Lady Squire

by Ling, Maria

  Guillaume offered a slight bow. "Her body shall be as a convent nun's, pure and untouched. I'll rip the throat from any man who goes within three steps of her. Satisfied?"

  "I don't have her parents' permission." Alan disdained the skirmish. "She does not leave this place without it. But I'll write to them today, if you truly are happy to take her. Only for a few weeks, mind. She's not heading off for a life on the circuit. This is just a taste of the world. Agreed?"

  "Seems a little cruel," Matilda said. "What if she loves it?"

  "Then she'll have to cry on her mother's shoulder," Alan said coolly. "Poor lamb."

  "Or marry a tourney man," Guillaume said in an oddly flat tone.

  Valentin's heart jumped. She might, at that. And he would see her - often, perhaps. Painful as it would be to regard her as another man's wife, it would be better than accepting her as Guillaume's mistress.

  "They want a man of means and patronage," Alan said. "Fix her up with one, and you'll have their thanks. You've met her mother, you know the sort of thing they're after."

  Valentin ran through names in his mind, discarded each man in turn. The truth was, he couldn't bear to imagine Merin married to anyone.

  Except himself. But that was an idle daydream, unworthy, disrespectful. He had nothing at all to offer her.

  Still he indulged it a moment longer, let his vision spin out a life in which the two of them lodged together, worked together, shared jokes and laughter and caresses -

  He wrenched his mind away at that point, lest his breathing betray him.

  "I have some idea," Guillaume admitted. "We'll loose her on the de Niege family. Ralph is still on the hunt, or was last I heard."

  "God help him," Alan muttered. "She's a handful, I'll tell you that much. Gets around you somehow, no matter what. If she were knighted, she'd be a natural for commanding the reserve. Watch your back."

  "Told you from the first," Guillaume said. "She needs a whipping."

  Valentin flared up in rage, and came within a nail's breadth of punching his own lord.

  "You do not touch her," Alan said calmly, saving Guillaume from a broken face and Valentin from life as an outcast. "Not a blow. Never."

  "Bloodless imp," Guillaume replied. "Very well. Matilda can handle any punishments."

  "She'll go without a meal," Matilda said. "From what I've seen of her at table, that should be sufficient."

  "You do not starve her either," Alan warned.

  "Have I ever starved a child? They do themselves very well indeed. And they learn to squirrel food away, which is useful knowledge."

  "I'll bow to your experience," Alan said. "Just send her back fatter and happier than she left, and I'll be content."

  "Easy," Guillaume said, with a meaningful smile.

  Alan sighed. "Don't try to make me kill you. We'll both come off the worse."

  "Not in this instance," Matilda said. "I'll hold him down while you run him through."

  "Feel free to try," Guillaume said with lazy insouciance. "I can take on the pair of you any time."

  Valentin bit his tongue hard, before he could offer to make a third.

  "Is it settled, then?" Matilda asked. "I'd like to enjoy my possessions for a while longer before some fool of a maid starts rearranging them."

  "I'll write to her parents," Alan said. "Send a messenger today, should hear back before you set off. You never know. They might say yes."

  ***

  She was going. She really was. Merin flew around her room in dizzy excitement, packing haphazardly between bouts of dancing. It would be so much fun. She'd get to see real tourneys, and squire a bit, and maybe even have a dash at the youths' games. Matilda had promised as much, if she practised hard and applied herself to the work.

  And she'd get to see Valentin. Maybe chat to him, even. Of course there couldn't be more, Merin realised that, he barely noticed her at all. But if he did, if he could just see her prove skilful and capable and beautiful, and whatever else men wanted to see...

  She didn't really know what men wanted.

  Anyway she didn't care. She was going to the tourneys, she didn't have a thought to spare for men.

  Merin blushed at the implications of Alan's sudden suspicion. Of course there hadn't been anything untoward, Guillaume would never - well, she hoped he'd never. That was an embarrassing thought, and worrying too. Because she couldn't really avoid him once they were on the road together.

