“I thought you might like to go and watch something.” He colored slightly and turned away.
Lenora found her breath coming rather fast. “Indeed, I would,” she said with a faint smile. “Thank you for waiting.” He shrugged again. She guessed he had not much practice being friendly. For some reason, that thought both warmed and encouraged her. “What shall we watch?”
“As you’ve seen the melee and the joust, I thought we’d watch the bohort.”
She wondered if a reluctance to join Eden and Sir Roland for the afternoon prompted his choice. “I don’t think I’ve ever…?”
“They don’t have them at royal tournaments. They’re usually hashed together by participants rather than the host.”
“Well, then that sounds a very good notion.” Neither of them made a move. After a moment, she asked: “Did Kit return?”
“No.”
“Do you think Bria’ag will have made a minced meat out of him?”
A smile tugged at his lips. “We shall see how strong his resolve is to serve as my squire.”
“He may surprise you.”
“He already has,” Garman admitted.
“How so?”
He turned his head to look at her. “Attacking Emworth,” he said after a moment. “That took guts.”
“Personally, I think he was only waiting for an excuse.”
Again, Garman gave that glimmer of a half-smile. She had the strangest impulse to put a finger to the corner of his upturned lips, but knew well that any physical contact between them was limited to a very precise set of circumstances. With a pang, she remembered the way Roland Vawdrey could not seem to keep his hands from Eden whatever their location.
“What?” he asked with a frown.
“Are we growing closer?” she asked on impulse. “I think we are, but I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”
His frown grew deeper. “What do you mean?”
Lenora tried to marshal her thoughts. “It’s hard to explain. If I were to reach for your arm in public for instance. Would you push me away?”
He looked vaguely insulted. “Of course not.”
“What if the Hainfroys were there?”
“The Hainfroys? They wouldn’t bat an eyelid.”
Remembering how the Hainfroys had stared at their every interaction, she found she did not entirely believe him. “Perhaps not to find a wench sat on your lap, but to find a wife…” She trailed off.
“You seem to have some strange notion about the Hainfroys,” he said dismissively, but she still did not think he would ever show much affection in public. Some people weren’t built that way. With surprise she remembered she had always thought as much about herself.
“I think the Hainfroys are the closest thing you have to a family,” she said aloud.
His eyes darted to hers again. He did not speak for a full minute but when he did, Lenora sat up and paid notice. “My old master Sir Bernhard wanted me to marry his daughter Isabeau Hainfroy,” he said tonelessly. “He had us promise him on his deathbed that we would honor his wish.” Lenora’s eyes grew wide. “Then, she did not wait until he was cold in his grave before running off with a travelling musician called Justin Lind.”
Lenora’s lips parted into a soundless ‘oh’. “So that’s why her brothers disowned her?” He nodded his head once. “Yet, you say she did not break your heart?” she asked.
He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Nor her father’s either, for he was dead and buried.”
“You must have felt the snub at the time though?” she said with some sympathy.
He cocked his head as if considering this. “Lind had a bare chin and curling golden hair,” he said derisively. “Of course, I felt the snub. It was a damned insult to be thrown over for the likes of him.”
Lenora gave a gurgle of laughter. “I expect he was the very antithesis of you and the Hainfroy males. Poor Isabeau was very likely sick to death of great rollicking brutes of men.”
That did make him smile faintly. Was it just Lenora’s imagination or was he doing that more lately? “Very likely,” he agreed.
“I daresay he had a pure singing voice,” Lenora pondered. “And very likely played the lute like an angel.” Garman looked disgusted, so she carried on swiftly. “If you’d lived at the Grange from the age of twelve, Isabeau probably saw you as a third brother, as Huw and Ivo do.” His gaze flickered to her at that and he shrugged. “You disagree?”
“I’ve never really given it much thought.”
“Did your grandfather Sutton wish you and Isabeau Hainfroy to make a match of it?” she asked, the thought suddenly occurring to her.
