Only once did he move forward—and the headman of the fisherfolk and the captains of the ships all shrank back—but he only leaned from Lothaire to speak softly to her. She had put her demand and the answer hung on a cusp…until Alex reminded her to assure the headman that the fishermen would be allowed to return to their boats after training.
That was the key. The headman grew almost enthusiastic. And most of the young men, who had been eager from the beginning to learn how to wield a sword, promised to be in the marketplace at dawn the next day when Godric would come to gather them.
Once out of earshot of the fisherfolk, Alex laughed softly. “You were perfect,” he said. “And they will never realize that the loyalty of their young men has been changed forever.”
“Changed to whom?” Desiree asked anxiously.
“To you, my lady, or rather to the troop of men with whom they have trained and to their teachers.”
Desiree cocked her head interrogatively as they rode away from the fishermen’s huts toward the part of the town occupied by merchants and craftsmen. “I would think from what I have seen of the men training that they would rather learn to hate those who knocked them down and bruised them.”
Alex grinned at her. “It doesn’t work that way. Oh, at first when you are proved to be helpless, even with a sword in your hand, you might resent those exposing your weakness. But as you learn—ah, as the sense of power comes with growing skill… No. The boys trained by the troop will come to feel a strong kinship with the men-at-arms. The longer they train at the keep the more attached they will become. In the end, I hope that kinship will be stronger than the feeling of fellowship for other sailors.”
“If that is true,” Desiree said, eyes bright, “they will be more willing to give warning of French ships.”
They passed a grassy common on which cattle and a few sheep grazed, that separated the huts and stink of the fishing village from the small town of Cuckhaven, which had its own stenches. One of the boys watching the grazing beasts ran ahead, presumably to warn of the arrival of armed men. Desiree did not increase her pace, and by the time they had passed along the wide central street that also served as the village market, the headman and the two next richest and most powerful men were waiting outside the most impressive house.
For so small a town, hardly more than a village, it was an impressive house—two stories high and stone built, with two windows above sealed with oiled parchment and one beside the thick wood door. Desiree did not dismount. She replied with no more than a courteous nod to the headman’s greeting and then told him that they had come to recruit men to guard against a threatened invasion.
Her statement was first greeted with stubborn silence. The merchants and craftsmen were less eager than the fisherfolk to allow their apprentices and journeymen to train in arms. Partly this was because Desiree made no offer to free them when the threat of invasion had passed and partly it was because the Masters knew that a number of apprentices would prefer the life of a man-at-arms to the dull tasks of learning a trade.
Nonetheless the three men were sufficiently in awe of the mail-clad knight to send out messengers to all the Masters in the town bidding them to a meeting in the churchyard after Vespers. There, Desiree found her own solution to their resistance. Mounted on her mare, well above even the large and muscular smiths, she spoke in a clear voice telling the tale of the burning and killing in Ousemouth and asking for volunteers.
The crowd stirred restlessly, a dozen of the younger men almost stepping forward but then looking over their shoulders at their Masters and checking.
“We need fifteen men,” Desiree said. “In a moment I will ask again that Masters permit their apprentices and journeymen to offer to protect their own town from fire and sword. However, if the Masters have not sense enough to send those who wish to go, I am willing for the Masters to decide among themselves who is to go. At dawn tomorrow, Godric—” she gestured toward him “—will be at the headman’s house to take fifteen men up to the keep.”
Her voice was steady and strong. Within was a blaze of joy. She was not nothing. She was the Lady of Exceat. With Alex’s mailed form, hand on sword hilt, behind her, she felt not the smallest fear her demand would be refused.
Only later, on the way back to Exceat, she remembered that when she went with Frewyn she had never felt the same strength and surety, and cold guilt washed over her. Alex. If only she could keep Alex with her. Together they would make Frewyn happy as long as his life lasted.
For a moment Desiree’s mind went blank. Never before had she really admitted to herself that her husband was dying. She had always snatched at his better days, told herself and the others that he was improving, that he would regain his strength, get well. Suddenly Desiree felt sick and had to fight to keep down the contents of her belly. She realized that she no longer feared Frewyn’s death, that she had had for one instant a sense of release.
Monster! She was a monster of ingratitude and sin. She stared straight ahead, not responding to some light remark Alex made and shuddering when he lifted her down from her saddle in the inner bailey. Without a word, she fled him, fled herself, rushing up the stair in the forebuilding and then up the tower stair that took her to her own chamber. But one cannot flee oneself.
Desiree sat and looked into the mirror Frewyn had bought for her, until the image clouded with tears. Was she really a monster? Perhaps she was, but not because she admitted that Frewyn was dying. If she was a monster, it was because she had not been willing to let him go. Twice, she knew, he would have slipped away, gladly, peacefully, but she had clung to him, wailing for him not to leave her, and he had fought for his life and won a few weeks longer.
With that knowledge, the worst of the sickness of guilt faded. It faded further when she realized that her love for Frewyn was no less. Every moment he remained with her was a treasure. And another thought came to her. There could be no contest in her heart between any man—she would not name Alex—and Frewyn. Frewyn had his own place, a place that no man could ever usurp. Peace came to her soul.
