How to Train Your Knight: A Medieval Romance Novel

by Alden, Stella Marie

Marcus stormed out the front door in pursuit of the harpy and was met halfway by James. “By God’s nails, Brother, you’d better be off rather than stand in my way. Eve came from the rib of Adam, not the other way around. How’s that going to look to them.” He pointed to the townspeople.

  Unlike other days, where they lingered to talk, they were taking their food and hurrying back to their homes. “She’s too soft. They’re my serfs, yet she treats them like her own babes. They take advantage too much. She’s a curse upon me, for she’ll give away all I own.”

  Brother James reached out to keep him from charging toward her. In an instant, Marcus’ blade went to the holy man’s throat. Then, aghast, he dropped his knife to the ground and went to one knee with head bowed low.

  “Forgive me. I’d not harm you. I still have bad habits learned from years at war.” He stared at the new shoots of spring grass. If God could renew the whole earth, why could he not do the same for him?

  James gripped his arm, pulling him up, effortlessly. “It’s no matter. That’s why I stayed your siege. You’ve a fine temper and good senses that have kept you alive to this day. Even yesterday, I hear, it kept you in good stead.”

  He grimaced. “Aye. Against Abernathy’s men.”

  Looking over his shoulder, he nodded where Ann stood near the food table. “No wonder she owns nothing, like a nun she lives.”

  “Like vows of poverty? I think not.” James motioned that they head toward the well. “Come, a cool draught, then we need to talk.”

  “She has no gowns or jewels.”

  Eyebrows raised. “There’s not much value in them for her. Whatever she has owned in the past has been taken away or taxed by your father.”

  “No doubt. My father could drain blood from a stone.”

  “Even now, everything she owns is legally yours.”

  “So she keeps nothing for herself?”

  He shook his tonsured head. “I’d guess she hides some of her wealth. But most of all, she has invested in the lands and her people. These are her most prized possession.”

  Her hair flew about in the wind and hairpins scattered as she served. Sighing, he retrieved the ribbon and returned to the well.

  “That’s why she feeds the lot of them?” He fingered the filthy band in his hands and was surprised how much it stung that she cared so little for it.

  “Aye. That and it is more productive.”

  Marcus snickered. “Productive. Now that is not a term I’ve ever heard a woman use.”

  He bent over the well and let loose the bucket. It gave a little splash, then he turned the crank. He offered the ladle to James for the first drink, who took a swallow and edged up to sit on the wall.

  “She’s astonishing. The abbey library holds ancient books that are in truth, too rare to touch—copied by our friars since the time of the Romans. Thinking back, it may have been a mistake, but she was so eager to learn Latin—”

  “She reads that as well?” Taking the ladle back, Marcus let the cool, sweet water quench his parched throat. Then he filled it again, rubbing the grime away from the ribbon until it looked anew.

  “Aye. I don’t know why, but God gave her a mind more suited for a man.”

  “So tell me more about this book.” Marcus leaned against the well wall as the sun climbed higher. A shadow moved across the green, a cardinal warbled its favorite tune over and over, and he could swear he might be calming. Remarkable.

  “The Roman general stationed at this post hundreds of years ago, fancied himself an author. In it, he describes in detail, on how to efficiently run an army. I didn’t know it at the time, but I believe she used it as her own Bible.”

  “Say it’s not so.” He watched his wife with a whole new eye. Now she was busying herself by talking to several of the older couples and packing the leftover meat into a basket.

  “Aye. I merely taught her the language and showed her the book. The rest, well, you see here. I think I might be happier if she had the same thirst for piety.”

  “Piety? Lady Ann?” He scoffed with a little laugh.

  Raising an eyebrow, Brother James looked a bit offended. “I didn’t mean to imply that she has none. I believe her faith, despite all she’s gone through, is most irrefutable.”

  “My God, what am I to do with her?” Marcus fingered the yellow ribbon that he’d given her as a token of the previous night. This is what she thought of their first evening together? “At least a part of the marriage has moved forward, as I’m sure the servants have whispered today.”

