Once a Knight

by Christina Dodd

  Eudo’s young mouth firmed, and David didn’t care that the lad had no whiskers yet or that his voice occasionally squeaked. Knowing Eudo would care for Bert eased his worry. “You’ll have to be wary and ready to slip away unseen.” David took one of Eudo’s hands in his. “This is going to be much, much worse than that thing in the graveyard. You’ll be constantly frightened, but remember the nettles you planted in the rocks to protect Lady Alisoun from the archer?”

  Eudo nodded.

  “That’s the kind of ingenuity that will get Bert to George’s Cross.”

  “I’ll get her to George’s Cross, sir. I swear I will.”

  “I know you will. Once there, Lady Alisoun will take care of you.”

  Now Bert piped up and showed how little she truly comprehended. “Daddy, are you going to go fight that nasty man and get Philippa back?”

  “I’m going to go fight him.” And the memory of their last battle rose to haunt him. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm the sudden pounding of his heart. “I’m going to try to kill him, because he deserves it. And I’m going to make it safe for Philippa to have her baby with her once more.”

  The children didn’t hear his doubt. They only heard the magnificence of his goal, and their faces shone with pride and admiration.

  Bert grinned, and Sir David saw the gap where she’d lost a tooth within the last few days. In his drunken stupor, he hadn’t notice, but she forgave him—all because she loved him.

  She said, “I know you’ll save her. You’ll come back, because you’re the best warrior in the land and I love you a lot.”

  The faith she had! And Eudo stood with his chest thrown out and a great smile on his face, too. Crushing them in his arms, David said, “I love you both, too.” Was love really so strong a bridge between souls? His granny had said it was. She said that even after his death, his love would continue, warm like a fire. Tentatively, feeling like a fool for entrusting this message to children, he said, “I want you to do one thing for me. Will you tell Lady Alisoun that I love her?”

  If anything, they smiled more. “Oh, aye, Daddy, I’ll tell her,” Bert promised.

  “I will, too, Sir David.” Eudo started to walk away.

  “Where are you going?” David asked.

  “To get your armor and your weapons. Isn’t that what your squire is supposed to do?”

  “Aye. Aye, that’s what my squire is supposed to do.”

  The carts started down the road from George’s Cross to the village below. Laden with linens, with silk for a wedding gown and presents to please Edlyn’s new lord, they represented the finest trousseau Alisoun could assemble for the girl who had grown to mean so much to her.

  Edlyn stood, her feet firmly planted in the bailey, and looked around at the buildings and the keep as if she could impress the images on her heart forever. Impulsively, she turned to Alisoun. “Couldn’t I stay until—”

  “Until when?” Alisoun tried to smile, but her lips trembled too much. “Until Hazel grows used to me and accepts me as her mother? Until I have this babe? Until…until when?”

  “You’re just so alone,” Edlyn burst out. “Heath is no substitute for Philippa. Hazel is no substitute for me. And Sir Walter…”

  She hesitated. No one had spoken David’s name in Alisoun’s presence since they’d left that breeding ground of bitterness called Radcliffe. With a composure that no longer came naturally, Alisoun said, “Nay, Sir Walter is no substitute for Sir David, at least when I need companionship.”

  “He just seemed the man who could please you,” Edlyn burst out. “Will you ever forgive him?”

  “Nay.” Just that one word, flat and final.

  “I wish…”

  “So do I, but wishing cannot mend a broken fence.” Alisoun touched Edlyn on the shoulder. “Anyway, when I took you with me to Radcliffe, I told myself your bridegroom wouldn’t notice another month, but you have to ride south before winter comes, for I believe he will notice another year.”

  “At his age, what’s another year?”

  Alisoun couldn’t help it; she laughed at the puckish expression on Edlyn’s face. Then Edlyn laughed, too, accepting her fate a little better.

  “Hey!”

  A man’s shout interrupted them, and Edlyn’s face lit up. “Hugh.” His name was only an exhalation, but the joy in her voice vibrated through Alisoun. Glowing with youth and spirit, Edlyn waved enthusiastically at the man she loved with an unrequited passion.

