Lady Squire Read online

  "If it please you, my lord," Valentin said weakly, "I am not altogether expert at - "

  "Come now," Alan said. "Am I to taunt Guillaume for his men's lack of skill?"

  "Never that, my lord." Valentin rode towards the entrance, paused by the rack, discovered to his surprise that the girl had moved across and was handing up a lance to him, for all the world like a squire in training. "Thank you," he said, and tried not to notice the way her body moved under the kirtle.

  "Bet you can do it," the girl said.

  Valentin quelled his own doubts. His horse, well accustomed to the youth's games at tournaments, quivered with excitement - and Valentin felt a measure of it, too. He rode a few figures to settle, and to remind his mount what balance meant. Then he set off at a short gallop, threaded the rings each in turn onto the tip of the lance, swung around on a pin's-head and swapped the butt to his other hand in the same move, then rode back to pick up each of the remaining rings on the opposite line.

  Clumsily. He felt that. There had been a waver at the turn, a slight hesitation as his lance sought the target. It annoyed him.

  The girl stood open-mouthed by the rack. Valentin couldn't bring himself to treat her like a squire, so he lowered the lance to the box instead and shook the rings off into it.

  "Very neat," Alan said. "You want just a hair more speed on the crossover, and faith in your own aim. Merin, set up again."

  The girl plucked the rings from the box and hurried across to hook them on.

  Valentin bowed to Alan. "If it please you, my lord, I'd be honoured to see you do it."

  "First let that poor horse know you can get it right. You don't want him to lose heart entirely."

  Valentin quelled a smile. "Very well, my lord." He tried again, but in his effort to move the lance faster mishandled it completely and had to pause to adjust his aim.

  "Once more," Alan said. "Come, I know you can do this."

  Heartened, Valentin set off to prove him right. And it went smoother this time, speed and balance and timing all coming together for a neat clear run.

  "Thank you, my lord," he said. "That felt better."

  "Looked it, too."

  "Your turn, then, Alan," Merin said, with an air of insouciance that startled Valentin. Anyone who spoke so to Guillaume would get a blow in return.

  Alan didn't seem to mind, simply rode up and accepted a lance from her, then shot across to execute so brilliant a manoeuvre that Valentin stared. It was not only the speed that awed him, but the flawless execution. He watched entranced as Alan made some slight correction to the reins and then shot through again, and again, each time utterly perfect.

  "That will do," Alan said. "Merin, clear away. Then come into the hall."

  "My lord," Valentin said, "with your permission: that showed an immense deal of skill."

  Alan flashed him a smile. "You're fairer-spoken than I'd expect from a Guillaume's man. But I take it you still favour the youths' games? I recall you had some good showings there. They were always my favourite, too."

  "I admit as much." Valentin rode with him out of the yard and over towards the stable. "Not to say I'd forgo the honour of fighting in open fields beside my own master. But the challenge of perfect execution gives me great satisfaction."

  "I can tell. You're welcome to practice with me any time while you're here, if you choose."

  "Very gladly indeed, my lord. Although I must secure my master's permission, of course."

  "He'll grant it."

  Valentin dismounted as a groom arrived. When he turned, he caught another glimpse of the tiltyard - and of Merin, trim and light-footed, who now hurried towards him. Dishevelled by work and the freshening breeze, she looked for a moment more squire than lady.

  "Forgive my impertinence, lord," Valentin said. "But is she training for a knight?"

  "No," Alan replied. "Doesn't have the build or the heart for it."

  Which ought not to be a disappointment - not to Valentin, who'd fought as squire in tourneys enough to know the beatings delivered there. He could see for himself that she'd never hold up against those blows. But he was conscious of a brief pang, all the same. It would have been a pleasure to see her on the circuit, admire her figure and her face. Talk with her, maybe, about horses and tiltyard skills - and other matters entirely, which his body insisted would be far more desirable.

  "You can give over looking at her now," Alan said calmly. "I do not take well to presumption."

  "Forgive me, lord." Valentin averted his gaze. What Guillaume might do in response to such a complaint did not bear thinking about. "I meant no disrespect, to you or to her."

