“Nay, but poachers are notorious for being swift in escape, and none of them are likely to admit to shooting an arrow that had hit their lady.”
The forest had been cut back on all sides of the castle, leaving no easy cover for attackers, but nothing could remove the giant rocks which thrust themselves up through the flesh of the earth like bones from a compound fracture. “Why would anyone want to shoot at their lady?”
“Lady Alisoun won’t listen to…” David twisted around and leaned his shoulder against the mossy stone, and Sir Walter pulled a rueful face. “Well, you may have noticed, she has a mind of her own. She’s made unpopular decisions at times, but I doubt that anyone shot at her on purpose. I think it was a wild shot.”
“Hm.” David walked toward the tower nearest the keep. It overlooked the sea, and the scenery beyond changed from soft pastels to vivid stains of color. The purple sea reflected the clouds. Sea creatures rode through the snowy foam on the waves, flipping their browns and grays over and over with no caution for the wet, black rocks. Such a contrast, David mused. The domesticated calm of the village and fields and the ferocity of the water. Lady Alisoun belonged to the domestic side of this castle, just as the domestic side belonged to her.
Yet she’d grown up in the keep, and the keep hugged the ocean, using its rugged backdrop as a natural defense. She’d heard the waves breaking with every storm, smelled the salt and shivered in the untamed wind. Had Alisoun, strong as she was, resisted the might of the sea? Or had the sea formed that part of her that roiled in hidden ecstasy?
“Would you perhaps like to visit the stables?” Sir Walter clapped his hands and rubbed the palms together. “You can see the arrangements we made for King Louis. He’s a very famous horse, and we’re honored to have him in our care.”
“Aye? Has he spit on you yet?” The corner tower rose before them, and David opened the tiny door. Ivo huddled close to the basket of coals that heated the guardroom.
Sir Walter leaped through the door as if one of the coals had fallen in his braies. “Get out to your duty.”
Ivo just turned his head and stared. David didn’t know whom the big man-at-arms despised more—him or Sir Walter. But if the man despised Sir Walter, that was all to the good. That attitude could be used for David’s own purposes, especially since Ivo had shown his unwavering loyalty to Alisoun. Strolling to the basket, he stretched out his hands. “I don’t know, Sir Walter. Perhaps we should ask Ivo who fired the shot.”
“He doesn’t know anything.” Sir Walter spoke too quickly. “He’s just an ignorant man-at-arms.”
David answered. “I’ve found that if I’m searching for the answer to a puzzle such as the one facing us here, those men who are silent often know the most.”
Ivo snorted.
“If he knew anything, he would have told me what he knew,” Sir Walter insisted. “Isn’t that right, Ivo?”
Rising from his seat, Ivo towered over David and Sir Walter for one moment. Then he gathered his cloak from the hook and walked out into the rain, slamming the door behind him.
Sir Walter seemed torn between relief and embarrassment. “He’s half an idiot.”
“He doesn’t like me,” David said, half under his breath.
“Doesn’t he?” Sir Walter brightened. “Never mind. I can handle him.”
If Sir Walter always handled him as tactfully as he’d done when they walked in, Ivo could come to place his faith in David. And David well knew what a treasure that would be.
He went to open the door, and a young boy fell into the room just as if he’d been listening at the crack. David picked him up by the back of his tunic and held him off the ground as he examined him. A bit of a lad, ten perhaps, all elbows and knees and big blue eyes in a thin face. He kicked heartily while David dusted him off and set him on his feet. “Who are you?” David asked.
“He’s one of the pages, and he shouldn’t be here.”
Sir Walter grabbed the lad by a handful of his blond hair, but David latched onto Sir Walter’s wrist before he could give the boy a twist. God, how he hated men who were thoughtlessly cruel. They were worse than the others, the ones who knew what they were doing. Men like Sir Walter never imagined that a blow hurt worse when delivered to a boy trying his best, or that words from an idol could tear a wound that never healed. “He’s done no harm.”
