by Park, Elsie
“Don’t try to argue the point,” Roland firmly warned. “You haven’t done enough, in my opinion, to obtain them yet, and my opinion is the only one that counts.”
Oh really? Well, she’d see about that. She’d just have to sneak them from the kitchens on occasion and eat them in the privacy of her chamber. She was determined to defy him in some way, and this was perfect. He would never know, she wouldn’t lose her village privileges, and she’d get the satisfaction of a small victory over him—along with a tasty treat.
“Fine,” she complied, receiving a contented nod from Roland, after which he bit into the stolen sweet dessert. She scowled at him, and he chuckled, licking his sticky fingers as he turned away.
A young page who had finished his duties serving the main tables and had sat down beside her a few minutes before, hesitated to eat his own treat after witnessing her dilemma. The boy, who looked no more than ten, shyly set it back on the table. Noticing this action, her heart went out to the considerate child. Audri placed her arm around his shoulders. “What’s your name, lad?”
“Bryant, milady,” he answered with shy respect.
“Well, Bryant, there’s no need to miss out on my account. You have earned your portion, I’m sure, so I’ll simply delight in your enjoyment of it.”
The boy looked up at her with a timid grin before taking the sugary treat in hand again and devouring it. She smiled. The children were truly innocent and honorable. At what point will they lose their integrity and be corrupted by Guildon’s poison? She lost her smile at the depressing thought but felt determined to use her influence to never let it happen. Maybe being a squire with them would have its benefits, if not for her, then for the future of Guildon and its knights. She’d try her best to set a proper example.
Audri excused herself from the table and, with Roland’s permission, retired for the night.
Gail was already in her chamber, sitting in front of a blazing fire. She looked up from the fireplace and stood at Audri’s entrance. Even from across the room, Audri could see the concerned lines on her face. Audri shut the door and approached Gail, knowing her report would not be a good one.
She grabbed both Gail’s hands in hers. Keeping calm, she asked, “How is she?”
Gail shook her head and her worried expression turn to anger. “He beat her terribly this time.”
Audri let go of Gail’s hands and her own balled into fists as she moved toward the door. She intended to see her sweet mother, but a gentle hand on her shoulder stayed her.
“She’s been given a heavy sleeping draught, Audri. Let her rest,” Gail said.
Audri closed her eyes. “How bad is it?”
Gail sat down in a chair again and Audri did the same, staring into the fire as she awaited the dreadful account.
“Oh, Audri,” Gail choked out. “Both her eyes are swollen shut, blackened from his fist. Her mouth is puffed, broken, and bloody. His brutal grip turned her arms black and blue. I nary recognized her.” Gail’s body shook in disgust, tears glistening in her eyes.
Audri was too angry to cry but found it hard to breathe at how helpless she felt over the situation. Once married, a woman was an object at the mercy of her husband’s every whim. A husband had full rights over her as his property. Married women had no authority. Excluding their own Father Bromel, the general clergy even encouraged regular beatings of wives to ensure submissiveness. Marriages of convenience and property gain made marriage for love a rarity. If a woman was lucky enough to get an even-tempered man, all the better for her, but if not . . . Heaven help the poor woman. She felt in her heart that God, who she believed was good and kind, wasn’t pleased with the brutal laws of the land, but that He allowed mankind to persist in its evil ways in order to fairly dole out justice in the end. “I just wish there was something we could do beyond merely consoling her afterwards.”
“I know, dear, I know,” Gail soothed. “But aside from killing her husband . . .” She let the sentence drop off as she fingered the scar on her face.
“An agreeable option,” Audri mumbled. “But it’s gotten worse, Gail. I fear her being killed before we can get her out of this nightmare.”
“I know. I know,” Gail repeated, shaking her head and staring down at the hands in her lap.
“Did . . . did she say what provoked it this time?” Audri asked in a quieter tone.
