Knight for a Husband

by Ling, Maria

  Will tugged at her hand. "I don't want you to fight," he said.

  Hugh smiled then, a weary smile but with a trace of hope in his eyes. "Heed the child," he said. "Raise him for a better world than this."

  "I'll try," Mary said, and rocked Will where she stood. "I'm doing my best with such skills as I have."

  "So am I," Hugh said. "And I won't find fault with your methods if you don't find fault with mine."

  Mary bristled. "What would you know of raising children?"

  "What would you know of waging war?"

  "I know what's right," Mary flared. "And the killing or maiming or dispossessing of innocents is wrong. That much I do know."

  "Coddling a boy until he fears to stand by himself is folly," Hugh replied. "You think he won't have to handle life for himself, and sooner than you imagine?"

  "I don't coddle him," Mary snapped back. "I keep him out of harm's way."

  "I did that," Hugh said. "For the pair of you. By knowing my work, well enough to be respected and listened to. If my lord finds out the truth, well, then I'm dead. And you two will both wish you were. But while he's convinced I'm like himself, he'll let me be. He'll grant me autonomy, he'll grant me command. And I can go on doing what's right in my own eyes, with no interference from men who desire only that others should suffer and die. You think that's wrong?"

  "Leave my son alone," Mary said. Will wriggled in her grasp.

  "He's not a toy," Hugh said. "He's not a rag doll for you to cling to for the sake of your own comfort. He's a boy and soon to be a man, and he needs to learn man's work while he's still young enough to develop skill in it." He paused, breathed deeply, as if he strove to calm himself. "I'll take him off you," he said. "As of now. He needs a father, every boy does. And when he comes up against John de Bois, he'll need to know how to survive by himself. Unprotected. Because I won't be there."

  Mary stared at him, her mind utterly blank. "That man is gone," she said. "Why would Will ever face him again?"

  "Because he'll come back," Hugh said. He really did look tired now, frazzled and worn. "He'll come for the money and he'll come for the boy. And I don't know how to stop him. Not without waging war on my own lord, which leaves me with little option but to join the Angevin cause. And that I will never do."

  Mary struggled to breathe. The air pressed out of her lungs, as if a great weight collapsed on her, and she couldn't draw it back in. "You'll let him have Will?"

  "Not if I can find another way," Hugh said. "And it may come to battle after all. Why do you think I'm readying this castle? It's not only the Angevins I fear. But I may lose. John de Bois is a great leader and a fine soldier. I've fought for him long enough to know. And if he defeats me and captures you both, well. You'll both need to know how to survive."

  Will squirmed. "Mother, you're hurting me."

  She was, she realised. She gripped him so hard her own hands ached. "I'm sorry, darling." She forced herself to open her hands and let go, allow him to slip out of her control. Fixed Hugh with a stare that was part disbelief, part desperate plea. "What can you teach him?"

  "How to fight, for a start," Hugh said. "John de Bois respects strength in men, he may like it in a boy. If he sees promise in him, he may be inclined to be lenient. I don't know. I'd rather not guess. But one thing I'm certain of, and that is he won't abide a girlish child. Nor a timid one, or clumsy, or fearful. Show those qualities and you might as well cut your own throat first. It may not matter, in the end -- Will might be the most promising young soldier John's ever seen, and if he's in a fell mood that still won't make a difference. But it might. So I intend to try."

  Will stood before him, confident as he'd never been before. "I know how to fight," he said. "Father taught me."

  "You can show me, then," Hugh said. "Do you also know how to care for horses and equipment, how to serve at table, how to sing and play the lute?"

  "Of course."

  "Then that's a start." Hugh glanced at Mary. "Your husband trained him well."

  "Maybe." It was the beatings, she couldn't bear those, she'd hated him every time the lash struck. He'd hurt Will, and she'd never forgive him for that. But if Will's life was at stake, and if it was Hugh -- "Please don't go so hard on him."

  "That depends on how he performs," Hugh said. "Do not doubt he'll suffer if he fails." He fixed Will with that grim impassive stare. Will stared right back, unflinching. "Good," Hugh said. "It's a start. We'll see what I can wring from you, young man."