He snorted. “I have no idea. I doubt he even knew that was in the wind.” He hesitated. “I am not close to my grandfather. To either of my grandfathers,” he added, then quickly. “I never speak of the other one.”
“I did not know you had more than one.”
“There’s a reason for that, Lenora,” he said grimly.
“I see. Well, on the subject of relations, if you do end up taking Kit for a squire,” Lenora said. “I feel beholden to tell you that his father, my uncle Christopher, is frankly quite dreadful. He is easily the worst of us Montmaynes. It would be extremely difficult if we should have to put up with him darkening our doorstep to rant at us about Kit.”
“I wouldn’t find it awkward.”
Lenora looked at him. “How so? You mean you would slam the door in his face?” she said shrewdly.
He nodded with a grim smile. “Would that bother you?”
Lenora thought about it. “Actually, no. And I don’t believe Kit would mind it either.”
“Then it’s not a problem, is it?”
“Your grandfather Sutton would likely find it excessively awkward,” she admitted with a grimace. “He seems to me a very proper and polite man.”
“I don’t plan on us always living with him at Matchings Farm,” Garman said and Lenora’s ears pricked up.
“You do not say on his always living with us at Matchings Farm,” she said slowly. “Yet your grandfather seems at great pains to point out that the place is yours.”
“I’m no farmer,” said Garman. “I have no interest.”
“Even though your father had the place built?”
“Even so.”
“Where do you see us living then?” asked Lenora, turning back toward him. She felt a prickle of unease. “Is it dependent on receiving my dowry?”
“No,” he said shortly. “For in a twelvemonth or so I shall coin enough to buy it. Anyway, at present it is occupied.”
“Where is it?”
“Not far from the farm,” he said cautiously. “It’s a small estate nearby called Matchings Halt.”
“Who lives there currently?”
“A widow and her in-laws. I have reason to believe the head of their family changes soon and the new head will sell.”
“He will sell it from under the widow?” Lenora asked in alarm.
“That is no business of ours,” he said, rising from the bed and putting a hand out toward her.
Lenora put her hand in his and allowed him to pull her up from the bed. His words troubled her, and not just the part about the widow. What if her father could not be persuaded to part with her dowry? Despite his assurance, he would doubtless need it if he was looking to buy his own estate. They walked across the field arm in arm and Lenora was only pulled out of her worrisome thoughts when Kit waylaid them.
“I saw to the horse,” he said belligerently.
“Did you?” Garman came to a halt.
“Aye,” said Kit. “Though you might have warned me it was some kind of test.”
“Forewarned is forearmed. Wouldn’t have been much of a test then, would it?”
Kit huffed. Lenora noticed his hose was muddied up to the knee and guessed Bria’ag must have given him some trouble. Still, his expression brightened now. “So it’s a done deal?” he asked.
“Depending on your father�
��s permission.”
“Oh, that,” said Kit airily. “I can get that alright. I’ll just have to spend a few of days with him to remind him how very ill we get along. He’ll be chomping at the bit to get rid of me within a sennight. You’ll see.”
“You will have to return to Caer-Lyoness then?” Lenora asked.
“Nay, I’ll be bound for Hallam,” he said naming the ancestral home of the Montmaynes. “Father hasn’t been to court in two months. Reckons his old trouble is playing him up.”
Lenora nodded, remembering how her uncle suffered from a painful swelling of his feet. “I will write to you at Hallam then,” she said brightly. “Giving you our direction.”
Kit nodded. “I shan’t leave until after the final day tomorrow,” he pointed out. “There’s no hurry that I know of.” He glanced furtively at Garman who made no response. “Perhaps I could attend to you on the morrow when you joust?”
Lenora glanced up at her husband who gave a brief nod. So… he jousted on the morrow.
“Aye,” he agreed. “We’ll see how you go.”
Kit caught sight of someone over Lenora’s shoulder and gave a start. “There’s Ames,” he said quickly. “I’ve something I need to give him. I’ll look for you later.”