She rose and called from her doorway for Eadgyth to attend her and changed out of her riding clothes into a gown she knew Frewyn was fond of. Desiree was aware that her new knowledge gave her no license to violate her marriage vows. By God’s law and man’s she was Frewyn’s wife, and she would never shame him or smirch her own honor by forgetting that in thought, look, or word.
However, something had changed, for when she sat down beside Frewyn and took his hand in hers, his fingers managed two little squeezes. “Beloved,” he whispered, “you have given me back the daughter that did not live, a joy I would never have known.”
Desiree leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “And you have shown me what a father should be.”
He squeezed her hand again, rested a little while, and then said, briskly for him, “Now tell me what came of your trip into Cuckhaven.”
“Alex has not been here?” Desiree asked in surprise and then said, “Oh, I should have thought. He is doubtless arranging for quarters for the boys who will come tomorrow.”
“And I hope…dividing them into…groups and arranging…for an older man…to stay with each group. If he has not…you must tell him.”
Desiree giggled. “You must tell him, Frewyn. He regards every word that comes from you as a nugget of pure gold. Oh, he will know if I tell him that it is by your instruction that I do so, but he treasures not only what you say but how you say it.”
Frewyn made no direct answer to that remark; he looked brighter for a moment and then, Desiree thought, rather sad, although all he said was, “Tell me just what happened, then.”
“We went first to the fisherfolk,” she said, “because we could see that the ships were beached. I told them of the burning of Ousemouth, although I did not say we thought it was Nicolaus. I spoke of the need for the fisherfolk to be able to defend themselves, so no one could easily take their ships at sea and because their villages would be the first to be a
ttacked in an invasion.”
“Very good.” Frewyn squeezed her hand again.
“I could see the young men take fire but the headman and the captains were not so eager and they grew even less willing when I spoke of the need for early warning if ships were seen approaching our shore. Then Alex reminded me that we did not plan to keep the fisherfolk in the keep but would allow them to return to their ships.”
“I thought…he…would have more sense…than to steal…your authority.”
“Oh, no. No. He did not speak that aloud. He brought Lothaire beside me and whispered in my ear. It was I who told them that once trained the boys would be free to go.”
“Ah.” Only a breath, but one of deep satisfaction.
“Then the headman was well pleased to give permission, and I think we will have as many as twenty of the fisherfolk coming. Godric will go down to fetch them at dawn tomorrow.”
“Are any townsmen coming…or will we…need to impress them…by force.”
Desiree giggled again. “No force, although I would never have had a chance to speak to any but the town headman and his two chief cronies, except for Alex. When I demanded they send a messenger to all the Masters and the headman opened his mouth to refuse or question me, Alex looked at him. I don’t know how else to describe it, but the mayor sent the messenger.”
At that moment the door opened and Alex came in. He hesitated—no more than a hitch in his step—and then came forward, until Desiree said lightly, “Do show Frewyn how you looked at the mayor of Cuckhaven.”
His step checked again, but he was smiling when he came to where Frewyn could see him and he said, “I am sorry, my lord, but I can’t do it without my helmet. Sir Simon showed me how. It’s a sort of glare around the nosepiece and it says ‘Just do it or you’ll be sorry.’ Sir Simon can do it without the helmet but maybe I’m too young.”
That won a soft gurgle that was almost laughter from Frewyn, and Alex went on, “But it was Lady Desiree who won the final battle. She gave them no time to think but said Godric would be in front of the mayor’s house just after dawn and would expect to find fifteen likely lads waiting.”
“Send the worst…”
“The worst at their craft or trade, I suppose,” Desiree agreed, “but that does not mean they will be the worst for our purposes.”
“Lady Desiree is right,” Alex said. “A lad may be too stupid to learn his numbers for trading, but the chances are he will be clever enough at wielding a sword when a bruise follows inattention or slowness. One does not need to be a great mind to serve as a man-at-arms.”
“And those might stay with us.” Desiree grinned. “And we might actually win the gratitude of their Masters for taking the lazy dullards off their hands.” Hearing her own words, she seemed a little surprised and then cocked her head. “Hmm. Frewyn, do you think we could afford to offer to pay back the apprentice fee for those who are willing and who might make good men-at-arms?”
“If we could…get honest…figures, I could…better judge.”
“I think Father Harold might be employed about that business,” Alex said, reaching for a stool and sitting down.
Alex’s spirits were now soaring. He had been badly shocked when Desiree had shrunk away from his helping her to dismount and then literally run into the keep. All afternoon he had been pleasantly at ease, enjoying watching Desiree assert herself as Lady of Exceat. She was not as commanding as Lady Alinor, her manner softly certain that she would be obeyed rather than challenging. However, that soft certainty worked better, Alex had thought, with people who were less firmly bound than those of Roselynde.
