How to Train Your Knight: A Medieval Romance Novel Page 3

  “I know.” Her heart hammered as she tried to shut out the last horrifying vision of old Knight Underhill. Covered in blood, he’d gazed up at her in his unholy state of death. She fingered the scars on her back, remembering the strips of flesh and long cuts she’d endured from his repeated lashings.

  When her ears stopped pounding, she turned back to Mary. “I looked over my ledgers after the old bastard died. What a rat’s nest. How am I to be blamed for his incompetence? He was the one who insisted on gambling, jousting, and drinking while I tended to profits.”

  Mary tsk-tsk’d and went back to her pies.

  “It isn’t fair. It’s not my fault.” She plopped another piece of dried fruit into her mouth.

  “No, it’s not.” Double chins bobbed in agreement.

  “Besides. How exactly is a new husband going to help? I just got our monies back in order after the last one died. What did Brother John call The Beast? Michael? Mark? Good God, I’m not even sure of his name. Did you see him? Is he really a beast?

  “Not a beast at all, for the looking. Very large and handsome. His temperament … Now that’s what’s beastly. What are you going to do with him?”

  “I haven’t got a complete plan, yet, but until I figure it out, we should not change a thing. A strong Roman army runs on good food and good planning. Isn’t that what the ancient book says?” She stood and paced the thin kitchen aisle and several girls moved aside.

  She thumped one fist into her palm. “We will fight the battle and bring down the Blackwell Beast.”

  Thrusting one hand high into the air, she turned to her audience with a shout, “Feed the men well tonight. Have the boys find hares and wild bird. I’ll send word to our neighbors that we have need of extra. Get me Stephen. I’ve need of his talents.”

  Mary laughed, saluted with her palm to her heart, and agreed, “Aye, Your Grace.” The girls making pies curtsied, giggled, and did the same.

  Minutes later, her young steward burst into the kitchen and stared wide-eyed at her attire. “M’lady.” He quickly turned toward the wall with cheeks the color of summer poppies.

  She laughed. “It’s all right, really. It’s the best way for me to hide from The Beast.”

  “But your limbs are showing.” His eyes went wider still; his breath fast. “A sin.”

  “Aye, they are. Take no mind. Think of it as the only way I can stave off a hanging. Have you become stiff in your ways, now that you’ve a wife?”

  The cupboards became his primary focus as he tried mightily to keep his eyes off her form. “We thought The Beast had already hung you, as promised.”

  Showing more bravado than she felt, she slapped him on the back. “Nonsense. He wouldn’t dare. He merely wanted to frighten me. Cheer up. We have our daily duties to attend to. Tell me, is the whole town asleep?”

  “We weren’t sure what to do.” He toed the dirt floor with one of his boots.

  “Continue with our daily plans. The only thing we should do, until I’ve run The Beast off, is make sure evening meal is served outside of his purview. He may not approve of our system. And also …”

  Her mind raced with a hundred chores. “Have men make sure the river is still washing through the outhouse ditches. We may need to divert more water to keep them clear.”

  He nodded, turning to keep his back to her, as she circled.

  “Go send word that nothing has changed. We’ll work our usual day and I’ll be out shortly, just like always. Assure everyone that all is well. Please.”

  She heard, rather than saw, the grin in his response. “Aye, I will. Bless you!”

  If she could convince him, she could convince the whole of the town. Without their cooperation, her system would fall apart, and her efforts for all these years would be for naught. “I’ll stop by to see your newest babe. Is he well?”

  “He art a strong babe. Takes after his dad, he does.”

  “No doubt.” His boy had chubby hands and pink cheeks and a broad smile. Someday, he’d learn a trade and have a good life. Unless The Beast ruined everything.

  “Are you really going to rid us of the knight? Why even start the morning’s journey, if there’s no reward at the end?”

  “Fear not. I’ll have him out of our town before he can pull his boots off.” She just didn’t know how.

  For God’s sake, she wasn’t even sure what he looked like except for his colors, thick hair, and wide back as he rode away on a huge black charger. Her fates couldn’t be hopeless, though. Had he not whispered sweet words into her ear? Held her hand gently during the mass? He wasn’t at all beastly when he’d apologized. In fact, she’d heard more kind words this morning than in the entirety of her first marriage.

