“Surely that will soon be mended, once you take a wife. I’m sure any woman you wed will be more than willing to do her duty in your bed.”
“Father!” Laelia cried, scandalized and blushing. “What a thing to say!”
“Take no offense, my lady, for I don’t,” Blaidd said, grinning. “My father also says it’s a parent’s duty to embarrass his children, to pay them back for all those sleepless nights when they were infants.”
Lord Throckton roared with approving laughter, and the lady managed a little smile.
“Simon de Montfort continues to be a great favorite at court, especially among the ladies,” Blaidd said in an offhand way, turning the conversation back to the king and his court. He should make the most of this opportunity while he had it, and he most certainly didn’t want to discuss his failings as a son and heir.
“Who is that?” Laelia asked, her smooth brow wrinkling with puzzlement. “He’s sounds French.”
Blaidd nodded. “He was born there, but he’s renounced his claim to his French land and titles in favor of his English ones. The king recently recognized him as the earl of Leicester.”
“So he’s not one of the queen’s relations?” Lady Laelia asked.
“No. But many of the English barons were appalled by his marriage to the king’s sister. They feel they should have been asked if they approved or not, especially since it required her to break the vow of chastity she took when her husband died.”
“She took a vow of chastity?” Laelia cried in disbelief. “Whatever for?”
“Out of respect for her late husband, of course,” Lord Throckton answered. “That should have kept her well out of her brother’s political machinations, too. I was shocked she agreed.”
For a man who lived this far from London and never traveled to the king’s court, Lord Throckton was very well informed. Still, that wasn’t so very unusual. Blaidd’s own father rarely ventured from home, but he listened closely whenever Blaidd or his brother returned from court and spoke of what was transpiring there. Hu Morgan’s friends kept him informed, too. Who was to say Lord Throckton didn’t have friends who did the same?
“You haven’t met Simon de Montfort,” Blaidd explained. “He’s a very charming man of great abilities. Despite his birth, I think we can expect great things of him in the future. He believes in a permanent council, something he calls a parliament, to advise the king and administer the government. Many of the barons and knights like the idea.”
Lord Throckton frowned. “De Montfort had better keep quiet about that, or brother-in-law or not, he risks upsetting Henry, who’s got that Plantagenet temper—or so I’ve heard.”
Blaidd couldn’t disagree. “He does, but hopefully he’ll listen to Simon and appreciate his wisdom.”
“If he were really wise, he wouldn’t give so many honors and estates to his wife’s relatives,” Lord Throckton said. He eyed Blaidd shrewdly. “How is it you, a Welshman, don’t hate the man? His treatment of the Welsh has hardly been generous.”
“No, it hasn’t been, and I’m well aware of their just grievances. I’ve no liking for wars and battles, though, where so many can be killed for so little gain. I prefer diplomacy, so I try to represent the Welsh at court and speak for them whenever I can. Also, Henry is my lawful king, and I swore an oath of loyalty to him when I received my knighthood. I’m duty bound to honor it.”
“An aversion to violence? That’s an odd sentiment coming from a knight,” Lady Rebecca declared.
Blaidd hadn’t realized she and Trev had drawn so close.
He pulled Aderyn Du to a halt, letting Lady Laelia and her father ride ahead. When Lady Rebecca and Trev were beside him, he nudged Aderyn Du into a walk again. “Just because I’m trained to fight doesn’t mean I’m anxious to do so. I’ve seen bloody death, my lady, and I would spare all whom I care about from it, including the peasants who farm my family’s lands.”
“What if talk avails nothing? Then men must fight.”
“If all else fails, then yes, I agree it must be war. Yet I fear too many noblemen go to war for nothing more than personal power and greed, and don’t care who dies for their ambition.”
“A fine sentiment,” Lord Throckton said with approval as he looked back over his shoulder. “I only wish the king shared it.”
“I believe Henry is anxious to avoid war, my lord,” Blaidd said. “He’s a peaceable man by nature, and perhaps overly generous. But he’s young and newly married. Hopefully, with age will come greater wisdom, and less of a desire to please his wife.”
