Lady Squire Page 3

  "He is," Alan confirmed. "Watch him at stables some time."

  "I will." Merin caressed the horse, with a gentle touch that sent desire spiralling through Valentin's limbs. "But I still think he's rude."

  "You're allowed to think it," Alan said. "Just as long as you remain polite to my friend and guest."

  "Sorry," Merin said in an earnest tone. "Really. I didn't consider that part." She fell silent, because Guillaume had completed his figures and now rode towards the rack. Merin, recalled to her squiring duties, hurried over to hand up a lance. He paused at that, studied her for a moment before he took it, then turned back to the course.

  And rode it with a speed and arrogance that startled even Valentin, who was well accustomed to Guillaume's style. Merin, standing by the rack, simply gaped. And he was worth looking at, he really was. Valentin watched with ungrudging approval, noted the balance and the perfect control underneath the flamboyant exterior.

  "That was wonderful!" Merin enthused as Guillaume swept past her. Evidently she had forgotten her resentment, for her face glowed.

  Guillaume, no slower to let go of a momentary disagreement, visibly preened. "Of course it was. Watch me, and you watch the best of manhood."

  Merin laughed. "I believe you, my lord."

  Valentin caught himself scowling, and quickly rearranged his features. It would not do to betray the least hint of his feelings. But he could not help a slow smoulder of resentment at the way Guillaume so effortlessly harvested Merin's admiration. Valentin would give much to emulate that confidence - that arrogance, even.

  But he wasn't cut from the same cloth as Guillaume. Nobody was. The combination of immense skill, boundless hubris, and sufficient charisma for an army of princes, was unparalleled in Valentin's experience.

  He would have to get by as he was. For whatever that was worth.

  Valentin glanced at Alan, surreptitiously. There was a man who made the most of his own particular talents. Inhabited them completely. But then, if Valentin could match those skills, he wouldn't need to envy any other man a thing.

  Well, he had the opportunity to learn. If couldn't get any closer to Merin's company, he could at least make best use of this visit by shadowing Alan to pick up every hint on technique the man let fall.

  ***

  Merin bit her lip. She'd been watching Valentin for almost an hour, and during that time she'd gone from admiration to envy to profound respect. He practised like Alan, meticulously, making the slightest adjustments and then repeating moves that already seemed perfect to her. There was no hint of boredom or frustration, just patient repetition until everything was exactly as he wanted.

  Though unlike with Alan, she could at least tell what changes he made and why. She'd watched and listened as they trained, and now she saw Valentin carry over everything he'd learned. It was fascinating to see him put it all together. Especially since his style was very different - it lacked the elegance of Alan's and the flamboyance of Guillaume's, but it had a quality all of its own, an economical precision that appealed to her. Rarely a wasted movement.

  Oddly, she recognised a similar quality in herself. She sewed like that, each stitch performing its own function, neither more nor less. Spoke like that when conversing, to Mother's despair.

  She envied Valentin's skill. But she didn't much fancy his dedication, for herself she'd be bored by now. But he wasn't, and she didn't tire of watching him. Learned something new every time he made a change.

  She wasn't actually supposed to be here. Technically she was in the flower garden, talking to Caroline. But Alan had come out to join them, and soon he and Caroline were locked in one of their amiable but interminable discussions of something they'd both read in a book. Merin, feeling left out, had sneaked away. Spotted Valentin in the tiltyard, and quietly slipped down here to watch.

  She sat on the grassy slope that Alan kept for hay. The stalks surrounded her, high enough to give her a cosy sense of privacy. She wasn't hidden exactly, but unobtrusive.

  Valentin hadn't noticed her, or at least gave no sign of having done so. Just focused on his horse and himself, as Alan was forever telling the squires to do.

  Merin ran her fingers through a tangle of lush stalks. She liked Valentin, at least from what she'd seen of him. Skilful, confident, loyal. Handsome, also, she couldn't avoid noticing that. She'd begun to find him very attractive, these past few days. Spoke to him whenever she could, and found him a pleasant companion.

