by Regan Walker
The boys shrugged, but Cecily’s lips formed a pout. Merewyn knew the girl would not let Lady Serena’s words get in her way should she want to learn. In Cecily, Merewyn recognized a spirit like her own.
As they neared the tent, the smell of fresh-baked tarts wafted through the air. “Tarts!” shouted Tibby. With that, the three children scampered off in search of their favorite treat. Merewyn watched them for a moment, wistful at the idea of children of her own. ’Twas a dream she did not expect to see realized.
“Little Cecily is correct,” said Lady Serena. “You did well today.”
Merewyn was not unhappy with her performance but she wanted to do better next time. “Thank you, my lady. Mayhap next time I can add another arrow. What do you think?”
“You could do it, I’ve no doubt. Did Rhodri teach you the feat?”
“Nay, Rhodri’s archers fight from the trees, not from a galloping horse. ’Twas another.” Lady Serena looked at her expectantly. “Owain, a prince of Powys and a good friend.”
They entered the tent and accepted cups of ale, then took them outside to stand under the trees where there was shade and privacy.
“I expect Rhodri had you following his archers all over the Welsh mountains,” said Lady Serena.
“Not at first.” Merewyn laughed, remembering Rhodri’s worries. “He was afraid if anything happened to me you would take up your bow against him.”
“And so I would have, the scoundrel. It is well you are home, for I think ’tis time you became a lady.”
Merewyn was about to object that it seemed unlikely she would ever be considered a lady. She was not even the daughter of one of Talisand’s knights. Serena must have seen Merewyn’s doubt but misunderstood its cause.
“I, too, had to give up a man’s tunic and hosen when I became Ren’s wife. The day draws near when we must find you a husband. It will help if you dress in a manner to attract one. Do any of my husband’s men appeal?”
Only one man appealed to Merewyn and she was certain he was not among those Lady Serena would list as potential suitors. “Nay.”
“Well, you have been home only a short while. Time will show you the one. Meanwhile, I have been thinking that when the king summons my lord to the meeting of his barons, you and I should go along. I had little respect for the first William and mayhap I will have less for this one, but you have seen so little of England outside of Talisand, I would have you go.”
Merewyn had never been to London and she admired Lady Serena. To be with her on such an adventure would be a great pleasure. “I would gladly go with you, my lady.” But Lady Serena’s hopes for her might be too high. Could she ever leave behind her past? Would the king’s court be filled with those who would think less of her for it?
Lady Serena must have read her thoughts. “Do not think of the past, Merewyn. Your beginning does not have to define you. ’Tis the woman you have become that is important. You have grown into an intelligent, spirited young woman. It will be important for you to be accepted at the king’s court as one who has the favor of Talisand’s lord. ’Tis even possible you will find a suitor there among the king’s knights.”
Merewyn returned Serena a tentative smile. She would find no suitor at the king’s court and she still had reservations about appearing at the king’s palace. “I do not know how to behave before the king.”
“But surely you do,” Lady Serena insisted. “Emma raised you in your early years and she is a highborn lady. Her father was one of King Harold’s nobles before the Normans came. I know she taught you French.”
“Aye, I can speak the Norman tongue.”
“And you were with Rhodri for six years,” Lady Serena continued. “Did not his wife, Fia, tutor you in the ways of a lady? And were you not accepted in Rhodri’s court?”
“Yea, but that was Wales.”
Lady Serena gave an uncharacteristic snort. “From what I have heard, there is more dignity in Rhodri’s court than in William’s, but we shall see. I have not joined my husband in his visits to London since William Rufus was crowned four years ago. It is past time I do so. Now that I think of it, Alex’s foster father, the Earl of Chester, will be there. Mayhap I can convince my husband to call upon the earl and his countess on our way south. You would enjoy Ermentrude.”
