Three Dog Knight

by Tori Phillips

  Before she left her sumptuous chamber, she examined the work she had done on the Cavendish banner. The material had washed cleaner than she had expected. Later this afternoon she planned to mend it She smiled to herself as she envisioned how surprised Thomas would be when he finally came home. God willing, Alicia would have the hall, entranceway and kitchens shining to greet him. She did not dare to invade his bedchamber.

  As for Isabel, that spoiled creature could do what she liked with her own apartments. Alicia hoped that Mary’s lazy governess attended to her charge’s appointments better than she did her charge. She sympathized with Mistress Genevieve. Mary was indeed a whirlwind. What the child needed was some useful employment that would challenge her bright young mind.

  With a sigh and a shake of her head, Alicia shut the door behind her. She tried not to remember the honeyed words cooling in her fireplace. Musing upon the unknown author, she nearly tripped over Audrey, who scrubbed the stone steps that led down to the kitchens two flights below. Alicia studied her. Perhaps the inquisitive maid might know a thing or two about Alicia’s mysterious letter-writer.

  “Good morrow, Audrey!” She smiled warmly at the girl. “By my troth, you are very industrious for so early in the day. Have you broken your night’s fast?”

  The maid sat back on her heels, and wiped her soapy hands on her apron. “Aye, though I fear all the leftovers from yesterday’s dinner are gone by now. ‘Twas a princely meal you prepared. I have not tasted the like for a long time.” She smacked her lips at the delicious memory.

  Alicia glowed with pleasure at the girl’s words of praise. “Many thanks. I will try a few more recipes for today’s dinner—if Master Konrad does not object.”

  The maid’s brown eyes widened. “Object? Methinks he is pacing the floor a-waiting for you this very minute.” She giggled.

  Alicia smiled. “Then I had best be going.” She started down the first two steps, then pretended that she had just remembered something. “Oh, Audrey, a word or two more, if it please you.”

  The maid blinked. “Aye, mistress?” She gave her a wary look.

  Alicia smiled to ease the maid’s misgivings. “I still do not know everyone by name. Yesterday I saw someone near my door, but I am not sure who he was. Did you see anyone hereabouts yesterday?”

  Audrey chewed her lower lip as she considered the question. Alicia held her breath. She prayed that the maid had indeed spied the mysterious author of the love letters. She also prayed that the girl would tell the whole truth.

  “Is something of yours missing?” Audrey finally asked.

  Alicia broadened her smile. “Nay, ‘tis nothing of the sort. I was merely curious to know his name. ‘Tis no matter.” She pretended to lose interest. “I expect I shall recognize him by and by.”

  The maid relaxed her shoulders. “I saw only Master Andrew up here yesterday morn. And that was afore he went off a-hunting with my lord. Methought he was a-knocking at your door.”

  Alicia’s heart plummeted. She managed to retain the smile on her face. “In truth, it might have been Andrew, now that you mention it.”

  Audrey warmed to her tale. “Aye, ‘twas he. I told him you were already in the kitchens, and he laughed, and tweaked my—” She stopped, and flushed a bright crimson.

  Alicia contained her rising indignation. She could well imagine exactly where the lusty squire might tweak a pretty serving maid. She pretended sorrow to cover her ire. “Alas alack! I never saw Andrew in the kitchen.”

  “‘Tis no matter,” Audrey soothed her in innocence. “He said he did not need to speak with you directly. Then he kissed…I mean, he wished me a good day, and was gone.” She giggled. “Master Andrew is a fine piece of work, mistress, if you do not mind me a-saying so. He is always so pleasing to the girls.”

  Alicia gritted her teeth. “Aye, he did strike me as a merry scamp. My thanks, Audrey, you have served me well.” Not trusting herself to say another word, she virtually ran down the stairs.

  She paused on the first landing, and waited until her heartbeat had resumed its normal rhythm. Of course it had to be Andrew Ford. No doubt, he had penned many a love letter, despite his youth. The churl dared to woo her behind his master’s back, even as he dallied with Audrey. Clearly the lusty youth had too much time on his hands, and not enough gainful activity to occupy his mind. Alicia shuddered to think what Thomas would do if he discovered his squire’s perfidy. She had already witnessed one outburst of his temper at Isabel, and she hated the idea of it being unleashed upon Andrew—no matter how much the boy richly deserved it.

