“What happened?”
It seemed as though Lord Morgan’s question went unheard, but as Philip and Liam rounded the corner, Philip called, “Angus thought he could drop ice down Liam’s shirt, because Liam couldn’t get out of bed!”
Father and daughter chuckled as Liam waved the melting icicle before disappearing from sight. “Oh, I wish I could see when they catch him,” Aurelia sighed.
“What makes you think Philip can catch Angus? The boy is taller and doesn’t have the weight of another on his back.”
“Oh, I don’t think Philip knows how to quit. What he lacks in strength or height, he has in stubbornness. He’ll keep going until Liam can retaliate, even if it means the icicle is melted and they have to pour water on the boy’s head.”
Her words were true, and Lord Morgan knew it. He also knew that he’d love to see it for himself. “Come on, dear heart; let’s go see if we can follow.”
It took several minutes of wrong turns, but at last, they saw the boys sprinting toward the lower levels near the entrance to the tunnels. Several knights followed, until Philip cornered Angus on a landing. He set Liam on the top step of one staircase, and rushed to block the other. “We have you now, Angus!”
The knights parted to allow Lord Morgan and his daughter to see the spectacle unhampered. A few of them, eager for a better view, rushed back down the steps, trying to take the back route to the floor overlooking the landing. Angus saw Lord Morgan behind Liam, and the earl knew the boy wouldn’t risk jostling Aurelia by racing past the ill boy. He almost felt guilty blocking a perfect escape. Liam wasn’t strong enough to hold such a brawny lad as Angus long enough to drop the rapidly melting icicle down his friend’s shirt.
Angus glanced at Philip. It would be impossible to push past Philip when he was so determined to prevent it, and Angus knew it. To the surprise of all, Angus taunted Liam. He stepped forward, and then retreated. Repeatedly, he advanced and then backed away again, slowly drawing Liam away from the staircase. Lord Morgan’s eyes flew to Philip’s face, surprised that Philip didn’t warn his friend.
“Watch, Aurelia. Do you see what he’s doing?”
“He’s smarter than Liam thinks.”
“When Philip warns Liam—”
A look of disgust filled the young lady’s face. “Philip would never!” she hissed.
“Would you like to wager on that?”
A curt nod was the only reply for several seconds. “When I win—”
“If—”
“When I win,” she reasserted, “you will agree to take me with you on your wife hunt. I am a much better judge of character than you think.”
“Done.”
Just as he agreed, Angus made his move, dashing past Liam; the boy squeezed past the spectators murmuring, “Pardon me, m’lord, Lady Aurelia,” and sprinted back the way they’d come just minutes ago.
Philip’s laughter rang out as he scrambled to hoist Liam back onto his shoulders. “He got you.”
“Why didn’t you warn me?”
“I said I’d be your feet, Liam. I can’t be your brains too! It wouldn’t be fair.”
As they all tramped after the boys, Aurelia giggled. “I think I’m going to need some more silk, Father. I don’t think I have the proper dresses for something as important as courting.”
“So, you think you won the bet, do you?”
“I know I did. Philip did not warn Liam as you said he would.” Her smug tone produced snickers from several of the knights.
“But, you assume I did not plan to take you anyway, and there you are wrong. The silks are already waiting for Maud’s skillful fingers. You see, Aurelia, you did not win.”
“Oh, but I did. I was right. I chose the forfeit, and maybe you were planning to do it anyway, but me choosing something that would have happened anyway doesn’t change the fact that Philip did not tell.”
Chapter 19
Return to Sceadu
The week passed slowly for both Philip and Dove. As Una’s time drew close, Philip found it more and more difficult to leave the cottage— even for his lessons. He missed the daily interaction with Dove and Broðor Clarke. Lord Morgan sent a servant, requesting that Philip bring Dove up to the castle for a lesson in embroidery, but Philip had been forced to send a message to her through Letty. Instead, he spent the days helping Una with many tedious tasks.