Gail looked up with a frown. “Festus doesn’t need provoking. He’s an oppressor, through and through. He enjoys the pain of others, as does his minion, Doyle, but Lady Honora murmured something about her not being pregnant again . . . and that angered him.”
After marriage, women were expected to run the households, but their main duty was to provide children, and if she couldn’t . . . “It’s not her fault,” Audri fumed anew. “She had me, did she not? Being unable to conceive a child is undoubtedly his own burden. His manhood is probably compromised in some way, and he beats on her to vent his frustration. She’s an easy target, Gail. Maybe she could keep a dagger for protection. If she did—”
“He’d have her disarmed in a second, and then he’d do worse to her than before. He can’t abide the thought of a strong woman, a threat to his cowardice. Perhaps that’s one of the reasons he never lays a finger on you. He knows you’d fight back with more vengeance than he could handle, and that scares him.”
Humph. “But he sends others in his stead, others to do his dirty work. People like the strict tutors from Wellington, or the nuns, and now this, this Sir Roland,” she sneered his name, flinging her hand in the air. “But I won’t let him break me. I won’t, Gail! I won’t be like my mother under Festus.”
“Nor should you,” Gail agreed. “And I’ll stand firmly beside you.”
“I know, and I’m eternally grateful for your loyalty and friendship.” Thinking again of her dear mother, she said, “And at least my mother will have some weeks, maybe even a month, before Festus strikes her again. It’s his pattern. He lets her heal before inflicting more.” Audri felt the heat of anger return to her face. “But heaven help that wicked man if I’m ever alone with him. I’ll surely return the atrocity he dealt on my good mother.”
“Don’t even entertain the thought, Audri, as much as I hate him too,” Gail warned, standing fast and wagging a finger in Audri’s face. “Thoughts often turn to action, and he’s too powerful and cunning, even with your fury backing you. Beware, for unrestrained anger can cause mistakes, landing you in a grave. And then you’d be good for nothing for your mother or the villagers we look after. You’ll know what to do when the right time comes, for it will present itself with such certainty that there will be no doubt in your heart.” Gail sat back down, again touching the scar on her face.
They both stared into the fire for a time, neither talking, each lost in her own thoughts. Gail eventually looked at Audri.
“Audri, did you ask Sir Roland again about going to the village on the morrow?”
Audri’s head whipped around to face Gail, her eyes wide. “Oh, I forgot. Gail, we can’t miss another trip to the village. My time at the convent set us back by weeks.”
“Should we approach him in the morning?”
“No, he will have already planned my training for the day—if he hasn’t already—and is more likely to deny the request. No, I’ll ask him tonight. Stay here. I’ll only be a moment. You can listen through the door.”
Audri jumped up, albeit with some pain from the day’s labors, and exited the door. She stepped across the hall and rapped her knuckles on Sir Roland’s thick portal.
Roland unbelted his sword and laid it on the small table before starting a flame in the fireplace by scraping a knife across a stone to ignite the dry tinder with the sparks. He blew on the small flames until they grew in size. After untying the cords at the top of his tunic, he retrieved his crossbow from the wardrobe to inspect and oil it. He had just sat down with the weapon whe
n a series of firm knocks sounded at his door. He instinctively pointed the crossbow in that direction.
“Who knocks?” he asked in a loud voice.
“Lady Gibbons . . . uh, your squire.”
Roland smiled to himself. As if I could forget she’s my squire. He stood and walked to the door with crossbow in hand. He opened it to reveal Audrina standing in the corridor. Her eyes first fell on the crossbow he held, her face revealing an abrupt uncertainty about his intentions toward her. He lowered it from chest level by straightening his arm and pointing it at the floor. When she raised her gaze from it, her face flushed red as her eyes passed over his chest, partially exposed by his loosened ties. He cleared his throat and her eyes averted from his upper body to his face, but she stared at him with blank eyes.
“Yes, what do you need?” he prodded, feeling tired and desiring to sit down.
“Uh, yes, I need to ask you . . .” she started, but her brows turned down as if she were trying to remember exactly what it was.
