By Right of Arms

by Robyn Carr

  “What were you doing, Paulis?” she asked.

  “We were trimming down a plank for the wagon. The ax needed to be very sharp to plane the wood … and I slipped.”

  “You’re fortunate that you did not hurt yourself any worse. Carpentry is dangerous work for one so young. Ah, there’s one.”

  Paulis’s eyes shot to his hand and Aurélie held up a splinter with the sharp point of her dagger. Paulis’s eyes grew large. “I didn’t even feel it.”

  She smiled and gestured with her eyes toward the bowl. “Do not let my salve burn or boil,” she advised. She bent again to her task, dabbing away bits of blood with a rag. “Now, tell me, how many wagons do you propose to build?”

  “Oh, my lady, a dozen,” he said proudly. “There are several boys my age who are not needed in the fields, and Delmar promises to teach us to build many … Oh!”

  “Another,” she said, holding a large splinter up. “Paulis, my salve.”

  “Yea, madame. Delmar promises to show us how to build and carve. In winter, when there is not planting or harvest to occupy us, if Delmar has a room in which to do his woodworking, we will learn how to do many things. And then in summer, we shall …” His voice trailed off as Aurélie dug for a deep splinter.

  “Nearly done, Paulis. Watch my bowl, please, for I cannot.”

  “I do, my lady.”

  “Very good; now why is it you are so taken with wood? Your father works with leather, and I thought every boy of twelve wished to be a knight?”

  “But my lady, a boy has to be selected as a page before he can train as a knight.”

  There was a long shadow thrown over her work and Aurélie turned to see Girvin behind her. The huge knight was bent at the waist, watching her pluck slivers from the boy’s palm. She looked up at him with an exasperated sigh. “If you mean to stand so close to my work, Sir Girvin, you may tear this linen into strips. I will bandage Paulis’s hand in a moment. I’m nearly finished.”

  “Nearly finished?” the boy asked.

  “I told you it was not very bad. Paulis, dear, you must watch my salve. Now,” she said, when he had turned his head away again. “Why is it that you cannot become a page?”

  “Oh, my lady, these knights of Sir Hyatt do not need pages, and they are too busy to train any new ones. And all the pages who once served knights of de Pourvre are now working as serfs. And I am neither of the English army nor the de Pourvre troop. I would be the last to be chosen. And my grandfather says we must be grateful that we have a home at all, for the English army north of here destroyed every thing and person in its path.”

  “You must not accept defeat so easily, Paulis. Perhaps these knights of Hyatt can be persuaded to take you on one day.”

  Paulis turned bright eyes and a hopeful smile toward Aurélie. He whispered his secret. “I practice with a mock sword and lance, just in that case,” he said.

  “A page does not use a lance or sword,” a rumbling voice interrupted.

  Aurélie turned her head and glowered at Girvin. She did not think it was kind of him to dash the boy’s hopes. “Paulis, my salve. Sir Girvin, the strips.”

  They each resumed their tasks like good lackeys. But Girvin did not hold his tongue. “A page is more set to earning the right of training through hard work. ’Tis very hard, and breaks the desire of many boys. There is the keeping of the battle gear and horses, serving the knight’s table, study in the late hours of night. You have been misinformed if you think it is playing with weapons that a boy is invited to do.”

  Paulis looked bravely at the big knight. “I know it is hard work. I have watched the pages of Hyatt’s knights and I know what they do.”

  “And you think you could sustain such a rugged life?”

  “As easily as they do, sir knight,” he said. “Also, they fix their master’s pallets, mend their clothes, and shave their faces. And there is a special rite at mass they perform for the knights. I know the routine.”

  “Do you now? But you are slight for a lad of twelve and the armaments are heavy.”

  “I am not quite twelve and I am strong,” Paulis said indignantly. “Besides, I am strong enough to pull a bow.”

  “You are? Who gave you permission to practice arms?”

  He dropped his gaze. “I did not ask permission.”

  Aurélie reached past Paulis to lift the bowl. “I am finished with the splinters,” she said gently. “A little salve on your cut and we shall bind the hand.”

