by Maria Ling
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"Don't raise your hopes too high," Alan warned. "I know your parents, and what they want in terms of a match for you. As it happens, I agree with them."
"But don't you want me to be happy also?" Merin pleaded.
"Of course. That's a given. But it's not the only consideration."
"The man you marry will be in your life forever," Caroline said. "He will be the rest of your life. So of course it's essential that you like him, but it's more important than that. Who he is needs to fit with who you are."
"Valentin does," Merin replied mutinously. "We fit perfectly. So there."
"Maybe. But you've only spent a few weeks with him."
Merin glared at her sister. "Whereas you two spent - what? - three days in each other's company before you decided to marry. And that was just fine, apparently."
She was losing her temper, she knew it. Bad move. Shouting and stamping her feet wouldn't get her anywhere, she knew that from home. It worked for the youngest, the children, but never for her. Merin must always be pleasant and cheerful and bloody patient, because nobody else could ever be expected to wait for anything.
Alan and Caroline swapped smiles, that odd soft smile they shared. It got on Merin's nerves - made her edgy and annoyed, and strangely envious.
She must get hold of herself. She'd always managed to get her way by talking people around, charming them, being pleasant. Addressing them on their own preferred ground. Here, with Alan and Caroline, she ought to make a cogent argument, marshal her facts and arrange them strategically to make a convincing case.
But she didn't want to. Didn't care enough to bother, not with people who lorded it over her body and heart.
"I want to marry Valentin." Peace spread through her as she spoke. Because he wasn't here, and she couldn't win, but she could damn well go down fighting. "Nothing either of you says is going to stand against that."
Alan turned the smile on her. She felt a flicker of understanding then, deep in her belly. Something like what she'd felt whenever she saw Guillaume smile at Matilda.
"I'm not standing against it," Alan said gently. "I'm giving you everything you need to win."
Merin stared at him. Thought of his constant patient teaching, detailed explanations, small corrections. "You've been training me all this time," she admitted, in a tone of surprise audible even to herself. "Haven't you?"
Alan shrugged. "It appears so. For what, I can't tell. Training others, maybe. I really don't know. You'll never make a tourneyer - the power just isn't there, and you don't have the heart to compete. But you can excel in your own way, on your own ground, whatever that may be. If you want to. And so can Valentin, who most certainly does. I see a great deal of promise in him. And in you, though it's not yet clear to me what tasks you are best fitted for."
Merin held her breath.
"I'm willing to retain you in my household," Alan said. "Valentin also. You may see each other freely, but only under my supervision or Caroline's. For the next three years. If you wish, I will personally intercede with your father to ask that he not make arrangements to marry you off elsewhere during that time."
"Three years!" Merin wailed.
"By which time you'll be the age Caroline was when she married," Alan pointed out. "And you will have had ample opportunity to discover whether you truly want a life with Valentin. Meanwhile, he will build his own position here, and have something to offer you when I give him permission to ask."
Merin hesitated. It did sound dreadfully reasonable. "But I don't want to wait for three years."
"Then you'll have to take the matter up with your parents," Alan said. "I imagine they will refuse, and perhaps remove you from my care. That is their decision."
"Mother wants me to marry now," Merin argued, somewhat dolefully.
"Not, I suspect, a newly knighted man with no fortune and middling connections." Alan sounded positively brutal.
Merin scowled at him, and was deeply disheartened to see that firm expression in his eyes. She knew she couldn't go up against that one. Not directly.
So she would have to find a way to go around.
"You're right," she said, as submissively as she could manage. "I'm sorry. If you are indeed kind enough to retain me here, and trust me to do what is right, then of course I am very grateful. I promise to behave exactly as you wish."
Alan stared at her for a moment longer. Then turned a helpless look on Caroline. "God help us," he said. "I've been outgeneralled. Your sister is about to launch a new campaign."
***
CHAPTER 8
Merin leaned her chin on her hands and watched Valentin. He was at work in the tiltyard, patiently taking a boisterous young horse through the methodical course she'd set to calm it down. The idea seemed to be working: the horse was clearly interested, ears pricked and body intent, but under Valentin's expert guidance remained focused on its task.
If this continued, as she hoped, the pair of them would be tilting hard by the end, horse and man united in the desire to bring all their strength to bear on a single point.
The squires would assist with that. Merin couldn't remain to see it. She was wanted in the chamber above the hall, where Caroline waited.
With a baby. That still seemed strange to Merin. Caroline's marrying had been peculiar enough, but the notion of her as a mother was simply bizarre.
But she was. And since Merin's parents were coming to spend the afternoon cossetting their first grandchild, Merin must be a lady for the duration. Alan permitted her to help with the work of squires: he did not permit her to live as one.
Merin didn't mind. She had learned by now that she had no aspiration to live as the boys and men did. A lady squire was what she was, and wished always to remain.
With Valentin. Whom she worked with, day by day, and loved more than ever.
She seldom left his side. Didn't need to, for the most part. But today she would have to.
It was not too great a wrench. Merin loved her parents dearly, and was always joyful to see them. Though she admitted to a sneaky sense of relief not to be living at home any more.
