Benedict, turning away from Gil, as quickly took Emelye by the elbow and moved to follow but even more quickly Frevisse said to Dame Claire, “Shall we walk?” and with more haste than grace shifted the two of them directly into Benedict and Emelye’s way, between them and Katherine and Drew. The respite would be brief because, although the garden paths were only wide enough for two to walk side by side at a time, the garden was laid out in the common way, with squared beds with paths all right-angled between them, and if Benedict was set on making trouble, there was nothing to stop him from turning into a crosspath to go around the garden beds and come face-on to Drew and Katherine sooner or later, with no likely way Frevisse could see to stop him, and to Dame Claire’s whispered question, “Is there anything we can do?” she could only shake her head.
It was Drew who had a solution, although it took her a time to see it, thinking at first that at every crossing of the paths he was directing Katherine with small, gracious gestures of his hand to turn leftward or rightward into the crosspath simply for the sake of varying from the straight way he and Katherine had gone from garden’s end to garden’s end before this. Not until perhaps the fifth or sixth time he turned did she see of a sudden what he was doing and it told her that either Katherine had warned him Benedict might want trouble or he had quickly guessed it for himself. Whichever way it was, he was wending a way that would deliberately keep himself and Benedict apart, because after he and Katherine had turned at a corner of the path, anyone behind them had the choice of following them or turning the other way or going straightly on. If Benedict went straightly on after they had turned, then all Drew and Katherine need do to avoid coming face-to-face with him was at the next crossing of paths turn away, putting more distance between them and him. If Benedict turned the opposite way to theirs, then they need merely slow their pace and wait to see which way he turned at his next crosspath, to know which way to turn farther away from him. And if Benedict simply followed them, then Frevisse and Dame Claire were there, forever a discreet half-dozen paces behind Drew and Katherine and constantly in his way. Benedict could only break the pattern by walking more quickly and that he could not do because of Emelye, talking happily away at his side, keeping him to the same strolling pace as Drew and Katherine, Frevisse and Dame Claire despite how he turned one way and then another, trying to come around face-to-face with Drew again but failing every time.
And then across the several garden beds that were come between them, just before she and Dame Claire turned away after Drew and Katherine yet again, Frevisse saw him pull up short, his eyes widening with the understanding that maybe he was not being thwarted by chance. He was not fully certain of it yet, she guessed, and for a while longer he went on trying to change the pattern to his favor, but as he found that he could not except by resorting to an ungraciousness that would put him openly in the wrong, his brows came down in a scowling stare at Drew’s back, his face darkening out of ill temper toward plain anger.
And what would come of that when he was no longer trapped by manners and the garden’s paths, Frevisse did not look forward to seeing.
Chapter 11
Rescue came with one of Robert’s servants, sent to bid Katherine and Drew back to the hall. They were not far from the gateway when they saw him coming and met him there, Mistress Dionisia, Gil and the Allesley servant near to hear, too, as the man gave his message and Drew asked, “They’re done for today?”
‘Yes, sir.“
‘And all’s well?“ Katherine asked as if she would have held back from it if she could. ”No shouting that I heard,“ the man said cheerfully. Benedict, coming up then with Emelye a little short-breathed from haste beside him, muttered something, low enough he could be ignored, but then as the others moved to leave the garden, he started a purposeful move toward Drew. From the corner of her eye Frevisse saw that Gil had expected as much and was moving to cut him off with a look on his face that boded no good to Benedict and without thinking she veered from Dame Claire and across Benedict’s way, to his other side from Emelye, clumsy with her skirts so that he had to falter his stride first for them and then to bow to her while she said, ”For change, why don’t I walk with you awhile, Master Benedict? And Emelye, you can keep Dame Claire company.“
Awkwardly, Benedict said, “Yes. If you like,” as Gil fell back to join Mistress Dionisia and Drew’s man, and Dame Claire, only a little behind Frevisse’s purpose, drew Emelye ahead to walk with her behind Katherine and Drew going out the gate.
To leave Benedict less time to sort out what had happened and despite the weather never having been among the things of which she much cared to spend time talking, Frevisse said at him, “Will the weather hold, do you think, or is there going to be more rain?”
Benedict, perforce, joined her in trying to find something worth the saying about how there had been rain yesterday and there might be more tomorrow or that, possibly, there might not, most of the way back to the manor yard, until Frevisse took pity on his effort and asked out of memory of something half-heard in other talk, “I understand you’re to go into someone else’s household after Easter.”
Benedict’s sullen countenance changed, brightening much the way one of the much-discussed rainy days did when clouds parted to the sun. “Ned Verney’s,” he said. “He’s our northward neighbor here. I had chance at Sir Walter’s but I’d rather serve Ned, all taken in all. It’s only for two years, until I come of age and into my own, but better with Ned than somewhere else.”
‘You don’t mind he’s helped bring on this arbitration she asked, knowing she should not but wanting to know.
Benedict’s face predictably darkened but not at Ned Verney. “It’s not that much his doing. Robert is the one who’s afraid to fight the Allesleys for what’s ours. When Ned saw he couldn’t change him, all he did was help him out before he made a worse fool of himself over it.”
