A Midsummer Knight's Kiss (HQR Historical)

by Elisabeth Hobbes

  ‘We’ll do as you say.’

  Cheering inside at this victory, Robbie fell in beside Roger and they walked side by side towards the friary. The road was littered with rocks and makeshift weapons that had been discarded. Men dressed in everything from tatters to fine homespun lurched about or slumped against walls, passed out from drink.

  ‘This rabble needs whipping until they bleed,’ growled the elder of the knights, kicking a prone figure out of the way. The second knight grunted.

  ‘Insolent upstarts should know their place and keep to it.’

  Robbie shook his head, eyeing the rich nap on the tabards the knights wore and the gems ornamenting their scabbards. The expense of even a modest pageant such as the one taking place this week must seem sickening to men living on next to nothing.

  ‘When Adam delved—’ Robbie said.

  The knight interrupted. ‘And Eve span, who then was the gentleman? I’ve heard what John Ball is said to have preached and my answer is this—I was. Me and my father. And yours here. And theirs before them.’

  Robbie’s chest tightened. He glanced at Roger. He was no more entitled to a name and title than a man who tanned the leather or tended the horses. One such man could have sired him after all.

  ‘Wh-why shouldn’t the poor object when the King squeezes them so hard?’ he asked.

  The knight guffawed. ‘You’re a soft touch!’

  ‘He has a good heart,’ Roger said, shooting the knight a look of animosity. ‘I doubt half the men out this evening have heard the names John Ball or Wat Tyler, but the lad is right. The government raised the tax by three times the original amount. Can you imagine what that did to the needy? I had to look my vassals in the eye while I held my hand out to them and took their means to buy bread.’

  Robbie heard approval in his father’s voice, but he set his jaw, again resenting the older man coming to his defence. Years living away from Wharram meant he had forgotten how stifling his father could be, however good his intentions.

  ‘I do not need you to speak for me and I’m not so naive to think there aren’t people here taking the chance to cause trouble simply for the devilry in them.’

  He strode faster, not caring if Roger and the others kept pace. The bell of St Peter’s Church tolled, signalling curfew, and the sound was taken up by others across the city. As they passed the Council Hall, Roger slowed and his face became thoughtful. Dusk was falling and the flickering of oil lamps lit the small windows as figures passed back and forth in the chamber.

  ‘My poor brother will no doubt be in there trying to make his rational voice heard above the braying of the aldermen and bailiffs,’ Roger said.

  ‘He left his house unguarded?’ Robbie asked in consternation. Horrors filled his imagination of rough men breaking down the door of Hal’s shop, of Rowenna once more falling beneath the swell of their bodies as she had in the crowd. ‘You should go back there.’

  ‘Trying to get rid of me? Don’t fear. I think anyone attempting to gain entry will wish they had not, if I know your mother and aunt.’

  Roger’s eyes glinted with wicked amusement. Robbie felt himself grin. People never managed to stay angry with Roger for long when he decided to be charming. It was a knack Robbie envied.

  ‘It’s a cruel injustice Hal will never be elected Master of the Guild. He would do so well.’ Roger sighed, his eyes still on the window.

  Robbie followed his father’s glance. Rowenna might find it harder to find a husband than she hoped. Hal’s lineage would reflect on her, too, and would limit the number of men who would court her.

  ‘Bastardy is a curse,’ he muttered.

  ‘If you consider a man is only what he is at birth. My brother has spent his entire life proving a bastard of good family and good character can be worth more than a legitimate son who is a wastrel like myself.’

  ‘I mean no criticism of Uncle Hal,’ Robbie said.

  ‘I know,’ Roger said. ‘A man with strength of will can rise above his circumstances, if he strives hard to make the best of his opportunities. Remember that.’

  He gave Robbie an earnest look for a long time. Robbie shifted uncomfortably and looked away. His stepfather’s meaning was clear.

  ‘A man who knew his background would do better,’ he retorted in a low whisper. ‘Knowing whether he was the son of a swineherd or a passing pedlar.’

