How to Train Your Knight: A Medieval Romance Novel

by Alden, Stella Marie

  “It’s not night yet, but we’ve slept through the afternoon. Dinner will be served soon. Tell me about your dream. I’d know more about you.”

  “Why raise up more old ghosts?” Her head fell back down upon his good shoulder as she stared at the beams crisscrossing the ceiling.

  “Mayhap we should begin to exorcise those that haunt you.” He crooked an arm and she was back close to his body, except for the damn mail.

  Her thoughts spun around in her mind’s eye. Finally, she grabbed at a thread and started. “My father left for the holy wars when I was, but three and ten. My mother, when she learned of it, would do naught, but stare at the wall. It was like her soul had left with him.”

  His concerned look comforted and she smiled sadly. “Oh, he knew what he was doing. You see, I’ve no brothers. He sold everything and left us to starve. He was going to meet his maker. His intent was to meet us there and soon.”

  Marcus raised himself up on one elbow and kissed away a tear which had lingered on her cheek. “I’ve heard men speak of such things but never understood it.”

  “Mayhap that is enough ghosts for now? I see no good coming from—”

  She tried to get up, but he held her back with an encouraging smile. “No. Go on.”

  “Very well. I was the only one left to take charge of the estates. I dared not tell anyone of my mother’s condition. We could lose everything. I tried to find relatives willing to help. Instead, I found vultures. Believe me when I say, there wasn’t much left to take.”

  “Sons of bastards.”

  “Aye. Luckily, my father was overly indulgent with me throughout my young life. I’d followed him all his days, much like a puppy.” She grinned. “No doubt my mother should have kept better watch of me, but she was most oft alone in her chambers. I think secretly my father was proud of how bright I was, despite being a girl. Mayhap he was training me back then. I’ve no way of knowing. I should’ve been born a son.”

  “Nay. What he did was very, very, wrong. When God gives a man a wife and a family, they become as his own body. A man should never do such despicable acts.”

  She sighed and wiped another tear away that had snuck into a corner of her eye. “He sold everything. Silver, jewels, and furniture. He needed to buy armor. You understand?” she whispered.

  “Aye, war is an expensive undertaking.” He closed his eyes as if sharing her pain.

  Not knowing quite how to respond, she placed her hand upon his rough cheek. “It was a long, long time ago. Fret not for me.”

  “I grieve for the wee ghosty-girl within you. She haunts us both with her sadness.”

  His body was warm when he hugged her, but the rings of his armor poked into her breasts. He was an amazing, caring man, her beast. She moved away from the metal rings and walked over to the hole that faced the town.

  “He left mother and me with only the manor, the sheep, and several serfs who would starve without my care.”

  The shadow of the manor cast across the green all the way to the breakfast tables and disappeared. Gray clouds loomed in the offing. “The day grows long.”

  He stood, stretched, and came up behind her. His chest warmed her back and his arms surrounded her. “Who is your nearest male relative?”

  “My Grandsire’s son’s son, George Abernathy. He’s my cousin.”

  “Damnation. No wonder you didn’t want him to know your mother was ill.”

  “Aye. I was old enough to be taken by him. I’d have become his ward.” The true meaning of that word caused her body to shudder.

  He rubbed the chicken bumps off her arms. “None of that, now. I told you. I keep what is mine safe. You’ve nothing to worry about.”

  “But the hanging?”

  With a deep sigh, he said, “To be my wife, you shall have to endure my temper. When I’m angry, I say things I don’t mean.” He kissed her ear. “So how in God’s name did you build the little dynasty across that green?”

  “There were mothers with babes in their arms, knocking on my door, begging for food, yet there was barely enough for my mother and I. They begged for us to kill a lamb, so that we wouldn’t starve, but if I started killing the flock, we’d have no wool to sell.

  “What did you do?”

  “I did kill off some sheep, we asked for charity from Brother James, and I went into the bathhouse and prayed.”