That was not the way Frevisse had heard of the business from Katherine and Mistress Dionisia, nor did it sound like Robert as she knew him but more like Lady Blaunche’s displeasure talking; but there was no doubting Benedict believed it, which was pity because it would have been better every way if he had been on Robert’s side instead of his mother’s and to turn him before he goaded himself back into worse humour, she asked, “How soon after Easter do you go to him?”
His willing talk about that kept them until they passed under the gatehouse arch and into the manor yard where horses and men were already waiting for the arbiters coming down the steps from the hall, with above them Robert, Sir Lewis and Ned Verney coming out the door.
‘There’s Ned,“ Benedict said. ”With Robert,“ he added darkly.
For the first time Frevisse gave Ned Verney a long look. He was a match for Robert in age and build, with the look °f a man confident of himself and his place, standing in talk with Robert and Sir Lewis at the head of the stairs while the arbiters went to their horses. To Frevisse’s relief, as she and Benedict, now sullenly silent, followed Drew, Katherine, Dame Claire and Emelye around the edge of the yard, circling wide from the waiting horses and riders, the talk among the three men looked to be serious but not grim, and when they descended to meet Katherine and Drew just Caching the stairfoot there were smiles and pleasantries all round before Robert, looking past Katherine, saw first Emelye, which puzzled him, and then Benedict. Anger mixed with worry crossed Robert’s face in a fleeting frown but Frevisse had been delaying Benedict as best she might by lagging her steps, and there was time for courteous farewells between Robert and Drew and chance for Drew to thank Katherine for her company and her to thank him for his, with a smile that Drew more than willingly matched. By the time Benedict, sullen again, joined them, she was making courteous farewell to Sir Lewis and Master Verney in their turn.
Frevisse, with nothing more she could do, faded aside to join Dame Claire standing a little apart with Emelye, thinking how much at sorry odds Benedict was with everyone else’s mutual courtesies, returning only a curt bow of the
head and no word at all to Sir Lewis’ good-day to him and giving Drew even less—only a glare to the other’s farewell. Both men ignored his discourtesy, turning away to their horses, but Master Verney, coming after them toward his own horse, gave Benedict a clenched-fist shove to the shoulder in passing that might have been from friendliness except it was hard enough to sway Benedict backward a step, almost off his balance. It took Benedict by surprise but he caught himself without saying anything and stood, unpleasant-faced, until the Allesleys and Master Verney and everyone else were riding out the gateway in the clatter of hoofs and jingle of harness and Katherine and Emelye, followed by Mistress Dionisia, started for the stairs. He moved then to follow them but Robert caught hold of him by an upper arm and said with low-voiced anger, “You wait.”
Benedict twisted slightly, trying to break loose without being plain about it, but could not and stood still, glaring at Robert glaring back at him. Above them on the stairs, Katherine and Emelye looked briefly back but Mistress Dionisia bustled them inside and Robert, hand still clenched around Benedict’s arm, demanded, “What do you think you gain by acting the cur the way you did just now?”
Benedict tried again to pull loose and go on past him. Robert, control of his anger visibly slipping, wrenched him back.
‘More to the point, what are you doing here at all after I told you not to be anywhere around Drew Allesley if you couldn’t put a fair face on?“
Around the now uncrowded yard there were still too many manor folk to see what was happening, and Gil took a step forward with the look of meaning to come between them, then stopped, thinking better of it. Dame Claire, with different instinct, made to draw back and leave, but Frevisse, caught like Gil between wanting to stop them and knowing she could not, held where she was. And now Benedict, letting go hold on his own anger, said fiercely, twisting loose of Robert’s hold, “I don’t have to do what you say. Without my mother, you’re not anything!” He made to turn away, adding, “I’m going for a ride. It stinks here.”
But Robert grabbed him by the arm again, shoved him backward hard against the hall’s stone wall, and said, close into his face, “Don’t ever try to bring your mother in between us. Nor are you going for any ride. Until everything is settled, you’re staying where I can see what you do. And if ever you’re as rude again as you were just now to Sir Lewis and his son, you’ll spend the while until this is finished in your room under guard. Understand me?” Not bothering with Benedict’s answer, whatever it would have been, he let go his arm and stepped back from him, adding coldly, For that matter, go to your room now and stay there, because all you’ll do if you go near your mother is trouble her, and if you do, God help you because I’ll have your hide for it.“
Benedict lurched forward from the wall, meaning to go for him, and Robert braced to meet him, but Gil said, low and urgently, “The younglings are watching.”
To both their credit, Robert and Benedict stopped and looked toward the nursery window across the yard, and Frevisse, looking, too, saw Robin chin-high to the windowsill waving his arms mightily above his head and Tacine in the nursery maid’s arms flapping both hands in a floppy wave and John who must have scrambled up on something to be leaning that far out but with his tunic’s back firmly gripped by Nurse. Robert raised a hand toward them, managed a wave, and so did Benedict, making Frevisse think the better of him. And when Robin called, “Come play with us, Father!” and Robert called back, “Not just yet, small bits,” Benedict said toward the cobblestones at his feet, “I’ll go,” added at a mutter, “And to my room afterwards,” then looked at Robert, defying him to refuse.