“He shouldn’t be—”
“I should, too.” The boy interrupted, clearly lacking any sense of the danger he courted. “The lady sent me.”
Glaring, but taken aback, Sir Walter said, “Then give your message and begone.”
“I won’t. The lady said I should stay.”
Sir Walter’s hands twitched. “Stay. Here. Why?”
“I am to be Sir David’s personal squire.”
“Squire? Personal?” Sir Walter stared at the boy. “You?” He looked back at David, then started to laugh. “And I thought she liked you.”
David’s hand tried to form a fist, but he still held Sir Walter’s wrist.
Sir Walter’s laughter broke and he jerked back. “Curse you!” He rubbed the marks David had placed on his skin and for one intelligent moment, he saw enough of David to put fear into him. Then he tried to laugh again, not as successfully as before, and said, “I’ll leave you with your…squire, then.”
Wrapping his cloak around his throat with a flourish, he left David and the boy.
Now that the enemy had been removed, the lad lost his cockiness. He bent his head respectfully, then examined David without lifting his chin. David grinned at the boy’s idea of subtlety, and asked, “What’s your name?”
“I’m Eudo, lord.”
“Eudo,” David repeated. “And how long have you practiced your duties as squire?”
“Oh…” Eudo dropped his gaze to his feet. “A long time.”
A lie, but a badly told one. David liked that. He preferred not to deal with an accomplished liar. He also knew Alisoun had sent the lad to him for a reason, and he had faith in her judgment. He just needed to discover that reason. Genially, he said, “That’s good.” He didn’t remove his gaze from the boy.
Eudo began to twist as if he needed to use the garderobe. “I know I’m small, but I’m older than I look.”
David judged him. “Eleven, I would have said.”
Eudo jumped. “Older…than I look.”
David still didn’t move, standing with his hands lax, waiting for the truth.
Eudo made a bad choice. He decided to expand the falsehood. “I’ve been squire to lots of men. Dozens!”
Stroking his chin, David pulled a long face. “Too bad.”
“What do you mean?”
“I like to train my squires from the beginning. Like most knights, I have my own special ways I want my weapons and armor cared for, the way I want my meat carved, the way I like my—” he rubbed his stubbled chin, “—face shaved. If you’ve been squire to many men, I suppose you’ve picked up bad habits.” Slowly, he started to turn away and felt the bump as Eudo latched himself onto David’s belt.
“Nay!”
“What?”
“I…”
David looked down into the big, dismayed blue eyes and managed not to grin at the struggle portrayed therein.
“I wasn’t exactly the squire to dozens of men.”
“Half a dozen?”
Eudo slid down David’s leg just a little as if expecting a rap on the noggin. “A few.”
“Too many.” David tried to shake him off, but not too hard.
“One!”
Leaning over, David cupped Eudo’s chin to keep him from slithering onto the floor. “How many?”
Eudo took a deep breath and tried to speak, then blurted, “I begged so hard, my lady sent me to you with instructions to tell you…I’m just a page, and if you want another, more experienced squire, she will gladly oblige.”
“That’s the truth?”
“Aye, lord.”
“All the truth?”
&nb
sp; Eudo nodded, and David looked him over. Tears cast a sheen over Eudo’s eyes, and his throat muscles clutched as he swallowed sobs. Brushing the hair off Eudo’s forehead, David declared, “I like you.”
Eudo didn’t respond for a moment, then he wiped his sleeve across his nose. “You do?”
“You’ll do nicely for my squire.” David released his chin and Eudo scrambled to his feet. Tugging his belt back up into place, David said, “You’re a man who tells the truth, regardless of the consequences.”
Eudo straightened his thin shoulders.
“You’ll always tell me the truth from now on, won’t you?”
“Aye, lord.”
“Do you swear?”
“Aye, lord.”