He started off and Lenora turned to watch him run over and smote Cuthbert on the shoulder. For some reason it crossed her mind that the blonde youth might have aided Kit with handling Bria’ag though she could not have said precisely why the suspicion crossed her mind. The two boys fell in step with each other and made their way over to a brightly painted stall where their stout friend Hal Payne could be seen in animated conversation with the younger of Sir Roger’s two illegitimate sons. The four of them hailed one another enthusiastically, Kit grabbing Hal Payne in a headlock and forcing him to drop his pastry and yell till his face turned puce.
“Boys are so rough,” Lenora tutted. “I must say, these squires seem to have rather more free time than I would have anticipated.”
His mouth twisted into a grim smile, but he said nothing. Garman was definitely a man of fewer words than she was used to, but she wouldn’t say he hoarded them like a miser. If he had something to say, he said it. If he did not, then he did not mouth empty platitudes. She fancied she was getting rather used to it.
Lenora spent a pleasant afternoon. The bohort was quite easily the least formal event she had ever watched at a tourney. The first part seemed to be an exercise on which knight could throw a lance the farthest. The second round was the same again, but this time with the squires. The most impressive advanced to the next round by turn until their numbers were whittled down to a final few.
“I’ve never seen the squires compete before,” she exclaimed with surprise.
Garman was largely silent, and she found his eyes on her as much as the competition, a fact which he did not seem embarrassed by. It was only halfway through proceedings that she realized she had completely forgotten to don her head veils before leaving the tent.
Garman was leaning back against a wooden railing and watched her distractedly pat her head and glance about. “You didn’t put them on again, after we climbed out of bed,” he said, deducing the source of her agitation. She gave an exclamation of annoyance. “It little signifies, Lenora.”
“Only unmarried women wear their heads bare,” she pointed out a little tartly.
“No-one is likely to forget you’re married, when I’m right here at your side.” Lenora looked up at him. Well, that was true enough. You could hardly miss him. “I’ll remind you next time,” he said and turned back to the action on the field.
Sir Ned Bevan, another close friend of Roland’s emerged the eventual victor of the knights. Lenora clapped enthusiastically with the crowd as Sir Ned bowed, holding his shield aloft. “A worthy winner,” she murmured and saw Garman’s glower. “You do not care for Sir Edward?”
“I know no ill of him, save that he’s a strong competitor and not to be taken lightly.”
“Some would call that high praise,” Lenora remarked as she rose from the bench. He frowned but did not argue the point.
“You must have had friends among your fellow squires when you were Kit’s age,” she remarked as the squires once more took to the field with the final five. Cuthbert Ames was one of their number and easily took the prize with his rather unorthodox technique of a run up comprising of five steps of varying length.
“I did. The Hainfroys.”
Oh. Of course. Except, they would not have been travelling to and from tournaments with Sir Bernhard, but rather battlefields.
“What manner of master was Sir Bernhard?” she asked impulsively.
“The best. Hard but fair.”
“I see.” She felt a sudden conviction Garman would take his old master’s tone with her cousin and fell silent as she noticed some nudging and murmuring had broken out among the squires ranks. It quickly progressed to flying fists and Lenora was dismayed to see Kit and Hal Payne in the thick of it as fighting broke out. “Whatever is going on?” she blurted. “Why does someone not stop it?”
“Likely someone said something about their friend’s win,” Garman said mildly. “I do not think your cousin will accept a slight about anyone he deems of his circle.”
“He’s too hot-headed by far!” Lenora fretted. “Why do the knights not stop it?” she asked, getting to her feet. To her consternation it seemed to her a good number of the knights were cheering the boys on.
Garman’s hand at her shoulder prevented her from moving forward. “Stay here!” he said, striding forward into the fray. Lenora watched him roughly shove Hal and a large curly-headed lad apart, then grab Kit firmly by the scruff of his neck and drag him from a scuffle with what looked like a pair of ferocious-looking twins.
Lenora glared at the knights who were booing to see the sport broken up too soon.