  Alicia massaged her temples. She must nip Andrew’s lovesickness in the bud, and she must do it quickly before Thomas found out. She would corner the squire as soon as the hunting party returned to the castle. In the meantime, she must begin preparations for today’s dinner. Afterward, she would inspect the bed linens to see what needed to be cleaned and repaired. Something bumped against her knee. She looked down into the mastiff’s dark brown eyes.

  “Good morrow, Georgie,” she murmured as she knelt on the cool stone floor to rub his ears. “Methinks I must attend to you as well. When was the last time anyone brushed your coat?”

  He licked her cheek in reply.

  “Methought as much. Today you and the others will have a bath, and a brushing with a treat afterward. Would you like that?”

  The mastiff merely wagged his tail, as he followed her down the next flight of stairs.

  Mary held her breath as her governess waddled past the girl’s hiding place.

  “Lady Mary, where are you?” Mistress Vive wheezed. “Lord have mercy, child. These stairs will be the death of me yet. Mary! ‘Tis time for your music lesson. Nay, ‘tis twice past time. The little wretch!” she muttered under her breath.

  Mary stifled a giggle. In a few more minutes, her governess would be around the corner, and she could skip away, as free as a meadowlark. She didn’t mind her lute lessons. In fact, she loved to play the beautiful stringed instrument that Tom had given her this past New Year’s Day. What bored Mary to tears was the continual fingering exercises that Mistress Vive commanded her to practice. The girl much preferred making up her own tunes, or playing by ear any melody she had heard. This particular musical gift drove her governess to distraction, though Tom quite enjoyed it.

  Mary peeked around the edge of the tapestry. The corridor was empty. Humming a tune she had heard Alicia sing, she tiptoed down the passageway to the stairs. Should she go up, and see what Isabel was doing? Mary wrinkled her nose. The lazy woman was probably still abed. Now that she had announced her pregnancy, she slept until the midday dinner hour. Mary snorted. Isabel breeding was a tale of fancy, if ever there was one. She didn’t believe the truth of it for a minute. She knew a thing or two about the making of babies, and their birthing nine months later.

  A person learned a great deal by staying in the shadows, and watching the goings-on in a large castle such as Wolf Hall. Mary would wager her new pearl earrings that her sister-in-law was as barren as ever. Time would tell. She wondered if Isabel would stuff her gowns with a bolster to give proof to her lie. No doubt about it—the woman would bear close watching, lest she pull the wool over darling Tom’s eyes.

  Mary chose to descend to the kitchens, where all the really interesting events happened. She heard a piteous howling even before she saw what took place in the scullery. With her skirts pinned up to her waist, Alicia held Georgie firmly by the scruff of his neck in a large tub of soapy water. When the ancient dog spied Mary, he gave another mournful howl.

  “By my troth, Georgie, you act as if I was boiling you in oil!” Alicia turned her head away, just as the dog started to shake. Water droplets and soap suds flew in every direction, much to the amusement of an assembly of pot boys, scullery maids and laundresses.

  “Hoy day, Alicia!” Mary laughed. “Old Georgie has never let anyone bathe him except my brother. What magic do you possess to soothe such a great beast?”

  “Sweet words and
a wealth of honey cakes,” she answered as she dodged yet another vigorous shake. “By all the saints, methinks he is as clean as he is going to get. Pray, someone hand me those rags. Quickly,” she added as Georgie stood up in the tub, and looked as if he would leap out.

  Mary tossed her the worn clothes, then tucked up her own skirts. She took a step toward them, but her foot slipped on the wet flagstones. Flailing her arms, the girl skidded against the wooden tub. With a joyful bark, Georgie leapt at her. The next moment, Alicia, Mary and the dog found themselves in a large wet, wriggling heap on the soapy floor. Laughing, Mary wiped loosened locks of wet hair from her eyes.

  “Larks and sparks! I had no idea that we could make the floor slippery with plain soap and water. We can go sliding all year round, and not wait for the north winds to freeze the cow pond to ice.”