  ***

  "He'd do well at another man's house," Hugh said that evening. "I'll stand father to him for now, there's no sense in making other arrangements, especially until we know which way John de Bois decides to lean. But a boy should be raised away from his mother, once he's old enough to leave her arms. Which Will is, clearly."

  "Why should he?" Mary demanded. "What's wrong with a man raising his own son? If he's a good man -- "

  "Away from his mother, I said," Hugh interrupted. "How can he grow into a man while he's surrounded by childhood things? And with a woman who clings to him every moment of the day because she can't bear to see him change? Besides, women should bear children. You'll be busy enough in a year or two."

  "Don't take him away from me." Mary shivered, she'd never felt so cold. "Please."

  "He's in my charge," Hugh said. "I'll do what I consider best for him." He put his arms around her and drew her close. "But not just yet. You've both had a shock, it will take time for things to settle. And I have John de Bois to contend with before that. No, you'll keep him for a few months yet. After that, though, I'll see about finding a good place for him." He kissed her, worked his way from her mouth down her throat and onto her chest. She pushed him away.

  "I won't let you take him," Mary said.

  "We'll talk about it nearer the time," Hugh said. "Come to my bed."

  "My husband's bed."

  "I am your husband."

  He was, of course. Mary shifted in his arms. She didn't want this, not now.

  "I don't understand," Hugh said. "Last night -- "

  "You hadn't just threatened to take my son away."

  Hugh sighed. "I'm not threatening," he said. "I'm just saying. It's time he learned to be a man. Not this moment, but soon. In a year or two, if you like. When things are more settled. And when, by God's grace, we're not at war. Until then, I'll teach him what he needs to know." He pulled her closer, reached down to kiss her cheek and then her neck. "Now will you come to bed with me?"

  Mary fought a smile. Desire spiralled within her, hesitant and shy. "I will," she said. "If you command it."

  "Don't tempt me." He held her close, pressed his body against hers, she could feel his erection through the linen. "Actually, do tempt me. I long to fall."

  Mary laughed, she couldn't help it. Threw her arms around him and kissed him, openly and without fear. His lips sought hers, eager, clumsy with passion, and he tasted of wine and bread. His hands bunched her shift, pulled it up towards her waist, searched for her skin. Stroked her, she loved to feel him touch her, the way his hands ran over her back and buttocks, the way they drew her towards him, not too hard, he still knew how to be gentle, even when he pressed against her so fierce it dug flesh from her belly.

  "Come to bed," Hugh said. "Before I disgrace myself completely."

  She let him lead her there, let him lay her down and pull her shift all the way up to her waist. She gasped as he entered her, not in pain but in pleasure, she'd wanted this. Wanted to feel him hot and strong and smooth inside her, wanted him to dig in deep and thrust again and again, faster and faster, until she felt herself rise onto the brink of exquisite fulfuliment -- and descend again, crash down into an ecstasy that tore and shook her and left her clinging to him, wordless, focused only on this endless soaring moment of utter delight.

  She came to her senses, slowly, to find that he was still there, waiting for her, absolutely still. She moved a little against him, heard him gasp in pleasure against her ear.


  "Go on," she said, nudged him and then urged him, because she wanted that too, wanted him to reach fulfilment inside her.

  "No," Hugh said in a strangled voice. "Not yet."

  She laughed out loud, hugged him to her and whispered against his throat, begged him to release. He did then, with a yell that shook her and left her breathless, panting and giggling, praying that Will remained fast asleep behind the curtain in his alcove. She'd have to check on him, she thought in sudden contrition, he might have heard and be upset. But not yet, not while Hugh clung to her and she to him, and they rocked against the bed, laughing breathlessly and seeking each other's mouths with new urgency.

  "There," Hugh whispered at last, slack and spent and mastering himself. "You've proved your point. I should have made arrangements long before now."

  Mary grinned at him. They hadn't blow out the candle yet, they could still see each other. Light glimmered in his eyes, reflected back at her, she couldn't see their colour now.

  "I'm glad you didn't," she said. "It wouldn't have been with me."