  She'd just have to make sure they were always in company. Stay close to Matilda, that would be the best idea. It wouldn't seem odd, not if she was going as Matilda's maid - which Merin didn't care for, but it was better than not going at all.

  Maybe she could ask Matilda about Valentin. Subtly, indirectly, arousing no suspicion. Because it would be too mortifying if anyone guessed how much she admired him. Oh, and if he ever found out - it would be dreadful beyond belief.

  But he wouldn't. No one would. It would be her own best-kept secret, to hug close within her own heart. If she wasn't going to marry, and she couldn't be a knight, she could at least revel in the excitement of a hidden romance.

  ***

  CHAPTER 4

  Oh, this was more like it. A vast expanse of tents, teeming with people, in the crook of a river that ran lazily through endless fields. Merin was enchanted.

  She'd been thrilled during the first day of their journey. Travelling in company, surrounded by horsemen in colours and clinking mailcoats, with an accompaniment of thudding hoofbeats and the occasional whistled tunes among the men. Even familiar views seemed fresh, and once they were beyond the range of Merin's knowledge every moment brought new vistas. She'd never been so far from home before.

  By evening, though, sore from the saddle and bruised from the cart, she'd missed home with an intensity that surprised her. Not Caroline's cosy bedchamber, where she'd been blissfully contented until now, but her own home full of voices and squabbles and laughter. Alone in a bleak tavern room, uneasy despite the guard posted outside, she'd felt close to tears as she huddled in a cold bed. Matilda had gone to Guillaume's room, and remained there for over an hour. When she returned, though warm and comforting, she wasn't a sister and Merin didn't feel at ease so close to her.

  During the days that followed, Merin had been mostly sore. And bored, since the landscape changed very little and the whistled tunes not at all.

  But here, in the noise and bustle and excitement of a camp, Merin's spirits rose again. She'd left Matilda muttering over some arrangement of clothing, and sneaked off to explore by herself.

  Lost in contemplation, Merin banged into a solid body. She flinched and began an apology, then blushed hotly when she realised it was Valentin.

  "Sorry," she said. "I was, um - " She couldn't think of a good lie.

  "As was I," Valentin said. "You probably shouldn't wander around by yourself. Shall we um together for a while?"

  Merin laughed. Both embarrassment and preoccupation vanished entirely. "Why not?"

  They strolled along between the tents, side by side, sleeves almost touching. Merin drew in breath, enjoyed the bustle and life all around her.

  "I like it here," she said spontaneously.

  "It's a decent enough place." Valentin looked around. "Big open fields, easy slopes. I'm not much for stratagems myself."

  "Oh," Merin said blankly. "I wasn't thinking of the tournament as such. Just, you know - all of this." She gestured to the wilderness of people and tents.

  Valentin looked around, searchingly, as if striving to see what she saw. "All of what?"

  He'd grown up like this, Merin realised. To him, it was not worthy of note. Whereas to her, every moment and every breath was an adventure.

  "Never mind." She sauntered on, revelled in the experience of just being here with him.

  "Your riding is coming along," Valentin said. "I saw you on the way here, when Matilda had you practising your paces. Lovely work."

  "Thank you." Merin flushed with pleasure. "It's starting to
feel good. Comfortable. I just need to learn lance handling."

  "That will happen. Focus on what you're doing, and stay relaxed. If you're tense, that actually slows you down. Don't ask me why, but it does."

  "I'll remember that," Merin promised.

  They strolled on to the edge of the camp, where fields unrolled before them. A sunset sky blazed to the west, impassioned with crimson and gold.

  "Can I ask you something?" Valentin spoke quietly, in an odd tone of voice.

  Merin eyed him curiously. "Sure."

  "Have you ever considered..." He trailed off. "I mean, are there any plans for your marriage?"

  Merin grimaced. "Not really. I mean, I know I'll have to eventually. Mother says so, and she's determined. But right now I just enjoy being free."

  "Oh." Valentin seemed a little deflated. He turned to study the sunset with every appearance of interest.

