Once a Knight

by Christina Dodd

  Instead Sir David snarled like a grumpy old tomcat. “Put on your boots. We’re going out.”

  And when I tried to tell him I didn’t need boots in the summer, he looked at me and I found myself scrambling to obey. While I tried to squeeze my rapidly growing feet into the boots that pinched, he loitered in the great hall, teasing Heath in quite a normal manner and playing peek-and-squeal with baby Hazel.

  Philippa allowed it now. She no longer treated Sir David as if he were a fork-tongued viper. Neither did she leave her baby alone with him.

  When I finally had my boots on I rushed at Sir David. Gently, he wiped the drool off the baby’s chin and waved bye-bye, and I demanded, “Did Lady Alisoun like the kitten?”

  “You gave her a kitten?” Philippa sounded scandalized.

  Standing up straight, Sir David glared at her. “Why shouldn’t I?”

  His stare might have been a fist. Philippa snatched her baby, holding her so tight Hazel howled, and shrank back against the wall.

  Sir David muttered an oath and stomped from the great hall, and I followed. Slamming the outside door open, he stepped out on the landing before he said, “You don’t have to tell everyone everything we planned.”

  Well, he hurt my feelings. I was young, but I wasn’t stupid. I hadn’t told anyone what we planned, and I couldn’t see what harm it did that Philippa knew he’d given Lady Alisoun a kitten. She was only a maid. By her speech I knew she was probably an obscure cousin of Lady Alisoun, and fostered in a noble household. But I was being fostered in a noble household, too, and if I failed to become a knight, I’d be nothing. Less than nothing. A mere servant like Philippa.

  I guess some of my thoughts showed on my face, because all of a sudden Sir David ruffled my hair. “Lady Alisoun will come to love it as she loved her other cat.”

  David knew he ought to tell Eudo the truth. It would be bracing, like this fresh breeze. He ought to explain that Eudo’s mistress was a cold woman who wanted labor for her money and feared affection because of the loss it eventually brought. It would save the lad from later disappointment. But he didn’t. Instead he ruffled Eudo’s hair and lied.

  Eudo grinned as he led the way down the stairs and into the bailey. “I knew it. I knew it! That was the best idea I’ve had yet. You stick with me, Sir David, and I’ll turn you into the perfect mate for the lady. Why, right now I bet she’s cradling the kitty just as she’ll later cradle your babes.”

  Eudo’s confidence amazed David, and he was already overwhelmed from an excess of unrequited passion. After that tiny, dark chamber, the summer sunshine seemed a tonic and he soaked it up as he strode toward the stables. “You may be anticipating a little too much.”

  “Why?” Eudo demanded, quick as a squirrel to pick up acorns.

  “The lady doesn’t seem to like me.”

  Sometimes young Eudo displayed a frighteningly adult comprehension. “She’s been kissing you again, hasn’t she? I’d say she likes you a lot.”

  Abruptly, David’s sense of humor returned. “Mayhap, but she shows it too infrequently.”

  “You’re the one who decided that restraint would win her.” Eudo was still young enough to sulk. “I saw no reason to wait.”

  “You’re impatient, lad.” But not as impatient as David. He badly wanted to go home to Radcliffe. Last month, Guy of the Archers had sent a message back with Alisoun’s servant. The drought seemed to be broken and everything was growing with the summer. His daughter grew, too, and Sir David ached because he missed her.

  He wanted to find that which threatened Alisoun and rid her of it at once so he could go home. She still didn’t trust him with the information he needed, and that both infuriated and relieved him. After all, he needed this time to court Alisoun. He wanted to learn her preferences and cater to them. If he could leave, he would forget all about those twelve sacks of wool and rush away. Then Alisoun would never allow him to take a permanent place at her side.

  Still, the sense of urgency propelled him, and he wished to woo Alisoun rapidly, rush her into bed, circumvent her clever mind with more of his kisses. But he had become a legend by being a tactical genius, and it didn’t take half his genius to know that wouldn’t work with Alisoun. With Alisoun, he had to be crafty and reserved. He had to let her make her own decision about him while tipping the scales in his favor.

