“Do it now,” Tate commanded. “Clean linen on the bed, a warm fire and a hot bath.”
Tate sharply turned his back on him and headed into the dark, dank depths of the keep. It was a creepy place, smelling of must and spooks. Toby’s grip around Tate’s neck instinctively tightened as he took her into the unfamiliar bowels. He could feel her tensing in his arms.
Behind him, Wallace was grumbling and growling as he followed. It seemed the man wasn’t finished voicing his opinion yet about women in Harbottle.
“My lord, we have no clean linen,” he said pointedly. “What we have cannot be considered fitting for females.”
Tate sighed heavily and came to a halt. He turned to face the man. “God’s Blood, man, then go and wash some. Hang them out to dry before a blazing fire and put some water on to boil. If I have to command this again I swear I will throw you out on your arse and you can find yourself another liege.”
Wallace scowled at him but wisely held his tongue. His grizzled gaze moved between his lord and the lady in his arms. Tate could read the man’s disgruntled thoughts and suppressed the urge to smile; Wallace was a complainer but he would get the job done. He was just being old and stubborn and difficult. Tate’s gaze moved to Toby’s beautiful face, a light of magnificence in this dark and dreary place.
“This is Mistress Elizabetha Cartingdon,” he told his majordomo. “Mistress, meet Wallace, the majordomo of Harbottle. He is at your disposal.”
Before Toby could acknowledge the introduction, Tate turned for the great hall off to his left, a huge cavernous room that was dark but for the fire that Stephen was attempting to coax from a hearth that was taller than he was. Ailsa sat on a bench nearby, shrouded by the dark and wrapped in her blanket as she watched Stephen try to get a blaze going. Her little face turned towards the doorway as Tate and Toby entered.
“I do not like this place,” she announced, hopping off the bench and running to her sister. “It frightens me. I want to go home!”
Tate gently put Toby down and the two sisters embraced tightly.
“Our home is here for now,” Toby said softly, feeling distaste for the place even as she said it. “I will return to Forestburn in a few days and we shall see what is left. We can rebuild.”
Ailsa buried her face in Toby’s stomach. “But I want to go home now.”
Toby soothed her weary, frightened little sister. “We cannot go home now. You must accept this. For today, we will have food and a little rest and things will look better.”
“I want my father!”
Toby shushed her. “He is gone, little chicken. You must accept this also.”
Ailsa began to sob softly and Toby steered her sister over to the bench. The two of them sat and comforted each other, the soft sounds of the child’s weeping filling the air. Tate watched them a moment, feeling his guilt return. But he also realized one thing very quickly; he liked having Toby within these walls. He liked having her with him. And having Ailsa around was like having a daughter at his feet like the one lost those years ago. It was a warm, fulfilling sensation, something he’d never before experienced. It was also dangerous for he could imagine quite easily forgetting everything of import except for the two small women before him.
To his left, Stephen managed to get the fire going. A soft, warm light radiated from the hearth, growing brighter by the moment. The big knight stood up and brushed soot off his hands.
“That will do for now,” he said to Tate, eyeing the two sisters as they consoled each other. “We must prepare a chamber for them. Both ladies need much rest.”
As Tate nodded, Wallace scowled a few feet away. “This is no comfort-palace, Lord Tate,” he said frankly. “There are only men at Harbottle and ever have been. Women do not belong in this place.”
Tate eyed him. “Be that as it may, women are here and you will make them comfortable. I will hear no more of your complaints. Is that clear?”
Rather than challenge him, for he had already pushed his lord farther than he should have, Wallace merely shrugged and turned away to presumably go about his duties. Tate and Stephen watched the old man shuffle away, muttering to himself, and Tate finally shook his head.
“Go and see if there is something in the kitchens for the ladies to eat,” Tate asked Stephen quietly. “I shall go and check on the state of my chamber to see what needs to be done in order to make it livable.”
Stephen departed for the kitchens that were outside of the keep, situated to the west against the fortress walls. As he moved into the dawn, Tate turned back to the women only to see that Toby was nearly upon him.