  "Good. See your horse stabled, if you like. Then come into the hall."

  Valentin did so, and while assisting the groom he indulged in the opportunity for secret contemplation of Merin. He must have seen her before, he remembered a tourney of sorts held at this place a year or so back, and family in attendance. But he'd been a squire then, hard at work attending Guillaume, with little thought beyond obeying his master. If he'd noticed girls at all, it was with nervous excitement at the fact of them being female. He wouldn't have picked out any one from the crowd in the stands.

  He was older now. More mature. And he had leisure beyond anything he'd known in his life. Whole hours to himself, sometimes. And there were girls at every tourney site, he'd watched them with speculative interest. Hadn't dared to go beyond that, despite the boasting of some of the knighted men.

  But now he was a knighted man himself, and he ought to know more of girls. It was embarrassing to fumble and blush like a child whenever they got near. Though in truth, he didn't know how to get started.

  Merin was in the hall when he arrived, watching the servants as they set the tables ready. She had washed - the smudges on hands and cheeks were gone - and changed her kirtle and combed her hair, she looked now every part the demure young lady. Beside her, another woman supervised the bustle of activity throughout the hall. Valentin remembered her as Caroline, Alan's wife, which made her Merin's sister.

  They weren't a great deal alike. Merin was prettier by far, bright-eyed, dainty of figure. Valentin lost himself in admiration, before the lady of the manor noticed him and he was forced to feign polite interest in her.

  "Coming here?" she said as he repeated his message. "Of course - we'd be delighted to have them." She seemed genuinely pleased, so radiant with happiness as to render her plain face almost beautiful for a moment.

  "Who are they?" Merin enquired. Valentin stole a glance at her - one only - before returning his attention to its proper quarter.

  "Friends of Alan's," her sister replied. "You met them before, I think, at the tournament we held here. Watch out for Guillaume. He's fierce-tempered. Very violent."

  Valentin felt Merin's eyes on him, all curiosity. "I don't think I'd like that," Merin said.

  "Simply stay out of his way," Caroline said. "If it comes to blows, stand well back and hope sense prevails."

  "Good advice," Valentin murmured.

  "He sounds awful," Merin said decisively. "I shan't speak to him if I can help it."

  "I hope you'll be polite to a guest," Caroline said.

  "You sound just like Mother."

  "Sorry."

  Valentin fought the urge to shuffle away. He didn't really want to listen in on sisterly squabbles. Especially since the topic of this one filled him with deep foreboding. Guillaume had both kindness and heart, Valentin knew that well, but Caroline did not mischaracterise when she described him as fierce. And Merin's sauciness would earn his ire, for all she was a pretty young woman.

  "He is a good lord," Valentin offered hesitantly, hoping to secure a measure of appreciation towards Guillame which might modify her manners in his presence.

  "Well, I should hope so," Merin said. "Else why would you want to serve him?"

  "I was sent into his care as a boy," Valentin replied. "Didn't have a great deal of choice. But there isn't a better fighter or a nobler man to serve under.
" He offered her a slight bow, still without looking at her. Then added, to Caroline: "If I may be excused, madam? I can see you are busy here."

  "Oh, no," Caroline said. "Don't trouble. Everyone will be coming in for dinner shortly."

  Valentin squirmed, conscious of his travel-soiled appearance. "I thought perhaps there might be a corner where I could tidy up somewhat - "

  "Goodness," Caroline exclaimed. "Of course, how foolish of me." She called over a servant, and sent Valentin off to be refreshed.

  ***

  "Devil of a time you've been," Guillaume growled that evening, as Valentin roused him from a doze. "Couldn't find the place, or got lost on the way back?"

  "I didn't like to push the horse too far, my lord. Since the message was not urgent." Valentin had chosen to return himself, rather than let another man do the work for him. He now passed on Alan's courteous invitation for them both to come and stay as long as they liked, then added: "He particularly wishes to be remembered to your lady wife."