  But although he was always friendly when she opened a conversation, he never started one himself. And when they weren't actually talking, he ignored her completely. She couldn't work out what she'd done wrong.

  He paused now, facing her, and stilled. Looked straight at her, for a moment that stretched out and began to resonate within her heart.

  Then he bowed a little, there in the saddle, as if to a lady.

  Which she was, really, she supposed. Like Caroline or Matilda. Except that they were grown up, and she didn't want to be. Didn't want the responsibilities that came with it. Just wanted to play, and have fun, and do the things that excited her.

  Like tilt at the rings. Damn it, she ought to be able to give a better showing than she'd done before. But she needed to practice.

  Merin rose slowly, then sauntered down to the tiltyard. Ducked in under the rail to face Valentin, who waited patiently.

  "Can you teach me how to do this?" she asked. It wasn't what she'd meant to say, and it was a poor opener. Not nearly tactful enough. She hadn't even thought to put on a winsome smile.

  "I don't know if I'm supposed to," Valentin said. He was younger than she'd thought when he first arrived, more her own age than Alan's. Which made her lose a little of the deference she'd felt towards such an expert tilter.

  "Please." Merin stroked the horse's nose, soft and smooth. Wished she'd been born a boy, so she wouldn't have to plead for everything she wanted. "It can't do any harm. I already know how to ride."

  "I know," Valentin said. "I've seen you hunt."

  He had done, of course. He'd been attending Guillaume on several occasions when Alan took them all out for the afternoon. While she'd been attending Caroline, at least officially. Secretly she'd been watching Valentin.

  "Well then," Merin said. "Now I want to learn to tilt."

  "But you're not training for a knight."

  "Who says so?" Merin challenged.

  "Alan. Said you don't have the build or the heart for it."

  Ouch. Merin winced. But it was true, she had to admit that much. "Fine. I suppose I don't. But I still want to learn the boys' games. Why can't I?"

  "I don't know," Valentin said. "Why can't you?"

  "It wasn't a rhetorical question."

  He blinked at her. "A what?"

  "You know. Asked for effect, with no expectation of an answer."

  "Um," Valentin said. "I hear you speak, but the words don't make any sense."

  "Well, you know what rhetoric is."

  "No." He waited, expectant, as if she was about to enlighten him.

  "Really?" Merin blinked back at him, startled. "Well, it's the art of constructing an effective argument. Persuading people to do what you want."

  "Right." Valentin glanced around, uneasily. "I don't think I like the sound of that."

  Merin flashed him a smile. He really was cute, in a grown-up sort of way. "Doesn't matter. If you can fight your way out of trouble, maybe you don't need skills in argument. Can you fight?"

  "At need." Valentin grimaced. "You've just reminded me I won't get to spend my free hours like this much longer. Back to the endless road, and the hack and slash of tourney battles, after we leave."

  "Don't you like tournaments?" Merin asked, curious.

  "It's an honour, of course. Never imagine I think otherwise." Valentin's face relaxed into a smile that lit his eyes. "But this is the work I truly love."

  "I believe you," Merin said. She did, too. And she envied him the opportunity to pursue it. "Did you find it diffic
ult to learn? At first, I mean - when you were a child."

  "Not the basics. Those are pretty simple. The fine work, yes. I haven't mastered it yet, knighted and all. Don't know if I ever will."

  Merin shrugged. "I can't even hold the lance steady. It wobbles."

  "That's just a matter of strength in the right places. It will come the more you practice. Pick up anything of weight and carry it around. You'll notice the difference within days."

  Merin smiled up at him. "Thank you. I'll do that."

  "Not that I'm teaching you," Valentin said hastily. "More than my position is worth. Never let it be said that I'd go against the wishes of your family."

  He was quicker on the uptake than she'd bargained for. "I won't say it, if you won't," Merin promised. She had to let go now, or he'd grow suspicious, and then he'd be wary whenever she raised the subject. Better to drop it and feign indifference, and approach by stealth at the next opportunity.

  Because someone was damn well going to teach her, even if Alan refused.

