How to Train Your Knight: A Medieval Romance Novel

by Alden, Stella Marie

  “Can we? Please?” Penelope clutched at one of Anthony’s arms.

  He clucked his tongue. “Of course, Penny, dear. Go ahead, we will join you shortly. Make sure thou art well covered with water when we enter. I won’t have my brother ogling my wife.”

  When no one was looking, Marcus pinched Ann’s behind and pushed both women out the door. “No worries, I’ll ogle only my own wife.”

  Penelope turned in a full circle in the green. “This place is amazing. It’s like going to the palace. Your church over there, is that colored glass?”

  Thinking it best not to say anything about the glazier, Ann said, “Have you been there? The palace? London? I’ve always wanted to see it.”

  “No, but I’ve heard the Old Earl talk about court. They don’t have baths, though. They rounded the front of the manor and passed through the stone arch. “That’s it? Oh, my.”

  “Aye.” She eyed her bathhouse with a new appreciation as they climbed to the warmest top pool. It was truly a wonder to behold. Parts of the mosaic tiles had stayed intact throughout the centuries. An ancient face centered in the bottom of each of the three pools. Eight marble columns held the roof aloft.

  “I need help with my dress. Is there a maid in waiting?”

  “Here, let me help you.” She unpinned Penelope’s many jewels and unclasped multiple necklaces. Then untied the intricate sleeves from the tunic and lifted it over her head.

  When she was down to a white underdress, Penelope asked, “Where are all your peasants? When we rode past your lands, there were only stone houses for gentle people. Where are the mud huts and smelly trenches? Have you moved the road such that it doesn’t traverse the dirty parts? That was very clever.”

  Ann had been running her estates for four years and led her people out of starvation when she’d been this girl’s age. Her simple wit was difficult to swallow. “Let’s wait for the men, and Marcus and I can explain it all.” God knows I won’t have the patience.

  Outside on the stone bench, Anthony poured a glass of mead and sat down next to Marcus. “She’s a beauty. I can understand why you kept her. Was she so set in her ways that you couldn’t train her?” He raised his cup. “To your wife.”

  Marcus smirked and wondered who had retrained whom. “We’ve found each other most compatible.”

  “Really? Was she the witch that father supposed?” He tried to keep a straight face, so Marcus decided not to hit him. Instead, he gave a friendly wave across the green at James, going for water at the well. “Fey, maybe. Gypsy, possibly. Definitely not a witch.”

  “Good, good. And gold?”

  Marcus stretched his legs out long and leaned back. Birds chittered from the nearby forest. “No, I haven’t found any gold. By God, the sun is warm today.”

  “That’s not good. I have to tell you, Father could use it. The gold. If not for these lands, there’d not be much for me to inherit.” His brother shifted uncomfortably.

  After clearing his throat, Marcus put his hand near the hilt of his sword and said, “Not these, either, I’m afraid.”

  “What say you?” His face grew red, looking much like the old earl.

  Slowly, Marcus stood and held out his open hands. “Be gentled. When I went to visit the king, after Father’s instructions, Edward granted this small plot to me. I’m sorry. At the time, I had no idea of its value.”

  His brother’s hand fisted the jewel-encrusted hilt at his hip. “Say it’s not so. Does father know?”

  “Edward wanted to be the one to inform him.” He put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Let us not fight. ‘Tis, but a small parcel of land.”

  Anthony shoved him in the chest as he did when they were lads. “Why did you do that to me?”

  “I didn’t intend to intrude on your livelihood. The king felt these lands needed my special talents. It’s involved some swordplay already and no doubt more to come.”

  Anthony let go of his sword and followed toward the well. “And you think, in that, I may be lacking? Is that what you say? I’ve many warriors, even if my sword is not as honed as yours.”

  “I’m not saying so. I was ready to start another kind of life, and the king granted me a boon. ‘Tis simply that. Come, let’s not argue.” Marcus dropped a bucket into the well.

  “But this is the only plot that’s profitable. The rest of Father’s estates are in shambles.”

