Chivalrous (3 page)

“Of course, miss.” Maggie dropped back to the dirt and jumped about.

“One should call her Lady—” Rosalind began, but Gwen cut her off with a wave of her hand.

She had no need for ceremony with these villagers. Handing
the treats to her small friend, she hustled Maggie to her hut. Then Gwen and Rosalind continued toward the austere stone tower, which she was obliged to call home.

If only Reginald would tend their serfs in the manner recommended by Duke Justus, she should not have to fill her sack with apples. His dukedom, North Britannia, had grown near legendary for its adherence to the law and Christian charity. Chivalry and kindness ruled the day. The very reasons Gwen wished she could fight to protect the dukedom alongside her brothers.

But her eldest brother, Reginald, walked a fine line. While he had little choice but to treat their serfs with a modicum of fairness, being so close to the grand castle of the duke, he also had to please their father, who expected him to rule by the old values.

The only Christian principle her father seemed to stand by was divine order—nobility over peasants, men over the spawn of Eve. Forget the Ten Commandments. Forget the gentler instructions of Jesus's sermon on the mountain, which their duke held so dear. An eye for an eye would suffice for her father. Being sent such conflicting messages from a young age, Gwen had chosen to ignore religion, trusting instead her own inner sense of right and wrong. She could not help but think religion mostly a man-made system for proving one's own preferences correct.

Hoofbeats drew her attention as a horseman in full armor raced in their direction. When the rider drew near, her brother Hugh's jovial features and riot of golden curls came into view.

He pulled his destrier up hard beside them and hopped lithely to the dirt road, tossing up a cloud of dust with the impact.

“Gwennie! My most darling and beloved sister on the entire earth.” He caught her head under his arm and tousled her hair in a boisterous display of affection, as he had since childhood.

“Your only sister on the entire earth.” She shoved him away with a chuckle. After handing off Andromache's reins to Rosalind, Gwen gestured to Hugh's formal attire. “What is this? And why the dramatic greeting?”

Rosalind cut between them and curtsied. “Afternoon, Sir Hugh. How can we be of service?” Her flirtatious tone revealed far more about the nature of her relationship with Hugh than Gwen wished to acknowledge.

Hugh, always carefree and charming, raked Rosalind's form with his gaze. “Ah, my fair maid Rosalind, I fear there is little you can do for me today but bid me a fond farewell.”

“Are you leaving?” The words burst from Gwen in an unexpected shout as her heart sank to her boots. Her brother Gerald was still supporting the king's army in Lincoln where they had defeated the rebels. Must she lose Hugh as well?

“Yes, I am to escort the new king, Henry, on a tour of his recently reacquired northern realms. Father believes my jovial nature might be an asset with the young sovereign. Perhaps I shall pull a gold coin from his royal ear.”

Gwen swatted her irreverent brother. “I am just glad England is no longer under the rule of that awful King John.”

“As are we all, but that is not why I came,” Hugh said. “I must warn you that Father has at long last returned. You best rush back home and into your finest gown.”

Gwen's stomach plummeted to meet her heart in her boots, and there proceeded to churn mercilessly as she struggled to catch her breath. Father? Home? Why after all these years? Was there no war to be found anywhere? She gathered her courage to ask the only question that might bring some respite. The words emerged in a breathy whisper. “For how long?”

Hugh's expression turned as near to serious as she had seen on him in many years. “Father is staying for good, or so he claims. He says he has left his holdings in Reginald's haphazard care far too long. You should have seen him fuming and tossing all manner of items about the great hall.”

Tears formed in Gwen's eyes as haunting scenes from her father's brief and infrequent visits flashed through her mind. She blinked them back and pulled herself up tall like a warrior, as Gerald and Hugh had taught her.

Hugh gazed down at her with naked sympathy in his eyes. With a tenderness reserved for these moments of dealing with their father, he tugged her to his chest. The clink of his chain mail beneath her cheek comforted her, as did the soft kiss he placed upon her forehead.

'Twas an old, familiar dance. She, Gerald, and Hugh fancied themselves so strong and valiant—until their father came along to dash their illusions. Of course Gerald and Hugh had grown into men, knights in their own right. But what of her?

Who would stand on her side? Mother? Certainly not. Reginald? Not likely.

Gwen could almost pity Reginald. The youngest three siblings had grown up free and wild in the fields surrounding their castle. Ever outrunning nursemaids, tutors, and when the mood pleased, even the knights who trained the boys at warfare. Their childhoods had been filled with humor, imagination, and adventure.

Only Reginald had lived under the heel of his father's boot, and learned to treat others—most of all his unfortunate bride—likewise. At only twenty-five, her sister-in-law, Katherine, appeared weighed down with a burden none should have to bear. She seemed little more than a specter as she trailed her rambunctious passel of children about their small manor home just to the west. Would such be Gwen's fate as well? She could never allow that to happen.