Roland’s patience wore thin in his fatigue. “Why don’t you ask me on the morrow when we’ve both had some rest?” he said with a gruffness he hadn’t intended.
“No,” she almost shouted, her expression showing an awareness of her purpose. “It’s tomorrow I need to ask you about.” Still, she hesitated, taking a deep breath before stating, “You said I needed to earn my privileges through the kind of effort I put forth in training. Now, I think I’ve done pretty well for my first day . . .” Roland raised an eyebrow at this assumption but remained silent. “And being that tomorrow is Saturday and that Gail and I usually take a shopping trip on that day, I was hoping you’d let me off from my training so we can spend the day in town.” In addition to wringing her hands and not looking him in the eyes, she’d said most of her speech in one breath, and by the time she finished, she was nearly out of breath. Despite her impertinence at suggesting she’d done enough in one day of training to gain such a reward, he couldn’t help but admire her for trying to convince him of it.
He leaned his shoulder against the door frame, pursing his lips. Should he let her go? She hadn’t earned much recompense by his standards, but considering her weight, gender, and social status, maybe she had done a better job than he should have expected. She had done everything he’d asked her to do, albeit a little slow and with some scowls and rolling of the eyes.
He stood silent a moment, genuinely thinking it over. He could tell she was holding her breath. Before long, he graced her with a reply.
“No. No, I think not.”
“But—”
“I said no, squire.”
“Can I at least have an explanation?” Her jaw was set tight, and her brows furrowed inward as she placed her hands on her hips.
“Not that a knight need explain his decisions to his squire, but, yes, I’ll tell you several reasons. One, by that stance you’re demonstrating, you clearly still lack a sense of humility, feeling privileged because of your noble status.”
“That’s not true,” she started, her hands dropping down at her sides.
“Two,” Roland continued, “you simply must prove yourself for longer than a day. Anyone can hold out for twenty-four hours, but make it a week, a month, a year, and that’s where the true test lies.”
“A year! You don’t mean I must go a full year before—”
“No, not necessarily, but if it takes that long to emit from you the desired outcome, then so be it. What I am saying is, and I repeat, one day is not sufficient to prove yourself by my standards. We’ll go another week and see what happens.”
The lady’s maid, who’d obviously been listening behind the door, burst out of the room protesting.
Roland felt his face turn red at her impudence. What was it about shopping that made females act so frantic? “It’s shopping for pity’s sake, ladies, not the end of the world!”
“It’s not just shopping,” Gail braved to argue, desperation grazing her face as she placed herself beside her lady. “Its—”
The explanation was interrupted by Audrina’s foot landing on Gail’s, the movement seeming purposeful as Audrina stepped forward and placed herself between him and the maid.
“It’s . . . it’s . . .” Audri stammered as if trying to think of something to say.
“It’s what, squire?” he said between clenched teeth, staring at her with a frown. He was missing out on some much-needed alone time because of this ridiculous spat, and it was proving detrimental to his patience.
“It’s a break, Sir Roland,” Audri finished. “A break that not only we require, but that I’m sure you would appreciate as well.”
Though the thought was indeed tempting, Festus had hired him to train and tame his ward. And training didn’t include frivolous shopping trips every week simply because she was accustomed to the reprieve. She must get used to her new schedule and not defy it. He wasn’t heartless, nor did he enjoy being mean, but the making of a good knight was based on strict adherence to training. Gained privileges would be based upon her performance.
“You’re right,” Roland agreed. “It is a break.”
Audri began to smile, no doubt feeling she’d won this round.
“But, as I’ve said several times now, it must be earned by my standards.”
Audri’s frown returned.
“And as of this moment, I feel you have not proved yourself worthy of it. How hard you work and how well you follow my orders, without complaint, in the coming weeks will determine your liberties.” If she didn’t drop this subject and accept his recurrent answer, he’d be forced to resort to threats, and he didn’t like debasing himself to that.