  ***

  "What on earth are you doing?" Caroline demanded.

  "Er." Merin shifted uncomfortably. Holding several books in position between her elbow and her waist had proved surprisingly strenuous. Her arm ached all along the inner side. "I thought I'd read these books. They sounded very interesting when you and Alan discussed them earlier."

  "All of them at once?"

  "I wasn't sure where to begin."

  "Well, don't carry them like that. You'll damage the binding." Caroline took each book in turn, set them carefully on a nearby stool, frowned. "Why do you want to read Vegetius?"

  Merin snatched at a stray recollection. "Didn't Alan mention a passage on horsemanship?"

  "Probably." Caroline handed her the book. "Start with that one, then. I can't see you getting through Anselm." She picked up the remainder and carried them away.

  Merin scowled. So much for building up her tiltyard muscles. But she'd done good work already. Perhaps it was time for a rest.

  Idly she leafed through the book Caroline had given her. Caught a reference to exertion, and read on with close attention. Oh, this was exactly what she had been looking for. How foolish to waste time arguing with stubborn men, when there was knowledge right here waiting for her.

  Merin settled on the stool, and fell to reading.

  ***

  CHAPTER 3

  "I can do that for you," Merin offered.

  Matilda looked up in surprise. "Thanks, but I can manage." She hefted the bowl of water over to the ditch, then emptied it in a cascade of grimy water. Merin watched the play of muscles under the soft wool of the dress.

  The exercises were paying off. Merin was getting stronger. She could feel it, even when she wasn't lifting anything. Held herself differently, moved with greater confidence. Though she couldn't rival Matilda yet. Not even close.

  She ought to be carrying water, washing clothes and scrubbing floors. Merin had watched the manor servants, and knew full well she couldn't match their strength. But Caroline wouldn't let her help, said she'd only get in the way. And Merin had not yet found an opportunity to sneak in on the sly.

  She did what she could in the stables. And in the tiltyard. Whenever she set up or tidied away the lances, she'd taken to lifting them one at a time and holding them correctly, tucked in at her side with a steadying hand underneath, tip pointing directly forward. The squires made fun of her, but she ignored that.

  Matilda set the bowl against the stable wall, meticulously wiped her hands on a clean cloth, hung that over the edge to dry. Merin watched, envying the certainty of each movement, the confidence, the strength.

  "Who trained you for a knight?" Merin blurted out. "I'd like to learn, but I'm not allowed."

  "Surprise me more," Matilda said in a dry tone. "Wouldn't let you near a battlefield myself. My brother took me on as squire, after I convinced him it was what I truly wanted. Which was a great favour and kindness on his part. He could have made a far better profit selling me off as a wife."

  Merin winced. She'd never heard it put quite so brutally before.

  "I send him what I can, even now," Matilda went on. "Don't want him to have a moment's regret."

  "I think I'd like to be a knight," Merin said. "And go on the circuit, like you. But Alan won't teach me. Even though I'm sure he could talk my parents around. If he wanted to. But he doesn't."

  "Of course not. You're a girl, slight of build, with neither drive nor promise. Why should he - or they - let you risk broken bones when there's no need and nothing to gain?"

  Merin shot her a sullen glare. "If I were a boy, he'd teach me."

  "If you were a boy, you'd be forced to learn, no matter how ill suited to the work. But you're not."

  "I want to go the tourneys."

  "Have you ever been beaten?" Matilda asked. "I don't mean whipped. Punched, kicked, slammed to the ground - and then have you got up again, and given as good or better in return? Because that's a tournament. Anything else is just pissing about."

  "I like the games," Merin said uncertainly. "In the tiltyard. Poles and rings."

  "That's only for practice. Learning to manage yourself, your horse, your weapon. It's not an end in itself."

  "It was always Alan's favourite part," Merin argued. "He says so."

  "And look who left the circuit. Trust me, you don't want to fight in the tourneys. You have no idea what they're about. If I don't scare you, take a look at Guillaume. Then imagine him bearing down on you in full armour. Believe me, that man can deliver a beating. You want to experience it from the receiving end?"

