Tender is the Knight (17 page)

             
“I do not own any perfumes,” she said.  Then, she seemed to stiffen. “Surely you cannot be foolish enough to mock me.”

             
Ryan grew serious. “Of course I am not,” she said.  “I would not do that. I was simply asking if you liked perfumes because I like them a great deal.  I was simply sharing that with you and… well, I apologize if you thought I was mocking you. I most certainly was not.”

             
Charlotte eyed her a moment before visibly relaxing.  She began to look around disinterestedly. “I have no use for perfume,” she said. “I am sure you must realize that.”

             
Ryan set down the rose pomade. “May I ask you a question?”

             
Charlotte cast her a sidelong glance. “What question?”

             
“You do not have to answer it if you do not wish to.  You may also tell me that it is none of my affair.  I mean no disrespect by asking.”

             
“What is the question?”

             
Ryan phrased it as carefully as she could. “Do you… what I mean to ask is do you fight by choice?” she asked. “Were you forced to fight or did you choose to?”

             
Charlotte just stared at her a moment. Ryan was sure she was going to tell her to mind her own affairs and walk away.  But she continued to stand there, staring.  Then, her gaze shifted to the surcoats that hung from one section of the ceiling.

             
“I do not really recall,” she said, shades of a wistful look coming to her features as she gazed at the fine ladies’ clothing. “I was the first born and I was supposed to be a boy.  From my earliest memories my father treated me as a lad. When Dennis was born, he was the hoped-for son but I was already three years old and had been raised as a male child.  My father always considered me a man.  Whether or not I wanted to be one was not at issue. I am what you see; a knight.”

             
Ryan was surprised by the honest answer. She didn’t take it lightly. “Your brother says you are a very fine warrior,” she said. “I do not know of any women who can make that claim. It would seem you are very unique.”

             
Charlotte stared at her.  It was clear that she was mulling over the reply and perhaps the entire conversation.  She, too, was acutely aware that it was the first civil conversation she’d had with the woman from Launceston, her brother’s wife.  After what had happened in the great hall when Ryan attacked her, she had grown intensely curious about the woman. Aye, there was a measure of respect for her for the courage she had shown, and respect bred curiosity.   It was a genuinely odd sensation.

             
Before she could reply, however, Riston appeared, quite obviously putting himself between Charlotte and Ryan.  He was focused mostly on Ryan.

             
“Dennis is returning,” he said. “He is heading towards us from the alleyway.”

             
As Charlotte returned to her charger, Ryan quickly selected two pomades, both smelling of flowers, and had the merchant include them in the purchase with the shawl.  She promised to send the man his money on the morrow and took her wrapped bundle outside to her palfrey about the time Dennis reached her.  His hand held an enormous trencher laden with two big hunks of pie.

             
“What is in your hands?” he asked as he reached her, nodding his head towards the wrapped package. “I leave you for a few moments and already you are spending my money?”

             
Ryan grinned. “It is not safe to leave me alone with merchant shops to entrap me,” she teased. Then she pointed to the food in his hand. “What wonderful things did you bring me?”             

             
He took the package from her so she could hold the trencher.  As Ryan made her way over to Lyla so she could share the pork and apple pie with her, Dennis handed the wrapped shawl over to Riston and followed his wife.

             
“Dennis,” she said, her mouth full. “Would you ask your knights if they are hungry, too? That would be polite.”

             
His eyebrows lifted. “If they want treats, they can use their own money to purchase them.”

             
“Then at least ask your sister.”

             
His mouth popped open. “My sister?”

             
Ryan swallowed a big bite and shoved more in her mouth. “Ask her.”

             
Now Dennis’ brow was furrowed.  He almost refused her but thought better of it.  Things were calm with his sister now and he was inclined to keep the peace with a thoughtful gesture.  Charlotte liked to pretend she didn’t care about things like that but the truth was she did.  She just didn’t like to show gratitude.  Dennis left his wife and her cousin stuffing their faces and made his way over to his sister.

             
“My wife wants me to ask you if you are hungry,” he said. “Do you want some of that same pie she is eating?”

             
Charlotte was already astride her charger.  She gazed down at her brother, over to Ryan, and then back again.  Without a word, she climbed off her horse.

             
“Show me this place,” she said.  “I will choose my own food. Clive, Riston! Keep the ladies secure until we return.”

