Lady Squire Page 4

  "Go whine at Alan's feet."

  "And ride in the youths' games. If someone teaches me. I could learn from you."

  Guillaume gave her a suspicious glare. "Did Matilda put you up to this?"

  Merin breathed a little easier. For a moment she'd feared he'd physically throw her out of the room. "You're such a splendid horseman. And so powerful a fighter. I'd love to learn that."

  It worked. Guillaume visibly relaxed. He still scowled like a demon caught lazing by the fires of Hell, but the sense of menace faded.

  "Get Alan to teach you," he said. "There isn't much he doesn't know."

  "I realise he is immensely skilled," Merin said humbly. "The trouble is, he refuses to teach me."

  "On what grounds?"

  "Says I'll never make a tourneyer. Too slight."

  Guillaume shrugged. "He'd be the man to ask. If he says so, believe him."

  "But I don't want to fight in open tourneys," Merin persisted. "I mean, I've heard all about broken bones and that, and it's not for me. Even if I could learn how. But I'd love to try the youths' games."

  "Then go harangue him about it, and leave me in peace."

  "I'm very sorry to have disturbed you," Merin said in her meekest tone. "The thing is, even if he did teach me, I couldn't put it to use. Unless I go on to the circuit. Which I can't do by myself, obviously. And Alan can't take me, because he doesn't travel any more. You do."

  "Why would I want some useless girl tagging after me?"

  "I could squire for you." Merin pushed aside the thought of fists and flying water-flasks.

  "Got squires."

  "What about Matilda?"

  "Ask her, not me."

  "Yes, of course." Merin curtsied. "The thing is, I most of all want to learn from you. I've seen you at practice. Magnificent. And you were splendid at the tournament Alan and Caroline held here."

  Guillaume rolled back onto the bed, propped himself up on his elbow, and studied her with an indulgent smile. "Naturally."

  "And since you are the very best - "

  "You sly bitch." Guillaume's face bloomed into a grin. "Almost had me there."

  Merin winced. She'd been so sure flattery would do the trick.

  "Never push too hard," Guillaume added. "You'll only lose your balance. Trust your horse and let momentum carry you forward. There's a tip for you. Now stop cluttering up my chamber."

  Merin ventured one last attempt. "Will you consider it, though? I'd be happy to work. Don't you have any chores I could help with?"

  "Matilda might want a maid," Guillaume conceded. "Wouldn't gamble on it. As for the games..." He studied her for a moment. "If you train up well, I'd be willing to take you off Alan's hands in a couple of years. Assuming you still want to go, and your parents give permission."

  "But he won't train me," Merin persisted. "How am I to learn if I'm not allowed to train?"

  "Get down to the tiltyard and watch."

  "But Alan won't - "

  "He's all but set up home for you there." Guillaume regarded her with new interest. "Why this sudden passion for tourneys?"

  "They sound exciting," Merin said.

  "Think you'll catch a man?"

  Merin tossed her head. "Of course not. I'd never considered such a thing. Anyway my parents want me to marry well."

  "No reason you can't do that on the circuit."

  "But that isn't why I'm going."

  "Sounds to me like you're not going at all."

  Merin slumped. "You won't take me on?"

  "No." Guillaume lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. "Now push off before I mistake you for a squire again."

  Reluctantly, Merin turned to the door - but it swung open by itself, and Matilda strolled in. She stopped in amazement, frowned at Merin, and then turned a suspicious stare on Guillaume.

  "I've been asking if I could come along on the circuit," Merin said quickly. "As maid to you. Just to see everything for myself. Because it would be ever so exciting."

  "I don't need a maid. Did Guillaume suggest it?" Matilda surveyed the man, who opened one eye and nodded. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

  "Inspiration." Guillaume opened both eyes and smiled at her. "Last week you said a maid might be some use, and less trouble than a squire."

  "I'd been out in the sun."

  "There's your answer," Guillaume told Merin. "We're not taking you just yet. Maybe in a few years, when Alan's turned you into something useful."

  "Alan's agreed to train you for a knight?" Matilda asked Merin, clearly surprised.