  “It did not hurt,” Paulis said happily.

  Aurélie touched the boy’s cheek. “I lied when I said it was not bad. It was a terrible wound and you are very brave. Now let me bandage it and you may go. But no more chores today. And tomorrow you must tell Delmar that I insist you have a less dangerous task.”

  Aurélie cast Girvin a damning look for baiting and insulting the boy and jerked the linen strips out of his hand. She tied the dressing and nodded her head. Paulis rose and made his way toward the door, his eyes studying the bandage.

  “So happens I am looking for a page.”

  Paulis whirled around and stared in awe at the huge knight.

  “I do not believe you are strong enough for the job, however.”

  “I am,” Paulis insisted. “I swear I am! Do you mean it, truly?”

  “The wagons are more important and I am too busy to train a page as yet. But on the morn after the wagons are complete, I will have need of a page. I keep my gear in the rear of the stable. Be there at dawn.”

  “Aye, Sir Girvin! At dawn!” Paulis hurried toward the door, but turned back. “Sir Girvin, may I tell my grandfather?”

  “It is essential that you tell him. A page must have his elder’s permission to serve a knight.” Girvin frowned darkly. “It seems, lad, that is the thing you have trouble learning about. Permission.”

  Paulis beamed as if his whole life had changed for the better. “Yea, sir knight. But I will learn. And I will be the best you ever had.” He fled the room and a burst of giggles could be heard on the far side of the door.

  Aurélie rose from her kneeling position and sat tiredly on the stool that Paulis had occupied. She shook her head and laughed, looking up at Girvin. She pushed a wisp of hair out of her face, exhausted but pleased. “That was very generous of you, Sir Girvin. You’ve made the lad very proud.”

  “He will earn it,” Girvin said. “I am not known to be tenderhearted.”

  “Not many know you, then,” she chuckled. “Sir Girvin, you are at once the most frightening, yet most docile knight in all Christendom. Your fierceness is all for demonstration.” He grunted a sour reply, but Aurélie just sighed, tired to her bones. “Does it ever seem there are not enough daylight hours?”

  “Hyatt should gather more serfs to do your bidding. If he wishes a healthy child, he must not work you so hard.”

  Aurélie laughed. “Hyatt seldom notices my work, Sir Girvin. He does not bid me labor. Like his, it is my desire to be occupied. It takes my mind off more unpleasant things, like Mistress Faon … and Sir Ryland.”

  “That will be over soon. Lady Aurélie, I know you are already beset with more tasks than you can easily do, but there is a need I have, and you are the one I would request.”

  “What is it, Girvin?”

  He bent and rolled down the legging over his right shin.

  A gash and a bloody bruise were exposed. The wound had already festered and Aurélie gasped at the sight of it.

  She stood up from the stool and with an impatient wave of her hand, requested that he sit. “When did this happen? You did not even limp.”

  “ ’Twas days ago, and Guillaume is good in the wood, but miserable at treating injuries. He slopped some swamp muck on the cut for a poultice, and I do believe it has worsened.”

  “Indeed,” she huffed. “Tell him for me that he need not be jealous of my healing skills. I shall gladly teach him, lest he maim some innocent soul with his ineptness.”

  Girvin’s rumbling laughter answered her. “
With pleasure, my lady. ’Tis a contest we have, to see who can fail whom.”

  “No doubt, but you should cease before one of you wanders about with a stump where a limb was. Why didn’t you come to me straightaway? More to the point, why do you not go to the old woman in Faon’s household? I hear that she is the true healer.”

  Girvin grunted. “I would go nowhere near Faon, even facing certain death. The old woman may be good, but she yet allies herself with the whore, and there is no way to trust her. And I could not draw you from your duties any sooner.” He smiled broadly. “I liked the way you handled the boy Paulis.”

  Aurélie cocked her head to one side. “Your wound is dreadful and my tending will cause much pain. I will have to cut it open. Would you like to watch my salve for me, or can you bear it?”