             
She bellowed orders like a battle commander and the knights took notice. As Dennis and Charlotte headed back down the alley, Riston and Clive watched them go.  When they turned the corner and disappeared from view, Clive turned to Riston.

             
“Does it not state in the Bible that in the last days of our world, the lion shall lay down with the lamb and peace shall unnaturally reign?” he asked.

             
Riston turned to him, chuckling. “Do not upset anything with your foolish talk,” he said. “Charlotte is no longer screaming for Launceston blood. We can be thankful.”

             
Clive grunted, looking over at Ryan and Lyla as they ate. He chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “The men are saying that she is afraid of Lady Ryan now,” he muttered. “Do you suppose that is true?”

             
Riston shrugged. “You saw the beating. I did not. What do
you
think?”

             
Clive was still watching the women. “I think someone has finally shown Charlotte a measure of what she has dealt out her entire life and now she is confused,” he said. “Lady Ryan was fierce, but had Charlotte been given ample time to protect herself, I have a feeling Lady Ryan would not be with us.  Dennis knows it, too.”

             
“So… what are you saying?”

             
Clive shrugged. “I think that either Charlotte is biding her time before retaliating or she is genuinely wary of Lady Ryan, knowing the woman is unpredictable and will fight back without hesitation if she believes she is threatened.  I suppose only time will tell.”

             
Riston was watching the women, too, but he was mostly watching Lyla. He hadn’t seen much of her over the past week but was growing increasingly enamored with her. She was a little flighty, that was true, but she was also sweet and pretty.  She was a welcome addition to St. Austell as far as he was concerned.   Clive saw where the knight’s attention was.

             
“Can I assume you are not looking at Lady d’ Vant?” he asked quietly.

             
Riston looked away. “You would be correct.”

             
Clive was looking at Lyla, now wiping juice off her mouth. “The cousin is lovely,” he said casually. “But take heed that Charlotte does not catch wind of your attention.  Lady Ryan might be able to fight the woman off but I doubt her cousin would be so lucky.”

             
Riston looked at him.  “If you would only make your wishes known to Charlotte, I would not have to worry about situations like this,” he said. “Make an offer for the woman, for Christ’s sake. You have been eyeing her for years.”

             
Clive fought off a grin, embarrassed, as he averted his gaze. “She is not interested in me, my friend.”

             
“She does not know that you long for her!”

             
“Can we select a better subject to speak of?”

             
Riston growled with frustration, taking his gaze off of and finding other things to garner his attention. But his focus kept coming back to Lyla, the young lady he had been charged to watch over. It had been a very fortuitous order as far as he was concerned.

             
He rather liked watching over her.

CHAPTER TEN

              Patrizia was surprised and thrilled to see Lady Ryan, a female companion, four big knights including her husband, and eight foot soldiers show up on her modest door step. Her dwelling was very tiny, in fact; there was a main room with beds lining the wall, sectioned off by curtains.  The main living area had a table with four chairs, an area for her to sew in, and a big hearth.  

             
But it was very neat and clean, smelling of fresh-cut sea grass that filled the mattresses and lined the floor to keep it cozy.  Patrizia and her two small daughters, dark-haired and dark-eyed angels, ushered Ryan, Dennis, and Lyla into the house.  Directly behind them came soldiers bearing the bundles of fabric, which were deposited onto Patrizia’s clean table.  As Dennis stood back by the door like a massive, imposing sentinel to watch over his wife, Patrizia and Ryan began unfolding the fabric so Ryan could tell Patrizia what kind of coats she had in mind.

             
“The merchant told me that this fabric came from Paris,” Ryan said as she held up a beautiful, sheer pale blue material. “I thought perhaps a surcoat with loose sleeves would be best.  This fabric moves so beautifully.”

             
Patrizia inspected the quality of the material. “It does indeed,” she said. “I shall make something so beautiful that surely the angels will be jealous.”

             
Excited, Ryan moved to the second and third bundles, a pale yellow and deep green respectively.  They were both of different weaves and different weights, and the women discussed what style of garment should be made.  When they came to the fourth bundle, Ryan pulled Lyla out of the shadows.

             
“This is my cousin, the Lady Lyla de Bretagne,” she introduced her cousin. “This blue tartan shall be for her.  Something that displays her figure nicely, I should think.”

             
“Ryan,” Lyla hissed, shaking her head. “Do not say such things.”

             
Ryan laughed. “Lyla is unmarried,” she told Patrizia. “We must make her alluring to a prospective husband.”