  Brother James cleared his throat. “Young maids talk. You were gentle?”

  “Aye, but you know not the wonder and the whole of it.”

  “How is that?” Like taking confession, James leaned back against the well, folded his hands, and interlaced his fingers.

  “Apparently, her last husband was dried up. I’ll need to annul the previous marriage.” He paced back and forth with eyes upon the town, watching her. A few women with babies and toddlers sat on the large stones lining the front of the great lawn nursing their infants. It was easy to envision her among them soon, if she ever forgave him.

  “Annul? It won’t be easy.” He shook his head back and forth, watching her, too.

  “I understand the church may need proof. I give you my word, as a Knight Templar, she was pure. I’ll pay whatever fees necessary.” From under his tunic, he untucked a small bloody cloth.

  “Aye, that may help.” Brother James folded the cloth into his massive sleeves with a thoughtful nod.

  Small children ran across the square heading toward the bathhouse. They squealed with delight as a flock of sparrows rose into the air, peeping in harmony. “Now what’s that all about?”

  “It’s Wednesday. Babies and mothers bathe in the morning, after breaking their fast.”

  “Tell me, does everything run on a schedule in this town?”

  “Everything, but you.” He snickered, then grew serious, and cast a dark scowl. “She’s a good soul. See that you don’t stamp it out.”

  Marcus grunted. That sounded a lot like a threat. “I’d ask you one more question.”

  “Aye?”

  “Did Ann’s previous husband cause the condition of her back?”

  Eye met eye, and their noses almost touched. James crossed his arms over his chest. “I assume, no doubt, that you’ve discussed this with her.”

  “She wasn’t very forthcoming, but the cook says you were allowed to see her after each occasion.

  His face didn’t even twitch, giving away nothing, but he sighed deeply. “Aye, and each time, I gave the girl her last rites. I did do my best to comfort and heal her.”

  “Why, for the love of God, didn’t you stop it?” His fist clenched. The girl had gone through hell and there was none to pay justice for it.

  James’ sleeves opened wide in supplication, revealing warriors’ muscles, with a priest’s humility. “I tried. I wrote letters to the church, and to your father, but it is a man’s right to beat his wife. I even offered her the sanctuary of the church, but she wouldn’t abandon her people to that … that … tyrant.”

  “Did she kill him? I assume you examined the body before you buried him.”

  Lowering his arms, he stared defiantly. “I refused to look. Then if questioned, I’d not have to lie.”

  “How convenient.” Marcus frowned.

  “Yes, it was.” He glowered and his right hand first twitched for a sword, but instead moved up to clasp a cross, hanging from a thick chain at his chest.

  “I don’t suppose you can tell me what she confessed to?”

  He scowled more deeply than before and said nothing.

  She shooed the last of the young mothers into the bathhouse and pointed six of her household’s well-dressed maidens back to the manor. “How is it that my manor cares for them, also?” asked Marcus.

  “Well, the ladies, at least, are profitable.” James relaxed, wiped the sweat off his brow, and went for another drink o
f water.

  “How say you?”

  “The neighboring families are willing to pay highly to have their girls groomed with her management skills. They think this will make them more valuable on the marriage market.”

  “But the swearing and cursing, surely that can’t be abided by?”

  “It’s easily overlooked for those wishing wealth beyond compare. Here she comes, now.”

  With eyes studying the grass, she sighed heavily. “Good day, Brother James.”

  “Good day. I see you’ve set the town back on schedule?”

  “Aye. Would you please excuse us? No doubt my husband would have words with me.”

  Hurt fueled anger, as Marcus fingered the yellow ribbon and eyed her already soiled dress. She cared nothing for his gifts or for him. “You’ve the right of it. Into the house, now. I’ll follow you shortly and we’ll discuss your just punishment.”

  James frowned. “If you hurt her—”

  “Be calm. She should nay stage a battle like this morning, but I wouldn’t harm her.” In fact, all he wanted to do is lie with her again, and bring her to ecstasy. If only she’d care enough not to stomp his heart-gifts into the mud.