When they had finished their ale and Lady Serena bid her good day, Merewyn bent to retrieve her quiver of arrows and saw a man’s shoes in front of her eyes. Raising her gaze, she took in the long hosen-clad male legs with cross straps of leather, a dark blue tunic and, finally, as she stood, a smiling Alexander with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Are you avoiding me, mistress?” His manner was teasing but she detected a hint of annoyance in his voice. In truth, she had been avoiding him, embarrassed by his kiss in the stables and her reaction to it. But she would never admit it. “I was shooting in the archery contest.”
“I know. I was watching. Your talent with a bow rivals that of my lady mother.”
“It was Lady Serena who first taught me, but I do not consider myself her equal.”
“You are modest. ’Tis a fine virtue for a woman, but in this case, mayhap misplaced. My mother claims your skill with a bow exceeds her own. After seeing you shoot from your pony, I would not say her nay. Nor, I suspect, would anyone at Talisand.”
Merewyn smiled at his words, for against her better judgment, it pleased her to think he had watched her and admired her skill. “You do not think it unseemly?” She cared desperately that he should approve. But no matter his reaction, she would never give up the weapon that made her safe.
“How could I when they still tell the stories of my own mother donning a lad’s clothing and killing a Norman knight with her arrow to save my father? Still, I prefer you in the gown you wore last eve. ’Twas very becoming.”
His gray eyes bore into hers and she knew he was remembering not her gown but their kiss. So intense was his gaze, she had to look away, her cheeks flaming. “Thank you.”
When she returned her attention to him, he was looking toward the clearing where the sword fighting was taking place. “My match is about to begin. I hope you will attend.” Without waiting for an answer, he bowed and left her, striding toward the area set off by pennons.
Merewyn followed slowly, watching until he reached the roped off area. She wanted to observe his skill, for she had heard he was accomplished with a blade. Even at thirteen summers, he had wielded both fist and sword well. What was he like now?
By the time she arrived, Alex was facing off with Jamie. The two knights circled each other, their swords drawn and faces set in determination.
Even in the shade of the tall oaks, the air was overwarm. Neither man wore mail or helm, only a short tunic over hosen. Alex had confined his long black hair to his nape with a leather cord. Already his forehead beaded with sweat.
Seeing Lora watching from the other side of the clearing, Merewyn went to join her.
“First blood and not much of it,” the Lord of Talisand, overseeing the match, reminded the knights, “and no hits above the shoulders.”
A crowd of men gathered around, shouting encouragement to their favorite, eager to see the Red Wolf’s son fighting the captain of the house knights.
Jamie moved first with a downward strike, but Alex quickly blocked the blade with an upward thrust. The older knight had powerful arms and a decade more experience than Alex. Jamie’s skill had been honed in sparring with the Red Wolf nearly every day. But Alex, with his agile strength, moved gracefully, more like an animal than a man, allowing him to avoid the older knight’s blade with his quick twists and turns.
After that, the blows came in rapid succession, steel meeting steel, as the two opponents forced each other back and forth over the uneven ground.
Alex’s blade slid along the edge of Jamie’s sword, the shrieking metal setting Merewyn’s nerves on end. It was not a real battle but close enough for her to hear in her mind the sounds of many swords clashing. She could easily i
magine Alex as he might be in battle: his powerful muscles flexing with every slash of his sword, his black hair flying about his shoulders and the look on his face one of dangerous intent.
Alex suddenly twisted around so fast he was a blur, his blade striking Jamie’s twice before it stilled. Given the startled look on Jamie’s face, Merewyn was certain he had not expected the move. The men watching shouted their approval. Neither had they. She glanced up at Alex’s father whose face bore a grin. Had he taught Alex the move?
Children cheered from the sidelines. Cecily jumped up and down, flanked by her two companions. Alex’s younger brother, Tibby, watched Alex closely, his admiration for his older brother shining in his eyes.
Jamie paused and Alex shot a glance to where Merewyn stood next to Lora. Taking advantage of the lapse, Jamie swung hard, forcing Alex to block the blade close to his body. It appeared Alex would prevail, but suddenly he stumbled and went down.
