How to Train Your Knight: A Medieval Romance Novel (4 page)

“How do you know? That I’m innocent?” Her voice cut through his daydreams.

“If what you say is true, the man’s heart gave out. I’ve seen it myself and heard it described many times. It is not unusual for the elderly when engaged in . . .” He struggled to find more modest words, but at that moment only the most vulgar came to mind.

“Are you still there, Sir Beast?”

“Aye.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking what the hell am I to do with you? Will you open the door? We can’t delay much longer the consummation of this marriage.” He needed her loyalty. Craved it. For if he could not win his new wife, how would he win his people?

“I believe I won’t. What profit would there be in it for me?” From behind the wall, straw rustled and the wood of her sleeping pallet creaked.

“Be it so. Goodnight, wife. You can’t ignore me forever.”

“Goodnight, Sir Beast.”

Lady Ann woke with a start. Instead of being curled in the wools of her pallet, she was standing at one of the slits to the outside wall and shivering. She crossed herself and prayed away the demon who took over her body while she slept. She’d have to ask Brother James to exorcise it again, permanently. God help her if The Beast found out she walked in her sleep. He’d hang her for certain.

Strange noises floated eerily from outside. More horses than she’d ever heard in her life. And his men, on alert, paraded the grounds. She walked across the room and put her ear to the slit to the adjoining wall. Those snores were most definitely not Sally. Where was she? She was supposed to watch over her and prevent her from wandering away whilst asleep.

She lit a small candle, peered into the room, but to no avail, so she put it out. A man moaned, shouted, and she heard him stand. The moon took that instant to come out from under a cloud and bathed his naked form. Like a god, he held his sword high, ready to do battle. A moment passed, he cursed softly and lay back on the pallet.

The stone chilled her cheeks when she leaned into the slit. “Excuse me?”

Would he speak?
“What is it, m’lady?”

“Are you vexed with bad dreams?” In her narrow view of the darkened room, she saw the outline of his form sit up.

“Forgive me. The battle rages on in my head. Give me a moment.” The man rose, approached the gap, and the wee bit of light went dark. It was replaced by warm breath on her face. The moment felt inappropriately intimate.

“Where’s my maid, Sally?”

“She’s sleeping in Dame March’s area. Probably more soundly than the two of us.”

“Why? She wouldn’t willingly leave me. I might have just wandered off and—” She stopped just in time. Had the man caught her misspeak?

He sighed. “She’s well, I assure you. Mayhap she was feeling nervous with all the men in the house?”

“Oh, that could be it. You’re one of The Beast’s knights, then?”

A long pause ensued. “You could say that.”

Odd how her lips craved to meet the ones on the other side of the slit. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course. Pray do.” His breath warmed hers. How close must his lips be?

She drew her mouth tighter into the hole and whispered, “What is he like?”

“He’s a fine knight, m’lady. Honored by the king.”

“No, no. That’s not what I meant. Is he kind?”

His warm breath disappeared and his voice became more distant. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

She strained and squinted, but the moon ducked back under a cloud, leaving the opposite room black again. Raising her voice so it would carry, she asked, “Good heavens, ‘tis a simple enough question, is it not? Besides being a knight, have you ever seen him expose a more gentle nature?”

His voice surprised her by its close proximity again and she jumped. “He survives by his wits, loyalty, fast sword, and intelligence. The rest, I’m sorry, but I truly don’t know.”

“Oh. Could I ask one more question, then we should let the night encompass us back into a more gentle landscape. Have you ever seen The Beast torture anyone?” Her heart beat wildly while she waited for his answer.

The straw crunched when the knight resettled on his pallet. He sighed loudly and a cuckoo cried incessantly, indicating dawn wasn’t far off. The longest of time passed, then he said, “Aye. I’m afraid I have.”

A small cry escaped her lips, unbidden. “Then pray for me.”

