How to Train Your Knight: A Medieval Romance Novel (17 page)

“Oh, yes, that’ll be wonderful. You’ve the best ideas.” She clapped her hands, reached behind his neck, and pulled him down for a kiss.

“I’ve one more good idea. I’ve invited my brother, his wife, and family to come for a visit.” He held his breath while waiting for her response.

Like the sun ducking behind a cloud, her face darkened. “The earl? When?”

“He’s not the earl, yet. That would still be my father. I’ve asked him to come in a fortnight. Maybe sooner.”

“Oh, no. I wanted to do this right. I need to prepare the manor. This is so important. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” She swatted him on the chest, then brought her injured fingers back into her mouth with a painful mew.

He raised them to his lips and kissed them. “Don’t worry, so. All will be well.”

“They have children, right?” She tugged on his hand and rushed back toward the manor, huffing, already out of breath.

“Let me think. This and this.” He stopped and indicated their heights with palm down.

“Oh, very helpful. Boys or girls?”

“Nephews.” He picked up his stride to catch her while waving at Peter at the forge.

“Will they share a room?”

“How would I know, dearest?”

“Our manor is quite full. Can we ask two of your men to move to the abbey?” She lifted her skirts so she could walk even faster.

“Ann, Ann, Ann. Do what you like. It’ll all be well by me.”

“Anon. I need to get busy.” When they arrived at the green, she waved her arms at him as if he were a sheep. “Shoo . . . shoo . . . Away with you. See to the tradesmen. See what they need to finish their wares. I’ll tend to the house.”

He grinned. “So now you trust me?”

“You’ve given me no choice. Shoo.”

He laughed once more and turned to leave, but not before he spun his wife into his arms and off her feet. “Wife, you make me complete.”

She turned and smiled. “Aye, it’s like that, is it not?”

Chapter 15

By the time she heard the clomping of multiple horses, she’d worked herself into a panic. What if they didn’t like her, or her manor, or her food? What if the bedrooms were not to their liking? Marcus’ brother was eldest son to a powerful earl. The slightest misspeak and she could be cast out. She smoothed a non-existent wrinkle from the fine wool blanket one last time. She’d let them have the best room of the house.

Marcus shouted from the courtyard, “Ann, dearest, they’re almost here. Come down now so we can greet them together.”

“Coming.” She ran down the great staircase, tripped on her gown, and landed ungracefully on her derriere. “Damnation.”

When she looked across the room, the earl and his wife stood at the double door with their mouths agape. Thankfully, Marcus snorting out a laugh, strode to her rescue, and helped her to stand. With his back to his family, he winked at her, took her hand, and led her to their guests.

“Ann, wife, please meet my older brother, Anthony, future Earl of Thornhill and his wife, Penelope. The boys are Bartholomew and Arthur.”

The two boys bowed gracefully at the waist and said in unison, “Very pleased to meet you.”

She brushed the dust off her tunic and curtsied back. “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.” Turning to Anthony and Penelope, she curtsied again. “Thank you for coming to visit with us.”

“We’re very happy to meet the woman who has tamed The Beast.” His brother’s eyes twinkled.
Mayhap this visit would not fare so badly after all.

“Give me just a moment, I’ll see to the men.” Marcus bowed briefly and went outside. With the door open, he directed Charles to care for the horses. Then he greeted the armed knights by their given names.

She couldn’t think of anything clever to say so she smiled at the earl-to-be and shrugged at the silence that ensued. The two brothers resembled each other, but she much preferred her husband’s lean muscular form to his brother’s soft, wide girth. Truth be told, she also preferred her beast’s plain tunic and sword as compared to the opulence displayed by the man who stood in front of her. The gold jeweled belt that tied under his large form seemed out of place here in the country as did the jeweled cloak and fine feathered hat.

Anthony grew impatient, slid his large frame between tables, and leaned out the door. “I’m sure the men can see to themselves.” He turned to her. “He always wants to make right with the servants. Odd are the ways he learned while away in the East.”

“Those knights are your servants?” She peered out the door. They didn’t look any different than their armed men. Mayhap a bit smaller.

“Aye, of course. They belong to me.”

“That’s odd.” She’d never thought of the knights that traveled with her husband as belonging to him. Apparently, neither did he as he joked and made ease with them.

Penelope gushed into the awkward silence from where she stood by the hearth and gazed at the wool tapestries. “What a beautiful manor. I’ve never seen such a building. It rivals the Thornhill manor, does it not? Prithee, take us through it.”

Anthony held a palm up and raised an eyebrow, thoroughly resembling Marcus. “Mayhap the Lady Ann could provide us a moment to clean and freshen up?”

“Oh, of course. Please forgive me.” Before Anns could say more, Stephen, dressed to the hilt in silks and the finest wool, appeared like magic out of the kitchen.

