Tall, Dark, and Medieval

by Barbara Devlin

  “I - I’m not sure.” She smoothed the pieces of her father’s banner out with her palm. “There’s a dark side to Drake that I want nothing to do with.”

  “Can’t a fire light the dark corners of one’s soul?”

  Brynn looked to the fire for her strength. She didn’t really understand what the old seer was trying to tell her, but she did feel she could be the woman that saved Drake from his anger if she wanted to be.

  “I’ll have to think about that,” said Brynn.

  “Of course,” said Juturna. “However, in the meantime give him a chance. Now let me tend to your wounds. Then we’ll get you dressed for dinner.”

  “Oh, no, I don’t think I’ll be going to dinner tonight.” Brynn could feel the woman’s eyes heavy on her, so she kept her gaze focused on the fire.

  “’Tis your choice,” Juturna said indifferently. “Either way, let me see those wounds.”

  * * *

  “You want me to do what?” asked Asad, polishing his sword as he spoke.

  “Shhhh,” Drake warned him, keeping his eye on Calais who was making another futile attempt at tackling the quintain before it tackled him.

  “I just need a few tips in how to woo a lady.”

  Asad smiled from ear to ear. “Well, you’ve come to the right place, my lord. I’ve been wooing many a lady for many a years.”

  “I don’t need your vanity, Asad. I just need your advice.”

  “I’d be happy to help, my lord. But first I must ask of the name of this woman you aim to woo.”

  Drake frowned at the question and let out an impatient breath of air. “Egads, Asad, I’m a married man. Who do you think it is? Brynn, of course.”

  “I just wanted to be certain,” he said with a smile. “Marriage doesn’t necessarily mean commitment. After all, most lords have mistresses.”

  “Are you going to help me woo her or are you trying to set me up with a kitchen maid?”

  “My apologies,” said Asad, putting his blade back in place. He looked over to Calais, picking himself up off the ground after the quintain arm swung around and knocked him off his horse. “Try again!” he called out. “You need to hit it on target if you don’t plan on being unseated.” He then looked back at Drake. “I’m not sure Calais is even capable of being trained as a squire. After all, he is more the age of a knight, though I don’t believe he’d ever qualify for that. I’m surprised - ”

  “Asad?” Drake scowled and his squire nodded.

  “Wooing,” he said, clearing his voice. “The first step is to make the lady think you like her.”

  “Of course I like her,” Drake growled. “Any fool can see that.”

  Asad looked up and raised a brow. “Really? I’ve known you for a long time, my lord. And though I know when you cuss at me or throw your helm across the field or even when you throw me into the horse’s trough, you’re showing admiration . . . a lady may not quite understand.”

  “All right, Asad, you’ve made your point. You’ve been kind enough to show me my weaknesses, now tell me how to correct them.”

  “Certainly.”

  A screech went up from Calais who somehow got his foot tangled in the reins and was being dragged around the practice field by his horse.

  “Uh, if you’ll excuse me my lord?” Asad motioned toward the incapable man.

  “Forget him! Now tell me what I need to know.”

  Asad looked at Calais and then back to Drake uneasily. “Well, you could try bringing her flowers, or praising her in public.” His gaze shifted back to Calais, still crying out for help.

  “Flowers?” Drake cupped his chin with his hand in thought. “I suppose. I never thought of that. What else?”

  “You - you might want to try telling her how beautiful she looks, or comparing her eyes to a shiny object. Women like that.” Asad’s concentration was definitely elsewhere.

  “Go on, go on.”

  “Take her for a walk somewhere romantic. Hold her hand. Put your arms around her as you look at something romantic.”

  Calais slid by them in a blur of dust as his spooked horse sped up instead of slowing down. Asad shifted back and forth. “I think he may be hurt, my lord.”

  “Nonsense. ’Tis good warrior training. Now tell me more.”

  “Well . . . you could be kind to an animal or a child. Women like that in a man.”

  “I see, I see.” Drake paced back and forth, contemplating the idea.

  “And don’t forget to ask her opinion on issues.”