  He chuckled and it irritated her slightly. This was no joking matter. She turned and cupped his face in her hands. “God heard, Marcus, He did. While I was on my hands and knees in the old bathhouse, there was a loose rock in the wall. Behind it, I found a few Roman coins. It was enough until we sheared again and brought the wool to fair.”

  His eyes widened. “So it truly was a miracle you survived. And your mother?”

  “She died shortly thereafter without ever regaining her soul. I swear my father stole that from me, too.”

  Silence fell upon them until he cleared his throat “Just how much coin was there?”

  She smiled slyly. “Just enough.”

  “Very well. Keep your secret between you and your merciful God. You earned it. We need to wash and dress. We should dine and meet with our people.”

  Chapter 11

  When Ann woke up the next morning, their new double-sized pallet was half empty. Fearful what rules her new lord may have decided upon today, she ran down into the kitchen. Just as she’d thought, he was talking to Dame March.

  She pulled on his arm. “Please, I beg you, don’t cease feeding the families. I can show you in the ledgers where it is all paid in full.”

  He chuckled. “Calm yourself, dearest. I saw yesterday the wisdom of your accounting. If the families are making goods instead of trying to cook for themselves, they have more time for their own labor. That turns into more goods to sell at the fair. You trade those goods for food during the course of the year and it all balances out. In fact, you make good profit.

  Her wise husband finally understood. She gave him her best and brightest smile. “That’s exactly the right of it. So what are you discussing?”

  Dame March interrupted, sounding a bit ruffled. With arms crossed over her large chest, she said, “Your husband wishes to discuss the breaking-of-fast menu.”

  Ann checked his countenance. He seemed mostly unperturbed so she continued. “But we always have breads and—”

  He put a finger to her lips. “My men and I need a little more sustenance in the morning. Children, too, would have more energy with less breads and more meat. It’s also less work for the kitchen women. They can focus on the evening meal and have some time for resting.”

  Her mouth dropped open. Who would have guessed? Her domestic beast discussing meals, of all things. “Oh, well. Thank you. You can imagine my surprise—”

  “Mayhap I can imagine that, and a lot more.” He eyed her night dress, patted her derriere, and pushed her back up the stairs. “Some clothes?”

  “Oh, dear me.” She turned bright red and ran from the kitchen. Over her shoulder, Marcus’ men in the great room smirked with eyes upon her form. She was unused to so many men underfoot.

  Marcus shook his head and raised his eyebrows at his men. “Out with you. Break your fast with the rest of the town. Make sure thou art battle-ready at all times.”

  He put his hand out to stay Thomas, walked him back into the kitchen, and said in a quiet voice, “I think we’ve not heard the end of Abernathy.”

  “He has no rights on The Meadows, does he?”

  With a frown and a shake of the head, Marcus said, “I’m not sure of the legality of any of this, at the moment. He’s her most nearly related male heir.”

  “God’s blood. That puts a different spin on everything, doesn’t it?”

  “Not to me, but it may in his mind.” He looked longingly upon a pastry and grabbed it when the Dame’s hawk eyes were diverted.

  “Legally, the land would belong to him if my father had not made other arrangements. Also, I must have her first m
arriage annulled.” He waited, greatly amused while Thomas caught the full meaning of his words and tried to grab a biscuit from the pottery bowl. This time, Dame March caught the action and swatted his hand with a wooden spoon. She shooed them both out of the kitchen.

  Marcus’ small army of men had not yet made their way out the door. Several young ladies of the house giggled while they cleared the tables, catching his men’s eyes. Thomas glared when the Lady Meredith flirted with one of the squires.

  “Cupid’s arrow went amiss?”

  “I can address that right now.” Thomas whistled through his teeth once and the men rushed out. The maidens blushed and giggled all the way back into the kitchen. Meredith scowled in their direction.

  His friend sat down at a now-empty table and put his feet up on a chair. “Back to your problem. You say your wife was pure as snow?”

  “I felt the muscle give. I saw the blood on the sheets. Heard her gasp and tighten.” He nodded righteously, pleased with his good fortune; lands and a wife whose passion had no end when the door was barred.