* * *
The tip of Jamie’s sword pressed into Alex’s chest. A bit more pressure and it would pierce his tunic and draw blood.
“Yield, Alex.”
He smiled up at the blond knight. “Aye, ’tis your win, Jamie.” The older knight offered Alex his hand and he took it.
“You are being very gracious about this loss, Alex.”
“Mayhap, but I expect a rematch and soon,” said Alex. They laughed about their various moves as they strode from the clearing. Once Jamie left him, his two friends rushed to his side, incredulous looks on their faces.
“What was that?” Rory questioned. “You never lose your footing, no matter the ground.”
“Yea,” said Guy, his forehead furrowed. “I have never seen you clumsy afore this.” The younger knight furrowed his brow at Alex’s amused grin. “Are you ill?”
Alex laughed. “Nay.” Speaking under his breath, he confided, “Jamie might have won without my help, but ’twas my intention to assure he did.”
His friends stared back at him, open-mouthed. “Why?” they asked as one.
He raised his brows. “Have you not observed Jamie is smitten with Lora but she pays him little attention? When I saw Lora closely watching, I thought to give Jamie a boost in her eyes.”
“Ah,” said Rory. “I begin to understand. ’Twas great-hearted of you. But your lord father will think you are slipping.”
“Nay, he will not,” said Alex. “After I’ve defeated the two of you,” he said with a grin, “I will meet him.”
“Ho! The arrogance of our leader!” cried Rory.
“Then let the next match be mine!” said Guy.
“You shall have it,” said Alex, a slow smile crossing his face. Guy was the youngest of Talisand’s knights. His most difficult tests lay ahead of him and Alex was glad to show him the way.
In the next two rounds, Alex defeated his friends. Guy had learned much in Normandy but his lesser experience showed in the end. Rory made a single error that Alex quickly seized upon.
When he finally challenged his father, Alex was winded, but determined. He approached the Lord of Talisand who stood observing the remaining matches. “ ’Tis you I would next lock swords with, Father.”
The Red Wolf turned to face him, proud, erect and secure in his ability. His reputation on the battlefield was legendary even before Alex was born. His chestnut hair was now streaked with gray and framed a lined face that bore witness to the decades he had served the Conqueror.
“Are you certain you do not need a brief rest to recover?” his father asked, amusement twinkling in his eyes.
“Hardly. And do not go easy on me, Father. I would have a real test of my skill. We’ve not sparred since I left for Normandy.”
The Red Wolf returned him a predatory gaze. “Very well.”
The crowd’s conversation faded to a hushed silence as father and son faced off in the center of the clearing, circling each other slowly. Alex reminded himself of his father’s reputation. He might limp at times from the old riding accident, but as he circled Alex, ’twas not apparent.
Gray eyes met gray eyes as each took the other’s measure. Alex had been schooled by his father not to be hasty but to consider the other man’s moves before attacking. Hence, they continued to circle, eyes narrowed, each waiting for the other to strike. Alex was determined to be patient.
“I suppose I must begin this,” his father said in a low voice, “else we will be here all day. And your mother watches with a worried face from the sidelines as it is.”
The Red Wolf stepped back and with a powerful arc of his sword sending flashes of light into the air, brought his blade down hard upon Alex’s sword raised in defense.
As one, the crowd inhaled, the air hissing through their teeth.
The blow sent a wave of shock through Alex’s arm, but he held firm. “You will not end it so easily, Father. I have grown stronger.”
His father grinned back. “I have noticed.”
The Red Wolf tapped the end of Alex’s blade, testing his reaction. Alex did not leap into the void, but waited until the opening he had wanted appeared. With quick reflexes, he slashed his sword first right and then left, the sound of clashing blades loud in the clearing. He had not confused his father, as he had hoped, but he’d gained movement forward nonetheless.
Striking again and again, he drove the Red Wolf back, but the older knight recovered and came at him with another powerful blow.
Their swords crossed, bringing their faces close together over the blades, two pairs of gray eyes shooting sparks at each other, their chests heaving short breaths.