“Go and sit by the fire,” he put his hands on her shoulders to turn her around. “I will go and see to your chamber.”
Toby tried to shake him off. “I cannot sit and do nothing,” she said. “You must let me help. Where is Stephen going? Perhaps I can help him.”
Tate was trying not to be harsh with her. “I want you to sit and rest. The past few days have been very traumatic for you. Moreover, Ailsa needs you. She is very upset right now. I shall see to your chamber and you stay here where it is warm and bright.”
Toby managed to plant her feet so that he wasn’t shoving her back towards the bench. Brushing stray hair from her eyes, she faced him.
“Please,” she begged softly. “Please let me help you. I feel so useless right now. I feel as if I must be doing… something.”
He knew that she was a woman used to being very busy. And he also knew she was feeling weak and disoriented; she was still very pale and not at all recovered from her bout with illness. Before he could stop himself, he kissed her on the forehead and turned her back for the bench.
“Go and sit with your sister,” he instructed softly. “Warm yourself and I shall return shortly.”
His lips on her forehead had left a searing brand. Toby was still feeling it. “But….”
He cut her off and gave her another gentle shove to the bench. “Elizabetha, please,” he insisted softly. “I will feel better knowing you are safe and warm right where I left you. I shall return as quickly as I can.”
Toby didn’t argue further; she watched him fade into the dimness of the hall and into the stair hall beyond. He had a confident, stalking gait that she’d noticed before but never gave a tremendous amount of thought to until this moment. There was something about it that made her heart swell strangely. And the kiss… she touched her forehead as if she could still feel his lips there. Behind her, she heard Ailsa’s soft voice.
“Why did he kiss you?” she asked, curious. “I saw him do it. Why did he do it?”
Toby’s fingers lingered on her forehead a moment before dropping to her side. “I do not know,” she turned back to her sister, noting that the fire was gaining in strength and she scooted the bench towards it. “Perhaps he feels sorry for us. Perhaps he was just showing pity.”
Ailsa frowned. “He would kiss you to show pity?”
Toby’s thoughts lingered on the kiss before she looked at her sister, returning the frown. “Stop asking so many questions. Take off that blanket and move closer to the fire.”
Ailsa stuck her tongue out at her sister before shrugging the blanket off and lifting her hands to the delicious warmth of the fire. All manner of thoughts were rolling through her little mind as she watched the flames jump. She cast her sister a long look.
“Do you suppose that you shall become Lady Dragonblade?” she asked innocently.
With a scowl, Toby smacked her sister on the behind and Ailsa yelped. “No more talk of that,” she hissed. “I am in no mood for it.”
Ailsa made all sorts of faces at her sister, who soundly ignored her. When Ailsa realized that her sister was not reacting, she turned back to the fire. It was warm and wonderful on her face and she began to perk up. Her bright eyes moved about the hall, inspecting it, her curiosity now outweighing her disorientation.
The sounds of boots suddenly smacked in the keep entry. Both Ailsa and Toby turned to see Kenneth and the
young squire entering the keep. Kenneth was removing his helm and peeling back his hauberk as Edward began sneezing. Ailsa left her post by the fire and ran to the squire.
“Are you ill?” she asked eagerly. “My father told me that wine cures all illness. Perhaps you should drink.”
Edward took on the familiar petrified look as Ailsa focused her attention on him. He veered away from her, moving to the opposite side of the great table, but Ailsa followed him. When he sat, she sat. Edward sneezed again, trying not to sneeze on Ailsa as she sat right next to him.
“Do you feel ill?” she pressed.
Edward shook his head, trying to discreetly scoot away from her. “Nay, I am fine. Just dust in my nose.”
Ailsa saw that he moved away from her and she closed the gap. “It is good that you are not ill. Toby is only now feeling better; is that not so, Toby?”
Toby turned to look at her sister as she pursued the terrified squire across the bench. Edward would scoot and Ailsa would scoot right after him. She motioned to her sister.
“Ailsa, come over here to the fire,” she was attempting to help the lad out. “’Tis too cold over there.”
Ailsa wouldn’t even look at her sister; she was gazing adoringly up at the pale-faced squire. “Where were you born?” she asked him.