Bertha noticed on her weekly visit and smirked as Philip tried to brush dirt from corners where it probably had been unnoticed for decades. “She’s getting close if she has you poking in places like that.”
“She seems awfully fidgety,” he admitted as he watched Una crawl back into bed and pull the covers over her. “She sleeps a lot.”
Bertha’s eyes narrowed. “Does she actually sleep, or does she get up and down often?”
“You’re right. She doesn’t actually sleep for a long time. She’s just keeps lying down, so it seems like it.” He pointed to the slop pail. “I’ve emptied that thing more this week than I have all month!”
“She’ll be calling for me any day, if that’s the case.” As Bertha opened the door, she spoke to Philip again. “You’ll want to go home after you come fetch me. Una won’t want you around for a few days.”
“But the fire—”
“Tom’s competent enough to do the piddly things he gives you to do. Stay away for at least three days after you know the baby has come.” With that, the midwife shut the door behind her.
Philip went back to work on the dirt in the corner by the fireplace but was startled to hear Una. “Philip?”
He jumped to help. “What can I get you?”
“Nothing, Philip. I’m fine. You’re very good to me, Philip.” She hesitated. “I heard Bertha. She’s right; you’ll want to go home when the baby comes. Stay a week or so. Tom will come get you when he needs you.”
Nodding, Philip turned to go back to his work when Una’s next question caused him to stand as if frozen. “Does Tom really give you nothing but your chores to do?”
“What do you mean?” He knew exactly what she meant but didn’t know how to answer her.
“What have you learned about fletching?”
An answer came to him as if provided by God. “I learn every day that I have much more to learn about everything.”
“I will talk to Tom.”
Seconds passed as Philip thought about what it might mean if she spoke to Tom. At last, he shook his head and returned to his cleaning. “Una, Tom knows what is best for me. I would rather trust that he knows when I should learn things.”
“If you don’t learn enough, Philip, we could be charged with a broken contract. You have just over a year—”
“You’ve fed me, given me clothes and shelter, and I’ve learned well how to repair arrows. I doubt Lord Morgan would hear a charge against Tom, knowing that. Besides, he wants me to learn more Latin and Mathematics.”
“Do you like your lessons, Philip? You work so hard…”
He turned to see why she’d quit speaking and saw Una sit up, clutching her belly. “Una?”
“It’s just one of thos—” She stopped mid-word and gasped. “Maybe not. Tell Bertha I need her to see if it’s time.” Another strange expression crossed Una’s face and then a look of disgust. “On the other hand, tell her it’s time. Take your blankets and go home when you’ve told her. Tom will come—” She groaned. “Go.”
Philip ran. Through the village, up the road, and into Bertha’s yard, he raced, pounding on the door when he arrived. “Dove? Letty? Ber—”
Letty opened the door. “What is it?”
“Una’s calling for Bertha. I think the baby might be coming— either that, or something is terribly wrong.”
Nodding, Letty grabbed her cloak and wrapped it around her. “She’s at the castle. I’ll get her.”
“Castle? Is Liam—”
“I think she just went to make sure Alys Baker is still feeding him. She’s quite annoyed with that woman. I’ve heard more abo
ut not starving an invalid than anything else since I’ve been here.” Letty’s blue eyes twinkled. “I’ve also learned never to treat a laboring woman like an invalid. It makes Bertha very angry.”
“I’ll go. It’s cold out.” He turned to go, before saying, “Thanks.”
“Dove is in the woods somewhere. I think she’s trying to gather nuts. Bertha was complaining that we are nearly out.”
He nodded and then looked back over his shoulder. “If you go home, make sure you bank the fire so it doesn’t go out again. Who knows when she’ll be home, and Bertha shouldn’t return to a cold house.”
“I will.” The door closed behind her, and Philip hurried through the trees, cutting across one corner of the clearing, and then pounded over the bridge of the Ciele River. His speed diminished greatly as he climbed the steep hill to the castle.
Martin called out to him as Philip strode through the gate without even pausing. “What, no respect anymore, lad? Think you’re too good to state your purpose?”