“This way, Lord Thornhill, Lady Penelope, and gentlemen.” He strolled by her with his nose in the air, turned, and winked.

Marcus reentered, slid beside her, and rested his heavy arm upon her shoulder. She exhaled a sigh of relief when the family turned at the top of the stairs and out of sight.

“They don’t bite. They’re just used to things running a bit differently.”

Keeping her voice lowered, she said, “You schooled Stephen on how to behave with them?”

“Aye, I might have.” He squeezed her shoulder.

Ann squirmed out from under him, climbed two stairs so as to meet him eye to eye and kissed him. His lips curled up under her tight lock and tiny wrinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes. “Thank you.”

He chortled, put his hands to her waist, and lifted her back to the ground. “I prefer your ways, wife. Especially if I’m to be rewarded so well.”

All week long, she’d focused on the manor. The mosaic floor shined beneath their feet because her husband had insisted thatch was unnecessary. He said that people merely needed to refrain from throwing food upon the floor. Barbaric, was the term he’d used. It took some getting used to. Now, every grain of mud showed upon the small white tiles. Soon, she’d need to declare a tradesman of floor cleaning. “Did you prepare the rest of the staff, too?”

“I may have instructed them a bit.”

“Oh, dear. Are we that backward?” She sat down on the stairs with a pout. She’d tried so hard to get everything perfect.

“I prefer
forward
. Our way is the future.”

“I didn’t know your brother would bring so many knights with him. I may not have enough pallets prepared.” She glanced nervously out the door.

Outside, Thomas was instructing men hither and yon, but glanced into the great room constantly. She could see that the extra knights made him nervous in a completely different manner.

“They won’t expect their own rooms. My brother would have them house with the servants.”

“That’s just it. We don’t have servant’s quarters, we have barracks.” She stood almost in tears, but the corners of her husband’s eyes were still creased with amusement. When had those little wrinkles become the norm?

“Stop fretting. I’ve already asked Thomas to have my men double up with my brother’s men. That will work for all. There’s plenty of room and plenty of food.”

“When did you get so good at being
Lord of the Manor
?” The great room really was magnificent, now that the thatch had been removed. She’d never really paid attention to the intricate tiled swirls that he’d insisted upon showing.

He held out his arm gallantly and spoke with an aristocratic voice, “Come wife, prithee sit by the fire while we wait for our guests to attend us.”

She giggled, picked up her needlework, and turned it around and around to find her place. Had it been weeks since she’d last sat by the fire and worked the tapestry? Her finest bone needle still held her husband’s blood and she shuddered. How her life had changed since that day.

After sitting, Marcus pulled a knife from under his leggings and worked on the steel’s edges with a nearby whetting stone.

“Should I do the same?” She glanced up from a hopeless knot in her tapestry work and put it down. Her knife work was far superior to her art with a needle.

He feigned to be horrified and winked. “See that you don’t.”

When the earl and his family descended the staircase, she popped out of her chair to greet them. “Is all well? Do you need anything else?”

“Oh, please. Would you show us around?” Penelope looked to her husband as a child would to her father. The boys squirmed and eyed the outside with longing.

She tried not to roll her eyes. The girl was young, mayhap not even ten and seven. “Of course. We could start with the baths? They are most unusual, built at the time the ancient Romans lived here.”

The boys groaned. Obviously that wasn’t their choice of amusement. Penelope seemed not to notice. She stomped her feet and put her lower lip out in a pout. “You’ve baths? You didn’t tell me that. I, for one, would love to not only see them, but to use them. Are their servants to warm them? At home, by the time the water is heated and poured, the water is all, but chilled again.”

Ann smiled. “Not to worry. The Romans who built this manor desired the same. There is a central fireplace that heats the rocks under the baths and warms the waters. Come. The schedule is free right now. We could even have our husbands join us. Meanwhile, mayhap Thomas could take the boys into town? There’s much to see.”

Marcus nodded with a wink and tossed each of the boys a coin. “Behave yourselves.”

The boys were out of the main room in the blink of an eye. Thomas’ muffled commands for the two to slow down sounded from out the front door.

“So, to the baths for you ladies?” Marcus’ eyes roved over her body. The man was impossible. He had, but one thought on his mind constantly. That spot between her legs twitched and dampened, and she wanted all guests to disappear so they could attempt baby-making again.

“Can we? Please?” Penelope clutched at one of Anthony’s arms.

He clucked his tongue. “Of course, Penny, dear. Go ahead, we will join you shortly. Make sure thou art well covered with water when we enter. I won’t have my brother ogling my wife.”

When no one was looking, Marcus pinched Ann’s behind and pushed both women out the door. “No worries, I’ll ogle only my own wife.”

