“Excellent idea. I would have never thought of it.”
“I did not wish to overstep my place. But we have been getting along so well of late.” She took a deep breath as they continued to bounce about.
He tugged her yet closer. “I do not want you to feel that you must hold anything back from me, Rosalind. I consider you my partner in this mission to train the children.”
She blinked up at him. “Thank you . . . although . . .”
“What?”
“In many ways I feel I know you like an old and cherished friend, but in other ways I believe you hold much back from me.”
“Ask me anything you like.” Wind rushed about him as they continued to spin and romp.
“What about your family? You never speak of them.” She clung tightly to him as they danced.
He sighed. He had avoided the subject long enough. “I was somewhat estranged from them for a time. They wished me to join the church, but I was determined to be a knight.”
Rosalind nodded for him to continue.
“My mother can be quite rigid and demanding, and she is very devout. She wanted to be a nun but did not get her way and had pinned so many hopes upon me. But this decision to go on crusade has appeased her for now, and I promised to find a Syrian serin for her, which she is quite excited about.”
“A Syrian serin?”
“A bird, similar to a finch, native to the area of Antioch and Tripoli. My grandfather was a crusader and kept extensive journals of the local birds, complete with drawings. I cannot tell you how many evenings my mother and I spent poring over them. Mother was always especially fascinated with the serin, for some reason.”
“A bird, you say, similar to a finch?” She quirked a brow, clearly repressing a smile.
Wonderful, now she would think him an addlepated bird lover. “I do have a serious and intellectual side, you know. Which was precisely why my parents thought me suited for the church. My father did not consider me warrior material.”
“So what shall you do with this serin? Capture it and bring it home?”
“I had not quite thought that far. Perhaps.” He did not wish to mention that he would not be returning home. Perhaps he could send it to his mother, although the thought of the bird in a cage and under his mother’s rigid control irked him. “Enough about me. Your turn.”
“Me? My father passed away several years ago,” she said.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It was hard for a time, but we’re past all that now. I have had a bit of a falling-out with my mother, though, not that we’ve ever discussed it. She pressured me into a decision that I came to regret horribly.”
Tears welled in Rosalind’s eyes, and those dark shadows he had oft noted upon her seemed to be closing in again. He pulled her tighter into the dance hold and spun her in a looping circle. “Ever forward, remember.”
“I’m sorry. We were supposed to be enjoying the here and now.” Rosalind forced a smile.
“Well, you started this discussion.” He grinned in return.
“Well, I’m stopping it. Let’s just dance and be happy.”
And so they did, staring into one another’s eyes, finding joy and strength in each other. By the time the long and repeating song finished, they were both dizzy and out of breath.
“Ho!” shouted some of the sailors, thumping the deck to show their approval.
Rosalind fell against Randel, panting. “And here we are supposed to be well-conditioned fighters, taken down by a single dance.”
“Do you truly enjoy fighting?” He had always gotten the impression that she had trained mostly for Gwendolyn’s sake.
“I wasn’t sure in the beginning, but I like being able to defend myself. ’Tis quite empowering. I wish I could convince more of the girls.”
He wiped sweat from his brow. “Come, let us get a drink.” Still holding one of Rosalind’s hands, he led her to the barrel of water.
As they passed by, Jocelyn huffed and stormed away with her friends. The she-wolves would have nowhere to head but to the partitioned section of the hull where they slept, so he just might escape them for the rest of the night.
“Whatever are you going to do with that woman?” Rosalind’s eyes twinkled with a mischief he had not seen there since his early days of knowing her.
“I have no idea. Perhaps the time has come that someone should speak with Lady Honoria.”
She pressed her lips together tight. “That does not sit well with me. We must all learn to work as a team. I think we should deal with this between ourselves.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
He offered Rosalind the first ladle of water. She drank deeply, without ladylike refinement, yet still feminine in that honest and fresh sort of way so typical of her. She had a graciousness that came from within rather than an outward affectation of manners.
She stared out into the sky as he took his own drink, contemplation thick upon her features.
“Well?” he asked.
“I have an idea, but you might not much like it.”
Somehow Randel suspected he would like anything this girl suggested. “Try and see.” He awaited her response with all eagerness.
Chapter 5
“In truth,” Rosalind said, “I have avoided such impishness this past year, but something about the fresh sea air and the rocking of the ship brings out my feisty nature. Not to mention that awful woman.”
Unable to resist, he tucked a flailing wisp of silky black hair behind her ear. “I think you are coming back to your true self. This is the girl I first met hunting in the woods with the duchess. Feisty, funny, and free. And I for one am happy to see her. Tell me your idea.”
“Well, you are tired of fending off Jocelyn . . . and I’ve grown equally weary of hiding from Lord Rumsford.”
“Rumsford?” He cut in before she could continue. Although Randel did not wish to speak the words, a young earl like Rumsford could only want one thing from a common girl like Rosalind—and it was not marriage. “Has he approached you? I will not stand for that man toying with you.”
Rosalind patted his arm. “Settle yourself. I am a grown woman and quite smart about such issues. I can ward off his attentions, but I have become weary of them.”