“Yes, he’s young and liable to err. I suppose we all must have patience and give the man a chance,” Lord Throckton said as he faced forward again. “After all, it’s only natural to want to please your bride, even if she’s French. Perhaps especially if she’s French, eh?” he finished with a deep chortle.
They reached a fork in the road, where a path veered off to the west, through deeper woods and underbrush.
“I’ve had enough talk of politics and the king and war,” Lady Rebecca announced. “Farewell.”
Without any further ado, she punched her heels into her horse’s side and took off at a trot along the narrow path.
Nobody else seemed surprised, and Laelia even looked rather pleased. Blaidd was not. There might not be any outlaws on Lord Throckton’s land, but what if she fell? What if she injured her other leg?
He dare not risk offending Lord Throckton or Laelia by abandoning them; nevertheless, he simply couldn’t accept letting the lady ride alone. “Trev, go with Lady Rebecca.”
Trev looked crestfallen. “I’ll miss the hunt—”
Blaidd gave him a stern look, and a blushing Trev immediately did as he was told.
“That really wasn’t necessary,” Lord Throckton growled. “She’ll go to a gallop the moment she hits the meadow on the other side of the wood, and he’ll never catch her.”
“I hope you’re right, my lord. It will do my squire good to discover that as excellent a rider as he may be, he can yet be bested by a woman,” Blaidd said, silently congratulating himself on thinking of this excuse.
No matter what he said to his host, he was confident Trev could catch up to the lady. He wondered what Lady Rebecca would say to Trev when he did. She surely wouldn’t be pleased, but it would likely do her good to realize she could be caught, and not necessarily by honest young men.
A man dressed in muddy tunic, breeches and boots came jogging toward the nobles. “The beaters are in place, my lord,” he panted, tugging on his forelock.
“Excellent!” Lord Throckton cried, his good humor apparently restored.
“If the hunt is going to begin in earnest, I should go back,” Laelia said softly, moving her horse off the road to make way for the hunting party.
“Good hunting, my lord,” Blaidd said as he dutifully did the same.
Lord Throckton called out to two brawny male servants, ordering them to return to the castle, too.
A wise move from a protective father, Blaidd reflected, taking no offense, as the hunting party rode off around them in a cacophony of hounds, hooves, excited voices and splattering mud.
“I’m sorry to keep you from joining them,” Laelia said, her green eyes full of remorse, when they returned to the road and headed back toward the castle.
Blaidd immediately wiped any regret from his face. “It’s quite all right. I certainly don’t mind the company of a beautiful woman instead of hounds and horses.”
Laelia blushed and looked down demurely. “I suppose you’ve known many beautiful women at the king’s court.”
“A few, but none so lovely as you.” Blaidd inwardly cringed at his lack of originality. Unfortunately, he was discovering that Lady Laelia never inspired anything more genuine in the way of a compliment. “It’s a pity you’ve never been there.”
“My father doesn’t like to travel.”
“It can be dangerous,” Blaidd agreed.
“And uncomfortable, too, he says, stayi
ng at inns where you don’t know who was in the bed before you, or if there are fleas. And the food would probably be terrible.” She sighed sorrowfully. “I’d at least like the opportunity to see the king and the nobles and the fine ladies.”
“The fine ladies might be sorry to see you, for your beauty would outshine them all.”
She flushed very prettily. “I daresay there are few men as handsome or valiant as you at court.”
“There are many more handsome than I, and bravery can be measured many ways, my lady.”
She slid him a shy glance. “Tell me, do other men at court have hair as long as yours? Is this a new fashion?”
He laughed. “No, only a few. In this, I am woefully out of fashion.”
“Then why don’t you cut it?”
“Because I like it this way.”
Her shapely nose wrinkled a little. “But if it’s not the fashion at court…”
Keeping in mind the ostensible reason for his presence, he dropped his voice, but not so much to cause their two beefy escorts to come any closer. “Don’t you like it?”