Penelope turned in a full circle in the green. “This place is amazing. It’s like going to the palace. Your church over there, is that colored glass?”

Thinking it best not to say anything about the glazier, Ann said, “Have you been there? The palace? London? I’ve always wanted to see it.”

“No, but I’ve heard the Old Earl talk about court. They don’t have baths, though. They rounded the front of the manor and passed through the stone arch. “That’s it? Oh, my.”

“Aye.” She eyed her bathhouse with a new appreciation as they climbed to the warmest top pool. It was truly a wonder to behold. Parts of the mosaic tiles had stayed intact throughout the centuries. An ancient face centered in the bottom of each of the three pools. Eight marble columns held the roof aloft.

“I need help with my dress. Is there a maid in waiting?”

“Here, let me help you.” She unpinned Penelope’s many jewels and unclasped multiple necklaces. Then untied the intricate sleeves from the tunic and lifted it over her head.

When she was down to a white underdress, Penelope asked, “Where are all your peasants? When we rode past your lands, there were only stone houses for gentle people. Where are the mud huts and smelly trenches? Have you moved the road such that it doesn’t traverse the dirty parts? That was very clever.”

Ann had been running her estates for four years and led her people out of starvation when she’d been this girl’s age. Her simple wit was difficult to swallow. “Let’s wait for the men, and Marcus and I can explain it all.”
God knows I won’t have the patience.

Outside on the stone bench, Anthony poured a glass of mead and sat down next to Marcus. “She’s a beauty. I can understand why you kept her. Was she so set in her ways that you couldn’t train her?” He raised his cup. “To your wife.”

Marcus smirked and wondered
who
had retrained
whom
. “We’ve found each other most compatible.”

“Really? Was she the witch that father supposed?” He tried to keep a straight face, so Marcus decided not to hit him. Instead, he gave a friendly wave across the green at James, going for water at the well. “Fey, maybe. Gypsy, possibly. Definitely not a witch.”

“Good, good. And gold?”

Marcus stretched his legs out long and leaned back. Birds chittered from the nearby forest. “No, I haven’t found any gold. By God, the sun is warm today.”

“That’s not good. I have to tell you, Father could use it. The gold. If not for these lands, there’d not be much for me to inherit.” His brother shifted uncomfortably.

After clearing his throat, Marcus put his hand near the hilt of his sword and said, “Not these, either, I’m afraid.”

“What say you?” His face grew red, looking much like the old earl.

Slowly, Marcus stood and held out his open hands. “Be gentled. When I went to visit the king, after Father’s instructions, Edward granted this small plot to me. I’m sorry. At the time, I had no idea of its value.”

His brother’s hand fisted the jewel-encrusted hilt at his hip. “Say it’s not so. Does father know?”

“Edward wanted to be the one to inform him.” He put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Let us not fight. ‘Tis, but a small parcel of land.”

Anthony shoved him in the chest as he did when they were lads. “Why did you do that to me?”

“I didn’t intend to intrude on your livelihood. The king felt these lands needed my special talents. It’s involved some swordplay already and no doubt more to come.”

Anthony let go of his sword and followed toward the well. “And you think, in that, I may be lacking? Is that what you say? I’ve many warriors, even if my sword is not as honed as yours.”

“I’m not saying so. I was ready to start another kind of life, and the king granted me a boon. ‘Tis simply that. Come, let’s not argue.” Marcus dropped a bucket into the well.

“But this is the only plot that’s profitable. The rest of Father’s estates are in shambles.”

The clacking of the looms and the smoke from the forest indicated all was well in his village and he couldn’t imagine his brother being able to manage any of this. Not yet. He drew up a bucket of water, took a long sweet drink from the ladle, and offered it. “That’s why I’ve asked you to visit. I want you to see what Ann has done. I think if you follow her example, you could see the same profits as we, mayhap more in just a few years.”

Anthony slapped the bucket away and the metal banged against the well’s stone walls. “Why would you do that after you’ve stolen what is rightfully mine?”

At least his brother knew better than to draw his sword. He calmly picked up the bucket, wiped the dirt away, and placed it back on the hook. “You were always there to stay Father’s hand. I’ll repay that debt.”

“You’ve an odd way of showing it, taking my rightful inheritance.”

“Let us wait and see, and let me show you. Come, relax in the baths while we let Ann talk. Bring that fine wine you traveled with. I find I’m tired of our home-grown mead. Stay your anger. I’ve enough coin and you’ve land aplenty. Together, we’ll fare well.”

They made their way through a path in the thigh-high grass and retrieved a skin of wine still attached to Anthony’s horse. “Even if this works, I’ll have to wait until I inherit. You know Father will never agree to even a modicum of change.”