  She wished he’d removed the blindfold, but he was right. No one should ever call out the devil. She mumbled a prayer in apology, then shook her head. “Enough of this nonsense. I must work if I’m going to save my people from The Beast.”

  Stephen dashed across the green and shouted to the crowd that still lingered at the far end of the square. “The Lady Ann is fine. She wants us to go back to work. She promises all will be well.”

  Cheers erupted and her people headed back to work with renewed purpose. The bell in the church tower rang out and she smiled. No doubt it was those two troublemakers, Stuart and Lyle, who tugged the rope. As she strode across the green, metal on metal rang out from the blacksmith, and the looms clacked from the great workhouse. The acrid smell of the glasshouse fires mixed with the stench of greasy tallow used for making candles. She sighed deeply, held her head high, and encouraged each one of her people as she passed by.

  Valiantly, she pushed thoughts of the morning aside. When she arrived at the vat where the dye for the wool was prepared, she was surprised to find it empty. They’d need new flowers from the meadow soon, or they’d go to seed and the season would be missed. Their vat should be bubbling and boiling away constantly to have colored wool ready for the fair.

  Her feet dragged her toward the abbey. What good could it do to put off the inevitable? She knocked on the door, lowered her eyes, and bowed her head.

  Brother James, the elder, rose from his knees and took her hands in his. “I’ve been waiting for you. What happened to your face, child?”

  Her confessor motioned her outside and into the light. Holding her chin, he wiggled her jaw back and forth. A fierce frown made him appear more warrior than priest. “Did Blackwell do this to you?”

  She shook her head, no.

  “Come in and be seated. Tell me all.” He led her into the small church, where she sat on a thick wooden pew and gave him the story, almost fully truthful. Mayhap not the bit about taking her knife to that rude Thomas. Or all the cursing. Or the spitting.

  “Ann, Ann, Ann,” he lamented. “I believe even the angels in the heavens above cringed this morning at your temper.”

  “Do you think God will demand vengeance? He was quite ornery in the old testament.” She glanced up at God’s wrathful face frowning down from a mural. He did not look pleased what-so-ever.

  Brother James laughed. “Kneel and say your contrition. All will be forgiven.”

  “Bless me father, for I have sinned.” She closed her eyes and went on to give a full list of curses and blasphemies, along with other white sins, then finished with, “and vow to sin no more. Amen.”

  Sighing heavily, he rolled his eyes to heaven and doled out a vast penance. Before she had a chance to complain, he said, “Beware of Blackwell. The bards sing of his ruthlessness in the Holy Lands. The king, too, has fondness for the man. It would be best to make peace. Join with him in normal relations as man and wife.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “All is lost, then.”

  “God’s ways are most mysterious.” As he’d done since she was a small child, he patted her hand, but this time she found no solace.

  “Do you suppose I could have the marriage annulled?”

  He shook his tonsured head. “A second s
on like Blackwell craves land and title.”

  “But what am I to do? I won’t survive another marriage.” Grabbing her confessor’s simple brown sleeve, she choked back a sob.

  His rough robe met her cheek when he took her into a hug. “Not all marriages are like your first one. Give the joining a chance. The knight may surprise you. I’ll speak to him on your behalf and I’ll pray to God.”

  She tossed her head side to side vehemently and her hair escaped the cap. “But God hasn’t been on my side recently. I think He tires of my cursing. My un-ladylike behavior. Oh, I believe He hath finally washed His hands of me fully.”

  Brother John rose and walked behind the altar. “There, there, don’t be silly. Finish your penance. I’ll have something new to show you when you’re done.”

  “Did the mechanism book arrive?” Her heavy heart was put aside.

  “Aye, dear. It did. After your prayers. Would you like me to have it brought to your chambers?” Reappearing, he held a treasure of bound parchment.

  “Umm, no. I’ll take it with me. It’s not well known amongst The Beast’s men that I’m out of my chamber.” She squirmed under his stern stare.

