An Earthly Knight Page 10

  In spite of the earl’s indifference, Jenny found herself at the centre of attention. Everywhere she looked, someone was ready to give her a smile or a nod, except Lady Margaret, who looked as if she would gladly have poisoned Jenny’s food if it were not being shared by the king’s brother. Because she envies me, Jenny thought. Even though her disappointment at Earl William’s rudeness was sharp, the attention was flattering.

  Earl William did not turn to her until the sweets were served. Then, suddenly, he said, “Where did you learn to ride like that?”

  “At home,” Jenny said. She wanted to make a good impression, but this was hardly brilliant conversation. “My brother Eudo taught me,” she added.

  “Ah, yes, Sir Eudo Avenel. Comte de Burneville speaks highly of him. Is your father a wealthy man?”

  This was such a bald question, Jenny dropped her eyes. “My father is not as wealthy as Sir Robert,” she said truthfully, but pride pushed her on. Her chin went up. “I have a fine tocher, though, my lord.”

  “Do you indeed? Well, that counts in your favour. And you are not ugly by any means.”

  Jenny was grateful to the man down the table who called to Earl William just then, for her face burned with shame. This was not courtship.

  When the meal was over, she rose to escape to her father and Eudo. “Where are you going, demoiselle?” Earl William demanded.

  “I thought you would prefer the company of your friends, my lord,” Jenny said.

  “But you are my companion for the evening.”

  To Jenny’s surprise, he grabbed her hand as everyone moved outside. Jenny glanced over her shoulder to her father, who gave her an encouraging smile. Jenny’s spirit lifted a little. Perhaps this was how an earl courted after all.

  An almost full moon had risen and the breeze was gentle. Sir Robert had ordered a fire built in the bailey yard. Someone tried to seat Earl William in a heavy chair that had been dragged outside for his benefit, but he waved it away. “Come, sit, so I might know you better,” he said to Jenny. She sat on a bench beside him. He pressed his leg against her far too closely, but she knew she could not remove herself.

  And still he ignored her, seeming to prefer the entertainment. Sir Robert’s harper played, but not nearly so well as Cospatric, Jenny thought. Then he told a story of King Arthur. When he finished, Earl William turned to Jenny and said, “A fine story, was it not?” She could see he did not expect her to disagree, so she said nothing. Jenny found she cared very little for the stories of King Arthur and his court. The women were all either evil or passive. She preferred the old ballads, where women often won the day through bravery or virtue. She wondered what Earl William might make of her opinion. The thought of disagreeing with him made her smile to herself. Earl William caught her eye just then and thought she was smiling at him. He clapped his hand on her knee in a companionable way. Jenny would have moved if he had not taken it away at once.

  “Let us have some dancing, the night is so fine,” Sir Robert called.

  “My daughter sings the old rondes,” a voice called out. Jenny was mortified to hear her father. “Do you sing, my lady?” he addressed this question to Lady Margaret.

  Until that moment, Jenny had supposed “looking down your nose” was just a figure of speech, but Lady Margaret did indeed manage to look down her nose as she replied. “We keep a serving girl for that sort of thing,” she said. “Send to the kitchens for Mary.”

  The girl arrived, wiping her hands on her skirt and ducking her head in shyness. She had flaming red hair and a lovely face, a pale oval in the moonlight. Jenny had no choice but to go to her. The party took up riddling games to amuse themselves while the music was sorted out.

  Jenny quickly discovered that Mary had been well schooled in the old dances. She knew every song Jenny had learned, and more. “Can you lead?” Jenny asked.

  “Lead you, my lady?” The girl looked appalled. “Aye, Mary, if you would. My sister always leads at home and she is not here tonight.”

  The girl must have heard the plea in Jenny’s voice, because she did not argue.

  When the riddling was over, everyone called for dancing again. Lady Margaret quickly arranged them in a huge circle around the fire. “Start with something simple,” Jenny whispered to the girl.