Chapter 4

The rooster crowed, the sun rose, and Marcus’ cot shook. In his dream, the drawbridge began to rise with the grinding of gears. Standing, he grabbed his sword and readied for battle. When the threads of the dream dropped away, he opened his eyes, the grinding sounded again. He peered through the slit. Her room was empty. A red-faced Bart jumped off the floor in the hall and stood at attention.

“Did you hear that noise?” Marcus pounded on the ornate door.

“Aye. The sound was a mechanism noise.” The good lad met his stare straight on.

“And did she leave?”

“By God, no sir. No, sir. I’ve been guarding this door as you’ve ordered. I’ve stayed awake all night, I have. It was just now, as the sun came up, that I even sat down.”

“I well believe you.” He sighed. “As soon as I get dressed, you can go. There’s no sense in guarding an empty room.” He raised his eyebrows and waited for the intelligent boy to catch his drift.

“Empty?” The knight’s face lit up. “Yes, sir. No doubt it’s empty. She escaped through some kind of sprung door, didn’t she? Would you like me to round up the men and search for her?”

“No. She’ll be easy enough to find. Hurry, come help me with my clothes.”

What in the world was she up to now? Was there any truth to what she’d told him last night? A woman capable of sneaking out of a manor and feigning to starve to death could lie about anything. After Bart helped him don his boots, he said, “Change tunics with me.”

“But sir, m-m-mine is quite ordinary and much smaller.”

“Aye, that’s the point. In the meantime, here. Take mine. If you meet up with Thomas, explain to him before he tries to gut you.”

The coarse red tunic barely fit over his head and when he buckled his sword, the side seams split. He cursed as he handed Bart a coin. “This won’t do at all. Make haste. Go out and get me a large, hooded cloak. Make sure you pay well for it, then find me in the square.”

“Aye, sir.” The boy jumped the stairs two at a time.

Marcus dashed down the long hall until he found a steep upward flight of steps. At the top, a solid door stood sentry with a rusted iron lock. He shoved hard, it opened, and he spilled into a mess of pigeon shit. The doves cooed, complained, and fluttered their wings about his head.

After he finished wiping his soiled hands on his arse, he decided that this turret was going to the top of his repair list, followed by pigeon pies. While they flapped around his face, he thrust his hands and toes into the small holes hewn into the rock tower until he reached the topmost ledge. A full view of the grounds was his reward.

Just off to the right, behind him, stood the ancient bathhouse; to the front, the great square lawn where breakfast sat ready. Beyond that, mounds of thatched roofs lined up in a tidy village order. To the right of the green, in front of the baths, lay the abbey. The road out of town lined the left edge of the square.

A young male, in a yellow tunic with brown cap, dashed across the green and into the church. The rest of the town was already there except for a few of his most able men.
Damn his father.
Was it too much to ask for a moment of peace in life? And where was the raven hair of his little witch? She must be at Mass. She must have a bit of faith about her, even if she cussed worse than most his men.

But last night, her demeanor was sweet and her voice velvety. For the first time ever, he’d been able to go back to sleep without battles raging until dawn. He’d like to know if she could cure him, forever. What would it be like to wake up with her asleep in his arms? The bell in the tower gonged twice, and his well-fed, well-dressed people poured out of the church to break their fast.

The same young man who was late to prayers hurried behind the bathhouse and manor. What was this? A stable hand bowed to the boy and helped him mount as if—

That’s it. As if
he
were really a
she
, of noble birth.

Thrusting fingers and toes into the handholds, avoiding birds’ nests, he climbed down. In three leaps, he descended the staircase. Several bounds more, a vault over a table, and he was out the front door. Bart waited with a cloak which he threw over a shoulder as he ran toward the stable. On the road that led north, his lady in men’s clothing, was almost out of eyesight.

He mounted his charger with a thick blanket instead of saddle. His stomach growled, reminding him he’d miss breaking-of-fast yet again. By God, if she had a lover, this would be the end of it. He wouldn’t be guessing the lineage of his sons. This was her gratitude for the infinite patience he’d shown her? Damn the woman.