  Roger’s jaw tightened, the tendons in his throat knotting.

  ‘You insult your mother when you say that,’ Roger muttered, leaning in close. ‘Nothing so base.’

  He walked off, the others falling in behind him in silence. Robbie followed last, keeping watch for any danger and chewing over Roger’s insinuation that he was not of low birth.

  The route to the river took longer than anticipated. Carts had been upturned in the streets and they had to double back on more than one occasion. Once they came across a row of houses on fire. Women passed buckets of water in a chain to quench the flames. Robbie recoiled, the heat and smell of burning wood reaching into his stomach and making it heave. Nevertheless, he was already starting to unbuckle his cloak when Roger took his shoulder, holding him back. He pushed the squire towards the line of women instead of Robbie.

  ‘Stay and help. We’ll carry on,’ he ordered and for once Robbie did not object to Roger taking charge.

  No one spoke again until they reached the gates of the friary. This was where the largest gathering was, where all the various groups of rioters and peacekeepers seemed to have converged. The heavy gates were closed, but the way they rattled when a makeshift battering ram beat against them indicated they would not last long. Robbie and Roger exchanged worried glances.

  ‘Have you fought before?’ Roger asked.

  ‘Never to kill.’

  ‘Well, you won this morning, so there’s hope for you,’ Roger said.

  Robbie shifted uneasily. His victory in the arena, the odd exchange with Rowenna, the conversation with Mary, all seemed much longer ago than this morning.

  A man with strength of will, Roger had said. Robbie could be that. He regarded the mob, which was hurling rocks, sticks, vegetables, anything they had laid their hands on at the door to St George’s Chapel. He drew his bow and loosed off three arrows in quick succession. They embedded themselves in the door just above the heads of the rioters. He was gratified to see Roger raise an eyebrow in surprise.

  ‘A lance would be no use now,’ he said, smiling. Roger bowed his head in acknowledgement.

  ‘Get to your homes!’ Robbie bellowed.

  The mob began to fall back. Robbie’s party drew their swords and joined the line that was steadily pushing the rioters away from the friary and back towards the river. With the night finally cooling and faced with a line of armed, trained men, the mob quickly dispersed. Robbie walked back to the centre of the city in Roger’s company.

  ‘You resented me being here this evening,’ Roger said. ‘I’m sorry for forcing myself on you.’

  The apology took Robbie by surprise. He was on the verge of denying he had cared so much, but Roger would not believe that. Instead he lifted his chin and looked Roger in the eye.

  ‘I need the chance to prove my worth on my own. As you say, a man with strength of will can rise above his circumstances.’

  ‘You’ll have the chance, there’s no doubt about that,’ Roger said grimly. ‘I doubt this will be the end of the troubles. You’ve not had the opportunity to do it during war, but you should count yourself fortunate there. A ragbag of a few hundred dissatisfied city dwellers is not the same as an army determined to slaughter you.’

  He rubbed his right shoulder and rolled it back. It was an old injury from before Robbie was even born. Roger never talked about how he had received it, but clearly it still troubled him years later.

  ‘Not returning to France was the best decision I made. I have your mother t
o thank for that. And you, of course.’

  Roger’s face lit at the mention of Lucy. Whatever else Robbie doubted, he knew their love was the strongest he had ever seen. Even the passion he felt for Mary could not compare.

  ‘I would never want to part from the woman I love,’ he said.

  ‘I was right, your mind is on marriage.’

  Robbie looked at him sharply and Roger grinned widely.

  ‘You have your eye on someone. I thought so last night. I confirmed it when I saw you together today. You have the same expressive eyes as your mother and your whole body proclaims your heart as clearly as if you had written the words on your chest.’

  Robbie hid a smile. He had thought his brief conversation with Mary had been discreet and short enough not to attract notice, but something in his manner had clearly given his feelings away. He resolved to be more cautious, if merely exchanging a few words about a walk had been enough for Roger to guess the emotions that churned inside him.

  ‘If I w-were to ask the woman in question for her hand, would I have your blessing?’ he asked.