She blushed bright red and didn’t meet his gaze. “It makes you look…uncouth. Like a savage.”
“That doesn’t appeal to you, my lady?”
She spoke with a decisiveness he hadn’t expected. “No.”
In the next moment, however, that brief vitality and surety had disappeared. “Of course, it isn’t for me to criticize, Sir Blaidd.”
“You are entitled to an opinion,” he said, not at all upset by her dislike of his long hair. He was relieved that she’d finally said something sincere. “To be sure, I’m not happy to hear you don’t approve of my hair, but if that’s what you really think, so be it.”
“You’re not angry?”
“No.”
“Or upset with me?”
He grinned. “Not a bit.”
She looked as if she didn’t really believe him.
“My lady, it’s a poor fellow who doesn’t care to know what a woman really thinks, about anything. It’s not always pleasant to hear an honest opinion, I grant you, but I prefer that to evasion.”
“You really mean that, don’t you?” she asked incredulously, admiration shining in her eyes.
“Well, within reason, of course,” he amended.
Her lips turned down in a peeved frown. “Yes, some women are far too outspoken and forward.”
“I gather you’re speaking of your sister?”
“She can be very trying at times.” Laelia’s tone softened, and it didn’t seem she was being insincere when she said, “I try not to be too angry with her. It must hurt her terribly to think she’ll never get a husband. Between her leg and her tongue, what man would want her? Still, it’s a relief to know my father will have someone to look after him in his old age, after I am wed.”
And thus her sister was disposed of. He shouldn’t be so surprised that Laelia would speak with so much conviction of her sister’s fate, for such would be the portion of any younger sister who didn’t marry. In Lady Rebecca’s case, though, it seemed a very great pity. The only thing less suited to her than nursemaid to her father would be life in a convent.
The reverend mother of the convent wouldn’t know what had hit her—unless it be the devil in human form, refusing to obey, forgetting to be silent.
No, Rebecca would be much better suited running a man’s household and controlling a boisterous family. He could easily picture her surrounded by happy servants and joyous, noisy dark-haired children, with a few puppies at her feet to complete the scene. Her loving husband would come sneaking up behind her and embrace her, making her start and curse, and then laugh as he turned her toward him for a searing kiss, regardless of servants, children and puppies—
Blaidd stopped picturing and surreptitiously glanced at the richly attired, beautiful woman riding beside him at a leisurely pace. She’d probably hate puppies. They’d be too noisy, too dirty. Maybe she’d think the same about children, too.
Not that it mattered. After all, he wasn’t really here to woo her…or anybody else.
It was midafternoon when Becca and Trevelyan Fitzroy returned to the castle. What an impertinent young rascal he was, Becca reflected as she prepared to dismount.
Meanwhile, young Fitzroy leaped easily from his horse and in the next moment was beside hers, holding his hand out to assist her.
Who else but an impertinent young rascal would dare to shout out as she galloped away from him that she had to stop or he was going to throw up?
Afraid he was ill, she’d halted, only to have him immediately and merrily confess that was the only thing he could think of to say to get her to slow down. Then he’d told her he would die—“Absolutely perish of shame!”—if he came back without her. Not only that, but Sir Blaidd Morgan would reprimand him as only that knight could, without shouting but, “Oh, my lady, he can fairly flay the flesh from your bones with the look he gives you!”
Since she didn’t want the boy to suffer on her account, she’d agreed to let him ride with her. She shared her refreshments with him, too. During the time they sat on the grassy verge of the river, Trevelyan had revealed some very interesting things about Sir Blaidd Morgan, not the least of which was the esteem in which he was held at court, by men as well as women.
“He’s a trusted friend of the king,” young Fitzroy had boasted.
She’d wondered how her father would react to that bit of information. It was certainly no secret that he didn’t think much of Henry, or his method of government.