  Merin turned the vision over in her mind. "Not especially."

  "Didn't think so. Stay where you are, and be content."

  "But couldn't I learn the youths' games?"

  "What for?" Matilda asked, with strained patience. "I can tell you for nothing that you'd be hard pressed to compete against boys with years of experience behind them. And what will you do afterwards? Do you see a life for yourself on the circuit, doing nothing but travelling from one set of games to another? There isn't much by way of prizes to be won, I'll warn you about that, even if you were good enough to compete - which you obviously aren't. Nobody goes on the circuit for the sake of the youths' games. They're only there to encourage the squires and warm up the knights. The real work, and the real money, is out in the open field. Where you don't belong, and never will."

  Merin bit down on a mutinous reply. Because deep down, she feared Matilda was right. Merin didn't want to get hurt, nor hurt anyone else. Just yearned to test her skill and find it excellent. Which it wasn't, and couldn't become, because she wasn't even allowed to learn.

  Valentin strolled out of the stable at that point, intent on something beyond Merin's shoulder. He started when he saw her, seemed about to smile, then caught Matilda's eye and stalked away.

  "I suppose so," Merin admitted reluctantly. Maybe it was true that she could never be part of that world. That all she had was a silly dream.

  "Don't grieve for it." Matilda patted Merin's arm. "It's a tough life, and not for everyone. I love the circuit, and Guillaume does too. But many of our friends have left, and for good reason. It's not the only way to be happy."

  "Thanks." Merin smiled at her. She liked Matilda, who might be blunt but was always kind. A little like Guillaume, and Alan too. They were very different in other ways, but this quality they shared. It might be something worth emulating, even if she couldn't learn their skills.

  But she wanted to. And her determination hardened into resolve as she watched Valentin attend Guillaume into the tiltyard. They weren't riding: they fought on foot, hand to hand. Merin, entranced, drifted over to watch.

  She could see what Matilda meant. Guillaume clearly wasn't putting much effort in, just marked out blocks and blows, but Merin quailed at the force of them. She didn't dare imagine what might follow if he used all his strength.

  Merin hung over the rail, and studied Guillaume. Studied Valent
in also, surreptitiously. He was built differently, more like Alan, but showed no inclination to flinch from Guillaume's blows. Merin admired his fortitude. And he had strength of his own, she could see that also.

  Valentin could fight at need, in the open field. He'd told her so himself. If Merin could learn to deliver blows like his, maybe she could give an account of herself after all.

  Though against such a foe... Merin sighed, and went back to studying Guillaume.

  What she really needed was to attend some more tourneys. See for herself exactly what was required. Learn from those who fought there, successfully. Judge if it was something she could aspire to.

  Which meant she needed a mentor no one would dare to argue against.

  One who could teach her how to strike with force.

  Merin hid a smile, and began to build an argument in her mind.

  ***

  The squire scuttled away down the stairs. Merin quietly sneaked over to the closed door. For a moment she hovered there, doubtful. It was entirely unsuitable for her to slip into Guillaume's room. On the other hand, this was the best opportunity she was likely to get to talk to him alone.

  He lay stretched out full length on the bed, breathing deeply in what was not quite a snore. Merin grimaced, pushed the door softly shut behind her to avoid the risk of discovery, considered what to do. She had assumed she would find him awake.

  Even as she stood there, he reached out to grab a water-flask that lay discarded by his side and threw it at her head, so fast and accurate that she ducked with a squeal.

  "I said an hour, you fuckwit." Guillaume opened his eyes, then sat up abruptly. "What in God's name do you want? Matilda's not here."

  "Um." Merin rose from the floor, cautiously. "I can see that."

  "Get out."

  "I wanted to talk to you." Merin stumbled over the words in her eagerness to deliver them before he threw anything else. "Please?"

  "No."

  "Can you take me with you on the circuit?"

  "What?" Guillaume stared at her. "Not a fucking chance. Get out before my wife finds you here."

  "I want to see the tournaments."