  Eudo had apparently decided he’d been quiet long enough, for he piped up, “What are we going to do?”

  “Train squires.” David bit off the words, and Eudo retreated back into silence.

  So David had been trapped in her tiny accounting chamber for an hour, talking about hopes and dreams like some castrated monk while she said nothing. He might have been talking to himself for as little as she understood. The only smart thing he’d done was hug her, for that proved that she’d been thinking about him more than he’d realized, and certainly more than she would like.

  Unfortunately for him, he’d been thinking about her, too. Thinking with a particularly active organ, and wondering if she could possibly be as good as she appeared to be.

  Not good with estate management or good to her people, but good in bed. It had gotten to the point where he feared to touch her for any reason, or he’d never stop. He could have sneaked into the village and swived one of the very available women, and Alisoun wouldn’t have known, but he didn’t want to. He dreamed about her long, cool hands on his body and her tall, warm body moving under him on the bed…or on a table.

  He’d built a fire on that table with the two of them as kindling. A youth of seventeen would have shown more restraint. If he knew anything about women—and his knowledge was dated, but surely they hadn’t changed—she would bolster her defenses when next they met.

  “But her hair is red,” he said aloud.

  Eudo cocked his head. “Sir David?”

  “Lady Alisoun’s hair is red.”

  “It’s not so bad,” Eudo said defensively.

  “Bad?” David grabbed Eudo’s shoulder and stopped him. “Who says it’s bad?”

  “The priest says red hair is a sign the fires of hell reign. I think she should replace him, but he’s old and he’s been here forever, so she won’t turn him out.”

  The pinch-faced priest who said Mass every morning should indeed be replaced. He was stone-deaf and half-blind, with a sour disposition that showed itself at random times as he hobbled through the castle. His disapproval, especially if he was Alisoun’s childhood confessor, explained why she kept the flame of her hair guarded by such stern coverings. It made David all the more intrigued with the way she relished its freedom when she loosened it.

  Eudo leaped ahead of David and held the stable door open. When David had passed, he carefully shut the door. David realized the lad foresaw trouble. He was right, of course, but it wouldn’t be Eudo’s trouble. It was all David’s, and Louis, by God, was going to share it.

  As he neared Louis’s stall, he heard a loud, rude snort and a banging noise, and saw a stableboy come flying over the top rail of one of the stalls. Louis stuck his head over the top and bared his yellow teeth at the youth, and the lad glared back as he painfully stood up.

  “There you are,” David said, walking up to his horse and letting him smell his arm. “Have they been taking good care of you?”

  Louis grumbled, making sounds from his belly that kept Eudo and the lad well back.

  “Stop stomping the stableboys every time they come in to feed or groom you,” David advised, “and you’ll have no more complaints.”

  Belligerently, the lad said, “He’s nasty.”

  Eudo turned on him, fists doubled. “He’s Louis, the legendary destrier. You can’t say he’s nasty, Siwate.”

  Siwate took a fighting stance. “Can, too.”

  “Cannot.”

  “I can say anything I want to you.” Siwate sneered. “You’re just a little bastard my lady took in out of pity.”

  David caught Eudo when he lunged. Holding his struggling squire, David po
inted at the stableboy. “You can, of course, say what you wish about Louis, but Louis understands every word you say, and he’s not partial to insults about his disposition.”

  Siwate blanched and stepped back, and Eudo said, “Ha!”

  David continued, “Lest you worry, however, let me inform you that Louis is no longer your responsibility. Eudo will now care for him.”

  Eudo froze, and Siwate retorted, “Ha!”

  “Eudo is my squire, and he is not afraid of Louis.”

  From beside him, David heard Eudo’s squeaky voice murmur, “Sir David, you made me swear to tell the truth…”

  Lifting Eudo, David seated him on the high boards around Louis’s stall. “Louis is a reasonable horse. He loves to terrorize those he doesn’t know, but he’ll accept you.” David held his hand through the gate to offer the strong yellow cheese he’d saved. Observing the cheese, Louis stretched out his neck and with great care, nipped David’s fingers. Cursing, David dropped the cheese, and Louis scooped it off the floor, then with teeth bared, showed it to David.

