Earth Song (Medieval Song 3)

“It seems the answer is no, then. I am to be cursed with the eternal itch. What am I to do with you?”

“I am your steward.”

He laughed again, low and deep, and she wanted to strike him, but didn’t move. Only then did she realize she hadn’t demanded that he release her and let her go free.

“Well, I suppose you cannot do a worse job of it than Alain. You will ruin me in your ignorance and innocence just as he was doing in his dishonesty and thievery. Or will you cheat me as well for your own revenge, since I stole from your father?”

“I’m not ignorant. Nor will I cheat you.”

“So you say. Come here, wench. I’m cold and wish your big body to warm me.”

When she didn’t move, Dienwald rolled against her, drawing her to his side. “Hush and sleep,” he said, his breath warm against her temple as he pressed her cheek against his chest. She smelled the sweet ale on his breath as he said, his words low and indistinct, “Do not berate me further. My brain is calm for the moment.”

Nay, she thought, there was nothing she had to say now.

Philippa didn’t sleep for a very long time. She thought of a lady whose name was Kassia, a lady who was small and delicate and sweet and loyal. A lady who had saved Dienwald’s life.

And Philippa was a naught but an irritant that made his brain itch.

He, the drunken brute, was asleep almost at once, his snores uneven rippling sounds, like his dreams, she thought, aye, like his al

e-filled dreams. She hoped monsters visited him that night. He deserved them.

Wolffeton Castle

Robert Burnell wrote industriously as Graelam de Moreton spoke of the man he believed would be the ideal husband for King Edward’s bastard daughter.

“He is strong and young and healthy. He is comely and has excellent teeth and all his hair. He’s an intelligent man who cares for his villeins and his lands. He was wedded once and has a son, Edmund, but his wife died many years ago. Is there aught else, Burnell?”

Robert accepted a flagon of milk from Lady Kassia, smiling up at her. “The day brightens now that you are here, my lady,” he said, and nearly choked on his words, so unlike him they were. But something deep inside had leapt to speak to her poetically. Mayhap it was the sweetness of her look, the soft curve of her lips as she smiled. Burnell quickly recovered his wits and sent an agonized look to Lord Graelam, but that intimidating warrior merely cocked his head at him, his look ironic.

“I thank you, sir,” Kassia said. She moved slowly because of her swollen stomach, and sat down. “You are telling Robert of Dienwald’s excellent qualities?”

“Aye, but there are so many, my head buzzes with the sheer number of them. What say you, Kassia?”

“Dienwald de Fortenberry is loyal and trustworthy and kind. He enjoys a good jest and loud talk, as do most men of spirit. He has wit and is facile with words. He fights well and protects what is his.”

“He begins to sound like a possible saint,” Burnell said, “and a man you perhaps praise more than he deserves.”

“Ha!” Graelam said. “I have many times wanted to trounce him into the ground and crush his stubborn head beneath my heel and give the imbecile a kick in the ass—”

“But always,” Kassia interrupted easily, “my lord and Dienwald are grinning at each other and slapping each other’s shoulders in great friendship after they’ve decided not to kill each other. We do not overpraise him, sir, for Dienwald is a good man, sir, a very good man.”

“Despite all his shortcomings,” Graelam said.

“I must needs hear some of these shortcomings, my lord. Edward is sure to be suspicious if I give him only this glowing praise.”

Graelam grinned, and Burnell saw the answering smile on his lady’s face.

“He is stubborn as a mule, grandiose in his gestures, poor in his material belongings, and doesn’t care. He revels in danger and enjoys treading the narrow path. He is crafty and sly and cunning as a fox. He isn’t greedy, however, so Edward need have no fear of his coffers. As I said, he doesn’t lust after earthly things. Further, there is no family, so Edward need have no worry that he will be pressed for endless favors. Dienwald is also a shrewd, ruthless, occasionally disgraceful man who will do anything to gain what he wants.”

“Ah,” said Burnell, writing again. “He becomes human at last, my lord.”

“The lady, Philippa de Beauchamp,” Kassia said. “Is she a pretty girl? Sweet-tempered?”

“I know not, save what I have been told, my lady. That is, she is a Plantagenet and thus must be considered beautiful. Since his majesty said that, it is a matter of close-held opinion and not be contested.”

Kassia laughed. “And her disposition?”