  "What about you?" Merin asked, for the sake of politeness. She didn't especially want to hear about any girls he was likely to wed.

  "I suppose I've thought about it," Valentin said. "But I'm just a paid man, so." He shrugged. "Guess I'll have to earn my way to a manor. Or find a girl who doesn't mind tagging along on the circuit."

  "There seem to be plenty of those around." Merin had been surprised by how many families travelled from meet to meet.

  "Plenty of men around, too. And not all that much in the way of ransoms, for those of us new to the knighthood. Oh well." Valentin grinned suddenly. "I suppose I'll have to stay in the youths' games for a while longer. Poor me."

  "You should," Merin said earnestly. "It would be an awful shame if you stopped. You're brilliant." She couldn't have told him that back at Alan's house. But here, away from judgement, she felt free with him.

  Valentin smiled. "Thank you. I do enjoy them very much."

  "Can you help me?" Merin asked on an impulse. "I know I'm not much good, but I really want to learn."

  Valentin shifted. "Doubt Matilda would allow it."

  "She might," Merin urged. "If I asked."

  "Better not," Valentin said. "It might sound a bit... strange. I'll come and watch you at practice tomorrow, though. See how you get on. If there's anything I can suggest, I will."

  "Tomorrow?"

  "Day before the games. All the little squires will be out in force, showing off in front of the knights." Valentin grinned, indulgently. "And the knights, showing off to each other. Come and watch me, too, if you like. With Matilda's permission, of course."

  ***

  Yes, Valentin thought, this was better. The improvements he'd made under Alan's guidance had lasted him into the field. Back in the familiar environment of crowded practice grounds and hurried runs, he felt the difference clearly. Recognised it also in the way other knights drifted over to watch and swap brief murmurs of approval.

  He stroked the neck of his horse by way of thanks, then quit the yard to make way for other riders who waited impatiently for their own chance to practice.

  "That was splendid." Merin stood by the entrance, shining-eyed and lovely, flanked by two knights from Matilda's retinue. Valentin gave her a nod of acknowledgement, conscious of curious eyes all around him. He wanted to smile and thank her for coming, but gossip needed nothing more.

  Valentin knew what some knights said about the girls who were smiled at, and smiled back. For the sake of Merin's reputation, he could not afford to betray any hint of his feelings.

  Then he hated himself for that caution, as the joy faded from her face. He could have offered more, if only as a matter of courtesy.

  She turned away with a resolute set to her shoulders. Valentin was tempted to make amends, but that would draw attention he could ill afford. Better to ride on towards the stables, cursing hopelessly under his breath. He did so now.

  "Have you seen Merin?" Matilda strode past, wearing a preoccupied expression. "I can't find my gloves."

  "Just over there, mistress." Valentin indicated the slight figure by the side of the practice-ground.

  "I should have guessed. She's supposed to remain with me. God damn all silly girls."

  Valentin bit his tongue. He seemed to be doing that a lot, lately. A sore welt had sprung up along the line of his teeth.

  Matilda glanced up at him suddenly, as if struck by a thought. "Have you spoken to her at all?"

  "No, mistress." Nothing since that wonderful saunter through the camp last night. He'd felt comfortable and at ease with her then, untroubled by any possibility of critical stares or sneering gossip. Arrival day was busy for everyone, and in all the bustle their walk had gone entirely unnoticed as far as Valentin could tell.

  There had been a momentary disappointment, when she told him so bluntly she was not interested in marrying. But reason told him it was for the best. He was in no position to offer.

  "Good," Matilda said. "Keep it that way."

  "Forgive my impertinence," Valentin said, a little aggrieved, "but is something amiss?"

  "Not as far as I know. She asked about your family - who they were, and so forth. I thought you might have discussed it with her."

  "No." Valentin didn't need to feign a blank face, because it was all he was capable of as confusion swirled through his mind. Why would Merin take an interest in his family?

  "Carry on with your tasks," Matilda said.

  Valentin watched her march off towards Merin, speak in a manner that indicated displeasure, soften visibly at Merin's replies. Turn her attention towards the knights at practice, nod and point and explain.