  Siwate ran. Eudo shrank back so far he fell over backward onto a pile of hay. After baring his teeth back at the destrier, David said, “Louis is a reasonable horse.”

  Louis ate the cheese and exhaled the odor into David’s face.

  “When he’s been exercised.” David lifted the reins off the wall and stepped into the stall. Eudo peeked up over the wall, saw the horse accepting the restraints David placed on him, and clambered back into place. Louis reached out with his head and sniffed Eudo’s foot. Eudo gripped the boards until his knuckles turned white, but he didn’t stir as Louis worked his way up his leg. “That’s your lad,” David advised him. “Take care of him, and he’ll take care of you.”

  Louis rolled his eyes at David.

  “You can’t nip him. That wouldn’t be fair. And be careful not to step on him, his bones are still young and thin.” David smiled at Louis and in a confidential tone said, “He’s already broken his finger.”

  Louis nudged Eudo’s hand, and Eudo hesitantly petted his head. “He’s nice,” the lad said in astonishment.

  “He’s the meanest piece of horseflesh you’ll ever have the misfortune to meet.” David opened the gate, then led the horse toward the door. “But he thinks he owns you now, and he protects those he owns.”

  Eudo hopped down and followed, staying well back from Louis’s hooves. “Even bastard boys?”

  David and Louis eyed each other with understanding, then David said, “Especially bastard boys. Do you think Louis’s parents were wed?”

  One shocked moment of silence. Then a boyish giggle.

  David beckoned. “Come here, Eudo.” When the boy stepped forward, David lifted him high enough to scramble into the saddle. Louis stood still for it, although it was early for him to have such tolerance, then he paced forward, letting Eudo get the rhythm of his gait. Eudo managed to let go of the mane long enough to wave at Siwate in a superior manner, and as they left the stable, Louis released from his hind end an opinion of its inhabitant that made the stableboy scramble away.

  Eudo was still giggling when David led the destrier into the training yard, but he straightened when the other squires froze. Sir Walter froze, too, hand outstretched as he prepared to gut Andrew with a wooden sword.

  Feeling foolish, David nodded amiably. “I’ve come to train the squires.”

  “I’ll finish the accounts on the morrow,” Lady Alisoun said as she knelt in between the fanatically neat rows of parsley and rue. “After all, it’s not as if I’m actually shirking my duties. The herb garden needs to be weeded, also.” Her long fingers grasped a weed firmly at its base and she jerked it up. “Damn,” she muttered. She’d left the root in place, and before Tochi had withdrawn, he’d specifically forbidden such sloppy work.

  Philippa grabbed Hazel’s shirt and held her in place long enough to allow the kitten to escape the baby’s grasping fingers. “The sunshine will do you good.”

  From the bailey that surrounded Tochi’s pride and joy, the two women could hear willow branches rustling like satin hangings. Inside, the tall stone wall created a private world. Alisoun had carried the kitten in and it had promptly made a nest in her skirt and gone to sleep. But her constant slow progress down the row disturbed it, and at last it stretched and scampered away, exploring with a child’s sense of adventure. Hazel crawled after, eyes intent, nappies in motion.

  With a digger, Alisoun set to work freeing the root from the clinging dirt. The scent of damp earth rose to her nostrils, tantalizing her with the delectation of summer and the promise of harvest. “I’ve never weeded before, but my parents instructed me to learn all aspects of my demesne, so I’m grateful for Tochi’s instruction.”

  Philippa laughed, although whether at her child or her lady, Alisoun did not know. “He certainly enjoyed giving it.”

  “He did, didn’t he?” The root came out, and Alisoun sat back on her heels and waved it. Bits of dirt flew, but she didn’t care; she was triumphant.

  Philippa laughed again, and this time Alisoun knew she was laughing at her. “It’s not often anyone can tell you anything.”

  Throwing the root into the slowly growing pile of weeds, Alisoun bent to her task again. “Am I so intimidating, then?”

  “Not to me. Don’t eat the dirt.”

  Surprised at the command, Alisoun looked up in time to see Philippa lunge after her daughter and pry her little fist open until the earth she clutched fell back on the ground. “Uck!” Philippa made a dreadful face at Hazel. “Don’t eat that. Nasty.”

