“Well enough.”
“What do you think of them?” she said. “Are you a good friend?”
At this point, they’d reached the kitchen yard. There were a few goats and chickens scattered about, and servants as they moved about on the course of their duties. Coming to the gate, Roi paused again and faced her.
“I’m assuming you’re asking for a reason.”
“Aye.”
“You fostered at Carisbrooke,” he said. “Are you a good friend of Lady de Redvers?”
She hesitated a moment before slowly shaking her head. “Nay,” she said. “She did not like me very much.”
He scratched his head, clearing his throat as if he wanted to say a good deal, but instead, he was searching for the right words.
“I had wondered,” he muttered. “Aye, I know them well. Am I a good friend? Nobody is good friends with Richard de Redvers and his wife… She’s respected, but not well liked. She is a shrew of a woman, from what I’ve seen.”
Diara felt a great deal of relief with that statement. It would be easier to be honest with him about her time at Carisbrooke now. “I would never disparage them because they taught me a great deal,” she said. “But you should know that Lady de Redvers and her daughters were not very nice to me. If we are speaking truthfully, they were horrible to me. It wasn’t bad in the beginning, when I first went to foster when I was about twelve, but as I grew into womanhood, they became quite… unkind.”
Roi wasn’t without sympathy. “How so?”
Diara showed some reluctance. “I do not wish to complain.”
“You are not complaining by telling me the facts.”
“I do not wish for you to think I am a gossip, or worse.”
“By speaking of your experience at Carisbrooke? I would not think that.”
She took a deep breath. “The daughters did not like me because the pages and squires would pay attention to me and not to them,” she said. “I do not ignore people. I like to talk to them because I find people interesting, but there was a squire that one of the daughters was sweet on, and he did not like her. He would only talk to me.”
Roi nodded in understanding. “And that is when the trouble started.”
“Aye,” Diara said timidly. “They told the other wards not to speak to me, and soon, none of the women would. The only people I had to talk to were the other pages and squires, and even some of the knights, because the women shunned me. Lady de Redvers would punish me for what she considered inappropriate behavior, all because the only friends I had were the boys around me. It only grew worse as I got older, and finally, I had to beg my father to let me come home. The other woman had resorted to stealing my things and cutting my hair while I slept. I am telling you this not to complain, as I said, but should you ever encounter Lord de Redvers and his wife,and they only have terrible things to say about me, I want you to know the truth. You can ask any of the men or boys at Carisbrooke about me and they will bear witness that I was never immoral or sinful. They will tell you that I was quite persecuted.”
There was not one part of that rather painful statement that Roi didn’t believe implicitly. He knew the de Redvers. He knew that they were petty and ambitious. The House of de Lohr didn’t have a close relationship with them, but the House of de Winter did, and de Winter was a great friend to Hereford. Roi had been in the politics of England too many years not to know of the disdain most had for the de Redvers. Diara’s story was probably one of many emerging from Carisbrooke, stories of poor treatment and shame. He felt a great deal of pity for her.
“I would never believe what they told me, even if I did not know you,” he said. “But you should know that before I came to Cheltenham, I was told that you had something of a reputation for being… friendly.”
As he watched, her eyes filled with tears. “I am so very sorry,” she said. “I know those rumors have been going around, but I did not know you had heard them. I swear to you on all that is holy that they are not true. I’ve never let a man touch me, and I swear upon my very life that I have never even been kissed. I would never let a man I was not betrothed or married to do such a thing.”
The tears were falling, and he grasped her hands, holding them against his chest. “Listen to me,” he said softly as she sniffled. “I know they are not true. I am a good judge of character because, quite often, my life depends on it, and I can tell that you are a woman of good and noble character. You are sweet and friendly, and that can rouse jealousy in the hearts of those who are not. They wish they were like you. They envy your spirit and your beauty. Those are the people who have started those rumors, without merit, and I do not believe any of it. Pleasedo not weep. I will defend your honor to the death, my lady, I promise.”
That only made her weep harder. “No one has ever said that to me,” she said, pulling a hand free out of pure necessity and wiping the tears from her face. “Not even my father. He is ashamed of me.”
“I am not. And I am the only one who matters.”
She nodded, overcome by his support, and he smiled at her. Lifting the hand he still held, he kissed it sweetly, twice, before reaching out to smooth a few stray pieces of hair from her face.
“Stop your tears,” he said gently. “There is no need. I will take care of everything from this point forward, and woe to the man or woman who repeats anything unsavory about you. They will have to deal with me.”
She was trying to regain her composure. “Thank you,” she said. “But I am very sorry my burden will become yours.”
He kissed her hand again. “I’m not,” he said. “My shoulders are very big for such burdens, in case you’ve not yet noticed.”
She took a deep breath, stilling herself. “I’ve noticed,” she said. “I’ve noticed everything about you, and it’s all quite nice.”
He smirked. “Thank you, my lady,” he said. “I am flattered that you should take notice of an old knight like me.”