  "No," Hugh admitted. "Though I could have done with the practice beforehand. That was amazing."

  "For me, too." She smiled up at him, arms around his neck, wrists brushing across his hair. "I've never -- I mean, it never was -- " she didn't have the words for it, just laughed with sheer delight.

  "Never?" Hugh queried.

  "No."

  "Well, that changes things." He rolled over with her above him, cuddled her as she slumped on his chest. "We're both learning together, then."

  "As it should be." Or so she'd been told, though she wasn't sure that she believed it. But it hardly mattered now. She stroked his chest, ran her fingers up over his shoulders, savoured the touch of his skin. "I like what I'm learning."

  "So I've noticed."

  She could hear the smile in his voice, nuzzled his chest in response. His hand ran over her hair, a slow easy caress that soothed and reassured her.

  "Are you happy?" he asked.

  "Very." And she was, she realised. She'd never been truly happy before, she'd always been afraid. But this warm content certainty, this complete and utter peace with the world and with herself in the world -- this must be how it felt to be happy.

  "I'd better check on Will," she added. Hugh let her go, his hands drifting slowly down her arms as she rose, and lingering over her hands. She shook her shift down to make herself decent, then stole across the floor to the alcove.

  Will was fast asleep, one arm outflung to brush the curtain as she eased it aside, eyes shut fast on gentle dreams that cause a light hint of a smile to rise to his face, breaths soft and even. Mary kissed his forehead, pulled the curtain across to give him privacy as well as herself and Hugh, stole back to her husband. Who waited for her, took her up in his arms as she slid across him, laughed into her hair.

  "I would boast that I'm ready for more," he said. "But you'll have to give me a little while."

  "I don't think I am," Mary confessed. But she kissed him, and licked the sweat from his throat, and soon found that they both were.

  ***

  "Like this," Hugh said, and paused to let Will study his stance. "Mind the line of your shoulder and arm. Keep your knee bent but not over. See?"

  The boy nodded. He was showing promise, though he lived in constant fear. Got that from his mother, or from his father's beatings. Listened and paid attention, but was too frightened to try full out, in case he got hurt.

  "I'm not going to beat you," Hugh said. "The main thing is to practice and practice. You think I got this first time? I've spent years learning how to fight. You'll do the same. Understand?"

  Another nod, followed by an honest attempt at copying.

  "That's not bad," Hugh said. "Now move your weight across, like this, and -- "

  "Lunge!" Will yelled with a grin. He liked that part.

  "Good," Hugh said. "Keep working on it. The rest will come."

  "It's heavy," Will complained, waving the wooden practice sword.

  "It's the lightest you'll ever handle," Hugh said. "I'll let you try mine one day. When you're not about to collapse under the weight of it. You'll need to get used to armour, too."

  Will resumed his guard, stood thoughtful and silent for a while. Then said: "I'm not strong enough, am I?"

  "No," Hugh said. "You aren't -- not yet. We'll work on that, too." He put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Every man knows weakness. The trick is not to show it, especially in front of anyone else. Other men should admire or fear you, never despise you. Be weak when you're alone, if you must."

  Will gripped the hilt and scowled with renewed determination. "Show me again," he said.

  ***

  "I have something to tell you," Hugh said.

  "What's that?" Mary stood beside him on the battlements, watching the small party of horsemen cross the charred expanse beyond the castle walls. Will rode on ahead, he'd shown good mastery of the pony and Hugh had sent him out with his own men towards the woodland. It was safe enough, or so he claimed, his men had secured it. Whatever that meant -- Mary wasn't at home with military jargon. But she trusted him, now, and if he said it was safe then it must be.

  "The king wrote to me," Hugh said. "He wants me to join him at Oxford. Within the week, if possible."

  She remembered a messenger arriving with a letter that dangled a great seal.

  "You're leaving?" She didn't want him to go. Not now, when they'd got so close to each other. When she knew his body, and loved to touch it and feel it and hold it near her. When the sight of him in the morning lit up her day. When the sound of his voice, even if it was only shouting instructions to the men at the walls, made her feel the world might be a good place for her and Will to live in after all.