  “About the manly attire …”

  “Yes?” She batted her eyelashes and feigned innocence. It hadn’t actually worked for years, but the look was all she had as defense against his keen insight.

  “You forgot to list that amongst your many sins today. Say twenty Our-Fathers for that alone.” He sighed mightily and brushed the book dust from the front of his robe.

  “Yes, Brother.” Her folded hands hid her smirk. Mayhap she’d just join these prayers to tomorrow’s batch and get both done at once. God would applaud her efficiency.

  After she’d finished her prayers, well, most of them, she ran back into the village. It took a full day to assure her town’s people that they should continue with their labors as was the norm. When the sun began to sink low into the sky, she entered the bathhouse and pushed on the geared wall.

  With heavy legs, she climbed up the steep stairs and into her room. Once there, she collapsed onto her pallet. Her empty stomach made a rude noise to remind her that she’d forgotten to stop for supper. How in the world was she going to extricate herself from this mess when she couldn’t even remember to eat?

  She dropped to her knees and prayed, this time in earnest, for God to save her.

  Chapter 3

  Marcus pulled back on the reins and came alongside Thomas as they exited the forest. Below them, a spring green valley, dotted with pools of violets, opened up as far as the eye could see. Sheep, startled by their appearance, ran in foolish circles, not one of them wanting to take the lead. Lost little ones bucked and bleated and tried to follow.

  “It’s hard to believe how fertile the lands and how well-kept the town,” Marcus said.

  “Aye. You’ve done well. Plenty of wooly beasties, too. Tell me more about this Abernathy fellow. What’s the fuss?”

  Midnight nickered, then decided to munch, so Marcus shifted back in the saddle. “You know my father. No doubt he hath turned molehill into mountain. My understanding is that for centuries, the north fields have been shared. He says that Abernathy has been stealing the Lady Ann’s sheep from this common ground. That needs to stop. Hold. I see a shepherd.”

  “Ho, there.” He reined in beside a young man with a bright green wool cap and a brown tunic tied with leather cord. His legs and feet were bare.

  The boy backed away slowly and put his arms high in the air. “Ho, there, yourself. Who are you, good sirs?”

  “I’m Sir Blackwell, second son of your liege lord and now wed to Lady Ann. These are my men. We’re here to protect what is mine.”

  “Really? I didn’t know she’d wed, I’ve been in the fields for so long. I’m sorry, but I didn’t recognize you. I’m Sam, son of Mary and Bartholomew.” The boy lowered his arms and bowed somewhat awkwardly at the waist. “I thought maybe you were Abernathy’s men come for the whole of my herd.”

  “Why? Have you had issues with him?”

  “Issues? No issues. Just plain stealing. Last night, twenty more were taken.”

  Down in the valley below, dozens of sheep grazed. Mayhap even a hundred. “How can you tell them apart?” Marcus asked. “They all look identical.”

  The boy appeared stricken. No, more like appalled. “You jest?”

  Marcus’ horse shifted, sensing his ire. Digging deep within to find his most patient demeanor, he leaned over and lowered his voice, “Yes, by the blood of all the holy saints, they all look the same. Please explain.”

  Shaking his head side to side, the shepherd tsk-tsk’d. “They’re nothing alike. See the yellowish color of their coat? That is theirs. The ones with the whiter fleece? Thems is ours. You can see how the herd on the field yonder looks like yellow with white dots? The white dots is ours.”

  “Why don’t you just go get them back?” Maybe I’m a little slow today. It seemed all her people spoke in riddles. Maybe she was a witch; though a damned beautiful one.

  “Well, that’s just it. They got armed men and well, we have naught.”

  Again, Marcus cocked his head and looked upon the boy as if he was dull of mind. He grunted. “Where are these armed men?”

  He pointed out several oaks on top of the hill, past the field. “See that tree? Two archers are stationed there.” He moved his arm toward a small hut deep in the grasslands of the valley. “And over there are men with swords.”

  The situation just became more than amusing.

  Thomas turned to the boy and winked. “Oh, ho. I know that look. It is said when The Beast smiles like that, the devil himself stands aside.”