Thankfully, she simply stared at him a moment, her upper jaw twitching, a sign she ground her teeth, before turning on her heel and entering her chamber. She almost trapped Gail in the doorway as she slammed it shut behind them.
Roland stared at the closed door and breathed a sigh of relief. He’d rather face an army of Scots than continue arguing with that pair. His fingers rubbed at his left temple as he turned into his own chamber. He didn’t get headaches often, but this one seemed to come out of nowhere with the sole purpose of hindering what would have been a good night’s rest.
Curse those women! What on earth did I sign up for? I have better things to do, like concentrating on the reason I came to Guildon in the first place.
Dash it all! He could tell already that she would be taking up too much of his precious time. Despite his initial hope of gaining more freedom while training her, he was coming to realize he’d made a mistake. He’d just gone from one constricting position to another. He would get nowhere with his quest thanks to this assignment.
Roland continued to rub at his temple as he crossed over to the table. He placed the crossbow on it and then sat down with a heavy sigh.
The sooner he was done with her, the better.
Chapter 4
The next morning, after eating a satisfying breakfast of diverse cheeses, dried apples, raisins, and salted beef left over from the previous night’s meal, Roland ushered Lady Gibbons and her reinstated female escort to the library. Audrina moved with a limp, evidence that the tough regimen had worked her muscles to a painful maximum. Although he wouldn’t allow her entrance to the village today, surely she was relieved to be sitting down for her training. He had the custodian of the books take down several tomes and scrolls about weaponry and fighting tactics for his squire to study. Most were in Latin, some in English. Audrina, he discovered, could read both.
He looked up from the old battle parchment in front of him and scanned the musty room. Could there be records of his birth parents in here? Or perhaps of the Griffiths? He glanced at his squire. She sat reading, her elbows resting on the table and her head propped up on both sides by her fists. Gail sat beside her and quietly pulled a needle through material locked in a small embroidery hoop. She hummed a soo
thing tune.
Roland stood and the ladies looked up at him.
“I’m going to talk to the bookkeeper,” he said. “Continue with your reading.”
Audri’s eyes dropped back to her book as Gail poked her needle into the material again.
Roland walked to the tome custodian’s table near the entrance, but the old man wasn’t there. He heard movement and shuffling papers in a far corner of the room. He followed the sounds and found the man sitting on a stool among a massive disarray of books, scrolls, and other parchments. The wide wooden shelf that reached to the nine-foot ceiling was only half full of records, but they were haphazardly placed, as if someone had shoved them in there without a care. The old gaffer leaned down and retrieved a ledger from the ground. He opened it and scanned the contents before placing it in a pile with similar volumes, his movements lethargic.
Roland cleared his throat.
The white-haired man looked up from another scroll he’d just picked up and eyed Roland.
“Where might I find the records on Guildon’s village inhabitants?” Roland asked.
The custodian sighed, waving a hand before the mess at his feet. “Right here, I’m afraid.” He gave Roland an apologetic look. “It’s a little disorganized at the moment.”
“What happened?” Roland asked.
The man turned a weary face to the shelf. “Well, it was never completely ordered, but I knew where things were. Two days ago, Sir Doyle stomped in here. Without a word, he went straight to this section. He seemed to be in a mood, so I just stayed at my table.” The man shook his head in frustration. “As it was, he tore my shelves apart, looking through books and scrolls before shoving them aside with abandon. He was here searching a good half hour. At the end of it, Sir Doyle was so irritated that he tossed most of the records to the floor.”
What was Doyle searching for with such aggression? And why did it have to be in the same section I need too?
“He was so vexed with my not keeping the shelves in better order that I thought he’d drag me to the dungeon right then for my indiscretion.” Roland could see dread in the man’s eyes. “I assured him I’d have it straightened up as soon as I could and then would let him know when I did. He stormed out of here, leaving me with . . . this.” He waved his hand in front of the mess again. “It will take me days, maybe longer, to consolidate the archives enough to find anything.”