  "No," Merin said dolefully.

  "How sad," Matilda said without noticeable sympathy. "Seems you're out of luck. Anything else we can do for you?"

  "Please would you consider taking me on for training?" Merin asked. "I'll be ever so good, I promise."

  "No," Matilda said. "Why so keen to go on the circuit? You don't know anything about it."

  "She's after a husband," Guillaume murmured. "Apparently someone told her there are good catches to be made."

  Matilda shot him an acid look. "Who was that, I wonder?"

  "I may have hinted. You caught me, after all."

  Merin looked from one to the other. "Isn't there any work at all you need doing right now? Because I can do it. Anything. Just let me prove I can work and make you happy. Then you can decide whether or not to take me along."

  Matilda scrutinised her. "I suppose you can make yourself useful if you like. No harm in it."

  "And if I do a really good job - " Merin held her breath.

  "I'll consider it," Matilda said. "Maybe."

  "Watch yourself," Guillaume warned. "She's persuasive. Gets under your guard."

  ***

  Valentin held his breath. If he didn't, he might betray himself with a stifled scream.

  "Day after tomorrow," Guillaume said. "That leaves us time to reach the next meet, easy. Make sure everything is packed and ready by then. Keep an eye on the squires. If they fuck up, your skin pays."

  "Yes, my lord." Valentin let the air from his lungs, slowly. This was the news he'd dreaded, almost since the moment he arrived.

  They were leaving. Of course they were, must do, they'd remained here far longer than Valentin recalled ever staying anywhere else. Next big meet was three or four days' ride away, to get there comfortably they must move on soon. He knew that. He'd anticipated it, even, and gradually counted down the hours that remained to him. Now that the blow connected, he found himself still unprepared.

  He'd miss Alan's teaching, and the marvellous indulgence of daily practice at the work he most enjoyed. This was a life he could aspire to. Not the ceaseless travel and brutal bludgeonings of the circuit, but a calm and regular routine. The challenge of devising and mastering an exacting technical course. Hours spent in the pursuit of perfection. Peaceful daily devotion to the skills that he most yearned to possess.

  And Merin. Her presence, her company. The smile on her lovely face, the enthusiasm in her voice. Her presence at the side of the tiltyard while he rode.

  Why couldn't Alan teach her? Valentin would, if the choice were his. She had a good hand with horses, she rode well, and she genuinely loved the work. Why need it matter that fighting was not for her? Or that she lacked the obsessive attention to detail that could make her great in the games?

  She'd never be a champion. Valentin acknowledged as much. Didn't have the heart for winning. He doubted she'd even find much pleasure in competing.

  But to learn, and practice, and grow ever more skilful - that ought to be viable as an end in itself. She might go on to train horses perhaps, or pages new to squiring. Why not? There were many stages between foal and battlehorse, between child and champion. As Alan knew to his cost: Valentin had watched him with the squires, all relentless patience and barely-concealed frustration. A master of that calibre ought to be training knighted men, not giddy boys.

  Men like Valentin. Who might make themselves useful in turn, by taking squires through the basics. Assisted by
women like Merin, perhaps.

  It was an idle dream. Foolish. But he'd indulged it daily, during his stay here.

  And now it was all coming to an end. He would leave, return to the hacking and slashing that was proving so much tedium to him, surrender the expert tuition of a great master to boys scarcely capable of holding a lance.

  And leave Merin behind. Forever.

  "You have some concern you wish to raise?" Guillaume demanded.

  "None, my lord."

  "Then quit staring and go about your tasks."

  "Yes, my lord." Still Valentin hesitated. "Are we to return here? Because I could..." He trailed off. Had some vague idea of leaving stuff behind, to collect later.

  But that was bad form, and lazy work. He could not insult the man who'd lavished such care on raising and training him by suggesting they leave in anything but exemplary order.

  "You could spit out what's on your mind," Guillaume said. "Or get the fuck on with your work."

  "I'd like to train once more with my lord Alan," Valentin said resolutely. "If I might have your permission for that - and if he can spare me the time, of course. Tomorrow will be busy for us all, I know. But if you would grant me an hour - "

  "Take two," Guillaume said. "Whenever you like. Just be ready on time the day after."