  Girvin took a deep breath. “Do your worst, Lady Aurélie. I trust your skill.”

  “Truly?” She shook her head and bent to the task before her. “I swear, this is a day I never anticipated.”

  “Forsooth, I thought you were a woman of greater faith.”

  She looked up at him in question, but could read nothing in the cold silver eyes. She tended the wound to the best of her ability, cutting the festered thing open, applying medicine and bandages, and finally pulling the legging up.

  Girvin stood, testing the leg. “It feels like new. You missed your chance to maim me.”

  She sighed heavily. “Why would I do that, Girvin? Something tells me I may need you one day.”

  He smiled again, amusement showing all over his face and his eyes twinkling in delight. “Ah, now there is the faith I spoke of.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Aurélie was slow to rise and was just standing before the washbasin when Hyatt was strapping on his belt, ready to leave the room. She splashed cool water on her face and sighed deeply. She moved slowly back toward the bed and rather than picking up her dress, she sat heavily.

  “Aurélie? Is there something amiss?”

  “Nay,” she said. “I think it is the hot weather, Hyatt. I began to notice yesterday that in the afternoon heat I am not very able. I was in the garden and …” She sighed and looked at him. “You will surely think I’ve become lazy.”

  “Are you unwell?”

  She rubbed a hand over her abdomen, which was just beginning to swell with her pregnancy. “I felt in the best of health until just the last few days.”

  Hyatt approached her and stooped to grasp her ankles. He lifted her legs onto the bed and she reclined obediently. “I shall ask Perrine to find at least one other woman to help you. And you, my lazy wife, shall rest more. I am anxious for another son.”

  She smiled and reached out to touch his hand. “You are letting your soft heart show, seigneur.”

  “Do you think I’ve gone soft because I speak good sense? Do not deceive yourself that you are pampered, madame. I take good care of my possessions and would no more abuse a perfectly good wife than I would ride a horse beyond its endurance. Stay abed for a day.”

  “Oh, Hyatt, I cannot lie abed. I would lose my mind. Especially with Ryland about. He creates mischief and I like to pass him in the hall just to see what he stirs up.”

  “You need not worry about Ryland much longer. His men are breaking up their camp and he prepares to leave.”

  “Today?”

  “Aye. After the noon meal.”

  She took a deep breath and put her hand on her brow. “Good heavens, that’s one problem solved.”

  “Name another you wish solved and I will do it for you.”

  She laughed at him, her eyes twinkling. “Oh no, Hyatt, you shall not trick me into pleading my case to you. You know my troubles well enough.”

  “Know them? I share some of them.” He walked toward the table and picked up his gauntlets. “You need not rise to accomplish this chore. I have need of your advice. A matter has been put before me and before I give my answer, I would like your opinion. Your priest has asked for my approval for a sojourn. There is a pilgrimage to Avignon, where a conference will be held. He wishes to go.”

  “Father Algernon?” she questioned. “What conference is this?”

  “I have no idea what meeting he speaks of, but then there is little possibility that the Church would inform me of their business. It has long been an understanding that any prelate may travel as is his like, but Algernon wishes a modest sum to pay for his journey, and he came to me.”

  “It seems odd, Hyatt. When does he go?”

  “He says that he can meet a group of traveling monks in late August and ride with their group to the city if I release him.”

  Aurélie was perplexed by the request. She was not aware whether Father Algernon had asked permission for such trips from Giles, but if he had, certainly every request must have been approved. “Monks and brothers and nuns often travel at harvest time, but much of their mission is to trade summer wines and collect tithes along their path. They are smart enough to do a great deal of traveling when there are goods and money enough along the way to better their collections. You can be assured that we see few such pilgrimages before planting.”

  “Do they pass here?”

  She nodded and her eyes became somewhat sad. “De la Noye has a reputation for being generous with such bands of prelates.”

  “They will be disappointed this time.”

  “Hyatt, do you mean to spurn them?”