  "Bet he does," Guillaume said with a smirk, and cast a glance across at Matilda, who sat mending a jacket and merely shook her head at him.

  "His lady wife joins him in inviting you both," Valentin said, appending Caroline's message. Some impulse made him add: "And her esteemed lady sister, of course."

  "Eh?" Guillaume shot him a sharp look. "Which sister is this?"

  "The lady Merin." Valentin choked back a smile as he spoke her name. He liked the sound of it, mellow and light. "She is a great admirer of fine horsemanship, and has heard high praise of you, my lord." It was worth putting in a word for her. Guillaume enjoyed flattery, and would treat her better for hearing it Even though it was mostly Valentin's own invention, and no speech of hers.

  Still, it was true as far as it went. Given the intelligent appreciation Merin showed of Alan's skill, Valentin felt certain she would like watching Guillaume in the tiltyard. Matilda, also.

  "Don't recall seeing her last," Guillaume said. "One of the younger ones, I presume."

  "Yes, my lord." Younger than Caroline by four or five years, just coming into bloom now. Valentin cringed at an ache in his groin. If Guillaume caught him behaving in unsuitable ways towards a girl, that could mean Valentin's service ended on terms both painful and desperate.

  He'd seen a man turned off barefoot, robbed of both horse and armour, with nothing but a flogging under the sackcloth to keep him warm. That was for rape, Valentin knew it well, though the girl's family wanted it kept quiet and Guillaume, uncharacteristically, complied. No question but that the man deserved it, and worse too.

  But even a flirtation welcome on both sides could get Valentin into trouble, for presumption and forgetting his place, especially with a girl who stood under a fellow lord's protection. He must be cautious, or his skin would pay the price. Worse, he might be turned off without name or recommendation, to make his own way in the world armed with nothing but his own skill and knowledge. Which both seemed pitifully slight, in comparison with masters such as Alan and Guillaume.

  "You can go," Guillaume said. Valentin started, realised he'd stood staring at nothing, flushed under Matilda's curious gaze. He could not have betrayed himself, surely. The lady was perceptive, but she could not see into his heart.

  "How old is this Merin?" Matilda asked.

  Valentin flinched. "I did not enquire, mistress. Perhaps sixteen or seventeen."

  There was a brief pause, as both Matilda and Guillaume stared at him. Valentin fought to show complete indifference.

  "You stay away from her," Guillaume said. "Hear that?"

  "Of course, my lord."

  "Get out."

  Valentin retreated, smarting. As he closed the door, he could have sworn he heard the pair of them laugh.

  ***

  CHAPTER 2

  "Very pretty," Guillaume said.

  Valentin, who stood a couple of steps away holding Guillaume's horse, dared to nod agreement. He could safely do so, half hidden behind the horse, even though the subject of his approval was not Alan's riding but the flushed beauty of Merin.

  She stood just by the fence, comfortably out of Alan's path, and had watched with shining admiration as Alan displayed all the skill that awed Valentin.

  For himself, Valentin's attention had been cruelly divided while Alan rode. Now that the run was over, he felt free to return it in full to Merin, who seemed to grow lovelier by the moment.

  Almost he envied Guillaume, who stood practically shoulder to shoulder with her. But Valentin acknowledged he was better placed here, in cover behind the horse, able to steal the occasional glance at Merin without anyone noticing.

  "I'm overwhelmed, sir." Alan sketched a mocking bow at Guillaume. "It is not often you smother me with such effusions of praise."

  "Shut up." Guillaume turned to mount, and Valentin hastily fixed all his attention on the horse.

  "You were splendid," Merin said, her voice ringing with honest admiration. Valentin couldn't grudge it, but he was conscious of a pang of envy. He wished she would speak of him so.

  "I always am," Alan said with cheerful ease. "As you ought to know by now."

  Merin stuck her tongue out at him. "That's what you think."

  To Valentin's shocked amazement, Alan merely smiled.

  "That young brat needs a smacking," Guillaume said. "I'll give her one, if you don't."

  Merin swung around to glare at him. "How dare you!"

