Reina was so weighed down with these dismal thoughts, she almost did not notice the visitors who crossed her path, making their way toward the keep. They in turn paid no attention to her. Why should they? She had put on her oldest bliaut when the ale-wife came to tell her she had heard the mewling of kittens coming from behind the ale barrels. And without her calling out a dozen servants to move the huge barrels, and possibly get a few squashed kittens in the process, the only way to see if ’twas Lady Ella back there was to climb atop the stacked barrels and crawl around until she found in which narrow crevice the mother cat was holed up. Subsequently, she was covered with dust and grime, but at least she was assured that Ranulf’s cat was alive and well. A moment of humor broke through as she imagined him crawling across those barrels to see for himself, and he would, too.
So who were her unexpected guests? There was a lady and a lord, but they had already passed her; thus she had missed seeing their faces to identify them. Their ten-man escort was smartly dressed and equipped, but that gave her no clue. Well, she was in no hurry to find out, for even if she ran now, she was not likely to get into the keep before them. Once again she was caught ill-prepared to receive company. The last time she had met her husband. This time would be no less embarrassing, looking as she did, no matter who the visitors were.
Their arrival had caught the interest of several of the knights in the exercise yard. Practice had stopped for a moment, but resumed when the visitors passed through the inner gate. The quintain was getting good use, and the clanging of swords echoed across the full width of the outer bailey. Since Ranulf’s coming, ’twas a familiar sound this time of day.
Clydon now had seven new knights in service, with as many new squires. She noticed Sir William instructing one. He had not enjoyed himself so since her father had left for the Holy Land. Searle was there, pitting his skill against one of the new knights. She had watched Ranulf and Walter challenge each other just so, and Searle, who had been taught by them, used the same technique. There was no contest. The new knight was disarmed in moments.
Eric and Aubert were there, too, watching two squires in similar mock combat. One she recognized as Lanzo, with his bright red hair. He should have been helmeted, for he was using a true sword instead of the wooden ones the newer squires used. His smaller opponent was not fully armed either, and was taking a beating, barely able to keep his sword up, much less his shield, and even as she watched he went down. That Lanzo kept after him even though he had fallen annoyed her, however. She knew a knight had to learn to defend himself even from the ground, for many died in just that position were they not so trained, but Lanzo seemed particularly brutal about the lesson.
Her heart then seemed to stop as she thought she recognized the boy on the ground. Aylmer? Nay, Lanzo could not be that cruel. True, Aylmer loved to watch the knights in practice. But Lanzo would not dare entice him onto the field, to actually give him a sword and then attack him. Would he?
She started forward, calling out the squire’s name. He could not hear her, still pounding his sword against the downed boy’s shield. She was soon close enough to see that it really was Aylmer taking this beating, and a blind, red fury consumed her. She was upon them in moments, with no thought for the danger of that swinging sword, just the need to stop it—which she did with a mighty shove that sent Lanzo sprawling.
She immediately helped Aylmer to his feet, pushing back the sweaty brown curls from his eyes, quickly examining him for any hurts. She felt some relief that he was not bleeding anywhere, but she was still furious, and that he looked at her as if she were crazy did not help.
“Lady, why did you do that?”
“Why?” she fairly shrieked. “You are being pummeled nigh to death and you ask why?”
Those knights who noticed her there and started to come forward to see what had happened quickly resumed their practice at the sound of her fury. Eric, who had tried to intercept her when he saw her charging toward danger, backed away, unwilling to draw her attention to him. One look at Aubert said they were all in trouble, though they could not fathom why.
Aylmer was the only one there who realized that Reina was merely concerned for his welfare. ’Twas embarrassing in this instance, but it never failed to fill him with warmth that such as she could care for him.
Quietly, hoping she would be glad for him, he said, “I am to be a squire, lady.”
Reina’s heart constricted at the pride in those words. Oh, God, this jest was crueler than she had thought.
“Who told you that? Did Lanzo?”
“Nay, he was teaching me by Lord Ranulf’s order. But Lanzo was going too easy on me. I told him I would never learn that way.”
“So he pounds you to the ground?” she said, but the words were automatic, for her mind was actually reeling.
Aylmer had the nerve to grin, not noticing Reina’s loss of color. “In another month I will do better.”
“You want this?” A stupid question. A boy with no hope of aspiring to aught, offered a chance at knighthood? Of course he would want it. “Never mind. I see you do. How did this come about, Aylmer?”
“I thought you knew, lady. Lord Ranulf simply asked me. He said some knights carried so many wounds they might as well be cripples, but they could still wield a sword and fight. He said my foot should not stop me, and he is having a special boot made for me in London that might give me more balance.” And then Aylmer added with the most pride yet, “Do I do well, he has promised to train me himself.”
Tears came to Reina’s eyes. What other knight would think to take on such a task, much less do it? She knew Ranulf was not the insensitive brute she was fond of calling him, but this? For her? She did not think so. He was just that way. No wonder she loved him.…
Aye, ’twas true, she realized with a start. SweetJesú, when had that happened? When she had discovered his sense of humor? When she had realized his gruffness was all bluster? When he had gone to a whore to find out how to please her? That long ago? Or when he could not punish her without making immediate amends for it by turning it into an incredibly erotic experience she was not likely to ever forget? What a lackwit she was, to have fooled herself into thinking ’twas only lust all this time. And what difference did it make, when he did not feel the same?
“Lady?”
She swung about to find Lanzo still on the ground where he had fallen, watching her warily. She was then hit with the horrible realization of what she had just done. She had interfered in knightly business and attacked a squire.Ranulf’ssquire. He was not hurt, just leery of getting up with her still there and like to attack him again. But he really became afraid when she dropped to her knees beside him.
“Lanzo, I am so sorry.”
His eyes flared with shock that she would demean herself to apologize to him. “Lady, please get up.”
“Nay, you must tell me you can forgive me.”
“Lady, just get up,” he beseeched her. “Does Ranulf hear of this, he will kill me!”
She made a face at that. “I am at fault here, so does he kill anyone, ’twill be me.” Then, with concern: “You are all right?”
“Of course,” he replied with a snort of indignity.