“Hugh, whatever shall I do?” She hid her face against his chest. Gwen felt small and vulnerable in his arms. Only her mammoth brothers could dwarf her so and make her feel a fragile woman.

He nuzzled her hair with his gruff chin. “First, you shall run home and take a bath. Father shall explode if he finds you smelling of sweat and horseflesh.” He bent down to sniff her, then shoved her away again in his playful manner, shaking them both free from their doldrums.

Gwen could not hold back a wry grin. “And whose fault is that?”

“I admit that as lads Gerald and I found it the greatest joke to teach you to fight.” Again seriousness overtook him. “But I would not want the joke to be upon you, Gwennie. Perhaps it was a youthful error.”

“Never say so!” Gwen protested. “I have become precisely who I wish to be. My nursemaids tried to turn me a lady. It was my choice to defy them.”

“You had best remember their training now.” He turned to include Rosalind in the conversation.

Gwen had nearly forgotten her presence. At Gwen's encouragement, Rosalind oft defied her prescribed role as lady's maid. But in such a poignant moment, she had apparently chosen to tuck herself between the horses and fade into the background as a proper maid should.

“Rosalind, you must be her ally now. See her groomed and dressed on all occasions. There shall be no more jaunting to the countryside. And no more battle training. You know what is expected of a proper lady, and you must help her appear one.”

“As you wish.” Rosalind batted her long black lashes at Hugh.

Gwen harrumphed. “Not likely.”

Hugh detached his stare from Rosalind and swiveled toward Gwen. “Come now. Despite my best efforts to the contrary, you are a lovely lady when you try.”

“Do not be ridiculous.” Gwen's own mother had told her how ugly she was. Repeatedly.

“Surely you know 'tis true.” Hugh winked her way. “You would blush if I told you the things I have overheard the soldiers say about you.”

Rosalind stepped forward. “I have told her as much.”

Of course Rosalind must say such things, but Gwen winced every time she observed Rosalind's slim form and fair skin next to her own hulking mass and dun-colored complexion.

Hugh took Gwen's hand in his much larger one. “Please do not make me argue that you are beautiful. There are some things a brother simply should never do. And you can play the pipe, embroider, and dance quite well. Do what you must to keep the peace. Soon enough you shall be married and out of his grasp.”

“And what good shall that do me?” Anger welled within Gwen. A reviving sort of anger that helped her find her strength.
“Out of his grasp and into the stranglehold of a husband. Would you resign me to a life like our mother's? To the drudgery Katherine suffers at Reginald's hand? You did not train me for such a dreary existence.”

“Oh, Gwennie, you were never mine to train. Of course you must marry and bear children. There are good men in the world. I shall talk to Randel Penigree on my way out and convince him to offer for your hand. He would treat you kindly. Perhaps even let you dally with a sword when you are not expecting a child.”

“Randel? That silly boy?” Gwen could not imagine taking him to husband. While she might dread a domineering man, she could never respect a weakling either. In their youth he had oft joined in the fun of training Gwen in the warrior arts, but it had not taken her long to best him.

“Well, you must marry someone. Better a friend since childhood who understands your nature.”

Her mouth fell open. “I could never.” She knew little of marital intimacies. Only what she had heard whispered amongst the maids. But still, she could not submit to such indignities at Randel's bumbling hand. As she further considered, she could not imagine submitting to that with any man. He might just find her dagger to his throat.

“Have you a better plan?” Hugh stood with his feet wide and crossed his arms over his chest as he awaited her reply.

Perhaps she had lived in the moment too long. She had no plans. No contingencies for her future. She grabbed hold of Hugh's huge arms. “Take me with you!”

He pulled away. “Father would never permit it. 'Tis clear he has plans for you now that he has returned.”

“Then I must run away.”

“To where?” He tapped his foot impatiently.

“To . . . to . . .” She scanned the sky for ideas. “To a nunnery!”

“A nunnery, you say.” His features twisted in disbelief. “Because you have always been a religious sort?”

She could hardly lie to this brother who knew her like his very shadow. She had no wish to dedicate her life to God. She still resented Him for creating her a second-rate woman when she would have rather been a knight. “Fine then, I shall run to the forests and become an outlaw. You will come with me, Rosalind—will you not?”

Rosalind gasped. “I . . . well . . . of . . . it would only be . . .”

Hugh caressed Rosalind's shoulder and put an end to her stammering. “Do not give way to her foolishness. If you wish to serve my sister, convince her that all men are not like my father. As well you know.” His gaze turned soft as he ran his hand down Rosalind's arm and up again.

Rosalind shivered under his touch and appeared to lose herself in his tender gaze. Her pale cheeks stained to a pretty shade of pink.

For the briefest moment during their exchange, a touch of longing flared to life in Gwen's breast. No man had yet looked at her in such a way. But she doused that flame just as quickly, for she would never allow herself to be as vulnerable, as powerless, as Rosalind seemed to be.

At last Rosalind rallied herself. “I'm sure I have no idea what you are referring to, good sir.”

