Lady Squire Read online

  ***

  CHAPTER 5

  So it dawned, the day of the games. Merin woke in the early light, with a sense of joyful anticipation that gradually clouded over as she recalled the previous day's events.

  At least she wasn't going to compete. The games were for squires and knights only, and she was neither. Which had fretted her on the journey, but now she was nothing but pleased. Yesterday's humiliation at the practice-ground had been quite sufficient. She didn't need or want any more.

  Beside her, Matilda stretched luxuriantly. "I could grow used to having a maid. Merin? Get my things ready."

  Which meant crawling out from under the warm coverlet, into the morning chill. Dim light sifted through the canvas walls. Murmurs rose all around, signalling the stir of people in all the other tents. A slight crash nearby probably meant Guillaume was awake.

  "Why did you marry Guillaume?" Merin asked. "He's such a - "

  "Thug and a brute." Matilda laughed. "He told me about that. Seemed rather pleased than otherwise. I'm surprised you had the guts to say it. Most people wouldn't, especially when he's in a mood."

  "He was very angry," Merin admitted, shamefaced. "And he was right to be. I really am sorry. I didn't think at all about the disgrace to him and to you."

  "Well, that's part of taking on a silly girl. Don't do it again, hmm?" Matilda swung out of bed.

  "I won't," Merin promised. "But I wasn't flirting. It just... seemed so right."

  "Don't trust your instincts in future. To answer your question - " Matilda poured out water from the jug and began to wash herself. "I married Guillaume because we fit exceptionally well together, and there was no argument against. He's of good family and standing, with sufficient wealth to please my brother. But it was my own choice, and certainly the right one. He's a remarkable man."

  There was another crash, followed by a growl that unmistakably came from Guillaume.

  "Note that I didn't say easy," Matilda added, and began to dress. "There is a reason we keep separate lodgings. If we didn't, we'd kill each other."

  Merin began to wash and dress likewise. "Do you love him?"

  "Utterly." Matilda's smile was strangely soft. "He's quite the gallant, when he chooses. Everything is brighter when he is by. More vivid, more..." She paused in the act of pinning on her cloak. "Joyful. Meaningful. Be it combat or feasting, or simply riding along a country road. Just doing what each of us would do alone, but better because we are together." Matilda shook her head. "It probably sounds very dull."

  "No," Merin said. "It doesn't." Because that was how she felt with Valentin. Had felt, right from the first. "What if you hadn't been allowed to marry, though?"

  "Happily, it never came to that."

  "But if."

  "Are you after something?"

  Merin sat down on the bed, drew her legs up and hugged her knees. "I like Valentin a lot. And if do have to marry, he's the man I want. But from what you've told me, he doesn't have either wealth or connections. So I can't. My parents wouldn't allow it."

  "That's life," Matilda said. "But although his connections are modest, they are unexceptionable. Guillaume wouldn't give him countenance otherwise. If your parents and you are willing to wait, Valentin may yet earn his way to a manor or two."

  "Yes. But it would take forever. I don't want to wait that long." Merin grimaced. "I'm certain Mother doesn't either."

  "Are you serious about this?" Matilda asked.

  "I don't know." It was too stark a choice, between maidenly indifference and matronly commitment. Merin wished for something in between. Affection. Belonging. Not the absolute of marriage.

  "Well, don't pursue it just now. By all means get to know Valentin in a proper manner, chaperoned at all times. Consider whether he is a man you truly want to build a life with. If he is, take it up with your parents when you return. Be honest with them. Secrecy will only cause problems."

  "I know." Merin understood that now, only too well. If she had been frank about her admiration for Valentin from the first, Guillaume would not have been so furious when he found out. And although everything had ended well, she could not help but shiver at the thought of what might have occurred instead.

  Of course, if she had been completely honest, Guillaume probably wouldn't have brought her along.

  A few years, he'd said. That was an age. She didn't want to wait that long, she'd be old by then. Above twenty. It could not be endured.