  Loping over, he stood next to them, a big, stupid youth who had no thoughts in his head beyond the security of George’s Cross, his practice that day on the training yard, and his ambitions. Without even knowing it, he crushed Edlyn’s hopes. “Are you leaving today? I hadn’t realized.” Enveloping her in a fraternal hug, he said, “God speed you on your journey, and I wish you the greatest happiness with your new husband.”

  “My thanks.” Edlyn said it to his back as he hurried off.

  “He takes his duty to protect my demesne seriously.” Alisoun found herself making excuses to combat the woeful expression on Edlyn’s face.

  “What will he do when Sir Walter is able to resume his duties once more?” Edlyn asked.

  “We’ll knight him.” Alisoun looked ahead to that day when she would have to make that decision, and it seemed like just one more burden placed back on her shoulders by David’s perfidy. “Then I suppose he’ll go looking for adventure and fortune.”

  “I suppose. And I suppose I’ll never see him again. I suppose that’s all for the best.”

  Edlyn’s quiet agony as she said good-bye to her childhood dreams tore at Alisoun’s heart. She tried to think of something to say, something to ease the pain, but her experience with such emotions was new. How could she help Edlyn when she couldn’t even help herself?

  Crossing her arms over her chest, Edlyn whispered, “Will I ever see you again?”

  Alisoun could offer no more than feeble hope. “Perhaps someday I will go up to London with my children and we can meet there.”

  “You can’t take Lord Osbern’s child out where others can see her, and you won’t leave her home.”

  Alisoun couldn’t dispute that.

  “So I will never see you again.”

  “We’ll leave that in God’s hands.”

  Edlyn nodded, her eyes dry, her gaze steady. “Aye, that would be best.”

  Once, not so long ago, Alisoun had been like a mother to Edlyn, and Edlyn had believed Alisoun could twist events to make everything right. She no longer expected that—she’d learned differently through these last long summer days—but she loved Alisoun none the less. Now they were women, united in grief and going their separate ways. Opening their arms to each other, they hugged. Then a groom helped Edlyn into the saddle and with a wave and a brave smile, she rode away.

  At last Alisoun had seen her ambition for Edlyn come to fruition. The lass who had been terrified by Osbern’s attack had been replaced by the young woman who went to get married. Edlyn now faced the grief of her life with stolid maturity. Yet Alisoun wished that the girl had not had so many ideals crushed, so many dreams destroyed.

  If maturity was nothing more than cynicism and unhappiness, then it was highly overrated, and Alisoun herself wanted none of it.

  Alisoun ran to the drawbridge and stood staring at the retreating procession.

  Ah, there had been a time in Alisoun’s life when she thought that if all people acted with maturity, the world would be peaceful, organized, and prosperous. Now she sought a return to that aloof state of mind, but the memory of her own hopes and dreams haunted her.

  She hated David. Hate burned in her gut until she feared it would harm the babe, but still she couldn’t tame her rancor.

  Worse, she missed him. She wanted someone to talk to, someone who thought the same thoughts she did and shared the same values.

  Not the same values, she corrected herself. She had thought they shared the same values, but he’d let Philippa go with her husband becau
se he feared the loss of his lands.

  And of his family. That inner voice, always fair, taunted her. He worried about Bertrade. He wanted to keep his daughter safe, and he would sacrifice anyone to do so. And he wanted to keep her safe, too, Alisoun grudgingly admitted. He had done everything he could to keep her safe: taking her to Radcliffe, mobilizing his forces there, protecting her even when she had refused him her bed.

  So mayhap he had had a little justification for his actions.

  But when she remembered Philippa’s scars, her anguish, her fears; when she remembered that lonely baby upstairs in her keep who cried pitiably for her mother—then she no longer thought him justified, and she wanted to do something, anything, to rectify this situation.

  She heard a slow, shuffling tread and the tap of a crutch on the wooden planks behind her, and she turned at once to Sir Walter.

  “You shouldn’t have walked so far.” She rebuked him. “And never down the stairs from the keep.”