  When he entered her room, she held a rope of leather. Eyes diverted to the floor, she handed it to him. “Please do it quickly.” Her voice was low and shaky. “I’d like to find time, today, to look into why my dye vat is not ready.”

  The devil’s own whip contained small metal pieces sewn into the ends. “You expect me to use this on you?”

  “I was ill-tempered, and I usurped your authority,” she said with a tone uncommonly quiet and demure. “What else can be done? I apologize and beg mercy.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Would you let me change my clothes, so I don’t bloody this new frock? It’s so lovely. I told Sally it was impractical.” She untied the sleeves of the new yellow dress and let it drop. Then she curled up in a ball on the floor, with her back to him, and put her hands over her head to protect her ears and face.

  “God’s nails, get off the floor. I’m not going to whip you.” Reaching under her arms, he put her onto her feet. It took a bit of strength to take her hands off her face and place them at her side.

  She stiffened.

  “Open your eyes and look at me.”

  Even when he pulled her chin up, her gaze stayed lowered. Where was the spark he’d come to love? “I’d have you obey me and it bodes not well to have you take my authority and tramp on it. I deserve better than that, but—”

  “You don’t understand.” She closed her eyes and went limp.

  “What in the devil is wrong with you? Talk to me.” He shook her just as Dame March and the maidens walked into the room from the kitchen. Brother James joined them, entering by way of the front door.

  By their hostile looks, he realized what conclusion they had drawn. “Get out. Get out all of you. Thomas, where the hell are you?”

  He entered, pushing James aside, shook his head, and said quietly, “If you want, I’ll hang her for you, but I won’t help you whip her.”

  “Oh, the devil take it all. I wasn’t going to.” Marcus placed her carefully down on the thatch and stomped out in disgust. Let her friends come to her rescue. He was done with her.

  Thomas found him in the stables saddling Midnight. “Where are you going?”

  “To find something intelligent to talk to, like a bleating sheep.” He mounted his mare, rode off, and his arse of a friend followed.

  They rode quietly for some time. “I’ve never seen you lash a woman.”

  “Nor did you today. Leave me be.” He whistled between his teeth and rode on faster.

  “What? Did we stop you just in time?” His voice rose to an angry pitch.

  “I wasn’t going to hurt the girl. I just wanted to talk to her.”

  “With her dress to her waist and a whip in your hand? This time, your temper has taken you too far, my friend.”

  Marcus pulled up on the reins, his horse whinnied, and he glared. “I swear by Christ our Savior. I know how it looked, but it wasn’t like that. She handed me the whip. Pulled down her dress and fainted. I was trying to rouse her when you entered. You know me. I’d nay do such a despicable thing.”

  Thomas nodded, finally understanding. “First starving the babes, then lashing the lady of the house. I fear your reputation is getting worse and you’ve only been here a couple days.”

  “Aye. Maybe I’m not cut from the right cloth for this simple life. It might be better to bed her for sons and be gone.”

  His gut ached. He’d just begun to think how good it would be to have her in his bed nightly and find peace in her sweet embrace. How could she believe he’d worship her body by night and beat it by day? “Let’s be off. Mayhap we will run into some sheep thieves. At least I know well how to handle them.”

  Chapter 8

  “Where is she?” Marcus drilled the stable boy again. Ann’s horse was gone and her maid said she’d left shortly after their altercation this morning. What had the little fool done now? He doubted she knew how serious the land dispute in the north had become.

  “S-S-She didn’t tell anyone where she was off to.” What was his name? Charles?

  “And do you oft let her ride unattended?”

  “That has b-b-been her way, m’lord.” The young boy’s face paled and he held close to the wall. He was barely old enough to be responsible for himself, let alone his wild, impetuous wife. He tried to remain calm. Tomorrow he would find a villager—no, one of his own men—to head the stables.

  He took a deep breath. “A lady needs an armed escort at all times.”

  “Yes, sir. I understand. I’ll make sure, sir.” The boy’s face flushed and he bowed.

  “When did she leave?”

  He pointed to the sky. “‘Twas right as the sun was at the highest point and the shadows naught.”