  “I share equally with the Church. But what I have heard is that Giles was more than equal. If you count on me to give them more than is fair, you will be disappointed as well. A kindness, shelter, shared meal, a few coins … my generosity has a limit, and I doubt I shall be as admired as de Pourvre was.”

  “I would not have them denied,” she said.

  “Father Algernon shares your concern. He wishes to ensure that our gates be opened to the clerics. Perhaps you should draw out your hidden silver, my lady, for I will not have this estate thrown into ruin because of the begging Church. A man cannot praise God if he dies of starvation.” He looked at her scarlet cheeks. “Yea, my lady, I know you have hidden away some pittance, but I allow you that. If you think you save against my indiscretion, do so. I’m sure it was necessary with Giles.”

  “How long have you suspected that?”

  “Since I arrived,” he said with a shrug. “It is unimportant, since you do not steal from me until you attempt to take it out of De la Noye. Now that I will punish.”

  She frowned slightly, curious at the ease with which he accepted this. “You are no longer afraid that I shall flee?”

  He smiled roguishly. “You are a stubborn woman, but not stupid. And, we have common purpose.” He let his eyes drift over her reclining form, burning a lusty path from the top of her head to her bare feet. “And many common desires.”

  She reached obliquely and threw a small stuffed pillow at him. “I am unwell and you bother me with your rutting ways.”

  He fended off the pillow easily and laughed in good humor. He tucked his gauntlets into his belt and went to the door. “Go lightly today, Aurélie. ’Tis my pleasure you are meant to serve. Let the hearth go unscoured and floors unswept. I shall tell Perrine you have need of another woman.”

  “Hyatt, what will you tell the priest?”

  “I think I shall let him make his request again and again before I answer. Perhaps I shall find out why this journey is so important to him.”

  She smiled brightly. “That would have been my suggestion.”

  “Do you see?” he asked, opening the door. “We are very much alike, except that I am not as stubborn as you.”

  He left then and Aurélie lounged for a moment, hugging a pillow closely. She mused on how he spoiled her, then pretended that he was only being wise, not indulging. There was no mistaking the warm glow of passion in his eyes when he studied her. And whether he took her advice or not, he sought even her wisdom in combination with his own to manage this castle.

  She jumped in surprise as a stray castle cat jumped up o
n her bed, and once recognizing the golden-furred creature as the same one who had chased a mouse through their chamber earlier, she gave the feline friend a gentle petting.

  “Do you see how he tends to me?” she asked the cat. “Is it true, Puss, that his horse can attest to the same comforts, or do you think I lie gently on the harsh knight’s mind? He claims that he looks forward to another son, but when first we met he told me it was fortunate that I was barren, for he desired no more children.” She laughed happily. “Oh, the fierce warrior wishes to keep secret his true passions, and so we shall allow. He does not speak the words, but I begin to hear them just the same.”

  As if a cloud passed over, Aurélie’s face darkened with grimness. Her hand trembled slightly as she touched her abdomen, for she was overcome with nausea. Her brow began to perspire and she swallowed convulsively. When she lay very still and breathed deeply, the ill feeling began to subside slowly. It was not constant, but for nearly a week she had been plagued by spells of nausea and weakness.

  She was afraid to move from the bed, although she felt better almost as quickly as she had become ill. She knew women frequently suffered with this illness early in their pregnancies, and other problems like puffiness and backaches and headaches assailed some women as their time drew near. But it was commonly believed that the time after the child had begun to stir and before the day of confinement was near was the most comfortable. She was frightened by these spells, afraid that something was wrong, that she might not bring the child to life.

  The cat stirred beside her and stretched. Aurélie rubbed the cat’s stomach abstractly. “Pray God I do not fail in this, since I have longed for a child. It would make my husband proud. I do not admit this to anyone but you, but I wish to make him proud. I wish to have him love me.”

  * * *

  Aisla dallied in the garden, sniffing a flower, humming, and generally trying to keep herself far from the work. She was Thea’s opposite; short, plump, dark-haired, and giggly. They looked a bit odd together, since Thea was slim and had such sharp features and reddish-gold hair and was commonly known to have a sour expression on her face.