  The clacking of the looms and the smoke from the forest indicated all was well in his village and he couldn’t imagine his brother being able to manage any of this. Not yet. He drew up a bucket of water, took a long sweet drink from the ladle, and offered it. “That’s why I’ve asked you to visit. I want you to see what Ann has done. I think if you follow her example, you could see the same profits as we, mayhap more in just a few years.”

  Anthony slapped the bucket away and the metal banged against the well’s stone walls. “Why would you do that after you’ve stolen what is rightfully mine?”

  At least his brother knew better than to draw his sword. He calmly picked up the bucket, wiped the dirt away, and placed it back on the hook. “You were always there to stay Father’s hand. I’ll repay that debt.”

  “You’ve an odd way of showing it, taking my rightful inheritance.”

  “Let us wait and see, and let me show you. Come, relax in the baths while we let Ann talk. Bring that fine wine you traveled with. I find I’m tired of our home-grown mead. Stay your anger. I’ve enough coin and you’ve land aplenty. Together, we’ll fare well.”

  They made their way through a path in the thigh-high grass and retrieved a skin of wine still attached to Anthony’s horse. “Even if this works, I’ll have to wait until I inherit. You know Father will never agree to even a modicum of change.”

  “Leave that to me. Just listen to what my wife has to say. I’d have you join with us in our successes.”

  Anthony pouted in a most un-lordly manner. “What is done, is done, at least until I speak with Edward myself. Is it true, what they say? That you saved his life?”

  “Aye.” Just the mention of that day brought back the smell of tar, intestines, and burning bodies. He ran his hand across his face to erase the memories. It truly was a miracle either one of them had survived.

  “Someday I’d hear that tale.”

  Marcus sighed. “Maybe, with some strong spirits and a long night. It’s a gruesome one, at best. And for the pride of telling it? I tell you. God’s penance is high. The battle will rage on in my mind for days.”

  With face softened, he said, “I heard it was bad. I’d have gone in your stead, you know, but Father would not have it.”

  “That camel has long since left the tents. Best to let it be off. It’s too beautiful a day to muck around in the past. Behold, the bathhouse.”

  His brother frowned, his face skewed, and he stared at the glistening pools of water. “You do this oft? Is it healthy?”

  “It would seem unnatural not to, when one has the means.” Marcus gave him a questioning look, then guffawed. His brother cared not for a little water?

  He refused to move forward. “Did you know that most of this manor was in ruins just ten years ago?”

  “It surprises me not.”

  “And the small stone houses, too, most were just stone heaps. How did she do it? I tell you, it’s no wonder Father believes that she’s in deep with the devil.”

  Marcus groaned. “Not you, too?”

  “No, no. It’s just astounding that a woman could do all this.”

  “Aye, she’s remarkable, at that.” He pushed his brother up another level. “There they are. At the top pool.”

  “Is there no modesty here at all? What do your priests say?”

  “For the love of God. Across the world, bathing is considered normal and healthy even. It seems that no evil comes of it. It is dark enough in here for even the modest of maidens. I’m beginning to think you afraid of a bit of cleansing.”

  They approached the largest of th
e pools where their wives lounged. Penelope was the fairer of the two, by far a classic beauty. She had long yellow tresses and white skin that had probably never met the sun. However, her face was pinched in a constant pout which wasn’t too pleasant to gaze upon.

  Ann, however, eyed his approach with rosy cheeks and an open smile. Her shiny black hair swirled around her and just below the water he could see the hint of her full round breasts. For the first time, he believed himself the more fortunate of the two brothers.

  “You bathe at the same time as your peasants?” Penelope was asking her as they approached. Other married couples arrived at the lower pools. They politely waved at them and eyed the newcomers with curiosity.

  “I have no peasants,” Ann said, waving back.

  Penelope pouted more so, if that were even possible. “That’s just silly. Of course you have peasants. Who tends the sheep and the lands?”

  “Tradesmen.” Marcus eased into the pool and swam to Ann’s side.

  “Surely, you’ve servants? What about your maid and your cook?”

  “We pay them for their services.” She winked at Marcus and moved closer.