  ‘Need you ask? I think I can say with confidence that you would have the blessings of every Danby in Yorkshire.’

  Unexpectedly, Roger drew him into a brief embrace, clapping him on the back hard. Robbie’s heart swelled at the sanction so much he didn’t even object to the embrace.

  ‘Then wish me luck at the feast.’

  * * *

  The unrest had continued into a second day and night. The only thing Rowenna had to be thankful for was that she did not develop the fever that she had feared was upon her when she had become weak, hot and shivery in Robbie’s arms. The flames that had shot through her while simultaneously making her tremble like a newborn lamb had obviously been the temporary result of her escapade in the tournament ground.

  Uncle Roger called by the house early on the second evening. Rowenna rushed to him eagerly, hoping for news of what was happening, but he refused to speak in front of his daughters, saying it was men’s business. He chucked her under the chin, turning her face to the light.

  ‘You look brighter than you did yesterday,’ he said.

  Rowenna hushed him quickly. ‘No one knows about what happened beyond you and Robbie, and I intend that no one will, if I’m ever to be allowed to leave the house again.’

  ‘A Danby woman sneaking around against all good advice. How unusual!’ Roger gave her a conspiratorial wink. ‘Don’t fear. We’ll keep your secret.’

  ‘Have you seen Robbie since we parted?’ Rowenna asked, trying to keep her voice light. ‘I hoped he might be able to call.’

  ‘Last night, yes. Not today, though I’m sure he will be safe. He’s a brave lad and knows how to handle his weapon. You saw him in combat yesterday.’

  Once again a vision came to Rowenna of Robbie dancing about on light feet to avoid his opponent, thrusting and blocking with the short sword. It was replaced almost instantly with one of him standing at the water trough after his fight, naked to the waist with his skin slick and glowing from his exertion in the bout. Why could she not rid herself of that memory? Why did it cause her skin to burn inside and out whenever she pictured the dark hair travelling from his firm chest down between the supple muscles of his abdomen?

  Somewhere, out in the city, Robbie was patrolling and facing the fury of the citizens who had decided they would accept unjust treatment no more. She might even have taken arms herself in protest if she had been a man, if it had not meant standing in opposition to her cousin. Those men would not be battling with blunted swords. She bit her lip and turned pleading eyes on her uncle.

  ‘If you see him, will you watch over him?’

  ‘Do you think he needs guarding?’ Roger patted her hand. ‘He’s not a child. I doubt he would welcome my intervention but I’m sure he will be glad to know he is in your thoughts. If you wish, I will try to find him tonight.’

  Roger kissed his wife with a thoroughness that made Rowenna’s cheeks flame and departed. Rowenna ran to the window in time to see Roger striding away and meeting a group of cloaked men. They exchanged words. One dropped his hood down and stared up at the window. With her heart racing, Rowenna recognised Robbie. She waved the candle, hoping he had seen her, and received a brief wave in return. She darted from the window and down the stairs into the workroom at the front of the house, ignoring her mother’s protests. The door was bolted and her fingers fumbled in her haste to open it.

  ‘Bull’s pizz—’ She caught herself midoath and bit her tongue. ‘Oh, why won’t you open?’ She succeeded and flung the heavy door open. She ran out into the street in time to see him striding away, bow in hand.

  ‘Robbie, wait!’ she called.

  He halted, spun on his heel and strode back to her. She met him halfway and flung her arms around him. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her arms around his neck. Her lips grazed against the stubble on his cheek, sending a delightful thrill through her.

  ‘You’re safe. I was so worried.’

  She drew back and looked at him, smiling widely, but he looked furious. Her heart lurched. He tugged her arms from around his neck and held them firmly by her side.

  ‘Get back inside!’

  When she did not move, astonished at his ferocity, he scooped her up with a low growl and carried her bodily back into the house and kicked the door shut behind him with a thump. He deposited her on to the workbench. She sprawled in a graceless heap while Robbie glared down at her, hands on hips. His eyes flashed and, with his dishevelled hair in tangles and leather jerkin, he looked alarmingly dangerous.