She presented herself punctually, washed and dressed in clean clothes, with her hair combed and her face set in a pleasant smile. Which lasted through the delight of arrival, and a good hour into the visit, but vanished when her parents began to speak of her marrying.
"You must," Father said in a tone almost like regret. "There's five sisters coming up behind you, and I must find ways to get rid of them all."
Merin bit her lip. She ought to speak against, but couldn't find the words. And she had promised Alan not to discuss Valentin in such terms.
"Not all." Mother cuddled the baby to her, kissed that soft downy hair. "I want to keep the young ones at home forever."
"Foolish woman," Father said, but he smiled.
"With your permission," Alan said. "There is a man in my service who may be of interest to you. I will admit he doesn't have much in the way of wealth or connections to offer, but he's a sound man. Honest, decent, hardworking. Good family, mostly knighted men in service, a couple of minor landowners to the south - near Blois, if you know it at all."
Father shook his head. "Not particularly. And Merin can do better than that."
"Trained as squire to Guillaume," Alan continued. "Knighted by him personally."
Father's face lit up. "How is Guillaume these days? I hear from him now and again - he writes to me, you know. But it's been a while since the last letter."
"Very well, from what Matilda tells me in hers. This man came into my service particularly recommended by Guillaume himself. Excellent horseman."
"He'll be happy training on under that young tiltmaster of yours, then," Father mused. "Good chap, that - I saw him as we came in. Exemplary work. Needs to relax into his blows a little more. I spoke to him, only a word or two, seemed a shame not to mention it. I hope you don't object."
"Not in the least," Alan said. "It's an honour to benefit from you
r knowledge, sir."
Ooh. Merin fixed Alan with renewed interest. She'd never thought of him as a skilled arguer. But he was, she could see him closing in on Father with deft and delicate steps.
God, what had she done here all this time? Pleaded and bickered and sulked. Thrived and learned, too. Right now, life was perfect. She worked with horses, and alongside Valentin, and under Alan's tutelage. With a sweet baby to cuddle at will. She really couldn't be happier. But as she listened to Alan, she became uncomfortably aware that she'd missed the chance to polish her skills in rhetoric. He was a more elegant debater than she'd given him credit for.
Maybe Caroline had taught him. That was a new idea. Merin stole a glance at her sister, pale and worn but with eyes that blazed with adoration for the baby. Whom she took back now, and held close to her heart.
"I still have the fire, you know." Father preened. "Though the body is not what it used to be, I admit. When are you holding your next tournament here, then, sir?"
"As soon as it pleases you," Alan replied with a grin.
"The birth of a child is always cause for celebration," Mother said. "Perhaps we could look into organising something, Charles? Invite some suitable men for Merin to meet. There was a certain amount of interest last time."
"Have it here," Father insisted. "Get that young tiltmaster into the games. I believe he'd do very well. Sound chap. Reads Vegetius, you know. We had a nice little talk after he'd finished up. Showed a great deal of knowledge - and understanding. He had some criticisms of the text. I agreed with him in every particular."
Merin bit back a smile. She'd helped Valentin memorise every section of that book, along with the written commentary and Alan's opinions.
"What's his background?" Father asked Alan. "Now there's a man I could let Merin go to, since she's so crazy about horses. Would give her plenty to talk to him about. But I suppose he's married already."
"He's single," Alan said. "And he just happens to be the very man I mentioned to you earlier. His name is Valentin."
"Hm." Father nodded thoughtfully. "Pleasant young man. Skillful. But no fortune. Pity, really."
Two years, Merin thought. She need only hold out for two more years. Let Valentin continue to shine at his work, collect tips from grateful squires alongside the fee Alan paid him. Build up enough to buy some land, maybe hire a small retinue of his own. And then...
"I've thought of expanding," Alan said. "Take in more youths for training. Not boys new to the work, but squires close to being knighted, or knighted men who want a spot more polish. I've enjoyed working with Valentin. He's a true adept. I could do with a dozen like him."
"Good idea," Father said with approval.
"If I might prevail upon you to visit us at times, and share some of your knowledge, we'd all benefit greatly from that."
Father glowed, much like Mother did when asked to hold the baby. "It would be a delight to me."
"I would devote myself primarily to that work," Alan went on. "As well as attend to my family, of course. The squires, meanwhile, would train up under a trusted man. I think Valentin could handle it well. Which of course would mean a little more pay for him, assuming I was satisfied with his performance."
Merin held her breath. She was so close now, she could feel it. And she didn't have to do a thing.
"I suppose it would." Father nodded.
"There may be enough to marry on," Alan said. "In a couple of years or so. If he is at all the kind of man you might consider as a suitor."
"Well, I don't know. Merin herself might have an opinion. I assume she's met the chap." Father glanced at Merin, with a faintly troubled expression, as if not quite sure how he came to be in the midst of this conversation.
Trust your horse, and let momentum carry you forward. Guillaume had told her that once. "I've met him," Merin said in a neutral tone. "He seems a good man."