  “What?” He stopped in his tracks and looked at Asad. “You have got to be jesting. I would never ask her opinion on anything of importance.”

  “No, no. Nothing that’s important of course. Something little and trivial. Something that doesn’t really matter. That’s where women put their interests. Try something emotional. For some odd reason women fall at my feet when I ask them something that deals with emotions. You’ll have her eating out of your hand by the end of the night. Hold on, Calais,” called Asad. “I’ll be right there.”

  “I’m not quite sure I understand about these emotions.” Drake crossed his arms over his chest in thought.

  Asad flinched as Calais was dragged through horse dung and then over a pile of broken weapons before he ended up tangled around the post of the lists. The rest of the knights and squires in the practice yard looked on and laughed.

  “You’ll do just fine,” answered Asad. “If I may be excused, my lord. I truly think the man is hurt.”

  “Fine, fine,” he growled. “Go to him. I’ll just attempt this by myself.”

  “Just remember everything I told you,” called Asad, jumping atop his own horse and heading over the practice field to help Calais.

  “Remember everything,” Drake mumbled, walking back to the castle to change for dinner, trying to organize the thoughts in his head. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a deep breath. Asad made it all seem so easy. He wasn’t sure he understood any of this. He would never understand why a man had to bother with any of these things to win a woman’s admiration.

  “How hard can it be?” he asked himself aloud. Then he thought of the feisty witch who’d been sleeping in his bed while he slept in the mews. She’d been nothing but trouble ever since he saved her from the dragon. She was a hellion, a brash chit with no respect for her lord. She was a stubborn wench with a will tougher than steel. She was infuriating, exasperating, and much more trouble than she was worth.

  She was his wife.

  He headed toward the solar to get dressed for dinner, wondering where the hell he was going to find flowers.

  THE DRAGON AND THE DREAMWALKER

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  When Brynn didn’t show up for the meal again, Drake felt his anger rising faster than the color of a blushing bride’s face. Everyone sat patiently, awaiting his word to start the meal. The food was served nearly a half hour earlier, but Drake wouldn’t let anyone start eating until Brynn arrived. He knew the food was already colder than usual - not that it was ever hot, having to be carried across the courtyard from the main kitchen. But this was starting to be embarrassing on his part. This was the third time it happened and he had no doubt in his mind it wouldn’t be the last.

  His knights fidgeted at the trestle tables, trying to converse with the ladies, but not being able to ignore their hungry stomachs or the food sitting right in front of them. Their squires tried to keep them happy by refilling their tankards with ale, but even that didn’t help. Father Pelltun was leading the fourteenth prayer, blessing the cold food, and even Drake was becoming irritated with his monotone words of thanks.

  The serving wenches stood idle in the doorways, something they’d never done before. Everyone was ill at ease, and only Brynn was to blame. Had she been here when she was supposed to be, none of this would be happening.

  The musicians up in the gallery plucked away on their lutes, one playing the rote, five-stringed harp, nearly putting Drake to sleep. He couldn’t help but see the
stifled yawns from his men. This was lasting much too long. One of Drake’s hounds sat at his side, eyeing the food on the table and then eyeing Drake with eager anticipation.

  “You may get all this food if she doesn’t show soon,” he whispered to the dog. The dog’s tail swept quickly back and forth over the rushes at the mere idea.

  “Shall I go see what’s keeping her, my lord?” Asad sat next to him, eyeing the food on the platters in front of him.

  “Nay! This is the last time she’ll make me look like a fool.” Drake pushed up to his feet, ready to strangle her neck right after he punished her severely.

  “Don’t forget the flowers,” Asad suggested.

  Drake stopped in his tracks and looked back toward him.

  “Flowers? I’m not going to bring her flowers when she can’t even show to dinner.”

  “I thought you wanted to woo her, my lord.”

  “So did I. Mayhap I was wrong.”