It had been a real pleasure to be with her. The talk they had exchanged had been lighthearted and easy. No ugly red flickers of illicit wanting had marred their cooperation in obtaining the recruits they needed. Thus, he had assumed Desiree was merely thinking hard, perhaps about the next day’s excursion to Seaford, when she grew silent on the short ride back to the keep. So when she fled from him, he had been conscience stricken and heartsick, wondering what he had said or done to reawaken her unhappiness and how he could avoid it in the future.
Finding Desiree restored to equanimity—no, better than equanimity, cheerfulness—was an enormous relief. He crossed his ankles and rested his elbows on his knees, and continued, “For now, though let us see what we get and how they take to training before we get Father Harold to ask questions about buying out apprentices. Lady Desiree’s question was a wise thought for the future, but for now…”
“True. After the…craftsmen…see how they get on…without those we have…taken.”
“Yes,” Alex said, “I am glad you agree.”
“Keep the…fisherfolk…and the townsfolk…separate.”
“I did think of that, my lord. I assumed there might be some rivalry, but also, since the fisherfolk will be going back to their ships, I did not want some men leaving while others had to stay.”
Haltingly, but with determination, Frewyn advised Alex on the fine points of working boys into men. And if the old man had never been the natural warrior that Alex was, he had managed his own estate for over thirty years. And he had many times taken men from their places on farms and in crafts and made them into armsmen. Experience had taught him what worked best and Alex listened, even repeating his lessons to make sure he had clear what Frewyn’s halting and slurred speech might have obscured.
Soon enough, however, Frewyn reached the limit of his strength and waved Alex and Desiree away. Elias, who had been hovering with Pollock in the background, almost rushed forward and from a whispered sound told them that Frewyn would go directly to his bed and that they should take their evening meal in the hall.
Desiree seemed about to protest, but although he was smiling, Elias gently shook his head at her and whispered, “Sleep is his best medicine now.”
She cast one more worried look at her husband, but rose obediently. Alex was waiting at the door, holding it open for her, and she went through with a casual nod of her head in thanks. He noticed that although she was careful not to brush against him, she did not hesitate or shrink away. Nor did she hurry away so she would not need to walk with him.
She kept pace, side by side, her brow furrowed slightly and then said, “Shall we use the same method in Seaford at we used in Cuckhaven or do you have new ideas?”
“I think it will be easier,” Alex replied. “They are only a little over a league from Ousemouth, and the burned-out fisher stead is barely a mile to the east. They know that if the invasion—or even only a few stray ships—comes ashore here, the town will be looted and burned.”
Alex’s prediction proved accurate. The fisherfolk of Seaford responded enthusiastically as soon as Desiree told them that what she wanted most from them was early warning and their protection of their own ships. Once schooled in use of the short sword and the bow, the fishermen would be released to man their ships.
Thirty-five sturdy apprentices and journeymen stood forth, ready to march to Exceat the next day. And of those, five declared that they would like to take service in the keep. Three admitted that they were incurably seasick so that every fishing trip was an interminable misery, the other two said flatly that they hated the craft, hated being cold and wet, hated the burn of salt on cracked hands, hated the smell and taste of fish. Whether they would like being men-at-arms any better, Alex doubted, for the work was no less hard, but he fixed their faces in his mind.
The town produced another thirty-five. Alex thought, looking at them, that they were the stupid, the lazy and the clumsy, but he made no objection. As he had said before, one did not need a specially bright mind to be a man-at-arms and laziness would be quickly cured by Godric and Byford. And if the clumsiness was truly a kind of disease that could not be cured by training rather than a result of quickly growing limbs, those could be sent back to their Masters.
Alex and Desiree returned to Exceat just as the sun was setting. Frewyn was alert, glad to see them, and eager to learn how many me
n had been collected. Alex and Desiree described what they had done in strophe and antistrophe, occasionally smiling at each other or laughing over some silliness or awkwardness of the townsfolk. Frewyn did not seem to notice their easy companionship, but he had some useful suggestions about lodging, which would be tight until the fisherfolk could be returned to their ships. Then he sent them off to have their evening meal together.
Desiree frowned and said she had intended to read to him after being absent the whole day, but he said he had business with Father Harold. He waved them away, smiling—as much as his half-frozen mouth would allow.
That worried Alex a little. Sir Frewyn seemed to be eager for him and Desiree to spend as much time as possible together. Surely Sir Frewyn could not wish to put temptation in their way.
Desiree’s behavior now also began to trouble him. She no longer tried to avoid him, but he often felt her eyes on him, although he never caught her staring. She made no overt move, never tried to touch him, and all her talk was about purely practical things—organizing food for the new men, finding shoes for the fishermen who mostly went barefoot aboard ship, whether they could find enough dry grass and bracken to provide pallets. However, there was something in her face…
Two equally horrible ideas rose alternately in Alex’s mind, one taking hold and being suppressed only to make way for the other. One thought was that Desiree had spoken of her desire to Sir Frewyn and had received permission to violate her marriage vows. The other, which was briefly a relief and then a sharper agony, was that she had somehow conquered her sinful need completely and no longer wanted him. Alex could not bear either thought. He ate quickly and escaped to the blameless company of Byford, who was eager to discuss with him how he wanted the new men handled.
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