  "Thank you, my lord."

  Valentin heard the intensity of gratitude in his own voice. For a moment he worried that Guillaume would take offence. But nothing further came his way, whether blows or sharp words or small objects thrown. Which was as good as approval, from Guillaume.

  He vowed to savour every last moment of Alan's tutelage. Prayed Merin might be there, as well. Valentin dearly wanted one final chance to enjoy her company, and store up memories that must last him for the rest of his life.

  ***

  "I've been thinking," Merin said earnestly.

  "Always a good start." Alan looked past her, at something the squires were doing - wrong, to judge by the expression on his face. For once, Merin didn't care.

  "About tournaments," she persisted. "You know I'd like to see more of them. Well, I could go on the circuit with Guillaume and Matilda. When they leave, the day after tomorrow."

  "You could - " Alan swung to stare at her. "Absolutely not under any circumstances."

  "But why? It's perfectly proper, they're married and everything. I could be maid to Matilda, even. I've been doing some tasks for her, and she likes having the time to spare. Anyway they said I could come if I wanted." Merin had finally succeeded in drawing that admission from Matilda, this very morning.

  "Please tell me you've not been harassing my friends with pleas to be taken on as part of their entourage."

  "Of course not." Merin maintained a stout appearance of outraged denial. "They suggested it. Sort of."

  "After you'd badgered them past breaking point," Alan said. "I know your scheming. And I wish you'd come to me first."

  "I did. You said no."

  "Which ought to have been sufficient answer. As indeed it will have to be, for many reasons. First among them being that you need your parents' permission, not mine. I am entrusted with your safe keeping, nothing more. It would be a betrayal of their trust if I allowed you to go anywhere at all."

  Merin pouted. "You could come."

  "Leave Caroline for weeks? No."

  "She could come, too."

  "Not unless she wants to. And right now, she doesn't. Which means you're not leaving this place. Unless you want me to send you home."

  Merin stamped her foot in sheer frustration. It was childish, but better than kicking him on the shin as she longed to do. "Please, Alan. I really want this."

  "Absolutely not."

  Merin studied him with something akin to despair. He was firm when he wanted to be, she knew that, and she had no illusions about the expression in his eyes.

  She turned to watch Guillaume, who rode slowly by with Matilda at his side. Behind them rode Valentin, handsome and confident, ignoring her completely. Of course. Because she was just a girl, and didn't count.

  But Merin was determined to make herself count.

  "If I can get my parents' permission," Merin said slowly, "will you give me yours?"

  "It won't matter much by then," Alan said. "The reason being, theirs beats mine. But I don't imagine they will agree."

  "They might," Merin said. "After I've talked to them."

  "What arguments can you bring?"

  Merin gave him what she hoped was a serene smile. "Just that it will be exciting and introduce me to lots of suitable men. I could make a good match, like they want me to do."

  "Searing logic," Alan said. "Yes, that should work."

  He gave Guillaume a long hard look - then turned it on Merin, who flinched. She'd never seen him so devoid of humour or friendship.

  "Has there been anything remotely untoward between you and Guillaume?" Alan demanded, in a cold voice unlike his own.

  "Of course not," Merin quavered. "I mean, I went to his room once, but - "

  "Alone?"

  "Um. Yes." She couldn't bear to meet Alan's eye, but she didn't dare look away in case she caught Guillaume's. "It wasn't anything, you know, personal. I mean it wasn't what you think - "

  "What I think," Alan said, "is that Guillaume nailed you right from the first. You need a smacking. I hope to God you get one when I send you home."

  Tears started to Merin's eyes. "Please don't," she begged. "I haven't done anything wrong, I promise."

  "For your own sake, I hope that's true. But you're not safe to be in company."

  "He was perfectly polite," Merin insisted. "And Matilda was there. So."

  That hard awful look faded from Alan's eyes. "Matilda was present the whole time?"

  "Yes," Merin lied.

  "Then that's different. But you'll do nothing of the sort again. Understand?"