  “How is any coin left?” Anthony put a toe into the water. He’d yet to take off his undershirt.

  “We get by,” said Ann. “I buy their wares and sell for profit. With the monies I receive, I buy what the village needs and invest in machinery to make more profits.”

  “Is this so?” Faster than a maiden, Anthony pulled off his shift and sank into the water up to his neck.

  Marcus chuckled. “Aye and she has the ledger to prove it.”

  “Can you show it to me? I find this worrisome.”

  “Relax, there is nothing of magic or devilry.” He stretched out under the water and leaned his head back. His thigh rubbed against Ann’s and she wrapped one leg around his calf.

  Anthony bristled. “Your foreign ways could get your head removed from your shoulders.”

  “Be sensible. There are many ways of governance. I read once where the Romans had a senate and—”

  “Ye have books?” Ann stood indignantly, her bountiful breasts all, but striking him in the nose. “Of Romans? You never mentioned that.”

  “Aye.” He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back under the water. Playfully, he dunked her head under, too. From below, she circled his staff and twisted gently in retribution. He gasped, let her go, then glanced at his brother and his wife, who had missed all their play.

  Ann’s eyes sparkled mischievously when her wet head emerged from under the pool. “You didn’t tell me you had more books.”

  “I wasn’t sure I wanted you learning any more about Roman culture, my dear, and we have been somewhat busy.”

  “Hmph.”

  Anthony laughed. “Enough, you two. My fingertips are as figs. I’m eager to get dried off and have a look at the ledgers. Then, Ann, mayhap you can explain this arduous journey of turning sheep, mud huts, and sewer trenches, into a land of gold and opportunity.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe that you’ve convinced me.”

  “Will we have enough gold to buy fine jewelry and beautiful gowns?” Penelope pushed her body against her husband and he actually blushed.

  “You may find, at first, that in order to manage everything, your husband will be covered in sheep dung and mud.” Ann chuckled.

  Penelope gasped in horror. “Never.”

  Anthony stroked his wife’s head the way one might a colt and glowered at Ann. “Worry not. We’ll find a truce between dirt and profit, I’m sure.”

  Placing his hands to the surrounding surface, Marcus pushed up and exited the water. As modestly as possible, he quickly donned a cloth and turned. “Stay ladies, and robe in privacy. I’d not have my brother say I ogled his pretty lady. I’ll send some maidens to see to your needs.”

  He leaned over to his wife, kissed the top of her head, and whispered. “Later, I’ll feed that hungry look.”

  She hid her blush by ducking back under the water.

  Chapter 16

  Ann bounced up and down on her chamber’s padded bench and pulled her fur closer. Her breath formed little clouds of mist. “I can’t believe it’s time for the fair. This will be the best one ever.”

  “Sit still. I can’t braid your hair if you move about so.” Sally held her down with a firm hand as the tugging began anew.

  Ann turned with longing toward the wall slit again. “Ow. Sorry, I’ll try. But it’s too dark to see. Are the wagons loaded? Where’s Marcus and his men?”

  “M’lady. Sit down. I’ll need to start all over again. This will make thrice. At this rate, we’ll never have you ready. Your husband will nay be happy with you.”

  Ann stood, dropped the thick fur blanket, and spun for Sally to inspect again. “Look at the beautiful new tunic and gold belt. He gave me these last night, as well as silly, but beautiful, jewels for my neck. Truly a better day has never been had. I can’t wait to sell our wares. Are you done?”

  “Aye, that’s the best I can do with you prancing around so. There, see for yourself.” Sally clucked her tongue, held out a polished silver plate, and put the comb back on the dresser.

  “Don’t put that down. Get yourself ready. You’re coming with us.” Grinning widely, she grabbed her matching cloak and tied it around her neck.

  Her young maid’s eyes went wide. “Me?”

  “Ha, yes. I’ll need you to keep me company. Marcus says a lady must not go about without a maid in London.”

  She squealed with excitement. “I’ll be right down, but I should let Peter know.”