“So what is your brilliant suggestion?”
“I think we should fabricate an attachment to each other.”
His mouth gaped wide. “What? Whatever will Honoria think? And the children?”
“Honoria seems rather obtuse to the romances brewing aboard the ship. And we could tell the children our plan and let them in on the fun. Then if Honoria does find us out, we will have witnesses that it was merely a ruse.”
Randel considered that. He would not want people to think he was toying with Rosalind as he had just assumed of Rumsford. But their stations were not as far removed, and perhaps faking an innocent attachment would be just the thing to keep unwanted suitors at bay.
Which would certainly help him in his goal of becoming a warrior monk.
“But what if you meet a man you might actually wish to wed? I am certain there are many appropriate suitors for you among the lesser knights and soldiers.”
“I could be coy and say that men always want what they can’t have.” She struck a sultry yet humorous stance, then returned to her normal relaxed posture. “But the truth is, I do not plan to marry. Ever. And you?”
“I have no intentions to marry either.”
He wanted to know more. He wished to understand what heartache had changed her since they first met at the grand castle. Perhaps it had something to do with his friend Sir Hugh, who had once mentioned his intention to compromise the girl’s virtue.
But if Randel asked too many questions, she would want to know about his troubles in return. Although he knew he could trust her, he liked their relationship as it stood, and did not wish to weigh it down with the burdens of the past or with his secretive plans for the future. He preferred to keep their frien
dship light and playful. And her plan seemed perfect for maintaining it.
“So . . . what shall we tell the children?”
“You what?” shouted Issobelle into the shadows of their cramped cabin in the ship’s castle area.
“Shh! Everyone will hear you.” Sapphira had been shocked as well when Rosalind spoke the words, but they did not need to alert the entire ship.
Rosalind sat up upon her pallet. “We merely plan to give the appearance of an attachment, to fend off unwanted suitors. Our duties keep us in close proximity anyway. I see no harm.”
Sapphira ran the reasoning through a number of mental and spiritual calculations.
“Only this afternoon you chastised me like a child for sitting too close to Jervais.” Issobelle huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.
“You are a child,” Sadie said. “And I saw the way you touched his hand, you brazen little hussy.”
“Uh!” Issobelle squealed as the girls dissolved into giggles.
All except Sapphira, who did not wish to listen to their bickering after her long and draining day. Her nerves still tingled and snapped as if they had been held too close to a fire. But of course the others did not understand what she had been through. She hated the way she oft felt so lonely and isolated, even among these girls who were supposed to be her friends.
“Sadie, that was uncalled for.” Rosalind clearly held back her own giggles.
“Sorry,” Sadie said, but her voice did not ring sincere.
“Your cause is hopeless, Rosalind.” Issobelle leaned closer. “I am certain our most holy Lady Sapphira shall never allow it.”
“I am right here! Do not make assumptions about me.” Sapphira adjusted her blankets, for the evenings grew quite cold at sea. Generally her perfectionistic nature would cause her to demand a stop to such antics as Rosalind suggested. Yet in truth, she and Sir Randel had always seemed quite fond of each other. Sapphira could not see any real deception in the plan.
“And you should take a care, Rosalind,” Issobelle said. “Though he is not his father’s heir, he is still quite above your station. I hope you do not hold out any secret ambitions in his regard.”
“Wait, who has a secret?” asked the oldest of the bunch, Brigitte, who was generally lost in her own silly thoughts of jewelry and flowers and several steps behind the others. She continued to comb her yellow-blond hair, though the rest of them were tucked tight in their beds. The place still smelled of the lavender cream she had rubbed into her hands and face. It was no secret among the girls that despite Rosalind’s ban on romance, Brigitte intended to hook the young Lord Humphrey before they returned to England.
“I assure you I do not have secret ambitions.” Rosalind’s voice resounded with authority throughout their small dim cabin.
“I would.” Lillian, who preferred the fun of sleeping with the girls to the company of her mother, sighed and stretched dramatically. “I did not see it at first, but I have come to notice that Sir Randel is quite handsome in an understated sort of way.”
“Young lady, you are treading on dangerous territory!” Rosalind’s warning held a trace of playfulness. “And it is for just such a reason that we must all work together to protect our dear Sir Randel.”
Sadie’s hearty laughter rang out. “He would hate it if he knew we thought him in need of protection.”
Yet perhaps he was.
Sapphira clearly saw the need to help protect Sir Randel’s virtue from that sly serpent of a woman. Many thought that only the clergy were called to live holy lives, and Jocelyn’s designs on Randel were anything but holy, as were Lord Rumsford’s attentions toward Rosalind. Generally only a young noblewoman’s virtue was guarded, for issues of inheritance, but Sapphira believed that God expected every one of His children to live by His righteous commands.
“I hope to marry a handsome man like that someday,” Issobelle whispered dreamily.
“We know!” the girls said in unison, then fell into giggles again.
“What!” Issobelle protested. “Do not you all?”
“Not me,” came Sadie’s muffled answer from beneath her blankets.