  “Did she say anything at all?”

  “Just something about making things right. I told her which direction you’d gone in.”

  “That’s a good lad. Worry not. This is no fault of yours. Be off to your chores. I’ll be fetching her home before you know it.”

  Cursing, he turned to Thomas. “We’ve no time for fresh horses. Are you up for a romp? I can think of only one place she’d go.” Was she still convinced he’d lash her? Already the sun rode hard toward the horizon.

  “I’m always ready for swordplay. I’ll get the others.” Thomas grinned widely.

  “No, no. Have them stand by, close at hand. I think we’ll try peacekeeping with words.”

  “And I think the over-abundance of sheep dung is affecting your brain.” His mouth lifted on one side as he mounted his charger with a chuckle. “Words, not swords?”

  “Well, mayhap more like trickery. Abernathy will be expecting a full frontal attack, but Edward insisted that I not war on the lands bordering my own. Go get that lazy squire of yours, Jacob.” Marcus mounted Midnight, who twitched her ears back and snorted.

  “I told you my sneaky Venetian thief would come in handy.”

  “And haven’t I already thanked you? I’ll gain Abernathy’s attention while the thief steals her back. Look for my signal. If all else fails, we’ll meet back here at dawn and take his keep by sword.”

  Midnight reared. Patting her neck, he flicked the reins. At the small stone bridge, he veered to the south. On the other side of the river, he’d head north again.

  He spoke softly. “Sorry girl, but we’ve more to do before we can hit the hay.” She heeded his words and raced over fields, while he leaned forward, urging her on.

  Dusk had turned to evening by the time Abernathy’s estate loomed in the horizon. Unlike Marcus’ superior Roman manor, this brick building boasted naught, but one round turret and a small main house. Thatching, sure to catch fire, roofed not only the main house, but also the many smaller huts nearby. The whole area was encompassed by a brick wall, too short and too narrow to be anything other
than a nuisance. Were it not for his promise to Edward, he’d level it all before dawn.

  Armed guards met him at the front gate. He dismounted, dripping with disdain. “Is this how you greet a neighboring lord? Do you not even have a stable lad to take my steed? I’m already finding this whole visit rather tiresome. Do ask that Abernathy come to the gate, would you not?”

  One of the guards came to his senses, nodded, and rushed into the manor.

  He exaggerated the regal tone he’d learned while traveling with Edward in the East. “George? Be that thou in there? Truly, thou must be in jest. Your abilities as a host will be a laughing stock next time I visit court. I’ll see to it. Your manners are atrocious.”

  Obviously sensing no way out, Abernathy opened the door. “Forgive me, good sir. I heard there were thieves and ruffians about. I had no way of knowing it was you who would be calling at this hour of the night.”

  Marcus yawned, Midnight snorted, and he paced with her. They both would rather run over fields than speak to this annoying arse. “Forgive me for my late night appearance, but it seems I may have lost something that belongs to me. It’s not of great worth, mind you, I may even sell it for a price, but alas it is mine. You’ll see to my steed?”

  Abernathy’s eyes narrowed. “Mayhap I can be of some assistance. We have not yet been introduced. Sir?”

  “I’m the second son of Blackwell, the Earl of Thornhill. And presently, I’m the Lord of the Meadows, as I’ve recently wed the Lady Ann. Terribly sorry you weren’t invited, but the ceremony was on short notice.”

  Abernathy stood fast in the doorway to the surrounding wall. Archers gathered in the one turret, and soldiers in the courtyard. “So just what type of thing is it that you’ve misplaced? Mayhap a sheep or two? Maybe an old sow?”

  “My, my, no, no. It seems that my Lady has run off again.” He ignored the feigned insult and the gathering men.

  “Again?” The arse raised his eyebrows.

  Marcus fidgeted and continued pacing, rather pleased with his superior acting abilities. “Oh, yes. She seems to do it rather frequently, I’m told. I suppose I must bring her back.”

  “So thou art not overly fond of her? But from the looks of your horse, you rushed to find her.” He appeared to relax.