"Of course there has been nothing untoward in his behaviour," Alan said. "I can personally answer for his conduct. But I believe he is contemplating marriage, and I think he and Merin would be well suited. If you wish, and with your permission, I should be happy to allow them to become acquainted."
Relax into your blows. She'd heard that from Father, and from Guillaume, and from Valentin also. Watching Alan, now, Merin realised just how deceptive his easy-going exterior really was.
"No harm in it." Father glanced at Mother. "What do you think, my dear?"
"Hm?" Mother tore her attention away from instructing Caroline on how to care for the baby. "Yes, that sounds very suitable."
Judge your moment. Merin had heard that from Matilda. And she could only admire Alan for the way he'd made his bid just as Mother stood firm on some point of nursing.
"Well, in that case..." Father looked around uncertainly, to meet nothing but benign interest. "I suppose I'll give my permission. If you think it could be a good match. Decent chap, all told. Wish he'd told me he squired for Guillaume. I'll have to ask him about that next time I see him. Thought I recognised something about the style."
"You know my stables are always open to you, sir. And Valentin is seldom far from a horse."
Father laughed. "My kind of of man. Be careful, or I'll hire him off you and into my own service."
Alan grinned. "You'd be satisfied, I think. But I beg leave to hold him a little longer. He's coming on. And I do enjoy the company of a man who shares my own interests."
"Messing about with rings and poles. Hardly a fit occupation for a grown man." Father raised his hands to ward off Alan's mild objection. "Don't try to talk me around, boy. I've heard all I need to from you. Big hard strokes and the Devil's own finish, that's what a man should bring to the battlefield. I wish you'd seen me in my prime. Wish I'd had you fighting alongside me, too. Ah well." He smiled, misty-eyed. "Days long since gone. I can't ask for them back. My life has been happier than I could have dreamed of, since then." He watched Caroline with the baby, and Mother hovering over her with anxious care.
"We'll hold a tournament," Alan suggested. "A joint venture, if it please you. Private invitations only."
"Yes. Let's do that." Father nodded. "And that young tiltmaster of yours - Valentin, was it? I'll take a good look at him. Have a word or two. Sound him out on topics that matter."
Merin carefully said nothing. There was value, she knew, in not pushing too hard.
She'd learned a lot since coming here.
***
About the Author:
Maria Ling lives on the edge of a moor in Yorkshire, England, surrounded by ruined abbeys and haunted caves. Visit her Smashwords author page for for news about her work.
***
Also in this series:
THE TOURNAMENT PRIZE
MARIA LING
She didn't know how she'd recognised him, whether from the proud tilt of the head or the ready tension of his bearing. But she held her breath as he paraded at a measured step down the length of the stand. His horse danced a little as he paused in front of her and dipped his lance. Caroline smiled and bowed acknowledgement, flushed with the warmth that thrilled down her body and rippled over her skin.
Almost she thought she'd like a suitor, now.
Not that she wished to marry. She couldn't bear to imagine the carnal meeting of the bedchamber. The moment she placed a real man within those bounds, the notion chilled her. She couldn't bring herself to believe there was any such thing as true desire, flesh to flesh and skin to skin.
Mother said that with the right man, her body would know its own wishes and how to satisfy them. Which made Caroline more determined than ever to keep men away. Never to marry. Because she couldn't bear to imagine herself desiring a man, and showing it, and worse still, allowing him to... satisfy her.
She fixed her attention fully on Alan, who had reached the far end of the lists and turned to face his opponent.
Alan de la Falaise, the best young tourney knight in Flanders, has set his heart on marrying Caroline de Louvain - and he will not brook defeat
. But Caroline prides herself on her firmness of mind, and she has sworn never to marry. Alan must summon all he knows of battlefield tactics to win the greatest prize of his career.
Available now from your preferred ebook retailer.
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Also by this author:
LADY KNIGHT
MARIA LING
Her smile faltered. She stared back at him with widening eyes, a deep mossy brown softer than he could ever have imagined. Her lips tempted him, too, slightly parted, he could bend his face to hers and -
Christ and Holy Mother Mary. This wasn't on, he couldn't fall for her. Not a fellow knight, which she was - hard as he longed to regard her as a woman and a bedmate. They'd meet on the battlefield again, at the next tourney or the next, he couldn't...
Maybe he could.
After all, he'd seriously thought about seducing her.
But not like this. It would have been a fun encounter, all pleasure and no commitment. And she'd have to be married, he'd sworn that to himself. But she wasn't, he'd swear to that now, there must have been some mention of the man before this moment. Even if he wasn't here -- which he would be, surely. What man of blood and flesh could stay away from her side?
No, she was single, and glorious, and he desired her beyond anything he'd felt for a woman before. Which he couldn't show her, of course, she'd laugh at him or despise him or worse...
Worse, she'd respond in the way his quick imagination promised that she would, all passion and lust and fierce enjoyment, and then...
Guillaume swallowed what felt like a knuckle in his throat.
Then he'd never let her go. Never relax his grip for an instant. Because if once he got close to her, so close as to make the two of them become one...