             
As Lyla shushed her, Patrizia giggled. She had Lyla stand still while she measured her with her hands, passing a practiced eye over Lyla’s shorter but well-proportioned figure.  As she unwound the fabric and held it up against Lyla’s shoulders, Ryan turned to her husband and gave him a sweet smile.  Dennis, in turn, cocked an eyebrow and motioned her over with a big crooked finger.

             
Ryan silent scooted over to him, standing very close.  Her lovely face was upturned and expectant. “How may I serve you, my lord?” she asked softly.

             
Dennis’ lips twitched with a smile. “I thought you said all of that fabric was for you.”

             
Ryan blinked at the statement. “It… it was,” she said. “At least, it was until a moment ago. I have decided to give Lyla the blue tartan.  We must make her very pretty so she can attract a fine husband.”

             
He gave her a wry expression. “She is already pretty,” he said quietly. “And, in case you have not yet noticed, Riston seems to have his eye on her.   I forbid you to dress her up for a man who is already lusting after her.  If he wants her to look pretty, he can pay for it.”

             
Ryan’s eyebrows flew up. “Lusting?”

             
He could see she was both concerned and outraged. “I did not mean it to sound that way,” he said, downplaying his reference to Riston’s lascivious streak. “I simply meant she has already attracted him.  She can continue to wear clothing she already has because he already finds her lovely.”

             
She put her hands on her hips. “Did you purchase the fabric for me?”

             
“I did.”

             
“Then I may do as I please with it.”

             
With that, she turned away from him and went back to Patrizia and Lyla, who were discussing the sewing of a surcoat with a snug corset in the bodice.   As the women were talking, Ryan looked over her shoulder at her husband to see that he was shaking his head at her in disapproval. She stuck her tongue out at him.  As she turned away, she heard him snort. 

             
“Where is your husband today?” Ryan asked Patrizia. “I was hoping to meet him.”

             
“He is fishing,” Patrizia said as she measure Lyla’s waist with her hands. “He will not be home until after the sun sets.”

             
“I see,” Ryan said, glancing at the two dark-haired little girls over near the hearth.  They were fiddling with something in a big iron pot. “Your daughters are lovely.  How old are they?”

             
Patrizia lifted her head and smiled over at her girls. “Monica has seen eleven years and Andrea has seen eight years,” she replied. “They sew quite well themselves.  They will make excellent seamstresses someday.”

             
“Did your mother sew?”

             
“She did, my lady. I learned everything from her.”

             
As Patrizia continued to fuss with Lyla, Ryan took a seat next to her, watching her work.  The woman had sure hands and a good eye. She also seemed kind and genuine and, as Ryan had discovered upon their first meeting, she was helpful and brave.  She was curious to know more about her.

             
“When did you come to England, Patrizia?” she asked.

             
Patrizia was focused on measuring Lyla. “I was Monica’s age,” she said. “My father had some enemies in our home country and sought safety for his family.  In fact, even as we fled Spain, we were followed by those enemies and in great and mortal danger. I remember being very frightened at times. But once we came to England, we were able to safely settle. I am the oldest of five girls.  We have all married Englishmen and have our own families now.”

             
“And your mother and father?”

             
“My mother is dead and I have not seen my father in years,” she said.  Then, she looked up from Lyla, fixing Ryan with a serious gaze. “It is best that way.”

             
It was a nice way of telling Ryan she didn’t wish to elaborate on her family so Ryan didn’t pursue that subject. Feeling that perhaps the mood was dampened, she sought to lighten it.

             
“I am sure you are a wonderful seamstress,” she said. “What else do you do?”

             
Patrizia finished with Lyla and turned to Ryan, having her stand still while she measured her with her hands.

             
“I cook,” Patrizia replied. “I do so like to cook. In fact, I have baked fresh cakes this morning. Would you try one?”

             
Patrizia whispered to her girls, who began scrambling.  They opened cabinets and brought forth small cakes on wooden platters for their guests to try.  The smaller girl even went to Dennis and held up a cake to him, like an offering to an angry god.   Dennis thought to refuse but the hopeful expression and big brown eyes changed his mind. He was swayed by the sweet young child. Ryan took a little cake, which was dusty with flour, and glanced over at her husband, who was already putting it in his mouth.  She took a bite and was delighted. It was wonderful.

             
“How do you make these?” she asked, mouth full.

             
Patrizia grinned at her happy guests, all eating her delicious cakes. “Flour, eggs, butter, salt, mashed apples and honey.”