  Must she? Given her skill at bending others to her wish, Merin ought to be able to secure her parents' permission, find some way to convince them that marrying Valentin would be exactly right.

  If she could only be certain it was what she truly wanted.

  "I'm just not sure," she said helplessly.

  "Then leave it to God and time," Matilda said. "In the meantime, get on with your tasks. First of which is to set out my breakfast."

  ***

  Valentin steadied himself. He'd competed in the knights' games before now, but this meet was a large one and the runs intricate. So far he'd held his own.

  This last run, though, looked set to tax him.

  But he was determined to make a good showing. Especially since Merin was watching, or at least he hoped she was. Couldn't see her from here, she'd be up in the stands with other ladies. Which saddened him. She ought to be with him, ready to hand up a lance or hook on rings or just smile and encourage him in that light trusting voice of hers.

  Instead he was surrounded by crowds of men and boys. Which he was comfortable enough with, had been used to it for many years, appreciated the support. But it was Merin he craved. With her lovely face shining at him, he could take on any challenge.

  He glanced up at the stands, not expecting to find her but feeling the force of disappointment nonetheless. Spared a moment to yearn for the hours he'd spent in Alan's tiltyard. Resolutely pushed aside the memory of her body in his arms, her mouth on his. That was over, it had been madness to give in to such an impulse, he could only praise God for the mercy Guillaume had shown. Valentin intended to earn it. He had not looked at nor spoken to Merin since.

  The signal blared. Valentin he turned his horse and set off in earnest. Through the poles at a quick pace, out onto the diagonal and over a series of fences, wheel around to burst at the double line of rings and pick them off, flipping his lance from one hand to the other and back again as he rode. Clipped the ribboned bar in passing to claim he'd got them all, then presented his lance-tip to the marshal for proof.

  It wasn't perfect. Damn, still not perfect. But it felt good, all the same.

  Once the rings were off, he raised his lance in acknowledgement of the applause that had burst forth all around him, and rode slowly out of the yard.

  Job done. He was pleased with himself. The work he'd put in under Alan's teaching had paid off, he could feel it. Balance and speed were all there, with no need to strain.

  "Very nice." Bertram, an older man in Guillaume's service, nodded approval. "Squiring touch hasn't left you, then."

  "It hasn't," Valentin agreed. "Fancy a go yourself?"

  Bertram sniffed. "Cocky young fool. I was doing this before you were born."

  Valentin grinned. "Come and show us."

  "Not on your life. I'm saving myself for tomorrow."

  "What about the jousting?"

  "Might be tempted. Take you out while your attention's elsewhere."

  Valentin dismounted, stroked the horse's neck, surrendered the animal to a groom. Turned a puzzled frown on Bertram. "Meaning what?"

  "Meaning, as a friendly piece of advice, stop staring up at the stands before my lord takes notice."

  Valentin glanced across at Guillaume, being fitted up by an anxious squire. Time was when that task had been Valentin's. He didn't envy the lad, working fast to get done before the next snarl, under constant threat of a blow if Guillaume was dissatisfied with the least detail. Though in fairness, any man knighted by Guillaume knew his way around armour.

  "See, I
was actually on guard outside my lord's tent at a certain moment," Bertram said. "Not that either of you spotted that. Any more than you saw Gilbert - " he nodded to a fellow knight - "on guard outside my lady Matilda's tent, pissing himself laughing. Especially when my lord decided to intervene. Got a quiet step when he wants to, our Guillaume."

  Valentin flushed. He'd been so entirely focused on Merin that the presence of other men had vanished from his consciousness. But of course there had been guards. Worse, they were men who knew him well.

  "If I were going to kiss a girl," Bertram went on, "I'd choose a nice secret spot to bring her. And I'd pick a servant girl who was up for that and more, on consideration of a few coins. Not a virgin lady of good family who stands under my lord's personal protection. But that's the daredevil streak in you, eh?"

  Valentin stared at the tiltyard, where a knight from a different retinue came to a sticky end on the double line of rings. "What's your point?"