David frowned at the easy answer, and knelt beside Eudo so their eyes were level. “A man’s word is his most precious possession. When a man breaks his word, no one ever believes him again. So I want you to think, and think hard—do you swear to always tell me the truth, even if it should fetch you a beating, even if it hurts me, even if you fear the consequences?”
This time Eudo hesitated. His long, freckled hand rubbed his arse as he recalled pain. Then he looked again at David’s face, and something he saw there convinced him. “I swear, my lord, I will obey you in all things and always, always tell you the truth.”
“You’re a good man.”
Eudo’s smile broke forth and David suddenly understood how he had swayed Alisoun to do his bidding. Dimples resided in his cheeks, teeth crowded his mouth, and his grin almost spread from ear to ear. He would be hard to resist.
Standing, David clapped him on the shoulder. “Show me the lay of the castle.”
“Oh, thank you, my lord.” Eudo jumped in the air.
They stepped out into the rain and Eudo ran ahead along the wall walk, then returned. “Are you going to save our lady from harm?”
“I am.”
“Good.” He pointed at a jumbled clump of boulders. “The archer hid there when he shot my lady.”
His confidence surprised David. “How do you know?”
“I went and looked afterward. I looked in all of them, and found little bits of feather from the fletching and a fresh scratch in that one.”
With his gaze, David measured the angle and distance from the stones to the gate. A knave could hide there and shoot, then escape back into the forest easily enough, and none would be the wiser. “Did you tell Sir Walter?”
Eudo made a face. “Sir Walter doesn’t listen to me, so I did what I could to protect my lady.”
Fascinated, David asked, “What was that?”
“I planted thistles in the dirt in the cracks.”
David stared at Eudo incredulously.
Hunching his shoulders, Eudo mumbled, “It was the best I could think of.”
With a whoop, David lifted him into air and swung him around. “What a clever man you are.” Setting him on his feet, he dusted him off. “If I had ten allies like you, I could conquer France.”
“Really?” Eudo tried to subdue his grin, but it broke out. “You liked it?”
David tapped Eudo on the temple. “That’s doing the best you can with limited supplies. Every knight-errant learns it, or dies, and you’ve learned it earlier, and better, than most.”
Beaming under the praise, Eudo hurried to the stairs to the inner bailey, moving so quickly he skidded down the last four slick stone steps and landed on his knees. He glanced back quickly, embarrassed, but David plucked him out of the mud and said, “Best take care. I can’t use a squire with a broken leg.”
“Oh, I never break anything,” Eudo said airily. Then he seemed to recall his vow, for he stammered, “That is, I did once. My finger. But it was only a finger, and my lady set it and it’s fine. See?” He held it up and wiggled it. “And once I had to have my lady stitch up my back because I fell on a sword that someone had left laying on the ground.” He reconsidered. “Well, it wasn’t really a sword. More of a dagger. Or a knife. It was a knife. And it was me who left it on the ground. But I’m careful now. You can ask anyone. Well, don’t ask Sir Walter, because he still talks about the time I—”
With a pang, David placed his hand across Eudo’s mouth. The long-winded, earnest explanations suddenly reminded him of Bert, and he missed his daughter with an ache that got worse with every passing day.
Did she miss him, too? Would she have forgotten him by the time he got home? He wanted to gather Eudo in his arms, and hug him tight, but he didn’t make the mistake of thinking Eudo would welcome such an affront to his dignity. Instead, David said, “I said you had to tell me the truth. I didn’t say you had to confess every mistake you’d ever made.”
Eudo freed himself. “So I only have to tell you if you ask me?”
“You only have to tell me if you think you should.”
“But how will I know what I should tell you?”
“How do you know what to tell the priest in confession?”
“It doesn’t matter with our priest,” Eudo returned quickly. “He can’t hear anyway, and he always gives the same penance, so I confess everything.”
Lowering his chin, David stared until Eudo rocked back and forth on his heels uneasily. David said, “You know what I mean.”
“I guess…I have to tell you the stuff I don’t want to.”
