said. "You would not risk an animal's life over a petty moment's pleasure."

  The baron's son stared at him. Then rode over, and with a sudden slash of the hand slapped Eustace right across the face.

  "You will never speak so to me again," the man said. "Never. Understand me? Now do as I command."

  Eustace held his breath. Forced each muscle to relax in turn. Ignored the hot sting of pain across his face, and the humiliation of feeling Aline's horrified eyes watching him.

  "I beg forgiveness," he said, though it cost him all he had of fortitude. "I shall of course obey your orders."

  The man turned with a curt command that brought his own men instantly to obedience. Eustace swapped a glance of disgust with his companion.

  "I can't believe he did that," Aline said once the group were well out onto the marshland, going at a trot. "I will complain to the earl -- "

  "Please don't trouble yourself." Eustace cut her off. The last thing he wanted was to get her the same treatment. Or to be reminded that she'd seen it, and watched him submit meekly to that pile of -- "It was unpardonable of me to speak so to my own lord's guest."

  "He's a brute," Aline said. "I detest him."

  Well, that was a cheering thought. Except that it would make it all the worse for her, if the earl decided this was to be her match. And there wasn't a damned thing Eustace could do about it.

  Eustace kept his face expressionless. Had to, because a snarl of impotent rage wouldn't help matters. What he needed was a plan.

  The group had swerved now,
and set off on a reckless gallop across the hidden ground. It did look marvellous, Eustace conceded, he ached to join them. Ached the more for the sake of the lady beside him, how she'd love a run like that. But he didn't like the stride he saw, the horses were wary, instinct warned them better than sense. The baron's son yelled at them, used his spurs too, and not with the delicate whisper of a touch that would ask instead of command. He'd never learned that, Eustace would wager horse and armour both that this was a man who'd never taken thought for those he ordered about.

  Abruptly the man's horse went over, so sudden a fall that it seemed unreal. Until the rest pulled up, men dismounted and clustered around, shouts tore across the snow. And then a pair rode over towards Eustace, brisk but careful.

  "He's down and can't get up," one of them called. "We need a stretcher."

  As if Eustace carried such things dangling from his belt. "How's the horse?"

  "Don't know."

  "Check it first," Eustace ordered, drowning out a muttered oath from the groom beside him. "If it can walk, it can bear him home." That earned him a well-deserved glare from the groom, but he shrugged it off. "Better than them leaving the beast here untended, while they fuss over his fool of a master."

  "Not untended," the groom snapped. "I'd remain."

  "You're charged with the lady's safety."

  This time the muttered oath was quieter, and cleaner. "She'd only need one man to see her home."

  And it was there, right in front of him. A plan.

  "Ride over there and see to the horse," Eustace suggested. "Help them cut young branches for a stretcher if need be. If they can get him even halfway back, that's something. Send out a rider to alert the earl, he'll send bearers down to meet them." He paused for effect. "On second thoughts, I'll ride to bring word, and take the lady safely back as well."

  "You won't go fast, then," the groom said with a suspicious frown.