  "That you're stupid. Young and green and spectacularly stupid. Incidentally, my lord fights on the right flank tomorrow. Next to a man who's sworn to kill him."

  "Which one?" Valentin asked, relieved at the change of subject. He already grieved for his breach of trust; he did not relish being ribbed about it. Especially by Bertram, who could not be settled by a sharp word or a punch. Age and length of service, not to mention Guillaume's good opinion, protected Bertram from any impertinence on the part of a newly made knight.

  Bertram snickered. "Yes, he's got his share of enemies, our Guillaume. This particular one - de Rous, if you remember him - "

  "Oh, God." A nasty piece of work, whose men were never averse to a spot of malice on the side. Valentin had dealt with them before.

  "More the opposite," Bertram said. "If you take my meaning. He'll stab my lord in the back if he can. You and I will stand in his way."

  Valentin winced. Personal vendettas were apt to get bloody. And de Rous' retinue was considerably larger than Guillaume's.

  "Fight hard and well," Bertram said. "That's my advice to you. Because if you bring down a lord of that standing, and my lord chooses to ransom him, you'll come in for a share." He nodded significantly.

  "Did you swing this?" Valentin asked, awed.

  "Wouldn't presume to tell my lord how to order his men." Bertram watched Guillaume ride into the yard. "But I have some discretion in how I arrange those he assigns to my own command. I'll work an opening for you if I can. Because I'll tell you for free, lad, that money will come in useful. If your intentions are what I would hope, seeing as how I squired for the girl's father way back in the day."

  Valentin blinked. "I didn't know."

  "We could fill a year of slow riding discussing all the things you do not know. But I saw you with her, and she with you. The opportunity is there, if you care to take it."

  "Thank you very much," Valentin said, intensely. If he could begin to amass a fortune, enough to make a genuine offer for a girl of Merin's standing, there might yet be a future for him that included her.

  "Not saying tent walls are thin, mind. Or that guards are apt to talk." Bertram folded his arms and watched Guillaume storm through the run in the manner of a victor.

  ***

  No. She didn't want to be a knight.

  Merin had watched the games with exhilaration, cheered Valentin's splendid performances, allowed her lingering resentment of Guillaume to melt away in the blaze of his brilliance. They had both placed well, though beaten to the winner's purse by a superb horseman in another lord's pay.

  Now the jousting had begun, and Merin's enthusiasm waned. This wasn't funny. Men rode hard at each other, one on one, lances crashing in with full force. Each blow robbed her of breath, as if it slammed into her own body instead of theirs.

  She couldn't do this, could never match herself against men like these. Didn't even want to. Especially when one was unhorsed and thrown to ground, and didn't move again. Marshals gathered around him, then cautiously lifted him onto a stretcher and carried him off. Merin craned her neck to see what became of him after, but the group disappeared within the thicket of tents and did not return.

  It hadn't been this bad at the tournament Alan held. Or maybe it had, she didn't recall. The memories that flooded her were all of horses and colours and armour, the festive flutter of ribbons, the joyful atmosphere, the cheers. She didn't remember the blows, the crashes, the mindless physical terror that filled her now.

  Perhaps it was because she hadn't put herself in the fighters' place, then. She'd been delighted and amazed by her surroundings, so different from everything she'd experienced at home. The men had been strong, forceful, capable - but alien, distant, unknown. What happened to them in the tiltyard, and later in the fields, had the sheen of magic. It was like stepping into a faerie tale, finding herself surrounded by strange and glorious wonders. She hadn't smelled the sweat and blood and fear.

  This time, some of those knights were familiar to her. She knew Valentin and Guillaume, and Matilda also, their measure and their build. Could judge the force with which they struck and were struck, imagine the impact if that ferocity were turned on her. Quailed at thought of it, and wished herself far away, safe in the peace of a quiet manor.

  Here was Valentin now, helmeted and shielded, she only knew him by his horse. Confronted by an armoured enemy, he appeared slighter than before, youthful and uncertain. Merin wished she could instil confidence in him, the certainty of triumph. She wished she could feel it herself.