  “I’m sure Marcus has already asked your blacksmith’s permission, but we can check. Hurry on, now.” She dashed down the stairs with her tunic held up to her knees. A torch, sitting in an iron bracket, lit her way and she again marveled at the miraculous bundle of saplings, coated with Jacob’s new resin. Marcus was so full of wonderful ideas.

  Outside the open front doors, dawn was beginning to break. Inside, with serious faces, Marcus and Thomas bathed in the red glow made by a low fire in the hearth. Her husband raised his eyes to heaven when he spotted her. “You’ll someday break your neck if you continue to lay siege to those stairs.”

  She hopped down the last two and gave him a quick kiss. “No doubt. I’m going to check with the men who loaded the wagon to make sure we’ve not forgotten anything.”

  “You already checked it and rechecked again last night.” He turned to Thomas with a shrug. “Not a thing has changed since then.”

  Once she was out the front door, Marcus sighed when an odd sense of disquiet rested upon his soul. The wrongness was similar to leaving his sword resting against a wall. He wanted her closer, by his side, and under his protection. More than that, under his body, legs locked around him, as they’d been the previous night.

  Shaking the thought aside, he said to Thomas, “I’m not sure if we have enough armed men to guard the wagons. It’s been too quiet as of late.”

  “We should wear armor?” Frowning, he scratched at a short stubble of beard.

  “Just mail and silk. Better to have speed. Any word on our friends?” Marcus pushed an iron bar into the fire and new flames burst forth.

  “You didn’t give the Templars much notice. I put Jacob in the turret to sound the alarm if they show.” Turning an eye to the pile of food on the table, Thomas stabbed a slice of meat pie with his dagger. The whole of it slid into his mouth without losing a drop onto the mosaic floor.

  “I’m certain they’ll catch up with us on the road. Are the decoy wagons ready?” Marcus backed away from the hearth. What with silk, padding, mail, and heavy wool upon that, sweat rolled down his chest.

  With chipmunk-like cheeks, his friend nodded.

  Teaching his men to have a care with their eating, by God, was hard work. Marcus grabbed a plate and gave him a meaningful scowl. “And out of sight from Ann?”

  Thomas finished chewing, swallowed, and smirked. “Why keep it from her? Of
all things, your wife is truly practical.”

  “Except when it comes to the black hearts of men. Has everyone dined?”

  “Dame Mary has fed us to the point where our belts have been adjusted out and has laden the wagons with her wares to sell. We had to cast lots with the half of the men staying to decide whether she stays or goes.” He washed down the last of his meal with a mug of spring water, thumped the vessel on the table, and patted his stomach.

  Giggles outside the manor caught their attention. Apparently, the blacksmith’s prowess on the wedding pallet was the current topic of conversation between Ann and Sally. Marcus smiled smugly when Ann bragged of his own abilities.

  A sleepy Bart jumped up, knife in hand, when Marcus kicked his chair. “Wake up. Go outside and guard the ladies.” He nudged Thomas in the side. “Heads up. Here comes the Lady Meredith. Say your goodbyes and we will be—”

  A shrill whistle sounded from the turret and not the one reserved for friends. Damnation. Multiple horse hooves pounded the road in the distance, his men raced to the stables, and he and Thomas ran to the door while drawing their swords.

  Jacob shouted out above their heads. “The Earl of Thornhill comes.”

  Christ our Savior! Not red crosses on white, but his father. His innards wrapped into a knot, he cursed, then sealed it with spit. “Trouble has found us.”

  “Interesting.” Thomas smiled and gave two shrill whistles.

  Men, children, and women rushed into the main hall. Ladders rested upon walls, tapestries landed with a whoosh on the floor, and a group of ten rushed up the stairs. Within minutes, all slits were manned with archers, albeit some quite strange, including Dame March.

  “How the devil did he know we’d have our wagons packed? Have we hid the town’s machines sufficiently?” Marcus stood in the arched doorway, sword ready.

  “Relax. Your father’s band wouldn’t know a loom from a kiln. We’re spread too thin to guard the whole of the village. We’ll have to rely on their ignorance.”