  "Probably," Hugh said. "Very likely, in fact. But not just now. I can't spare the men, not with Martin of Wode on the loose, and this place is not yet as solid as I'd like to make it. No, I think I'll stay here for a while longer." He grinned. "You'll have me in your hair for the next month or two. After that, though -- I don't know. There really isn't anyone I can give command to. Not that they couldn't do it, I have half a dozen men who'd relish the chance -- and do as good a job as I would myself. But I'd want them with me in battle, too. No sense leaving them here while I take off for Oxford."

  "You could send them in your place?" Mary suggested hopefully.

  "And look to my king as if I couldn't be bothered to come myself," Hugh replied. "Or worse, look as if I had interests of my own to pursue. He's seen men turn -- driven more away, come to that. Called them to him, then held them prisoner until the signed over their land and castles to him. Hmm." He fell into a reverie. "You may have hit it after all. I'll send another man in my stead, and not go myself. If he means to take Rowes from me, or any other manor I command, he'll have to come for it himself -- and earn it in person, by his own efforts."

  "But you're on his side," Mary protested. "You serve him, and loyally. Why would he treat you so shamefully?"

  Hugh shrugged. "He is a king. They're apt to deal badly with their subjects -- even the loyal ones. And Stephen's done it before. No, I won't heed his call. I'll stay here and make Rowes safe, and meet Martin of Wode if he cares to come calling. If Stephen has thoughts about that, he can tell me so himself. When he comes."

  "And if," Mary said.

  "If indeed," Hugh said. "He may forget all about me. Which is not entirely a bad thing. Though it does mean I can't climb in his favour. On the other hand, I already have what I'd most want him to give me." He put his arms around her and smiled down into her face, leaned down to kiss her. His lips touched hers, connected with the soft slow caress he was learning to perfect, eased her mouth open for his tongue to probe. Mary shivered with excitement and pressed her body close to him, her breasts and thighs yielding against the pressure of hard muscle. He wore no armour, she liked that, it meant she could feel the shape of his body against her own. And feel the movement in it, he was aroused now, she longed to dra
g him off to bed and ride him as she'd done before. That made her giggle, with a thrill of illicit excitement. The Church called it sinful, but then dried-up men with no knowledge of women probably would. They didn't know how joyful it was, how gorgeous it felt, or they'd revere it as a sure path to Heaven.

  Hugh's mouth drifted from hers, just close enough for him to whisper: "Tell me what you're thinking."

  "Guess," Mary said, and turned her eyes up towards his. Desire shone from hers, she could feel it, and she saw it reflected in the deep dark blue of his.

  "Oh," Hugh said. "That suits me well. Can you wait a few hours or must I attend to this matter immediately?"

  "On the instant," Mary said. "It cannot wait."

  "It takes precedence even of the king's business?"

  "Absolutely."

  Hugh laughed and kissed her again. "Then I'll make time for it at once. Go and make ready. I'll join you within moments."

  And he did. They had a quick, urgent, eager mating, so full of joy and pleasure that neither of them could stop smiling as they descended the stairs once again. Will, oblivious, was playing on the rubble, watched with indulgence by a couple of Hugh's men, who'd been assigned to train him. She liked both of them, from what she'd seen, they had his easy confident way with Will, who in turn thrived on their attention. He'd needed that, she thought with a sting of grief, he'd suffered from the lack of male encouragement. But he had it now, at last, and she could tell it was doing him good. Already he seemed taller, stood loose and easy as Hugh himself, confident in his body and his place in the world.

  It wouldn't take much to make him stumble again, she recognised that. Him or herself, for that matter. The grief and pain and deep jagged scars could not heal so quickly. But freed from immediate danger, they might at least begin to heal -- even if completion did take years, or even if they never fully reached it. Others lived maimed, after all, whether in body or in soul. She could not excuse herself from the lot of all humanity, and much as she wished to, she could not excuse Will either.

  Though she did wish it, she wanted to hold him clear of every hurt. She wondered, for the first time, if it was really him she needed to protect, or if it was some part of herself she sought to rescue. That thought hadn't crossed her mind before, but it anchored there now, a great looming bulk she could not ignore.