Another long round of their clashing blades followed, at the end of which, his father loudly proclaimed, “I declare a tie!” Stepping back, he raised his sword in front of his face, pointing the tip to the sky, a signal the match was concluded.
“A tie it is,” said Alex, sheathing his sword and bowing before the knight he respected above all others. If he had to stand in anyone’s shadow he wanted it to be this man’s.
The crowd seemed to approve. Loud shouts of praise were followed by “Ale for Talisand’s wolves!”
His father laughed. Wrapping his arm around Alex’s shoulder, he led him to the blue and white tent. “ ’Tis time you had your own banner, Son. What do you say to a black wolf?”
“Aye,” said Alex, accepting the large cup overflowing with amber liquid. “Mayhap on a crimson field.”
His father smiled his approval. “So be it!”
Joined by their fellow knights and men-at-arms, expounding on the fine points of the morning’s contests, Alex and his friends happily imbibed the ale that was set before them. It was another hour before they left for the hall, Alex’s steps unsteady and his speech slurred. But it had been a good day and he regretted naught of it.
At the door of the hall, he waved off his two friends and headed for the manor, his only thought a comfortable bed where he might sleep for a few hours before the evening meal.
* * *
After the matches were finished, Merewyn and Lora walked along the bank of the River Lune speaking as two friends long separated. It was one of several conversations they had enjoyed in the months since Merewyn had been back, most of them concerning changes at Talisand.
In her hand, Merewyn still carried her bow, hardly aware of it or the quiver of arrows slung over her shoulder.
“Tell me more about Wales,” Lora asked. “You seem so different since your return.”
Images of warriors clad in brown and green flickered in Merewyn’s mind. “They are fierce in a fight, each one skilled with a bow. Few of the women seek to have such skill, but they did not discourage my interest. Rhodri’s encouragement and his approval gained me a place among them.”
“Why did it mean so much to you to go? I missed your company.”
“I had to go, Lora. I wanted to be able to protect myself. You know what I faced here. And you know the stories about Lady Serena as well as I. Imagining her dressed in an archer’s clothing, killing a Norman knight to save the
Red Wolf, I wanted to be like her.”
“You very nearly are. The men now speak of you with admiration.”
Merewyn smiled to herself. “Mayhap they will respect the bow where they did not respect the girl and stay away.”
“You want the men to stay away?” Lora asked, a look of disbelief on her face.
“Aye.” Most of them. She would not speak of her feelings for Alex she kept locked in her heart or the change that had occurred in her thinking about him. Turning her friend’s attention to the match, she said, “The sword fighting was exciting, do you not agree?”
“I liked the fight between Earl Renaud and his son. Except for the years that separate them, the two fight in similar fashion. Alex was so… powerful.”
Merewyn had hoped Lora would speak of Jamie, but having seen her watching Alex, she was not surprised this contest had drawn her friend’s attention. The Red Wolf had seen many battles and his experience showed in his practiced moves and his powerful strikes, but Alex’s skill did nearly equal that of his father. “ ’Twas exciting to see them spar, even frightening, but there were other matches. Did you not think Jamie did well?”
The dark-haired daughter of Sir Alain smoothed the skirt of her leaf green gown, while appearing to ponder the question. She stood taller than Merewyn, her height gained from her father, the huge knight who carried the Red Wolf’s banner.
“He won,” Lora finally said, “but only because Alex stumbled, else it might have ended differently.”
Merewyn wanted her friend to see the good in the golden-haired English knight who, like Merewyn, had been taken under Lady Serena’s wing. “Earl Renaud has much confidence in Jamie,” she said. “ ’Tis an honor to be named captain of the house knights.”
Lora tossed her thick hair behind her. The sun glistening in the long strands made them appear like burnt umber. It was not difficult to imagine why Jamie was so enamored of her. And Lora had a good heart, using her knowledge of herbs, gained from her mother, for others.
“Jamie is an honorable knight,” Lora admitted. “But I have known him all my life. He was already the Red Wolf’s squire when I was born.”