  “I didn’t walk all the way. I couldn’t bear to be inside anymore, so Ivo carried me.” Sir Walter’s bruises had faded, the scars had drawn together and formed red and white streaks across his face, and he moved with great difficulty. He looked down toward the village to the tiny figure of Edlyn, and said, “We’ll miss her, eh, my lady?”

  “Dreadfully.”

  Balancing carefully, he tugged at her arm. “Come inside. I still find myself unconvinced that the duke of Framlingford will not retaliate against you, and I don’t like you standing in such an exposed spot.”

  She didn’t want to go, but she knew he was right. Osbern would no doubt brood on the wrong she had done him and would someday come back to take his revenge.

  But only when he’d finished with Philippa.

  She whimpered softly, but Sir Walter heard. “Would you help me, my lady? I find myself tiring more easily than I expected.”

  Blindly, she took his arm and helped him back into the bailey, and after a moment her choking sensation eased. One couldn’t remain in pain all the time, and the act of helping Sir Walter seemed to bring solace.

  She could, after all, successfully aid someone.

  Sir Walter was speaking, and with an effort she tried to comprehend the words.

  “I’m not the man I once was, my lady. I’ll never walk easily and I’ll never fight in battle again. Not only that, but I am humbled in spirit as well. You were right about the threat the duke posed, and I should have listened and done my duty rather than instruct you in yours.”

  He breathed heavily, and she realized he hadn’t simply used his condition as an excuse to bring her inside. He did need to rest. She looked around, and the hovering Ivo rolled a tree stump toward them for Sir Walter to sit on.

  She smiled at the big man who gave her his unquestioning loyalty and wished all men were so easily trained. Sir Walter had almost died learning that a woman could know better than a man, and David…in his ignorance, David had lost her.

  But did he really care?

  She and Ivo held Sir Walter’s arms as he lowered himself onto the stump. With a grunt, Sir Walter settled himself, then with his gaze on his feet, said, “If you choose another steward for George’s Cross, my lady, I understand, but there can never be another man who would truly be as dedicated to your service.”

  Now she realized the reason for at least some of his discomfort, and said hastily, “Sir Walter, I have failed in my duty to you if you think I would choose another man to care for George’s Cross. You may not be able to fight, but you know the people, the crops, and you have the loyalty of the men-at-arms and the mercenary knights. I have no time to train another, especially since I have a one-year-old daughter to reconcile to her new home, and—” she looked at him directly, “—I will be giving birth in the winter.”

  He smiled. The attack on him had left him with few teeth and a mouth permanently split on one side, but she read his joy. “That is indeed a blessing, my lady, and I rejoice that the child will be legitimate.”

  She grimaced in pain at the thought of her marriage.

  “I meant no disrespect,” he added quickly. “Only that I doubted your attachment to Sir David, and I should have realized your wisdom.”

  “Wisdom.” She chortled.

  “Your activities are always wise and well thought out, my lady.”

  “I used to think so, too.”

  “Even taking Lady Philippa from her husband had its base in wisdom.”

  “Now you give me your blessing?”

  “And if you think about it, you’ll see it is wisdom to give up your grief about her recapture.” She drew back, but he caught her hand. “There was nothing you could do about it. There was nothing anyone could do about it. A wife belongs to her husband, and you always knew that one day, he would capture her.”

  “I suppose I knew, but I hoped that Sir David…”

  “You can’t blame the man for recognizing an impossible situation and doing the best he knew how.”

  “He isn’t who I thought he was.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “A legend.”

  “He never said he was a legend.”

  She didn’t answer, because she knew it was true.

  “You, lady—you usually think so clearly. What solution can you envision that would take Lady Philippa away from her God-given husband?”

  She treated his question seriously. “I’ve thought about it and thought about it. I can’t bribe Osbern. Even if he needed my money, he’s the kind of man who would keep Philippa for the pleasure of tormenting her and knowing that her pain tormented me. I can’t appeal to the king. He arranged the match himself, and he would never interfere between man and wife.”