“Sorry, Martin. I’ve been sent for the midwife. Una Fletcher needs her.” He almost groaned as the guard glowered at him silently.
“Get on with you. Show some respect next time, lad. I don’t have to put up with insolence from the likes of you, even if you are a pet of the lord’s.”
“No, Martin. You don’t. I’m sorry.”
Mollified, the guard urged him to find the midwife. “Tell Tom I’ll drink an ale to the gods that it’s a boy.”
Something pricked Philip’s heart as he walked to the side of the castle where the kitchen stood. How many years had Broðor Clarke been teaching Wynnewood about Jesus and I AM? How long would it take everyone to see the emptiness— the futility— of the old ways? How did he not grow ‘weary in well doing’ when it seemed as if some people would never learn?
His thoughts were interrupted by the cry of a girl not much older than Dove as she flew through the door, holding her ear and crying. “Are you all right?”
“I didn’t know! He said to put it in the bowl!” The child ran toward the gardens and out of sight.
Philip hesitated, and then knocked. The door flew open and Tobias Baker, hand raised to strike, stood there. “Oh!” He lowered his hand. “Philip, I thought— well, never mind. Come in. Have you come to see Liam?”
“I came to find Bertha. She’s needed in the village.”
“They’ve turned you into an errand boy now.” He jerked a spoon toward Liam’s room. “She’s in with Liam now.” The baker went back to a bowl of strange looking goo and resumed stirring, muttering, “You’d think they’d train the boy for something useful rather than wasting him on tasks better left for the simple.”
As loyal as Philip was, it was hard for him to hear so often how under-appreciated and wasted his abilities were in his current apprenticeship. Even the most complacent boy would have felt the sting of knowing others valued him more than the man who was trusted to teach him— and didn’t. Fighting the rising feelings of injustice, Philip hurried to Bertha’s room to deliver Una’s message. His heart mocked him cruelly. You’re not fit for anything but girls’ errands. None of the other boys or men would be sent for the midwife like a girl. Liam and Bertha weren’t in his room. Philip found Minerva and was told that Bertha had insisted he take a walk to watch the archers for a bit of fresh air. “Alys is fretting at a window. She hasn’t done any of her work in days, and now that she has a chance, she’s just moping up there.” Minerva pointed at a short staircase where a window gave a fine view of the archer’s range. “Modor is angry. She says we’re all doing extra to make up for Alys, but no one will speak for fear of the baker. He’s in a foul temper.”
“He struck a child just before I arrived.”
Nodding, Minerva strolled toward the rear door that led to the arbor and the shooting range. “Anne. She’s being trained to help with the baking, but Tom is used to Liam. Liam knows exactly what to do when his fæder says, ‘Put it in the bowl’ or ‘Stir it.’ Anne doesn’t. He hands her something, she sees a bowl right there, and she puts it in. She didn’t know he meant the one on the other table with nothing in it, so the dough gets a tankard of ale in it, and Tom has to try to save it.”
Philip’s innate sense of justice rose to the surface and he retorted hotly, “Someone needs to tell him to teach her before he punishes her.”
“Who needs to teach what?” Lord Morgan’s voice seemed to appear from nowhere.
“Um, good afternoon, m’lord. How is Aurelia today?”
Minerva curtseyed and scuttled down the hall to find her mother and escape the probing eyes of Lord Morgan. The lord, however, was not diverted. “My daughter is very well, thank you. Who needs to teach, Philip?”
“I’m sorry, m’lord. I forget that it’s not my place to decide what happens in your castle or anywhere else.”
Walking beside Philip, Lord Morgan led the boy outside, talking all the while. “You know, that first day we met, you were muttering about that boy being removed from practice for making an error. You were right, Philip. I want to know if you are right again.”
“I don’t like to tell tales—” Philip saw Bertha across the courtyard. “I’m supposed to tell Bertha that Una needs her. Excuse me, m’lord.”
“Come straight back to me when you’re done, lad. I’m not through with you.”