  Still firmly gripping Georgie, Alicia gave the old dog a brisk toweling. “Methinks Master Konrad or Steward Stokes might have an objection to that plan, Lady Mary,” she said, in between telling Georgie to hold still. “Please, give him another honey cake. They are on the bench by the pump. Sit, Georgie! Stay! There’s a good boy.”

  Mary fed the dog a cake, then helped herself to one of her own. They tasted better than anything Konrad could bake. She allowed Georgie to lick her fingers clean of crumbs. “When you marry Tom, you will be in charge of the house, Alicia,” she observed. “Then I can slide on soapy floors and eat honey cakes all the livelong day.”

  Alicia rubbed the mastiff harder. “‘Tis unlucky to count on things before they happen, Lady Mary,” she murmured.

  “Tom said he would marry you.”

  Alicia bent her head to inspect Georgie’s paw pads. “Aye, if that is his duty as he sees it. But now there is Isabel.” She did not look up, but Mary detected a faint glimmer of tears in the young woman’s pretty blue eyes.

  She wrinkled her nose. “The devil take Isabel! Tom will never marry her. He hates her.”

  Alicia brushed Georgie’s short coat. The dog closed his eyes and assumed an expression of pure bliss.

  “Thomas may have to.” She sighed.

  The child stamped her foot. “Never!”

  Alicia looked up at her. “There are reasons—” she began.

  Mary cocked her head. “The babe in her belly? If there is one there, ‘tis not Tom’s, I can assure you. He’s never—” She caught herself in time before she spilled her brother’s deepest secret He didn’t suspect that his little sister knew he had never been with a woman.

  Alicia stopped brushing Georgie. “Forsooth, Mary, how do you know of such things?”

  She grinned at the other’s amazement. She loved to surprise people. “I know a great deal more than most folk realize. I am not a child anymore, no matter what everyone thinks.”

  A little smile curled Alicia’s lips. “Ah, I had forgotten. You are the mistress of the keyhole.”

  She giggled. “Just so.”

  Returning her attention to the patient Georgie, Alicia sighed. “As to Lady Isabel’s fate, we will have to wait for Thomas to decide.”

  Mary groaned. “That will be until doomsday—unless you can hurry him along a bit.”

  Alicia shook her head. “I have no power over him. If he does marry me, ‘twill be for his honor’s sake—not for love.” She whispered the last three words into Georgie’s black ear.

  Mary heard her. “I would not wager a pair of wet stockings on that.”

  Alicia gaped. The younger girl bit her tongue. She had better shut her mouth before she revealed all of Tom’s secrets.

  “You have almost finished with Georgie, and he looks better than I have ever seen him. I will capture Taverstock for you. I fear he will give you more trouble than Vixen. He hates water.”

  So saying, Mary bolted from the scullery. She hoped she had not said too much. Angels in heaven, please make Tom marry Alicia, she prayed as she ran across the courtyard. Then she sighed. Wishing will not bring horses to beggars, Mistress Vive had often told her.

  “Here, Tavie!” she called inside the stables. She whistled two long and three short notes—a special signal that all three dogs recognized.

  With a short bark in return, the little brown-and-white terrier scrambled around the horse trough. Racing to Mary, he leapt into her arms.

  “Ugh! Your paws are muddy, Tavie. What did you bury now?”

  He licked her ear.

  “Nay, I do not need a bath, but you certainly do. Alicia will make you clean all over. Bathtime, Taverstock!” At the word bath, Tavie pricked his ears. Before Mary had time to get a firmer grip on him, the little dog wriggled out of her arms. With his little bandy legs churning, he raced for the old south tower—a favorite hiding place for his bones and other treasures.

  “Taverstock, come back here this minute! Tavie!” Lifting her skirts and petticoats above her ankles, she dashed after him.

  By the time she reached the open door at the bottom of the tower’s spiral staircase, the dog had disappeared. Mary paused to listen for him. His toenails scraped against the stone steps as he climbed toward the second floor.

  “I have got you cornered now,” she said to herself as she followed him on light feet.

  At the first landing, Mary stuck her head inside the rounded chamber. She listened but heard nothing. The sacks of wheat that were stored there made her nose itch. She closed the door, then continued up to the next landing. She checked the second storage room, but found only casks of oil and boxes of tallow for winter candle-making.