  They rode at each other hard, crashed together with such force that both lances broke. Valentin toppled, then slumped over his horse's neck. Was caught and held by a marshal, surrendered his shield, nodded in response to some question Merin could not hear. The marshal raised the shield towards the enemy knight, who tipped the stump of his lance in acknowledgement. Merin watched, tight-lipped, as men in Guillaume's colours led Valentin away.

  The jousting failed to hold her interest after that. She waited until Guillaume and Matilda were both out on points, according to some arcane system of calculation that she did not pretend to understand, then slipped away from her assigned place and towards the knights' enclosure.

  Merin walked straight to Matilda's tent, conscious that she could attract no reasonable criticism by doing so. She found Matilda part way through removing the armour, assisted by a squire.

  "Points?" Merin asked, because she wanted some excuse for coming.

  "Calculated risk. Go in clean with an easy strike or try something trickier that scores high but may not come off as planned. Guillaume and I both played safe against a man who'll usually gamble on the tricky strike and lose. Today it came off for him. Twice. What are the odds?" Matilda gave a rueful smile.

  Merin sought for another innocuous question, but could only think of her true errand. "How's Valentin?"

  "Fine, as far as I can tell. Mistook the line of attack and paid for it. That's inexperience. He'll learn from it and come back stronger. Not a problem."

  Merin breathed out. "That's good. So... are we out entirely for today?"

  "We are."

  The boys disappeared into the outer section of the tent, and carefully closed the flap behind them. Merin began to help Matilda undress.

  "I've decided I don't want to be a knight," Merin admitted. "It looks much too harsh for me."

  "Wise decision."

  "And I'm nowhere near ready to compete in the games."

  "True."

  "Can I still travel with you for a while?"

  Matilda poured out water and began to wash. "If you like. We're taking in a few more meets, then we'll probably swing back to the south. Pass within a couple of days' ride of Alan's manor. Could drop you off there and be on our way. Three weeks or so?"

  "Thank you," Merin said humbly.

  "You're doing well," Matilda said. "Don't think otherwise. But I stand by what I told you from the start. Fighting isn't what you're meant for." She pulled on a clean tunic. "That doesn't mean you're not of use. I'm happ
y to keep you on as a maid, or you might want to shadow the grooms. The horses have taken to you, which is usually a good sign. If you want to spend some time in the stables, I have no objection to that. But supervised, yes? By myself or Guillaume, or such men as we appoint specifically. Understand?"

  Merin nodded. "I would love that. Can I just ask, though... If Valentin is there - "

  "You may speak with him. Why not? Get to know him a little better. But remember what I said." Matilda shot her a glance of warning. "In responsible company, and strictly on chaste terms."

  ***

  Merin stroked the horse's ears. The happy little creature, after spending a contented morning carrying herself and the pages around the practice-ground, and an afternoon of peace while the larger horses dealt with the intricacies of the squires' and knights' games, seemed curious to know what she thought of the day's events. At least it listened with every appearance of interest while she related them, and nuzzled her gently when she confided her resolution not to be a knight after all.

  "That's a shame." Valentin paused by the stall to give her a smile. Merin's heart leapt at the sight of him. Joy whizzed through her, and then concern. Even in the gloom of the stable, she could tell he was pale.

  "Should you be up?" she asked anxiously. "After that awful hit you took."

  Valentin's smile wavered. Almost embarrassed, he seemed now. "I'm fine. Bruised but otherwise undamaged. Made a fool of myself, but nothing new there."

  "You were splendid."

  He laughed at that. "It's kind of you to say so. Not altogether honest, but very kind."

  "I'm always honest." Merin's conscience nudged her. "Most of the time, anyway."

  "Didn't mean it in a bad way," Valentin said hastily.

  "I know." Merin stroked the horse's neck. "But you're brave venturing. I couldn't joust. Far too violent."

  "Wait until you see the tournament tomorrow."

  Vague thoughts of hiding in the tent flitted through Merin's mind. But she wasn't going to do that. She wanted to see what happened. And cheer for Valentin.