  Just then, Brynn showed up at the door with the old seer, Juturna, and her handmaiden, Birdie, right behind her. She was dressed beautifully, head to toe in a brownish-orange velvet gown. Her fiery red hair looked like fine spun silk as it lay long and loose across her shoulders. She didn’t wear a headdress this time. Her loose hair was the style of an unmarried woman - done probably just to spite him. Still, she did look beautiful, and he couldn’t say he didn’t like it.

  The talking of the crowd stilled, and all eyes were on Brynn waiting at the door.

  “You should have had flowers,” Asad reminded him in a whisper.

  “I tried,” he whispered back, “but when I stormed the castle, all the gardens burned to ashes. Not to mention, when I tried to purchase some, to my dismay, I found the peddler who normally visits with fresh flowers is ill today.”

  “So much for lesson one,” commented Asad under his breath.

  Drake looked down to the platters of food. Atop the venison with plum sauce sat two long sprigs of rosemary, almost in bloom. He grabbed them and headed for Brynn.

  “What are you doing, my lord?” came Asad’s troubled voice from behind him. Drake just ignored him.

  “My lord,” said Brynn as he approached her.

  “My lady.” Drake held out the sprigs of rosemary toward her. She looked to him with question upon her face. “For you.” He held them out to her still, but she did not take them.

  “Shouldn’t I sit at the table before I consume my supper?” she asked, maintaining the cool composure expected of a lady.

  A few snickers went up from the crowd, and being angered at his futile attempt to woo her, Drake threw the sprigs to the ground. He grabbed her arm and led her to the dais.

  “I didn’t think you were going to join us,” he mumbled.

  “Neither did I,” she said as he sat her next to him.

  “Don’t ever think to do this again or I’ll . . . ”

  He was interrupted by Asad clearing his throat from next to him. His squire smiled and Drake tried to bite his tongue to keep the threat from spilling from his lips.

  “Or you’ll what?” she asked, chin raised, voice defiant, an amused smile upon her luscious red lips.

  “Or I’ll . . . ” he looked back at Asad and then out to the sea of eyes watching him. “Or I’ll have to order the cooks to start a whole new meal. Actually, since this food is so cold, I think it should go back to the kitchen to be warmed.” He clapped his hands and the serving wenches came forward to take the platters away. A moan went up from the crowd, and the biggest disappointment came from next to him.

  “My lord, is this really necessary?” asked Asad, his eyes reaching out for the food as it disappeared from in front of him.

  “You told me to please her,” Drake said in a low voice.

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean to displease the rest of the castle’s hungry occupants in the process.”

  “Are you saying I did the wrong thing, Asad?”

  His squire seemed to be biting his tongue. Or holding back the saliva, he wasn’t sure which.

  “Nay, not at all, my lord. I’m sure Lady Brynn will appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

  “Then I’ve succeeded with my first lesson in wooing a lady?”

  “I . . . guess you could say that, my lord.”

  “Good.” He looked over to Brynn who was taking a sip from her wine goblet. “I think I’ll try that eye compliment now,” he announced to Asad.

  “Of course,” mumbled Asad, sinking into his chair. The rest of the castle’s occupants spoke lowly amongst themselves. The untouched food was cleared with haste and taken back to the kitchens to be warmed. The minstrels struck up a sad tune.

  “My lady,” said Drake.

  “Yes?” Brynn put down her goblet and turned to face him.

  Drake went over Asad’s directions in his head. Compare her eyes to something shiny.

  “Your eyes look like . . . ” he looked around the room but could find nothing shiny, except the weapons on the wall. He didn’t think comparing her eyes to daggers was a good thing, even if it were true. His mouth went dry and his brain was blank. This wasn’t working at all.

  “Yes?” she asked carefully, as if she knew he was planning something.

  “Your eyes look like . . . ” He struggled to find something shiny – anything - then finally spotted a shiny apple in the bowl of fruit in front of him. “Apples,” he stated with a smile on his face, thinking he saved his futile attempt at complimenting her. After all, apples had to be better than comparing her eyes to the sharpness of a blade.

  “Pardon me?” she asked, a frown on her face.

  “Stars would have been good,” whispered Asad from behind him. “Her eyes are like stars twinkling in the heavens. Not her eyes look like apples.”