Edward looked at her with the same fear that one would have when gazing upon a man-eating beast. “I… I was born in London.”
Ailsa batted her big green eyes at him. “I have never been to London. I hope to go someday. Do you suppose you will ever go back?”
Edward was starting to grow red around the ears. “I hope to.”
“Ailsa,” Toby hissed firmly. “Come over by the fire. If I have to get up to retrieve you, you will be very sorry.”
Ailsa noticed her sister, then. Threats always made her notice, mostly because she knew that Toby wasn’t bluffing. But she wouldn’t give up so easily; she grabbed Edward by the hand and began climbing off the bench.
“Come over by the fire,” she urged him. “It is warmer there. You can tell me more about London.”
Edward didn’t want to yank his hand away but he was truly terrified of the young girl. He followed her dumbly until they got within range of Toby, who mercifully reached out and disengaged her sister’s grip on the young man.
“Leave him alone,” she told her sister quietly. “He has duties to attend to.”
Ailsa looked outraged, then disappointed. She gazed up at the tall young man. “Do you really have duties to attend to?”
Edward nodded feebly. “I… I must bed the horses.”
“Go, then,” Toby said, smiling encouragingly at him when he didn’t move. “If you do not, then Ailsa will talk your ear off.”
Edward nodded, his gaze moving between Toby and Ailsa, before fleeing the hall. Toby watched him go until a large obstacle was suddenly in her line of sight. Kenneth had moved up to the fire, his big body blocking out half the hall from where he stood. As Ailsa moved away to pout, Toby shook her head and returned her attention to the blaze.
“Your squire is going to have to learn to stand up for himself,” she muttered to Kenneth. “Ailsa will take over his will to live if he is not careful.”
Much to her surprise, Kenneth actually snorted. “He has more courage than he displays,” he replied, holding up his big hands to warm them. “I would not worry about him.”
Toby lifted an eyebrow as if she didn’t believe him. “How old is he?”
“Fourteen years,” Kenneth replied.
Again, Toby shook her head. “And Ailsa is ten. She will soon be asking if he is betrothed. She is desperate, even at her age, to find a mate. I do believe she has little friends telling her that she must be wed by the time she is fourteen or she will become a spinster like me.”
Kenneth did look at her, then. “As for the squire, tell your sister to set her sights on someone else as he is already betrothed,” he told her. “As for you being a spinster, I suspect that will not be true forever.”
Toby’s head jerked in his direction, her hazel eyes wide with surprise. “Why in the world would you say that?”
“Because you are beautiful and wealthy. You are a fine prize.”
Stunned, Toby lowered her gaze and looked back to the fire. The big blond knight had barely said two words to her since their introduction and suddenly he was telling her that she was beautiful. She didn’t know what to say.
Fortunately, Stephen saved her from further bewilderment. He entered the hall with loaves of bread in his hands, followed by an old male servant with spindly legs and long, stringy white hair. The old man carried a tray with food laden upon it. Just as Stephen reached the table, Ailsa suddenly forgot her pouting and she rushed to the big knight as he put the bread down. In fact, she grabbed a loaf right out of his hand.
“It is brown,” she declared flatly. “I do not like brown bread. I want white.”
“You will take what you are offered and be grateful for it,” Toby said sharply, quietly. “Now sit and eat. Stop making a nuisance of yourself.”
More pouting from Ailsa. The old man who had accompanied Stephen pulled back the cloth that covered the tray he had carried. He picked up a small earthenware jar and held it timidly in Ailsa’s direction.
“Do you like honey, my lady?” he asked gently. “A little honey on the bread will make you think that angels themselves eat it.”
Ailsa eyed the jar. “I… I like honey.”
The old man smiled at her and put the jar down, taking a hunk of the brown bread and slathering some white butter upon it. Then he poured honey all over it and handed the sticky-sweet mess to Ailsa.
She grinned and took it gladly, chewing into it and getting honey on her face. Then she looked at the tray, inspecting the contents.
“What else did you bring?” she put her dirty fingers on the white cheese. “Is this all? No meat?”