Dejectedly, Philip raced across the stones and passed his news onto the midwife. Then, as if being led to his execution, he shuffled back across the yard and stood before a very bemused lord of the castle. “Am I so very harsh, Philip?”
“No, my lord. I am so very foolish.”
“Come sit with the girls and me. Tell me what troubles you this afternoon.”
“The girls? Is Dove here? Strange, Letty thought she was gathering nuts.”
As they arrived in the great hall, Philip hurried to see the progress that Dove made on the embroidery she was learning. “Wouldn’t it be easier to do without your gloves?”
“Yes.”
“Then—”
“Let her alone, Philip, and tell me who has your sense of justice inflamed.” Charles Morgan allowed an extra measure of sternness in his voice, hoping Philip would recognize that he would discover what the problem was.
“It’s just that someone was supposed to be training someone and expected her to know things without doing any actual training. I hate to see a child abused for something they didn’t know.”
“Who, Philip? Less ambiguity and more specifics, please.”
With a sigh, Philip capitulated. There wasn’t anything he could do to avoid it, and trying was only making things worse. “Tom Baker. He is so used to Liam knowing what he needs, that he’s forgotten that not everyone knows. When I arrived, Anne was running from the kitchen holding her ear. She’d been told to put something ‘in the bowl,’ but when she put it in the wrong bowl, Tom boxed her ears.”
“Perhaps she should have asked,” Dove suggested.
Philip couldn’t get Anne’s wounded eyes from his mind. “Perhaps, but if there’s a bowl right there, and a grumpy man says to put something in a bowl, are you going to think of the one closest to you or the one across the room? You’re going to want to do anything to keep him from being grumpy.”
“Do you know that she hasn’t been told before? Maybe she has a habit of not paying attention.” Lord Morgan was a just man—unwilling to condemn anyone without knowing the facts.
“Minerva just said—”
“I’ll look into it. I want my servants trained well and to do their jobs. If something needs to be changed, it will be.” With that, Lord Morgan strode from the room, leaving Philip and the girls a little unsettled.
“I didn’t mean to get anyone in trouble. Why do I always forget how quietly your fæder creeps up on people?”
“It’s a good thing, Philip. Father doesn’t like to hear of his servants being mistreated.”
In an effort to distract her friend, Dove thrust her piece of linen into Philip’s hands. �
�What do you think? Will I ever become as skilled as Aurelia?”
Dove’s stitches were crude and uneven. He knew some of it was because she was younger and had less practice, but it was evident, even to his untrained eyes, that her gloves were hindering her progress. “I think you’d have greater success without the gloves, Dove.”
“Well, then I won’t have success.”
“How can your—”
Aurelia, sensing an impending tiff, solved the problem with a matter-of-fact suggestion. “I’ll send home some thread and her fabric. She can practice alone. The gloves certainly protect her from needle pricks!”
Dove remembered something. “Why are you here?”
“Una needed the midwife.”
“Is it her time then?” Aurelia asked curiously.
“It seems to be. I’ve been sent away for a week. I thought maybe…”
Without another word, Dove laid aside her stitching and bade goodbye to Aurelia. The young mistress of Wynnewood Castle tried to convince Dove to take it, but she shook her head. “Next time. We’re going exploring, and I’d soil it.”
They hurried through the castle corridors, into the courtyard, around the shooting range, and out the south gate. By the time they entered the Heolstor Forest, Dove was nearly giddy with excitement. “I hope Waleron agreed to you visiting.”
“Who—” He shook his head. “Sorry. Habit.”
“That’s all right. I’m sure he will. I told him— or was it Jakys— one of them how important you are to this.”
Laughing, Philip pulled her up behind him as they climbed a great fallen oak tree and said, “I can’t even respond to that.” A new thought occurred to him. “Letty thought that you were gathering nuts. What made you go to the castle instead?”
“Nuts? In winter? That girl is the most ignorant—”
“Well, I did wonder. Wouldn’t they be soft and rotting by now?”
The Annals of Wynnewood Complete Series Page 34