Only David’s masterful control kept his laughter under restraint. “I’ll probably hear about it anyway, and I’d prefer to hear it from you.”
Envisioning a vast procession of mistakes and corrections, Eudo sighed. “How will I know when I’m ready to take care of myself?”
Rain had soaked David’s garments and the wet wool stuck to him, but he answered, “Good judgment comes from experience, and a lot of that comes from bad judgment.”
“But bad judgment can be corrected,” Alisoun’s voice said.
The man and the boy turned to see her standing in the doorway of the kitchen hut.
“Sometimes.” Little dribbles of water inched their way down David’s flesh, reminding him of the travails of a summer siege when bugs swarmed, crawled, and bit. “Sometimes, a man’s reward for bad judgment can be death.” He ruffled Eudo’s wet hair. “That’s why it’s best to make your mistakes early, within the safety of my lady’s castle.”
Alisoun joined them, her face a pale oval beneath the hood of her cape. “Will Eudo be making his mistakes under your guidance?”
“I would have no other,” David answered. One cold drop fell out of his hair and slithered down his spine, and he shuddered convulsively.
Alisoun observed Eudo’s proudly jutting chin. “Then he is yours to train.”
Driven to madness, David began to scratch. First his chest, then stomach, then—
Alisoun made a sound like a wounded puppy, and when he raised his eyebrows in inquiry, she blushed, spun on her heel and marched away. He muttered, “I wonder what’s wrong with her?”
“Sir?” Eudo was trying to curb his laughter, and with less luck than David. “I think I know.”
“Tell me, lad.”
Giggling, Eudo pointed at David as he rubbed his palms over his stockings, hoping to wring a little of the water out. “That. My lady says you’re not supposed to scratch when others are watching.”
Suspending his scratching excursion, David stared in astonishment. “But I itch!”
“My lady says a noble knight takes care not to wipe his nose while eating.”
“Everybody knows that!”
“He never overindulges in drink.”
Remembering the first time Alisoun had seen him, David cackled. “How I must have shocked her.”
“And he never scratches his body.”
Trying to understand, David said, “His crotch, you mean.”
“Nay, not any part of his body.”
David stared at Eudo. “That’s nonsense!”
“My lady is very exacting in her manner.”
“Well, she’ll just have to learn better!”
Lo
oking troubled, Eudo was about to speak, then visibly stopped himself. Lowering his head, he muttered, “Aye, Sir David.”
Defensively, David demanded, “What’s wrong with that?”
Glancing at him from the corner of his eyes, Eudo said, “I saw you this morning.”
“This morning?”
“Kissing my lady.”
“Oh.” David started toward the stable. “Is that also something my lady speaks against?”
“Nay. That is, I don’t know.” Eudo followed closely, anxious to impart his wisdom. “She hasn’t discussed kissing with me yet. But it looked as if you liked kissing her.”
A glimmer of comprehension broke through David’s indignation. “It was enjoyable.”
“Philippa said my lady doesn’t kiss casually. That if she kissed you, it was a very serious thing.”
David relaxed as he strode into the dimness of the open stable door. The rain outside made the hay smell almost moldy, and that, mixed with the odor of curry brushes and manure, combined to produce the odor of heaven. If he couldn’t be home, he’d rather be here, lingering to examine the horseflesh of Alisoun’s stables. Horses were contrary, rude, and given to senseless fits of jealousy. He understood them much better than he understood women.
He eyed Eudo’s skinny back as he skipped ahead. “Kissing my lady was a very serious thing to me. Do you understand, as my squire, that my secrets are sacred and not to be told?”
Eudo nodded.
“I want to court her.”
“I thought so.” Now Eudo turned and, walking backward, looked David over as carefully as David had previously examined him. He might have been Alisoun’s father, sitting in judgment of a suitor. After one very long moment, he made his decision and nodded. “If you listen to me, I can help you.”
Once a Knight Page 11