Robert looked back at him, the silence tight between them until whatever he saw in Benedict’s face satisfied him and he nodded curt permission. Benedict nodded curtly back, called to the children, “It’s to be me, instead,” and went, to cheers from the children who promptly disappeared from the window.
Robert, his smile dead the instant they were from sight, his stare flat at Benedict’s back, said to Gil, “See to it everyone, beginning with the stablemen, knows he’s not to leave the manor. By horse or otherwise.”
With a grim nod, Gil headed across the yard the other way from Benedict, toward the stables, with everyone else in sight suddenly on their way to somewhere else, too, likely on business they should have been about before now, except for Dame Claire and Frevisse, caught unsure of which was their best way to go, before Robert looked to Frevisse and said with deep-cut pain rather than any anger, “Blessed St. Mark. What am I going to do?”
Without thought, Frevisse answered, “Come to the chapel with Dame Claire and me.” And to Robert’s momentarily blank stare, added, “There’ll be no one else there.”
To that he nodded, and though she and Dame Claire had said nothing to each other about going to the chapel, Dame Claire said nothing now, either, simply came with them as they crossed the yard and into the chapel’s cool silence, where Robert went forward and sank onto his knees in front of the altar, bending his head over his tightly clasped hands. Behind him, Frevisse and Dame Claire exchanged brief looks, then went to kneel a little to one side and behind him, making no attempt at any Office, only silently praying as suited them each. Or Dame Claire did, Frevisse supposed. For herself, she was too much heeding the tense curve of Robert’s back and the rushed whisper of his praying. The words were too low for hearing but the pleading and pain in them was clear enough and never bettered, only the outpouring broke down at last into shorter and shorter rushes until it finally altogether ceased, leaving him in bowed stillness.
Even then, Frevisse waited until at last he drew a deep, ragged breath and straightened before she said quietly to him, “Robert.” And when he looked at her, blind-eyed with uneased pain, she said, “Come away and sit,” and rose to her feet.
He stood up heavily, as if years older than he was, and followed her aside to the chapel’s single long-backed bench, brought out for the manor’s lord and lady to sit when they came to service and otherwise kept out of the way against one wall. Because Frevisse sat, so did he, and when he was seated, said toward the floor, his clasped hands clamped between his knees, “My head is one huge ache. All day, ever since this morning, I’ve tried to watch every word out of my mouth, be careful of everything I said, and now I’ve gone and ruined it all at Benedict in front of lord knows how many people.”
More than that, he was not used to giving way to anger at all, toward Benedict or anyone else, Frevisse guessed, or he would not be in such after-pain, and she offered, “Not all the blame of it is yours.”
‘Enough of it is.“ He jerked his hands up and scrubbed at his face as if to drive something out of or something into his aching head, dropped them back into his lap, limp now, and said, ”This making peace with Sir Lewis was supposed to better things, save us from trouble to come. All it’s done so far is make everything go from bad to worse. Everything“
‘Without you dealt with Sir Lewis, think what would come. Worse than all this, from what I’ve heard.“
Robert cast back his head, looked up and said at the roof beams, “Yes,” but not as if it comforted him any.
‘There would have been people hurt who had no part in the rights and wrongs of the Allesley matter at all,“ Frevisse persisted.
‘Yes,“ Robert granted, still at the roof beams, and added with a forced calm that betrayed he was not calm at all, ”I just wish that that certainty was enough to stop what’s hurting now.“
But he knew as surely as Frevisse did that present pain could only be lived through to its end, with only the hope that better would come afterward; and to give him something of that better for comfort, she said, “If nothing else, Katherine and Master Drew were pleased and pleasant with each other’s company the while they were together this afternoon. That at least may go to the good.”
Finally, for the first time since they had sat down together, Robert brought his gaze down and around to stare at her with what looked too much like naked, heart-deep despa
ir for a blank half-moment before saying, “Yes. I thought as much. Watching them cross the yard just now.” He stood abruptly up. “I’ll leave you to your prayers, my lady. By your leave.”
But he did not wait to have it, simply left. And left Frevisse afraid, without being certain of what.
Chapter 12
There was no more sight of Benedict that day or evening, and Lady Blaunche kept to her room the while, with Dame Claire in attendance after returning from the chapel, and Master Geoffrey, Mistress Avys and Emelye for company. Even the children she saw only briefly and then left them to Robert who, between leaving the chapel and when Frevisse saw him next, at supper served simply in the solar, had rid himself of—or, more likely, buried—his anger and pain. He was simply Robert again and openly glad of his children’s company in the parlor for the evening, as ready for play as they were.
Katherine, changed into an everyday dress and her hair braided back, would have joined them, but Mistress Dionisia declared she was too pale, had had too tiring a day, should sit quietly, and looked somewhat surprised when Katherine agreed with her and withdrew to a corner, to sit on piled cushions and read.
The Squire’s Tale Page 15