  Mary opened her mouth to call Tavie, but a human moan from above stopped her voice in her throat. She crept up the final set of stairs, where she found Tavie running back and forth in front of the closed door. Every so often, he stopped, and sniffed under the wide crack. Inside the storeroom, Mary could hear the very audible sounds of two people engaged in a passionate coupling. Just then, Tavie barked.

  “What was that?” the woman croaked in a loud whisper.

  A man chuckled. “Nothing, my lovely. ‘Tis only one of the dogs. The door is bolted.” He ended with a low growl.

  Tavie cocked his head.

  The woman moaned again, then she urged, “Yes, yes, now, my stallion. Fill me up—now!”

  Mary giggled into her handkerchief. She burned to know who was swiving in broad daylight. All of the other trysts she had stumbled upon had taken place under the concealing cover of night She eased back down the stairs to the second landing. There, she slipped inside the storeroom, leaving the door a little ajar. Seating herself on a upright cask, she peeked through the crack, and waited.

  More thumping overhead. Mary wondered if they were doing it on the bare floor. She wrinkled her nose. They should have gone to the hayloft. At least, it would have been softer there.

  The woman cried out with a mixture of triumph and animal frenzy. Mary chewed her lower lip. She knew that someday, some strange man would do that same tussle with her. She hoped that he would at least have the decency of doing it in a bed, preferably one with clean sheets.

  In the middle of her pondering the mysterious mechanics of lovemaking, a muted hunting horn sounded across the wide moor beyond the home park. Again it blew, this time closer, its deep brass notes clearer. She grinned. Tom was returning earlier than she had expected—and in the middle of the day. Taverstock barked several times. Above her, the amorous couple ceased their odd noises.

  “Hell’s bells, ‘tis my lord!” the man rumbled.

  “Nay, he will be gone—” the woman began, but the man cut off her further speech.

  “’Tis he, for certain sure. I will be damned.”

  Just then, the door of the third-floor storeroom crashed open. Mary flattened herself against the wall of her hiding place.

  “The devil take it!” the man swore at the top of the stairs. “‘Tis my lord’s dog a-spying on us. Away with you!”

  Mary saw Taverstock practically fly down the steps. The man followed after him. As he passed the second floor, she saw him tying on his leathe
r codpiece. His rough dorneck shirt hung outside the back of his high-waisted hose. She recognized it was Launce, the looselimbed groom with hair the color of wheat in the sun. Not a bad-looking man, Mary conceded, but she judged that he might be very heavy if he laid on top of one.

  “Launce,” the woman called after him. She still spoke in a broken whisper.

  He stopped, and turned to look back up the stairs. Mary held her breath, and prayed that she would not be discovered.

  “Aye, my lady?” he replied. Behind his back, he snapped his fingers with impatience.

  “Remember, this meeting is our little secret,” the woman cautioned.

  Launce looked at her as if she had gone stark mad. “God’s teeth, my lady! Do you think I was kicked in the head by an ass? Of course, I will say nothing. Sir Thomas would flay me alive if he even suspected.”

  Mary’s eyes grew rounder. Besides herself, there was only one other lady in Wolf Hall. Just then, Isabel rounded the curve of the stairway. Her raven hair was completely unbound, and she carried her black satin slippers with white rosettes in her hand.

  “Be at ease, good Launce. No one knows, nor even suspects our meetings. Put on a cheerful face, and whistle in the stables.”

  The hunting horn sounded a third time. Mary heard the jingle of the horsemen’s spurs, and the thudding of hooves as the company drew closer to the gates.

  Launce tucked in his shirt. “I must be gone, my lady.”

  “Thomas will go to bed early tonight, worn out by the chase. Come to me when the watchman cries out midnight.”

  Launce blinked. “In your own chamber? Is it wise, my lady?”

  Isabel’s face grew darker. “I must have a babe, and soon.” She softened her voice. “Trust me, Launce. All will be well. Adieu.” She leaned down, and kissed him on the lips. Launce took her fully in his arms. Their kiss deepened. It appeared to Mary as if he was trying to chew off Isabel’s lips. Her own heart beat faster. She prayed that the couple would not hear it.