Toby rolled her eyes. “Good Lord, Ailsa,” she breathed. “Can you not be grateful for the hospitality you are shown? One more ungracious word from you and you can go stay with the pigs. That is where you belong if you cannot show more manners.”
Ailsa took another big bite of bread and ignored her sister. She moved away from the table and wandered around the room, inspecting the walls, the floor, and anything else she could find. Somewhere along the line she began humming a tune; the fairy tune that Tate had sung the day before at Forestburn. Before long she was twirling about, bread on one hand and the edge of her surcoat in the other, dancing with unseen fairies or perhaps pale young men.
Toby watched her sister prance around the room, thankful that she was at least in better spirits. With the events of the past day, she wasn’t at all sure how Ailsa would recover. But it would seem that she was showing a good deal of resilience.
“You must eat also, mistress,” Stephen’s deep voice was low as he placed a hunk of bread before her. “You must regain your strength.”
Toby eyed the bread before gazing up at the enormous knight. “I thank you for your concern,” she said, “but I am not hungry. Perhaps something later.”
Stephen didn’t push. He sat down at the table a few feet away from her while Kenneth took position on the opposite side. Toby continued to watch her sister flit around the room as Kenneth and Stephen silently consumed the food on the tray.
“She seems to show few ill effects,” Stephen commented quietly.
Toby turned to look at him, watching him nod his head in Ailsa’s direction. She, too, refocused on her dancing sister. “I know,” she replied softly. “It is quite surprising, actually. She has never been particularly healthy and she has rarely been away from Forestburn. I was afraid that traveling all night in the cold air might have affected her health but she seems well enough.”
“Has she said anything more about your parents?” Stephen asked as he took another bite of bread.
Toby looked away from her frolicking sister. “Not much,” she picked at the bread that Stephen had put before her.
After a moment, she dared to look up at the men around her. “I have not yet asked but I suppose I should. Did… did you search for my parents?”
Stephen’s cornflower blue eyes were steady. “We found them in the rubble of the collapsed manor.”
Toby drew in a long breath. “I see,” she murmured, looking at the bread again. “May I ask what you did with them?”
“We left some men behind to bury them as we departed for Harbottle,” Kenneth answered her before Stephen could.
She looked at the very blond knight. “Where did you instruct that they should be buried?”
“We did not instruct. We left it to the judgment of the men.”
“So you do not know where my parents are buried?”
Kenneth looked at Stephen and the big knight cleared his throat softly. “I would suspect they are somewhere on the grounds of Forestburn,” Stephen said. “I will find out for certain if it will please you.”
Toby nodded faintly, looking back to her bread. She started to pick at it again but suddenly felt very much like taking in some fresh air. She needed it. Stiffly, she left the table, leaving Stephen and Kenneth behind in silence as her sister continued her dance around the room. The knights watched her go, knowing she would not go far in her condition. Kenneth returned to his food before Stephen did; the big knight watched the lady moved towards the entry to the keep, still gazing at the doorway even after she was gone.
It was cold outside as the deepening dawn struggled to lift the fog, strangely bright as the sunlight reflected off the mist. Still clad in the heavy broadcloth surcoat she had traveled in, Toby took the stairs slowly and ended up in the bailey. It wasn’t particularly busy but there were a few people about. As weak and exhausted as she was, it actually felt good to walk so she moved across the bailey in an aimless path. It was slow going. Thoughts of her parents rolled through her head, people who hadn’t been particularly kind to her for the duration of her life but people she was fond of. They were her parents, after all. But now they were gone.
The reality of their deaths began to sink in. She had been too ill to care yesterday but at the moment, she found that she cared a great deal. She traced the progression leading up to their deaths only to realize that she had been very ill for the past several days and recalled very little. The most she remembered was waking up to hear the young squire fighting off a monster of a man. She had tried to defend him. She remembered the man calling the squire young Edward, something that had no meaning until this moment. The intruder had seemed very certain that the squire’s name was Edward and not John as she had been told. Then Tate had brained the man before he could do any further damage.
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1 Page 179