  Guillaume's face took on an expression that Valentin - along with every man in the retinue - knew only too well.

  "Easy, Merin," Alan said peacefully. "Guillaume? I wouldn't advise you to try."

  "Why, what would happen if I did?"

  Valentin shifted aside, in case any bodies went flying his way. He wished Merin hadn't spoken so disrespectfully, and she certainly wasn't making matters any better now, glaring up at Guillaume as if she'd like to punch him. But at least Valentin had an excuse to watch her, for several moments together, and he relished that opportunity even as he feared for her skin.

  "My wife would corner you," Alan said in a mild tone. "And elucidate in great detail her interpretation of certain passages from the works of Vegetius. I would assist her by quoting the relevant parts, from memory and at length."

  Guillaume raised one hand from the reins in mock surrender. "The girl is safe from me."

  "Good." Alan glanced at Merin. "You might want to modify your behaviour a touch. Especially around this man. He's a fine breaker of heads, but short on subtlety."

  "I'm not afraid of him," Merin said with quavering bravado.

  Valentin shifted a little more. He'd tried something similar once, years ago, and Guillaume's answer smarted still.

  "You ought to be," Alan said. "But if fear won't make you civil, maybe you could try duty. Family feeling, Merin."

  She tilted her head and considered, then offered a pretty curtsy. "I'm sorry I offended."

  "There." Alan quirked an eyebrow at Guillaume. "You'll get further with gentle handling, trust me."

  "I'll remember that on the tourney field." Guillaume answered Merin's apology with a courteous bow of his own. "Speak soft to me, and we'll get along fine."

  Merin drew breath as for a pert retort, then changed her mind and settled for a simple: "Yes, my lord."

  Guillaume shot her a gleaming look, as if he very much doubted her resolve. Then he swung the horse around and rode over for a study of the arrangements.

  "He's a thug and a brute and a bully," Merin said defiantly. "I don't like him at all."

  "A thug and a brute I'll grant you," Alan said. "Never a bully, as far as I know." He glanced at Valentin.

  "Nor I," Valentin said, "and I've served him for fifteen years. A hard man, without a doubt. But fair and reasonable with it. He deals out blows aplenty, and I don't love him for it. But he'll never hound a child or harass a woman, and he won't suffer other men to do so either. I've seen him step up to defend weaker ones many times, though they did not belong to his care. Within
it, none of us could wish for a better mentor or master."

  "Oh." Merin looked bewildered. "I didn't realise."

  "Not that I blame you," Valentin conceded. "When I first came into his service, I had much the same impression. Only months of acquaintance taught me to regard him otherwise. And I'd have given much to hold those fists back, when I was a child. Though he's gentler since he married. More patient, too."

  "He hit you?" Merin demanded, clearly shocked.

  "You'd be surprised," Alan said in a dry tone, "what boys deal with on their way to knighthood. Though I dare say girls have their trials too."

  "He did," Valentin admitted. "But not for malice, nor for the lust to dominate, and never enough to do harm. We all of us train for battle. It would be ridiculous to shirk a blow."

  "Bet he wouldn't like the same himself," Merin said.

  "He'll take as good as he deals out," Alan replied. "I can tell you that from experience."

  "And though he'll lash out in a temper," Valentin said, "he will never stand by and see a child or a woman suffer, nor ever cause them grief."

  "That makes a difference, does it?"

  "It does," Valentin said. "Because that is what bullies do: harass and demean those weaker than themselves. We have them on the circuit - not many, but enough."

  Merin hesitated. "I'll call him a thug and a brute, then."

  "He'll probably take it as a compliment," Alan said with a smile. "As you would learn to do, if you ever fought in earnest."

  Merin scuffed her shoes against the sand. "I don't want to fight. Just, you know. Tiltyard games. They're fun. And I like horses."

  "They like you."

  Valentin watched the horse rest its head on her shoulder, eyes closed in utter contentment, and silently agreed.

  "You said Guillaume is a great hand with them," Merin went on thoughtfully, watching Guillaume guide his own horse through a pattern of figures.