  “No one would believe it.”

  “Her confessor would.”

  “You’ve the king’s blessing for her lands. What more matters?”

  “Popular opinion would do me well. They held no love for Underhill and I think it’d go a long ways toward the good will of my wife.”

  He snickered. “I believe from the pie-eyed look upon your face, you already have that.”

  “Mock me not. I’ve seen how you moon over the Lady Meredith.” He raised his eyebrows.

  Thomas put his hands to his heart and closed his eyes. “Never has a fairer maid been under the sun …”

  Marcus guffawed and pushed him out of his chair, toward the kitchen. “Spare me the verse. Go find her. Waste your breath on wooing her. I need to find my wife.”

  Ann appeared at the top of the stairs, dressed in her newly cleaned yellow tunic. The matching ribbon was woven tightly into the braid down her back.

  The small gesture warmed him like a fire in winter. “Come. Sit with me and dine. The rest are outside on this fine morning. Today, it is just the Lord and the Lady at table. Mayhap we can talk more about your skills with the estate.”

  She hiked her skirt, jumped down two stairs, and arrived just at his height. She kissed him on the cheek. “What more would you have me tell?”

  He hugged her before lifting her to the floor. “Tell me, have any of Underhill’s relatives come claiming the estate?”

  “Claiming my estate? Why? It’s mine.” She sat down in a normal-sized chair.

  The throne-sized one held more comfort, given his stature. “Stay mindful, if you would. Were any here after his death?”

  “Honestly, our marriage didn’t involve conversation. Why do you ask?”

  He scraped the seat forward until their knees touched. She blushed but didn’t move away. Instead, she leaned forward and his heart skipped a beat. Taking one of her hands in his, he said, “By law, your lands became his when you married him and when he died, they passed onto his family. I’m going to have your first marriage annulled.”

  “Annulled? How in Hades could that be claimed?”

  How could a widow who had endured so much be so damn innocent? He patted her hand. “He didn’t have you as his own, in chambers.”

  Turning bright red, she recovered and said, “Oh. Of course. But how did you come to claim my lands?”

  “By edict of the king.”

  Ann paled. “Edward gave up my lands to you?”

  “And you.”

  “And me?” She stuck her pretty lower lip out in a pout and stood.

  He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her neck. “Thou art my bounty, m’lady, for ten years of my life spent in servitude to his highness. I sold my soul and got you. It was a bargain.”

  “Don’t joke about such things. God may be listening.” She frowned more fully and squirmed, but he held her tight.

  “I’m not.”

  When she turned, he willed her to see how serious he was. Her perfect arse was delightful upon his pintle. He brushed the tendrils of hair out of her eyes and sucked that pouty lower lip into a kiss until she moaned. When she passionately kissed him back, he considered finishing the interrogation upstairs on the pallet.

  He moved her just a mite off his swollen interest. “How about Abernathy? What dealings have you had with him?”

  She thought for a while. “Well. He has been rather insistent lately, about paying him for protection.”

  “How much?” Conversation halted as a young maiden came out of the kitchen and dished out eggs, figs, and breads.

  “Last month he raised the price again. I didn’t have enough to pay, I had to …” She stopped, turned bright red, and took a big bite of biscuit.

  “What did you do?”

  Jutting out her chin, she crossed her arms over her chest and remained silent. He was sure of her virginity. What else could the man have insisted on? He sighed and bit into heavenly sweet bread. “I need some answers to help protect you.”

  “You know. I was doing just fine until I married you.” She squirmed off his lap and back into her own chair while tearing into a fig mercilessly.

  “Really, m’lady? Really? I believe you were about to be hanged for murdering your first husband or possibly witchcraft.”

  “Well, before that.” She waved her hand as if that explained everything and stood.

  He tamped down his temper. “Sit back down. My men’s lives are on the line and you’re still lying to me. It’s a simple question. Exactly what did you have to do to secure your lands?”