“I don’t think I shall marry.” Rosalind sounded wistful but firm. “Besides, now is not the time for any of us to be thinking on such matters. We should focus upon our mission.”
Sapphira wondered if Rosalind hoped to join a convent as well, but despite her admiration for the young woman, she could not quite picture that. She continued to wait and search for the clench in her gut that would tell her God was displeased with Rosalind and Randel’s scheme, but it never came.
“I think we should do it,” Sapphira said.
Randel lay back upon his pillow and breathed a sigh of relief. The boys packed about him on their pallets in their cabin opposite the girls’ had all taken the news in stride and seemed more than willing to play along with Rosalind’s plan. He hoped it would keep Jocelyn at bay. But if nothing else, it had returned the twinkle to Rosalind’s eye.
“So when do you plan to marry?” asked Jervais, seemingly out of nowhere. “Most nineteen-year-old men are already wed.”
Randel should have known the boys would not let this pass so easily. But at least by bunking with them, Randel had escaped the masses sleeping in the hull of the ship and was far away from Jocelyn. “I do not really see myself as the marrying type.”
“Will you be a priest?” Garrett asked. A reasonable question, as many younger sons not due to inherit turned to the clergy, but Randel had little patience with the corruption and politics involved in being a priest. “No . . .” was all he said, for he did not want the boys to fear he might desert them for the Templars.
Humphrey sat up and rested his elbows on his bony knees. “I am most certainly the marrying type. I cannot even imagine life without the enchantments of the fairer sex. Ah, with their delicious curves and . . .”
“Enough, Humphrey! There are young lads in the room.”
“They shall learn of such things soon enough,” the troublesome, fifteen-year-old persisted.
“Perhaps, but not under my watch,” Randel said. Again it occurred to Randel that Humphrey might be better off with the squires and knights, but having an older boy about did help at times.
“If you do not plan to be a priest, why not marry?” Jervais asked again.
“Perhaps because he does not wish to be a romantic dolt like you,” Garrett said.
Jervais jumped onto Garrett’s pallet and began tussling with him.
Garrett managed to fling the heavier boy off of him in an impressive evasive maneuver.
Which gave Randel an idea. In such cases it was best to change the subject, and quickly. “I say, boys, what think you of trying some tumbling maneuvers in the morning as part of our agility training?”
“Like the traveling tumblers who visit our castle?” One of the eleven-year-old twins piped up. “I can do a roll.” He demonstrated right there on his pallet in the dim starlight peeking through the window.
“And I can turn like a wheel on a cart,” said the other twin. He hopped out from under his covers and tried to perform the trick, bumbling it entirely and landing on his matching brother in the process.
“Ouch!” complained the first.
Truly Randel wished he could tell the blond-haired duo apart to know who to scold, but even in the sunlight he had difficulty knowing one from the other. “Both of you, back to bed. We shall have a big day on the morrow.”
He more than any of them. His stomach did an odd flip at the remembrance of his new “attachment,” which he feared would be all too easy to feign.
Chapter 6
Rosalind leaned against the side of the ship as she and Randel watched the children hard at work. She jolted for a moment, surprised to discover that Randel had rested his arm along the rail behind her, but then she relaxed into his touch and the warm stroke of sunshine against her cheek.
He was better at this ruse than she had imagined. If Lady Honoria walked by, naught
but a slight shift would make their position appear casual and accidental, but if Rumsford or Jocelyn came their way, he could easily tug her close to his side.
She held back a giggle, unable to fend off her delight at besting their adversaries at this game of love. Not only that, but Sadie had taken over with the children today, and she and Randel were quite happy to stand back and allow her to shine. Sadie had been trained in battle as one of the infamous Ghosts of Farthingale Forest, who had survived on wit and cunning, though the evil King John would have seen them all dead.
“Be still and press into the stretch!” Sadie barked at the twins in their upside-down arches, who could not control their wiggling although they both had taken to the trick quite well.
Meanwhile, Jervais seemed unable to imitate the shape. “You need to work on your flexibility, Jervais. Elsewise you shall never get it.”
Moving down the line, Sadie said, “Lillian, quite impressive.”
Surely enough, the girl formed a high and sturdy arch with her limber body, even as her long brown braid pooled on the wooden deck.
After mass, Rosalind and the girls had spent most of the morning adjusting simple tunics for today’s activity. Shortening and adding slits. The boys had supplied the extra leggings, completing the ensembles. And the effort had proven well worth the while.
“Indeed. I would have never expected it of Lillian,” whispered Randel from so close that his breath tickled Rosalind’s ear, sending a pleasant little shiver down her back.
But Rosalind ignored the inconvenient side effect of their scheme. “She is quite graceful. I knew this would be good for the girls.”
“’Tis nice to see them succeed at something battle related.”
“And many of these tricks can be turned into evasive maneuvers. Some of the girls might never master weapons, but at least we can give them skills to escape an attack on their persons. Honestly, I doubt many of them could ever run someone through with a sword.”
“Sadie could,” Randel said. “Sapphira would want to if she deemed it right, but she is so compassionate.”
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