             
“Not only can you sew, but you can cook,” Ryan said, enjoying the rest of her cake. “You are a very accomplished woman, Patrizia of Paignton.  What can I do to convince you to come live with me at the castle and make me fattening treats?”

             
Dennis stepped in. “If she makes you fattening treats, then you will not be able to fit into your new clothing and I will tell you now that I will not buy you more,” he said, brushing crumbs off his hands. He was pretending to be gruff but they all knew he was jesting. “Are you nearly finished, Ryan? We should return soon.”

             
Ryan nodded, standing up from the chair and brushing off her hands as well. “Will you tell me now what it will cost to sew these garments so I will bring the money the next time when I come to pick them up?”

             
Patrizia looked at the material thoughtfully, calculating in her head.  She looked at Ryan, at Lyla, and then back to the fabric.

             
“Each surcoat will cost you one groat,” she finally said. “Is that acceptable?”

             
Ryan looked at Dennis, who gave her a brief nod.  She turned back to Patrizia. “That is acceptable,” she said. “You will send word to me when they are finished?”

             
“I will, my lady.”

             
“Will you send me more cakes, too?”

             
“I would be honored to.”

             
Happy, Ryan smiled her thanks and turned to Dennis just as the door to the hut flew open.   Riston was in the opening, his young face serious as he sought out Dennis in the dim room.

             
“We must return to the castle immediately,” he said. “Four cogs flying the skull and sword of Miguel have been sighted entering the harbor.”

             
Dennis’s brow furrowed. “Miguel the Pirate?” he clarified. “Here?”

             
“It would seem so,” Riston confirmed. “The entire town is in an uproar.”

             
Dennis was still confused. “But he does not sail these waters in the winter,” he said. “He goes further south where it is warmer. Are you sure?”

             
“I have not seen for myself, but that is the rumor.”

             
Dennis reached out and grasped Ryan as she came close.  His momentary confusion had turned to determination.  If what Riston said was true, Dennis knew what they had to do.

             
“Take Lyla in hand,” he told Riston. “We ride hard for the castle. We stop for nothing.”

             
He whisked Ryan from the hut as Riston grabbed Lyla’s hand and pulled her from the room.  Patrizia ran to the open door in time to see the chargers and palfreys taking off at an alarming pace, kicking up rocks and mud as they fled.   All up and down the small avenue where she lived, people were fleeing for their lives.

Patrizia
slammed the door shut and bolted it, thinking on the horrific words she had just heard.              
Miguel the Pirate is here.
              Oh, God… that name, that name,
that name
!

Fighting off tears, she prayed they were wrong.

***

             
Unfortunately, the rumors proved to be true.

             
Miguel the Pirate sank his anchors deep into the sandy silt of St. Austell harbor, burning two ships and stealing their cargo as he and his men swept inland.  It was sunset and the fires from the burning ships filled the air with black, heavy smoke. With the winds blowing in from the sea, the smoke was carried up to the castle.

             
Everything was hazy and smoky inside the ward.   Servants and soldiers had shut up the keep with great iron and wood shutters so the smoke was somewhat kept out of the structure.   Ryan and Lyla moved about the keep fairly freely, without the usual guard, making sure water barrels were filled up and stores were secured in case they were in for a siege.  According to Dennis, it was possible that Miguel had simply come to harass the city and nothing more, but nonetheless the castle was buttoned up snuggly. Nothing went in, and nothing went out.

             
Until Miguel started burning the town.  Villagers began to run for the castle, pleading for protection. As the sun sank low in the western sky, Dennis put one hundred men on the half-repaired northern curtain wall because it was only rebuilt to a height of twelve feet while the rest of the wall was an astonishing twenty-two feet high in some places.   Already, panicked villagers were attempting to boost the children over the twelve-foot-high section. The St. Austell soldiers would be there to keep them out but eventually there were too many children coming over the wall and a few of them actually fell down over the side.  No one was seriously hurt, but after that, Dennis ordered the gates opened and frightened people began pouring through the breach.

             
The outer bailey soon began to fill up but Dennis knew that if Miguel was bold enough to attack the castle, it would prove deadly for the peasants boxed in against the onslaught with nowhere to run for protection.  He therefore had the soldiers open the inner gates, the ones that led to the inner bailey, the kitchens, and the keep, and had ordered that the villagers be herded into that area.   It filled up quickly.