  He smiled a little to himself, allowed himself a moment longer to contemplate Merin's beauty - and intelligence, and resourcefulness. She was truly splendid, that girl, at bending other people to her will.

  Then he rode off to attend to his own work, which was at least an uncomplicated business.

  ***

  Merin turned the horse. She loved this animal, a perky little creature shared between Guillaume's and Matilda's pages. It didn't mind her getting things wrong, but gave its best guess and skipped happily through her corrections.

  They had got to know each other on the ride here. Merin had spent a couple of hours in the saddle morning and afternoon, the rest crammed into a corner on one of the carts.

  Now she was taking her turn practicing in the makeshift tiltyard, during the session set aside for younger squires. A short run had been set up, in and out through five poles and a single pick-up at the end of the field.

  She could do this. Anyone could do this. She knew that, because a dozen children had just shown her how easy it was.

  She even had a lance. Half size, easy to carry and hold, smaller than the ones she'd hefted for the squires back at Alan's manor. A joke next to the ones the men used. She'd seen those, too, lifted them from Alan's rack, watched with envy here as knights handled them with negligent ease. Maybe one day she'd be as comfortable with those.

  For the present, she liked the child's version best, though she felt the reproach implied in having to use it.

  "Get on," a harassed squire shouted at her from behind. "There's more of us want a go."

  Merin flushed. Held her lance steady, upright, as she dodged in and out of the line of poles. Lowered it as she emerged, trotted over to the dangling ring that ought to fit so easily onto the tip of her lance.

  Missed it completely. Wasn't even close. Snickers rippled through a cluster of young men, knights probably, who hung over the rail at the far end and made unfavourable comments on each rider's skill. She'd heard those as she went through her figures, but ignored them as best she could, even the ones clearly directed at her. But now, riding past only a step away, the scornful voices grated on her.

  "Stupid girl," one of the youths called out. "Shouldn't clutter up the yard if you can't ride."

  "Nice to look at, though," another one added. "Give us a smile, darling."

  Merin flushed deeper, especially when they began to comment on her body. She raised her lance and carried on, studiously ignoring them,
pretending she couldn't hear what they said. But everyone else did, she knew it, the youths weren't troubling to keep their opinions a secret. She felt scornful eyes on her, all around the yard, as she rode slowly back to take her place at the end of the procession of children.

  Who all proved more adept than she. It was mortifying, this relentless display. The youths were openly laughing at her now. She rode through the poles again, slower and more uncertainly this time, paused to level her lance. Trotted across and missed completely yet again, to raucous cheers from the youths.

  Merin's eyes brimmed. She raised the lance but managed to clip the rail, lost her grip on the hold, fought desperately for control but found she couldn't hold on. The lance dropped with a thud, and the youths' laughter spread along the sidelines. Even the children waiting ahead of her giggled freely.

  So much for her dream of winning splendid prizes. Merin cringed at thought of it now. She'd really had no idea at all.

  Reluctantly, yet with a touch of relief, she slid from the saddle and retrieved her lance. Might as well give up, slink away and hide in the stables, where no one ridiculed her. She probably ought to try again, and again: each group admitted had half an hour's exclusive use of the yard. But she didn't want to humiliate herself further, and at least she had an excuse of sorts, though not one she wanted generally known. She still couldn't mount unassisted. One of the knights had to lift her up.

  That was embarrassing, too. She kept trying to jump up the way the squires did, and the pages even: grab the saddle and hoist herself over by main strength. But she couldn't. Got simply nowhere.

  And now this. Merin led the horse around to the entrance, then out through a thicket of mounted children all wanting their turn. Tried not to hear the jeers and laughter all around.

  "You're not giving up, are you?" A man moved aside to avoid blocking her path, and Merin truly could have wept. It was Valentin, of all people, here to see her ruin.

  "I am," Merin said gloomily. Giving up forever, on any hope she'd had.

  "Don't worry about missing the ring. That happens when your control is poor. Keep working on it. The more you practice, the better you'll get."