  Fascinated, Hazel stared at her mother. Then her bottom lip came out and quivered, her big eyes filled with tears, and she sat up and bawled like a calf.

  Alisoun couldn’t help it; she laughed aloud. It had been a long time since she’d done so, and she laughed again when Philippa gave her a sour look.

  Searching through her bag for something to distract Hazel, Philippa said, “Wait until you’re a mother.”

  “A fearsome thought.” Still grinning, Alisoun bent back to her task.

  “I think you’ve waited almost too long as it is.”

  Alisoun looked up sharply. “What do you mean by that?”

  Philippa handed Hazel a dried gourd. Hazel rattled it once, then threw it away so vigorously it dug into the loose soil. “You’re turning into an old maid with a cat.”

  “That’s not my cat!” She tried to see the scrap of black fur that had so firmly attached itself to her, but it had disappeared, and she was glad.

  Besides, it could scarcely come to harm in a garden surrounded by stone walls.

  “Very well,” Philippa said. “You’re turning into an old maid.”

  Dumbfounded, Alisoun tried to joke. “I am the oldest widowed virgin in existence.”

  Apparently not even Philippa thought her amusing, for she dangled a string of colorful beads before Hazel’s eyes and continued as if Alisoun hadn’t spoken. “You’re set in your ways. I don’t think there’s a man who could change you. I had great hopes for Sir David, but he’s failed, so what’s left but to hope for a child?”

  Straightening, Alisoun rubbed the aching place on her lower spine. “What are you talking about?”

  “You need to have a child.”

  Staring at Philippa, Alisoun tried to decide if this was some kind of new humor—the kind she didn’t understand. The saints knew, that was likely. But Philippa stared directly back, as earnest as Alisoun had ever seen her. With impeccable logic, Alisoun prepared her answer. “I’m not married.”

  “Marriage isn’t what brings the children,” Philippa advised. “Bedding is.”

  “I know that.” When Philippa grinned, Alisoun realized that that had been humor. “I mean, I’m the lady of George’s Cross. I can’t just take a lover and—”

  “Why not?” Philippa demanded. “What’s the use of being the lady of George’s Cross if you can’t do one wicked thing?” Bored with the beads, Hazel threw them after the gourd an
d grabbed another handful of dirt. As Philippa wrestled with her, she said, “I suppose I should say—one more wicked thing.”

  “My conscience is at rest. I confess my sin to the priest every day, and do the penance he assigns.”

  “He’s deaf,” Philippa said in exasperation. “If he wasn’t, the whole village would be excommunicated.”

  Alisoun subdued the smile that threatened to break out, and said primly, “God works in mysterious ways.”

  “Aye, He sent you Sir David!” Philippa lifted her voice above Hazel’s new and loudly expressed indignation. “Give me your keys.”

  Alisoun touched the big iron ring of keys at her belt. “Why?”

  “Because she’s not supposed to have keys, and if she has something forbidden, she’ll be happy.”

  Alisoun wanted to point out that this was a dangerous precedent to start, that if they rewarded the child for crying by giving her what she should not have, it would become a habit. But it occurred to Alisoun that Philippa had more than she could handle. Without a husband, Philippa had to love the baby, discipline the baby, worry about the baby all alone. Most of all, worry about the baby. Philippa hadn’t lost weight as Alisoun did when she worried. She had actually become plumper, but nothing could erase the lines etched on her forehead.

  Alisoun tossed the keys. They landed with a thunk among the lemon balm, uprooting one tall plant. The tart scent only accented Alisoun’s horror, and Philippa hastily plucked the broad, broken leaves and replaced the herb. “Maybe Tochi won’t notice,” she said, and rattled the keys before Hazel’s face. Hazel’s eyes grew big and astonished; she reached for the keys eagerly, and Philippa placed the heavy ring in her lap. Satisfied that her child was entertained, she turned back to Alisoun. “Sir David would give you fine, plump babies for you to cradle.”

  “Then he’d be on his way.”

  “Perhaps. If you sent him. But I doubt he’d refuse you should you propose marriage.”