But she was not her father’s spy, and after the conversation that morning, he would have some inkling of Sir Blaidd’s political views without any help from her. Whether that would be enough to make him an unwelcome suitor for Laelia was far from certain, however. Laelia’s opinion of him seemed to improve daily, and thus far, her father had voiced no objections.
Becca could understand why. The Welshman was a genial, interesting, very attractive man.
“You must allow me to assist you, my lady,” Trevelyan Fitzroy declared, interrupting her reverie. “Otherwise, Blaidd is going to have my head. See, here he comes now, in high dudgeon.”
She followed his gaze, to find Sir Blaidd stalking toward them like a man on a serious mission.
Now she could well believe he’d win any tournament he entered. She could even believe he would do so with nothing more than his bare hands.
“Very well,” she conceded. She didn’t want to admit that Sir Blaidd could inspire her to do anything, so she continued, “But only because you managed to beat me to the river by jumping that fallen log and the one right after it. I was sure you or your horse would balk.”
“What, over a fallen log? Not likely. And how could we not, when you’d done it? I’d never be able to hold my head up.”
“And a handsome head it is, too,” she noted as he put his hands firmly around her waist. Still in his grasp, she slid to the ground.
Sir Blaidd Morgan came to a halt nearby, hands on his narrow hips, sword swinging because of his hasty pace. He crossed his arms and leaned his weight on one leg. “So, you both had a lovely time, did you?” he asked, his voice dripping honey but his eyes flashing fire. “You’ve been gone half the day.”
Trevelyan stared at the ground and flushed.
At the man’s arrogant sarcasm and the boy’s shamed reaction, Becca’s gloved hands balled into fists. “How dare you chastise him?” she demanded. “He was only heeding your orders when he followed me—orders that need not have been issued—and he stayed with me because he believed it was his duty to do so. If we’re later returning than you expected, that’s not his fault. Or would you rather I had scolded him thoroughly for presuming I need a keeper, and sent him back alone?”
Sir Blaidd continued to stare at her for a long moment, then, still glaring, addressed Trevelyan Fitzroy. “Take the horses into the stable and see they’re looked after.”
“Blaidd, I’m sorry but—”
“I do
n’t want to hear any explanations or apologies. I’ve given you an order.”
“Yes, sir,” Trev mumbled as he hurried to do as he was commanded.
Regardless of the grooms, stable boys and any servants currently crossing the courtyard, Becca marched up to Sir Blaidd and jabbed him in the chest. “You arrogant bully! Why did you embarrass the boy like that? He was only obeying your unnecessary orders.”
Sir Blaidd grabbed her hand, his grasp warm and just tight enough to hold her still. “How I treat my squire is none of your business, my lady,” he retorted, his dark eyes still blazing. He released her hand and bowed with mocking courtesy. “I humbly ask your forgiveness for caring about your welfare. I should, of course, allow you to be attacked, possibly raped or killed, if that is what you want, and forgo the oath I swore when I became a knight.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Did I ask for your protection?”
Hands clenched at his sides, he leaned forward so that they were nearly nose to nose. “My oath does not say, ‘But only if she asks.’ And I assure you, my lady, I take my oath to protect women as seriously as I do my vow to be loyal to my king.”
Becca wouldn’t back down, not even if his nose came into contact with hers. “Even if I refuse your protection outright?”
“You can try to do so, but it won’t absolve me of my oath.”
As they stood glaring at each other like two angry bulls about to charge, it suddenly occurred to Becca that it had been a long time since anybody except her family had spoken to her that way, and even then, her father never got that angry. Sir Blaidd Morgan’s fury made no allowance for her rank, her sex or disability. He treated her as if she were…his equal.
Another realization came hard upon that one. She remembered where she’d seen the expression on Sir Blaidd’s face as he marched up to them. It was the sort of look two rivals for Laelia’s attention gave each other.
Surely Sir Blaidd couldn’t be jealous? Of that boy? Over her? The thought made her laugh before she could help herself.
Margaret Moore - [Warrior 14] Page 7