Lady Ann paused and glanced over her shoulder. She had the oddest feeling of being pursued, but that was ridiculous. She’d used this ruse with her previous husband for months without issue. The sun rose higher and warmed her face, chasing away fears. When the path narrowed into the woods, she took off her silly cap. Her hair blew around her head and into her eyes. She laughed and brought Nellie to a cantor.

Today, she was scheduled to check the fields, the glazier, and the miller. The tradesmen would do their accounts with her and they’d make plans for the next few weeks. These tasks could’ve been left for Stephen, but her people needed to be assured. Life had to continue as normal until she could figure a way out of this mess.

Small white and purple violets dotted the sides of the road, infusing the air with their scent, along with mud, lilacs, and spring grasses.
I wonder if purple violets can be crushed into dye. The new vat in town needs to be full if we’re to make any real coin come fall.

She passed by thatched roofs where the wool was stacked to stay dry. Several men were already outside working on separation and she waved. They’d need to pre-dye the wool to intensify the color before they spun it. She sighed and hummed. The whole town had work to do, and this morning Brother James’ sermon had been so uplifting. He spoke of God’s bounty. Her thought’s wandered to the strange knight in Sally’s room as the forest thickened again. Something was familiar about him. His voice when he spoke softly, it sounded like—

Lord Thornhill’s son!

The Beast
!

And she’d been so nice to him.

But last night, he wasn’t at all beastly. In fact, he was almost a gentleman. “He’s neither kind nor gentle,” she argued out loud. He’d said the words himself. Admitted to torture.

Her good mood passed as quickly as the warm, spring weather. A storm thundered in the west, she shuddered, and the wind blew through her. She paused despite the weather, to enjoy the rolling of the great mill wheel. Water whooshed in the giant cups, filling over and over. What a thing of wonder.

A drop of rain reminded her of her duties. “What ho,” she shouted from atop Nellie.

Old gray Josiah limped down the stairs of the stone mill. He grabbed Nellie’s reins, gave her a pat, and met the nag, cheek to cheek. “What ho to you. I heard you’re wed again?”

“Aye, I suppose.” She tried, unsuccessfully, not to show her feelings.

He looked over her attire. “Hiding already?”

“Aye.” She slipped one leg around and he helped her dismount.

“He’s not beat you?” Frowning, he touched her purple jaw.

She winced and grabbed her ledgers from the basket hanging on the saddle. “That was just an accident before the wedding. I haven’t given him a chance to hurt me.”

“But we met the new lord yesterday. He seemed like a fine man
.
Good lineage and stout heart.” He sent her a look and tone that challenged.

“You met him?”
Not fair
. She was going to warn her people before the knight had a chance to worm into their good graces. She pouted. No one should like The Beast.

“Aye, we shared a glass of mead and spoke of the business of the mill. He stayed for, but a few minutes. Said he was anxious to get home to you.” He winked and put her horse under the roof of the mill.

“Now, come in out of the weather. It’s about to downpour. Then we can talk about flour and grain and coin. My favorite subjects and yours.”

At the end of the day, Marcus eased into the warmth of the pool.

Soon after, Thomas ascended a few steps and stripped. “Where have you been all day? I almost struck your squire when I saw him wearing your colors. I thought ill-fortune had come to you.”

“Glad you didn’t kill the lad. I’ve grown fond of him.” He stretched and wet his head under the water. “If you need to know, I’ve spent the whole day following my wife.”

“Really? I thought she was locked and guarded in her room. Saints help us, tell me. Is she actually a witch?” He covered his naked breast like a maid and immersed himself fully.

“Very amusing. And no. She has some kind of tunnel out of her chambers that leads into the baths.”

Beads of moisture clung to his beard as he popped up with a grin. “How convenient for her. Bloody miracle. Warm water.”

Marcus grabbed a fistful of scented powder from a clay pot and scrubbed his scalp. “Aye. It is. Where are the fires that heat it?”

“Below us. There’s a man whose job is to throw peat into a pit. The fires heat the rocks. And I believe, if he stokes it high enough, it’ll heat a chamber under the great room and the heat will rise through holes in the floor. In the winter, it warms the whole of the manor.”