Hugh tossed back his head and chuckled. “If you insist. Just promise to keep my sister out of trouble.”

Rosalind looked to Gwen, and Gwen silently pleaded with her maid. “I will serve Lady Gwendolyn's best interest. That is all I can promise.”

“Hmm . . .” Hugh swung onto his giant destrier with ease. “That is not what I asked of you, but as I must away soon, I suppose I have no choice but to accept it.”

“How soon?” Gwen's voice sounded small to her own ears.

“In an hour or so, and I still have many tasks to accomplish before I leave. You, my wayward sister, must be there to see me off and appear every inch the young noblewoman. So I suggest you hurry as well.”

“Of course.”

“Take the back route past the kitchen. And be careful,” Hugh said over his shoulder as he trotted off.

Together, Gwen and Rosalind headed toward the stables. So many thoughts swirled through Gwen's mind that she could hardly make sense of them. She had lived in denial of the future for too long, and now it would catch up with her.

Rosalind hid in the shadows of the upper hallway, waiting for Hugh to emerge from his chamber. The family was already collecting outside to see him off, but he had run upstairs to gather a few last items. Though her distraught mistress would no doubt be needing her soon, she could not pass up her only opportunity to bid Hugh farewell in private.

Her heart ached at the prospect, but surely it was for the best that Hugh should be departing so soon after his father's arrival. While a man like Lord Barnes wouldn't give much thought to a dalliance between his son and a servant girl, if he took note of how attached they had grown over the past months, Rosalind might well be tossed out upon her ear.

Hugh's door crashed open, and he flew down the hallway, but Rosalind was ready for him. She stepped out of her hiding place and caught his arm just as he rushed past.

Hugh pulled to a stop and pressed his hand to his chest. “Gracious, Rosalind! You gave me a fright.”

She tugged him into the shadows of a small alcove. “Shh! I
merely wished to say farewell.” Now that she had him in her grasp, she felt uncertain what to do with him. “Have you any idea how long you might be gone?”

“I wish I knew, but I do know I shall miss you, my pretty little Rosebud.” He gathered her to him and cupped her cheek in his hand, stroking it with his battle-roughened thumb.

Even in such dim light, she could stare at his chiseled face and blue eyes for all eternity and never grow weary. There was so much she wished to say, but truly, she should not. He was a noble, she a serving girl. She had known from the beginning that this could be nothing more than a dalliance.

He pressed his forehead to hers. “You have been . . . quite special to me.”

Rosalind's heart fluttered at those words, but she bid it to settle, for surely he would offer no more than that. “You must know I feel the same.” She bit her lip as she continued to stare into his eyes.

He glanced down the hall and back again. His thumb slid to her lips, brushing across them before he claimed them with his own. But just as quickly, he pulled back. “I would love nothing more than to hide away kissing you all day, but I can delay no longer. Please tell me you understand.”

“I suppose I do.” Her head understood, but her heart simply would not be convinced.

“Farewell, Rosalind.”

“Farewell, Sir Hugh.”

As he backed away a sad little sigh escaped her mouth. She pressed her hand against it.

With one last hungry look, he strode down the hall.

Rosalind attempted to quiet her raspy breathing and still the rapid pounding of her heart, both familiar consequences of kissing Hugh in shadowy corners. She knew that Hugh could
never be hers, but she had not expected to talk with him for hours upon end about nothing in particular and to be happy just to hold his hand while watching the clouds roll overhead. Though she could no sooner deny Hugh's impish grins and kisses than she could stop the sun from turning about the earth, she had tried to hold back a part of herself.

'Twas for the best that he was leaving. She must keep telling herself that. She could not afford to displease the baron. Though Rosalind's own father had once been a reasonably prosperous miller, after his death her family had been left in the most terrible position. Rosalind's income had put them back on a steady path. Her mother and younger siblings still depended upon her for their daily bread.

She could not let them down.

After a few moments she managed to gather herself and went in search of her mistress. As she passed by the great hall she noted that Lord and Lady Barnes had already come inside. Rosalind continued through the grand front portal and found Lady Gwendolyn standing forlornly in the courtyard, waving to Hugh's back as he headed down the lane with a small retinue.

Through the shimmer of unshed tears, Rosalind watched her first love depart, but it simply would not do to let Gwendolyn see her crying over her noble brother.

She slipped quietly next to her mistress. As Hugh rounded the corner and disappeared into the rustling green trees, she reminded herself that he was meant to be the first of many men in her life. There would be plenty of love in her future, and she would find a way to endure this parting.

However Gwendolyn, despite her brave stance, appeared upon the verge of shattering. Rosalind had spent the last hour dissuading her from dressing up as a squire and following Sir Hugh, for she would be found out and sent back before the
sun set. But she understood Gwendolyn's distress. Hugh and Gerald had always protected her from the harsher realities of life, and now both were gone, leaving her alone to face the father she dreaded.