  She dashed out from the table and up the stairs. The bolt slid across her chamber door.

  Sighing, he slowly followed after her. That devil of a bar had to go. Also, she had to learn not to run whenever she didn’t fancy a conversation. “I could easily take this door down,” he said with infinite patience.

  “Go away.”

  “We need to see to our estates.” He hated to shout, but it was the only way to converse through the damn thickness of the door.

  “They’re your estates, now. You’ve made that painfully clear to me, m’lord. Good luck with them.”

  “We’ve work to do. Come out and stop being a child.”

  “A child? A child? Nay, sir. I was never allowed to be a child. Honestly? It feels good to give the reins to you. I’m going to lie on my bed and let you manage everything from here on end.” He heard the pallet of straw crunch as she flounced upon it.

  He pounded on the door. “The devil take it. Open the damn door and work with me.”

  “Nay, you mean for me to tell you all my secrets so you can hang me.”

  “I’ve sworn that I won’t hang you, you ungrateful wench.” The woman was an impossible shrew.

  She shouted back. “Good. Go away. I’ve nothing more to say to you.”

  It was as if she wanted him to end her miserable life. He sighed. That was just it, wasn’t it? What if she was going to give up like her mother? Women were only so strong, and like a mighty oak, could give way to break in two. He tried to shake off the notion and couldn’t imagine running this manor without his black-haired gypsy-witch. Not only that, he liked the way she felt curled up next to him. He liked the way she exploded passionately into his hand, and how tightly she could sheath him. Dammit all. Come to think of it; he liked her very much.

  “What about your dye vat? I think it may be empty again? And yesterday, I heard rumor that the plow broke in the field, and no one has yet repaired it.”

  He smiled as he made up some more outlandish lies. “Also, the miller’s sons have decided not to take up a trade, after all. It seems, but one day and your town begins to fall apart.”

  “No, no, that can’t be so.” Her pallet screeched across the floor. “I’ve to get out there and get everyone working. All will be lost.”

  The wooden bolt rubbed against wood, and she emerged. He held back his grin, but his eye
s must have given him away.

  She laughed when she realized what he’d done. “You liar.”

  “Aye. That I am. But who knows what really is amiss. Let’s go to our people and see to them, together. They need you and I do, too.”

  “Truly?”

  He shuddered when he realized it was true. “Aye, in more ways than I can count. I find I’m rather fond of you.”

  “Will we try again for heirs, soon?”

  If he had his way, they’d never leave chambers. Chuckling, he nodded and kissed her soundly.

  Chapter 12

  Late one afternoon, after several days without incident, Marcus left Ann with their people in the village. He’d made it a habit to spend a few hours understanding her strange set of accounting written on her parchments. The top of the repaired turret held perfect lighting and offered a good vantage over the whole area. She wasn’t too far into the town, talking to a spinster while rocking someone’s baby in the crook of an arm.

  Relaxed fully, he settled down on a tall stool with a glass of fresh mead. He’d start today by again reviewing the miller’s page of debits and credits.

  The pounding of horse hooves on the north road brought him to attention and he stood, squinting. An emissary of the church paraded south, pennants blowing, with at least twenty knights in full battle armor. Damnation. Neither he nor his men had love of the priests that carried out the inquisition. Best to put an end to it before it could get started. He sounded the alarm with one, long shrill whistle and two short.

  Thomas and the men assembled in the green.

  He shouted from above, “Take them down but kill them not.”

  “If you insist.” Thomas drew his sword. He gave a small yawn with two pats to his mouth and winked at the men who hooted and banged their swords on their shields. When the skirmish ended, only the Bishop and Abernathy remained unharmed, sitting upon their mounts.

  Marcus grinned with pride. Most of the bishop’s knights were smart enough to yield and the ones who didn’t, lie moaning, lucky to be alive. The two who yielded without a fight surprised him not.

  Weapons were collected, Thomas escorted the bishop to the front door, and Marcus climbed down the toe-holds. He ran along the hallway, then vaulted to the main floor.