“For shame, Orde!” bellowed one such knight, Lenora vaguely recognized as of impeccable reputation. Garman ignored him, dragging both boys over to the side. “Spoil-sport!”
“Kit!” Lenora hurried down the steps. “Why are you marring Cuthbert’s win with such behaviour?”
“You don’t understand,” her cousin muttered angrily, though his gaze dropped from hers.
“They call Ames ‘witch’s brat’,” Hal Payne explained in a hoarse voice, his face scarlet with fury. “And say he uses sorcery to win when he beats them.”
“What nonsense!” Lenora said bracingly and ignored the rude gesture Kit gave to someone over her shoulder. “You should rise above such things. Is that not so?” she addressed Garman.
He gave her a level-look. “I would not let such a thing pass,” he admitted before looking away.
“Oh.” She covered her confusion by reaching for a handkerchief for Hal’s bloodied nose. At this point, Cuthbert came sauntering over. He looked none too concerned to find Kit with a swollen eye and Hal’s nose spurting which made Lenora wonder if this might not be a regular occurrence.
“My best win by a long-shot,” he said with a grin. Kit ruffled his hair and Hal slung an arm around his shoulders. “I’ll treat you with my winnings,” Cuthbert said, holding up a bulging leather purse with a triumphant flourish.
The five of them made their way back through the field of stalls and Lenora found she and Garman were included when Cuthbert bade them pick out some treats. Lenora selected a marzipan cake and a jelly flavored with violets. She thought Garman would refuse the offer, but in the end he chose gingerbread and Hal and Kit so many things Lenora wondered if they would spend all of Cuthbert’s winnings. He seemed cheerful enough as he handed over his coins.
“What are you boys doing now?” Lenora asked and all three of them immediately looked evasive. “Not fighting?” she asked with misgiving.
“Oh no,” Cuthbert assured her. “Though I mean to relieve Harlow of his purse before the evening’s over.”
“Dice cup,” Hal explained when Lenora looked alarmed.
“Which one was Harlow?
” asked Garman with grudging interest.
“Colin Harlow, the large braggart with the loud voice,” Kit answered darkly.
“Small piggy eyes,” put in Hal. When Lenora still looked unsure, he added cheerfully, “The one I was fighting while Kit took on the Carleton twins.”
The boys took their leave of them at the edge of the field, giving Lenora many assurances that they would not get into any brawls.
“I’m not sure I wholly believe them,” Lenora said as they crossed into the next field.
“You’re learning,” Garman replied with the ghost of a smile. “There will be mischief, but I doubt they’ll come to much harm.”
“What about young Harlow?”
“Penniless by morn. Young Ames seems to have a far more practical idea of revenge than mere fisticuffs.”
“How wicked of those boys to raise his parentage against Cuthbert.”
“Is he a witch’s brat, then?” Garman asked without much interest.
“So, I believe. He has the second sight.”
Garman grunted. “He has connections to a powerful family at court. I doubt anyone would seriously challenge him.”
“He seems a most resourceful boy, and not at all cowed,” Lenora agreed. “I will have to ask Eden about his precise connection to the Vawdreys.” Garman shot a keen look at her. “What did I say?”
“Have you always been so interested in the lives of others?” he asked with a frown.
Lenora’s step faltered. “Not really,” she admitted. “In fact, one time, someone counselled me I should take more of an interest in my fellow mankind.”
He gave a snort. “You could hardly be more invested!”
“In truth, it seems to come quite naturally to me now. Perhaps, since my illness passed,” she mused. “If you’re jousting on the morrow, are you thinking to take supper up at the manor house this evening?” she asked as they approached their pavilion.
“Did you want to?” he asked as he held the tent open for her.
“Not particularly,” she admitted.
“Then let’s turn in early.”
She felt relieved to be avoiding another evening up at Kellingford Manor, for all Sir Roger was so genial.
The Unlovely Bride (Brides of Karadok Book 2) Page 21