  "Perfectly," Merin said in her most submissive tone, and curtsied for good measure.

  Alan relaxed. A moment later, some new folly by the squires caught his attention and he strode off to have a word.

  Storm over, Merin reflected. Phew. She'd been almost frightened for a moment. Never would she have thought that cheerful, easy-going Alan could look so scary.

  "Are you well, Merin?" Matilda halted a few steps away, and leaned over in the saddle to study Merin's face. "You look pale."

  "Alan says I'm not allowed to go to the tourneys." Merin let her disappointment bloom freely, and for a moment tears threatened again. "Not even with you."

  "Hardly surprising."

  "But I really want to."

  "Welcome to the world."

  Guillaume stirred. "She's worked for it. Maybe we should give her a chance."

  Matilda shot him a forbidding look. "If Alan says no, that's the end of the matter."

  "I'll settle Alan."

  "You will not."

  Merin allowed herself one glance of adoration, to which Guillaume replied with a glimmering smile. "Please would you speak to him?" she breathed.

  "I might."

  Matilda shot him a look of warning. "We shouldn't interfere. Obviously Alan knows what's best for the girl."

  "Doubt it. And if he's that worried, he can come along himself."

  Merin shook her head. "He won't leave Caroline."

  "Soft-witted fool," Guillaume said.

  "I think it's sweet," Merin argued, nettled on Alan's behalf. "He does love her very much."

  "Did you want a champion?" Guillaume was teasing, Merin could tell, but there was just a hint of challenge in his manner.

  She gave a deep curtsy and imbued her voice with humble respect. "Indeed I do, my lord. Everything you say is wise and just."

  Guillaume snorted. "Impudent brat."

  "She's got you nailed." Matilda grinned at him.

  "Doesn't that mean I learn well?" Merin suggested. "And quickly? Which means I could be ever so useful, if - "

  Matilda blew out breath through her teeth. "You don't give up,
do you?"

  "Tenacious," Guillaume said.

  "Stubborn," Matilda corrected.

  "Determined." Merin gazed soulfully up at them both. "I really want this. But I respect my parents, and my sister, and Alan too. I would never do anything they disapprove of. If I were with you, they'd know I was safe and properly supervised. I'd work hard and behave impeccably, so I'd be no trouble to you at all. And you'd get your chores done for you."

  "Huh." Matilda studied her for a long moment. "Gets under your guard. I'll remember that."

  "Do," Guillaume said. "I intend to." But he flashed a grin at Merin as he rode past, and her heart filled with the jubilant certainty that she'd won.

  ***

  Valentin writhed. He'd seen the way Merin looked at Guillaume, shining with adoration. It would take a saint to withstand that - and Guillaume was no saint, for all that his seductions had ended when he married Matilda.

  It would be a torment to Valentin, watching the two of them begin an affair. And yet - if it brought Merin to the party, he would learn to be content. Just to be near her, speak with her, enjoy the odd moment of friendship.

  So he schooled his features into respectful indifference, and stood by patiently while Alan, Matilda and Guillaume hashed out the matter between them.

  "I'll admit I could use a maid," Matilda said. "Especially one who's willing to squire at need. And she's a good quick worker. If it eases your conscience, let me bring her on those terms."

  "She mustn't fight," Alan said. "Not in open tourneys, not in jousts. Games, well. If you're willing to coddle her through them, feel free. She'll never be great - lacks dedication - but if competence satisfies her, let it be so."

  "Fair enough," Guillaume said. "We'll keep her on the poles and rings until she cries and begs to be sent home."

  Alan half smiled. "If I trust her to your care, I hold you personally responsible for anything that befalls her."

  "Both of us," Matilda said.

  "No." Alan fixed Guillaume with an odd stare. "You. Personally."

  He knew, Valentin realised. Or guessed. And this was about to get ugly.

  "She's safe with me," Guillaume said. "I don't touch virgins."

  Matilda kicked him. Guillaume caught her hand and kissed it, with an affection that brought an ache to Valentin's heart.

  "You had better not," Alan said. "Nor allow anyone else to, either."