“Ingenious Romans.” He ducked, rinsed, and handed the pot to Thomas.

“Agreed.”

Two other villagers came into the baths and settled at a lower pool; he kept his conversation at a near whisper. “So, tell me, where was your little gypsy today? Did you have to skewer a lover?”

“By God, that’s what I thought when I rode after her, following the morning mass. Dressed as a boy, she was, with that mess of black hair under a cap. She mounted her pony with her legs bare to her thighs, sprite as a wood nymph.” He hardened at the memory. A man should not have to ache for his wife.

“Get ahold of yourself. So who was she going to meet? Where’s his head? Or at least tell me you removed his family jewels.” Thomas laughed and splashed.

He splashed back, only more so, until the battle was won. Only then did he lean back and reach his toes to the smooth tiled edge, liking how it contrasted with the rough cement. “The old miller. The one we met yesterday.”

“Say it’s not so. He’s a happily wed old man.”

“‘Twas the oddest thing to see. She had a large ledger of parchment under one arm and an abacus under the other. Definitely not a tryst.”

He raised an eyebrow. “She was accounting?”

“Aye, I saw it all, hiding from a copse of trees. And understand this well. When she bid farewell to the miller and his family, they were all smiling.”

“She collected her taxes, mayhap some rent, and the man was smiling? I don’t believe you.” He scrubbed and rinsed.

Cooled water trickled out on a lower side of the bath to be replaced by warm coming from an upper ledge, closer to the fires. “It’s all true. Then his family all embraced her. She rode out into the rain and did it again and again. First at a beehive type of dwelling, then at a shepherd’s home. She should be doing needlework, sitting on my lap by a warm hearth, not collecting taxes in a downpour.”

“So why didn’t you stop her?” He finished washing, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared.

“By God, I wish I knew. By the end of the day, she almost nodded off on the horse in exhaustion. I didn’t do a thing but follow. I was curious, I suppose, and not sure I wanted to give myself away. What in Hades is wrong with me?” He squeezed his eyes shut.
Damn it, I am undone by her.

“Don’t worry. You’ve always been one to study the lay of the land before jumping into battle. That’s probably all this is.”

“Mayhap so. I followed her home at a distance, even though I wanted to pull the wench to my chest and cover her with my cloak. I actually care that she was wet and miserable. I do. Even though this is all her own doing. After she handed her horse to the stable-boy, I did the same but stayed out of her sight.”

“A fascinating story, I must say. My day can’t hold a candle to it.” He smirked.

Marcus looked around as if she might be in hiding, then eased out of the warm water and shivered. “By the time I entered the bathhouse, there was no sign of her; although I’m sure she entered here. It matters not. I’ll find her tomorrow. Tell me, is another fine meal scheduled for this evening?”

“Aye. Even better, if the smells wafting out of the kitchen are any indication. You would join us again as lord of the manor?”

“Of course, of course, though I’m a bit worried. Sodden, she was, and tired. A day like today could turn a chill into a deathly fever.”

“You worry like an old nanny goat. Come. Join us in some merriment. After that, go to your wife. For God’s sake, take her.” He rose and shook until water sprayed in all directions. “Damn. We need more bath cloth out here.”

“I disagree. You seem to handle drying like a hound without any problem. Always figured you were part wolf.”

“Ha. The Wolf and The Beast are well met.” Thomas gave him a hearty shove, without warning, and he toppled back into the water. In retribution, Marcus grabbed an ankle and caused him to do the same. After a heated battle, they both needed to surrender or drown.

Laughing heartily and gasping, Marcus said, “I tell you though, if there
were
a beast in me, he’d wear thin with her games.”

“Has she opened her door yet for you?” He spread his legs in a lewd gesture and ducked into a clean tunic left by his squire.

“Nay, but I’m getting closer.”

“God’s blood, then. Take what you need from the chit. Your self-restraint is exhausting me. Let’s find the meal. The men have already gathered and beautiful maidens wait to serve us.”