  “Now you tell me,” he growled back to Asad from the side of his mouth.

  “My eyes look like apples?” she asked, searching his face with her scrutinizing gaze.

  “Yes,” he explained. “Shiny and new. Fresh and - ” He stopped his words as she picked up the apple from the bowl in front of them. While one side was shiny, looks were deceiving. The other side was rotten and a worm flicked its head out of a hole in the fruit.

  “Good try,” mumbled Asad.

  Drake turned away from her and back toward Asad. “Dammit, squire,” he spoke in a low voice. “I asked you how to woo a lady, not insinuate she’s rotten to the core.”

  “I did my best,” explained his squire. “I cannot take responsibility for that apple comment. You alone take credit for that.”

  “Well if you weren’t so distracted by that whelp Calais, you might have taught me the proper words to say.”

  “Did I hear you mention Calais?” asked Brynn curiously, her voice coming at him in a sing-song nature.

  Drake swung around, hoping she hadn’t heard his whole conversation with Asad. If he hadn’t already been irritated, he was now by the perkiness in her voice and her sudden interest when he mentioned the man’s name.

  “Calais?” asked Drake. “Why yes.”

  “I hope he’s to your liking,” she said and smiled again. “I’m sure he’ll make a fine squire, don’t you agree?”

  Drake looked back at Asad. Both of them knew Calais wouldn’t make a fine jester, let alone a squire. But Brynn seemed to have her sight set on this man succeeding for some reason.

  “Is this where I ask her opinion?” Drake mumbled to Asad.

  “I think she’s already given it, my lord.”

  It wasn’t long before the platters of food arrived, and Drake was thankful to escape this awkward situation. He stabbed the biggest hunk of venison and was about to slap it on his trencher when he noticed Brynn staring at him. He was hungry and the meat looked good. Still, Brynn smiled at him politely and he knew what he had to do.

  “For you, my lady,” he said, placing it in front of her. When he turned back, he found that Asad had cleaned the platter of the last of the meat.

  “Dammit, Asad, you are supposed to wait for your
lord to take his meat first!”

  Asad looked up, mouth full.

  “I did,” he mumbled between mouthfuls. “I let you have the prime piece.”

  Drake could have commanded Asad to give him his meal, but the look on Brynn’s face stopped him from doing so. She oddly enough seemed pleased.

  “How noble of you to give me the prime cut of meat,” she remarked, and Drake got the feeling she was winning this round even though he’d done the right thing in wooing a woman. “To let Asad eat the rest was also quite noble,” she continued.

  He couldn’t take it back now if he tried. If he did, he’d not only look like an ogre in her eyes, but like a fool in front of everybody else.

  “Anything for you, my lady.” He grabbed his goblet and downed some wine. To call for more meat from the kitchen would make himself look selfish in her eyes. He couldn’t have that. He held out his goblet to the cup bearer, thinking more wine may help him know the right thing to do.

  He looked over to her, and she was smiling. He was starting to wonder if it was all worth it, when she spoke.

  “I’ll share,” she said, cutting off half her venison and putting it on his trencher. The aroma filled his nostrils, and his mouth anticipated the sweet, succulent flavor. He heard a small whimper, and felt the furry chin of one of the castle’s hounds as the dog laid its head on his lap, eyeing up the meat.

  “Get out of here, you mangy mutt.” This hound wasn’t one of his pure-bred hunting dogs. This was a scrawny whelp that chased the venders and barked at the children as it rummaged through the rushes for scraps of food. He had no care for this dog and wanted nothing to do with it.

  He stabbed the meat with his knife and brought it toward his mouth.

  “The poor thing looks starved,” commented Brynn. “He needs some food.”

  “Be kind to an animal. Women like that,” Asad reminded him softly through a mouthful of food and a fake cough.

  Drake looked down to see the animal’s sad eyes watching him so intently. The thing looked pathetic, but did strike a chord in his heart. Then he looked over to Brynn, her eyes eager, her expectations high. What else could he possibly do? With a shake of his head and the sigh of being defeated, he threw the dog the meat.