Warrior's Song (Medieval Song 1)

Richard thought it was rather impossible himself. “If she wants to wrestle, you will have no choice, Jerval. You will simply have to control yourself. Naturally she will try to kill you. She is good. I taught her. When she sends pain crashing through you, your mind will forget your lust.”

“She doesn’t realize she is a woman.”

“No, she does not. That is why you are here. It is time for her to learn.”

“You set me a problem, my lord, a very large one.”

“Perhaps,” Lord Richard said very deliberately, “just perhaps I should have given her to Graelam.”

“No, damnation, no! He would have tried to break her—or perhaps not. I don’t know what was in his mind. But he did not want her to—”

“To what?”

“I don’t know. It no longer matters. I drove him from Croyland. He lost and he will never have another chance at her.” He looked into the fire and stretched out his gloveless hands to warm them. Large hands, Richard thought, competent hands, strong and sure. Graynard tried to shove him aside, but Jerval held firm and the dog collapsed next to him on the brick hearth, his huge head on his paws.

“She craves freedom,” Richard said then. “She always has. Even as a child, she wanted the wind tearing at her hair, all the speed her pony could give her, wanted to throw her small spear farther than my squire could throw his own. Ah, I can still remember her laughter, her absolute joy, when she won her first knife-throwing competition. She beat six young men, and I will tell you, their resentment was palpable even though they knew she practiced more than they did, knew that she wasn’t like other girls, knew that she wanted victory at least as much as they did. One of them even said something to her about going back into the castle and sewing. She bloodied his nose. Just one blow with her fist, and he was yelling his head off. Of course I had taught her how to use her fists.”

Actually, Jerval had no difficulty at all picturing that scene.

“

I have never reined her in, never stopped her from doing something she wanted to do. She wanted a suit of armor, and so I had one made for her. The flat rings don’t quite overlap, so there is more space between them and thus less weight. In a true battle, she wouldn’t have the same protection a knight has. But she is content, and when she jousts, there is at least some protection. Naturally, my men would let themselves be slaughtered before they would ever take the chance of hurting her.”

Jerval couldn’t begin to imagine a girl wearing armor. His disbelief was so obvious that Lord Richard hurried to add, “She rarely wears the armor, just occasionally on the practice field when there is jousting practice. Some of the men even demand that she wear hers when they wear theirs to keep the games fair. She gives no quarter, you know. I taught her that compassion only comes into play when your sword is pressed against your foe’s gullet.

“But attend me, Jerval. There is no meanness in her, no pettiness. Perhaps some jealousy of another’s better skills, certainly, but what is wrong with that? That just makes her work all the harder. She does not recognize her own beauty. Even if she did, it would not count greatly with her. It is what she has to offer, what she can gain by the skill of her own hand, her own wits—that is what she values.”

“As I said, you have set me a problem.”

“You will decide if the problem is too great for you to deal with.”

Lord Richard had struck him hard in the face with that challenge, one, Jerval thought, that he knew he would not hesitate to take on. Dear God, what was he getting himself into?

Lord Richard left the young man, who, in truth, looked like Chandra’s brother, and went to search out his wife, who had been hiding from him for two days now. He’d nearly caught her once, but she’d gone to the jakes, not her solar. He found her in her solar this time, sitting tall and proud in her high-backed chair, ready, he supposed, to face him.

He still wanted to beat her. Even after two days, his blood hadn’t cooled. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. He ordered her women from the chamber. Six colorful pigeons, giggling, talking about him behind their hands, their eyes full on him. He came to stand in front of her, his fists on his hips, his legs spread. She looks old, he thought, and there is no bigger bitch in all of Christendom.

“Why did you come out of the hidden chamber?”

Lady Dorothy started to repeat her litany, for it sounded quite reasonable, but she realized he wouldn’t believe her, not for an instant. She gave a shrug that she knew enraged him. “You want the truth, do you? Very well. I wanted her gone. Lord Graelam de Moreton actually wanted to take her, something I cannot begin to imagine, but it was true. He wanted to wed her. He wanted to take her away with him. I was overjoyed. I gave him my blessing.”

“You are a stupid cow.”

“You never said a word about Jerval de Vernon, not even a hint to me of your plans for her. Graelam was a perfectly good match for her, a powerful man, a wealthy one as well. He is much better than she deserves, truth be told. I did what I thought right. She is past old enough, eighteen now. She needs to be married. You need to gain worth from a marriage alliance. What better alliance than with Graelam de Moreton?”

“You considered none of this. You wanted to be rid of her, and you saw your chance. You wouldn’t have cared if he’d raped her on the floor of the Great Hall, if he’d captured her and ridden away with her, if he’d been a Welsh bandit on a raid.”

“Aye, that is true enough,” she said, and she smiled at him. For a moment, he saw the remnants of beauty in her that had given him a very brief period of satisfaction so many years before. Her hair was once black as the hills of Wales just to their west, drenched in darkness. Now it was threaded with coarse gray strands, weaving in and out. There was no gray in his golden hair. There were lines of discontent fanning from her eyes, creasing her face beside her mouth. She was old, he thought again.

“Damn you, you should have known that I had made plans for her. You did know, didn’t you? You simply chose to get rid of her as quickly as you could.”

She had the gall to shrug again.

“You knew I would do what was best.”

“Ah, best for whom, Richard? Perhaps for yourself since you have molded her into your own image, kept her with you year after year, allowing her to do what she pleases, allowing her to show me her contempt for all things that a woman must know and—”

“I know that you abused her,” Lord Richard said abruptly, cutting her off, and he took a step away from her, his desire to clout her was so great. He said the words again, “You abused her.”