  “And think of your estates. Your first duty is to them.”

  “I’ve lived my whole life for these estates, and I know now someone will always tend them. They are too rich to remain unclaimed for long.” Almost to herself, she said, “Surely Philippa’s life is worth more than any land.”

  “Ease your heart, my lady! Perhaps Lord Osbern learned his lesson during his wife’s long absence and now treats her with honor she deserves.”

  She gave a bitter laugh.

  Quickly he abandoned that fantasy. “It would take a desperate man who cared nothing for his life or his family to try and rescue Lady Philippa.”

  “Or a desperate woman.” She said the words, it seemed, even before she thought them.

  “A woman? Ha.” As Sir Walter tried to struggle to his feet, Ivo rushed to his side and assisted him. “With all due respect, my lady, a woman’s weapons are useless against the might of king and Church.”

  She was desperate.

  “I’m going to the guardhouse now, and then I will retire.”

  Yet what was she supposed to do?

  Sir Walter patted her hand. “If I may be so bold, I would advise you to resign yourself to Philippa’s fate and submit to your husband your unquestioning obedience.”

  Don armor and ride to rescue Philippa herself?

  “Ah, I see a spark in your eye.” Sir Walter smiled, a wise lift of the lips. “I’m glad we had this talk.”

  “I’m glad, too.” She smiled back at him, at ease for the first time in days.

  He waved Ivo away and hobbled off on his own, and she waited until he could no longer hear her before she turned to her man-at-arms. “Ivo! Have we got any armor that would fit me?”

  Ivo’s lips moved as he repeated the question silently, clearly puzzled over the meaning. “Aye. There’s an old leather breastplate.”

  “Is there a sword I could lift? Maybe a sharp knife?”

  “Aye. There is.” But rather than going to get them, he stood and scratched his hairy chin with an intent expression. At last he seemed to have comprehended something, and he asked, “Are we going t’ get Lady Philippa from her husband?”

  “I am.” She needed him to get to Osbern’s stronghold but she would not command him. “If you and Gunnewate wish to accompany me, I’d be grate
ful.”

  “There’s nary a question that I’ll accompany ye an’ speaking fer Gunnewate, he’ll go, too.” His scratching fingers wandered down to his chest. “Pardon me, my lady, fer being forward, but I heard ye say ye’re with child.”

  In sooth, she made this decision not only for herself, but for the life within her. Still, she knew what she had to do. With steady resolve, she answered, “No child of mine could want a mother tainted by dishonor and cowardice.”

  His fingers came to a halt and he nodded slowly up and down. “Aye, m’lady, ye’re right about that.”

  She realized she’d been holding her breath as she waited for Ivo’s opinion. A plain man, an honest man, he viewed the world without imagination and still he approved her plan. She needed no more benediction. “Then we have a journey to make.”

  24

  The banners flying from the ramparts of Osbern’s castle gave Alisoun her first indication of the obstacles she now faced.

  “M’lady?” Ivo spoke in his slow, measured manner. “Isn’t that the king’s coat o’ arms?”

  “It is.” She could scarcely believe her luck, although whether it was good or bad, she couldn’t decide. “Henry is here. I should have known.” Not many of King Henry’s subjects had the wealth to feed and shelter the court during one of his summer tours, and she suspected Henry took a special delight in plucking the fruits of Osbern’s wealth.

  Gunnewate had ridden ahead. Now the dust stirred beneath his horse’s hooves as he returned to report, “It looks like half the country’s mustered in the bailey, m’lady, an’ they’re all yelling an’ excited. A tournament, I’d say, but the stands are only half built.”

  “A fight, more likely.” Alisoun fingered the blade hidden under her cloak. “That might make my mission easier.” But now that the moment had arrived, her stomach twisted and rolled.

  She was planning to kill Osbern. What had she been thinking? She’d never killed anyone. And how would she do it? By sneaking around and slipping a knife into his ribs? A paltry, cowardly battle for right, but if she challenged him—him, the king’s champion—he would laugh and break her like dry kindling.