  The men cheered and the boy’s eyes widened.

  “Pay him no mind,” Marcus said, shaking his head. “Just be ready to see to your flocks and retrieve your little beasties.”

  He raised one arm, pointed toward the archers, and gave a shrill whistle. The other arm motioned toward the fields and back again. His men broke into two groups, dispersed, then returned later, not even winded. Two of Abernathy’s warriors lay upon the field, wounded and moaning.

  Marcus dismounted and shooed the boy. “Well. Go get ours back.”

  The shepherd found the tallest mound on the hill, climbed upon a boulder, and sang. The sheep bleated back toward his sweet, soprano voice. One brave ram finally took the lead and the rest wandered behind him. They joined the flock of the same shade of white that rested in the opposite corner of the valley. The yellower breed ignored everything and continued to munch on the grasses as if nothing was amiss.

  “Clearly, I’ve much to learn about sheep,” Marcus muttered under his breath.

  “Aye, magical smelly beasties, they are.” Thomas raised an eyebrow.

  Marcus pointed to Adam and Zeke, the strongest of his men. “You two, stay put until I relieve you. There may be more trouble.”

  To the rest, he shrugged with a grin. “Sorry, I’m afraid that’s all the fighting we have today.”

  His men moaned in unison until Thomas lay back on the saddle. The front legs of his charger pawed the air. “Come now, stout hearts. I’ll set up practice in the green later, where you can beat each other black and blue. I’ll even put a purse on the winner.”

  Swords beat upon shields in approval. After they’d exited the hill and crossed into the valley, Marcus pulled up next to him. “Just where did you get money for rewards?”

  Thomas chuckled, tugged his charger’s reins, and their horses nickered in disapproval. “Ho. I expect to spend some of your coin—. Stop. Do you hear that?”

  Marcus paused and patted Midnight’s neck until her breath calmed. “Aye. The church bells. Mayhap someone died?” He pictured his lively young wife laid out still and pale, and groaned. I should’ve never left her alone. He rushed them along the fields, back toward his new estates, and came upon two men with oxen. Stopping in front of the first, he asked, “Tell me, good sir, what does the ringing signify?”<
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  “When it sounds like that, it means all is well.” The farmer heaved back hard on the plough and one ox bellowed, tossing its horns all about.

  Midnight whinnied and shied from the creature and Marcus agreed. The black beast’s eyes bulged with the fierceness of a dragon. “All? What all?”

  “Millie, behave.” Frowning, the farmer swatted the animal’s behind with a slap, and the ox settled, mild as a cow. “It means the Lady Ann fares well.”

  At those words, the tight knot in Marcus’ chest relaxed and his breathing calmed. Remarkable. No doubt, he’d been overly concerned because he’d never had a wife before. Turning to Thomas, he said, “Should we see just how well the lady bodes?”

  “‘I hope she’s not overly well. Next time, her knife might nick something more vital than an arm.” Laughing, Thomas put his hand bawdily over his groin. With a flick of the reins, they headed south, toward town. “Let’s take the river road. I here-say there’s a mill.”

  “How’d you find that out?” Marcus caught up so as to ride alongside.

  “One hears a lot at the breakfast table.” Thomas maneuvered his horse where the road had washed away, then raised his eyebrows up and down, and snickered.

  “Aye, no doubt. Free food breeds a loose tongue.” Marcus had to fall behind, single file, so his scowl was for naught.

  “What matters it to you? I thought you brought the whole of Aladdin’s wealth home to England.”

  “And I intend for it to stay that way. At the rate you and my wife are spending my purse, it’ll hardly last out the year.” He kicked a bit of spur into Midnight and raced ahead.

  Not more than a mile down the river, a well-tended mill wheel sloshed, turning in a mild current. A small man, his wife, and son all poked their heads out a window.

  “Hello, sir knights. What brings you here?” The miller glanced about nervously and held tight the shutters.

  “Hello, good sir. We’re out surveying my new lands.”

  Their faces paled as if struck down with grief. The woman crossed herself. “Your lands? The Lady Ann, she’s dead?”