  And astonishingly handsome. The feverish chills threatened to return.

  ‘Have you lost your senses?’ Robbie thundered. ‘It isn’t safe out there!’

  Rowenna hopped from the table and faced him, arms mirroring his. ‘I was standing in front of my own house!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Which was no doubt bolted and the windows shuttered for good reason,’ Robbie snapped. ‘I’ve spent most of today doing my best to avoid being hit by rocks or worse hurled by an angry m-mob and keep the peace. Believing you were all safe inside was the one worry I didn’t have to consider.’

  ‘And I worry when the people I care for are marching around the city at risk of death!’ Rowenna’s cheeks flamed. ‘I didn’t think it would be dangerous outside here.’

  ‘Of course you didn’t.’ He rolled his eyes, but there was humour in them. ‘What did you want?’

  ‘Just to see you and check you were safe. Your father said he hadn’t seen you today. I asked him to watch over you if he saw you.’

  Robbie’s brow knotted. ‘There was no need to do that. I can look after myself.’

  Rowenna bit her lip, realising she’d blundered. Roger had been right to predict Robbie’s resentment. ‘He said the same, but it eased my mind. You must both indulge me. I know you can look after yourself, but don’t turn away anyone who wants to do the same.’

  Robbie looked slightly mollified. Rowenna put her hand to his chest to pacify him, feeling the shape of the muscles beneath his leather jerkin.

  ‘Will you please tell me what is happening? Your father said there was nothing to trouble us with, but I don’t believe him. He grows too protective over us. I’m not too stupid to understand, or too weak to withstand the knowledge.’

  Robbie’s eyes lost a little more of their annoyance. A flicker of a smile crossed his lips.

  ‘No one would ever call you weak or stupid.’

  He wrapped his arms around her, giving her a brief squeeze. Rowenna smelled smoke and earthiness and had to resist burrowing in closer to drink in his scent. She leaned back to stare at him.

  ‘Tell me, then. I know you don’t keep things from me.’

  ‘Very well, if it means you stay indoors. The friary has been breached. The city militia are attempting to suppress the violence an
d force the mob back, but it is proving difficult. My skill with the bow was brought to the attention of the commander this morning.’

  His voice brimmed with pride. Rowenna hugged him tighter. ‘Well done. Is it over now?’

  ‘Not yet. I’m being sent to guard the bridge at Lendal and fire warning volleys at anyone who attempts to cross.’

  He unwound his arms from around her. Rowenna reluctantly let him go. ‘I’m needed. Before I go, can you spare me a cup of wine? I’m a husk.’

  Rowenna took the stairs two at a time. When she returned, he was staring through the half-closed door at the road. His shoulders were tense and his manner watchful. Real fear flooded Rowenna and she had to force herself not to beg him to stay with her. He needed to do his duty and she would not stand in his way. She held the cup out to him and he took it, fingers brushing against hers. He drank slowly, looking at her over the rim. His gentle brown eyes were shadowed from not enough sleep. Remorse flashed through her at having created problems by distracting him.

  ‘You look a mess,’ she said with a forced smile.

  She ran her hands through his hair, rearranging it in a neater fashion across his forehead, tucking stray curls behind his ear as if making him neat would ward off any danger. Her fingers brushed against the lobe and his eyes widened.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

  ‘I cannot arm myself and fight at your side and I have no favour to give you.’ She bit her lip. ‘I shall make you presentable enough so that if you meet with the Mayor himself he will marvel at your knightly bearing.’

  She straightened his collar and unexpectedly her eyes stung. It would most likely be Mary’s place to do this before long. She widened her fingers over his neck, leaned in and, with her heart in her throat, kissed his cheek. She felt his jaw tighten, but he rested his face against hers and they stood motionless together.

  ‘I can’t stay,’ Robbie said.

  ‘I know. Stay safe,’ Rowenna answered.

  ‘I should be saying that to you.’ Robbie felt for her hand and squeezed it. ‘Stay indoors now and bolt the door after I go.’