  Mary began a simple ronde. Her French was so awkward, Jenny was fairly sure the girl had no idea what she was singing. But that hardly mattered, because her voice was beautiful. It soared into the gentle night air like the song of a lark, leaving Jenny to hop behind like a sparrow with a broken wing. The simple round dance that went with the song created a rhythmic shuffling—one-two-three, one, one-two-three, one—that helped hide Jenny’s voice, but she knew she was outclassed. Earl William’s eyes shone, but he looked at the servant girl, not at Jenny.

  The dancing went on and on until Jenny finally begged to be relieved. Another singer took her place, but Mary kept singing as if she were born to. Jenny joined the line beside Eudo. Earl William did not claim her again. His admiration for the serving girl was so obvious that Jenny saw other men exchanging winks.

  The sky was bright before the dancing ended and Jenny was finally able to bed down among the other visitors in the great hall. She fell asleep almost before she closed her eyes, too exhausted to feel the disappointment she knew would be waiting for her in the morning.

  Sunlight streamed into the hall as the servants made a show of setting up the tables, so that the visitors would know it was time to get up. Jenny blinked in the bright light on the way to the chapel to hear Mass with everyone else. The place of honour set aside there for Earl William was empty. He did not appear at breakfast, either.

  As soon as Jenny could, she spoke to her father alone. “Papa, we should leave this place.”

  He did not argue. “I will tell my men to make ready and bid Sir Robert goodbye. Meet me in the stable yard.”

  Soon after, Jenny hugged Eudo goodbye. As she did, she realized she had been too taken with her own concerns to find time to talk to him about Isabel. Looking past her brother’s shoulder, she saw the servant girl, Mary, in the distance by the kitchen shed. She was slumped against a wall, looking exhausted. When she saw Jenny, she quickly looked away. She fears she has shown me for the bad singer that I am, poor girl, Jenny thought. She cannot help my voice. But she liked Mary even better for her modesty. Life must be hard for such a pretty girl in Lady Margaret’s household. Well, I am not Lady Margaret and I never will be, Jenny thought. She pulled a long white ribbon from her hair and called to one of her father’s men.

  “Give this ribbon to the servant girl with red hair who stands by the kitchen door,” she said, “with my blessings for her lovely voice.“

  The girl took the ribbon and looked at Jenny, her face white and stricken. Then she turned and fled. Jenny was puzzled. She must be overwrought from so much work with so little sleep, Jenny thought. I feel much the same myself.

  Jenny was happy to climb into the hated horse litter. Here, finally, she could be alone with her disappointment. Lady Bethoc and Brother Bertrand had been mistaken to think that Earl William would take a wife. Still, all the attention had pleased her—even to feel Lady Margaret’s jealousy and know it could not harm her while she sat in Earl William’s shadow. With regret, Jenny realized she might have enjoyed being the wife of the king’s brother.

  Before they could move, Jenny heard a commotion. The tilt was flung aside and there stood Earl William, red-faced and angry. “Do you mean to go without bidding me adieu, Lady Jeanette?” he demanded. “What manner of trick is this?”

  Jenny was too shocked to reply. After a moment, she managed to close her mouth, but words had somehow deserted her. Her silence seemed to calm Earl William. “Bide a bit,” he said more kindly, “I would speak with your father.” And he drew the vicomte aside.

  When they returned, Jenny’s father was smiling broadly. Earl William bowed to Jenny, who had recovered enough to remember it was not polite to remain seated while he stood
. She climbed down from the litter. He was not as tall as he had seemed the night before.

  “Give me your hand, Lady Jeanette,” he commanded. Jenny could not have disobeyed if she had wanted to. The full force of his attention was totally compelling. “Let us part as friends,” he said, and he kissed her hand.

  Jenny climbed back into the chair in a daze.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jenny longed to know what Earl William had said to her father, but her pride would not let her ask while the servants could hear, and servants were always near on the journey home. She amused herself on the long ride by reliving the scene in the stable yard over and over, with different witnesses. She tried to envision the look Lady Margaret might have worn had she seen Earl William kiss Jenny’s hand. She did not allow herself to think about the night before.

  Her father smiled always when he saw her. On the second evening, as they stopped to demand hospitality at a small fermtoun, he dropped a hint. “Next time you go to Earl William, he says you should ride.” Jenny longed to know more, but she wanted to prove she could behave like a lady.

  That night, she was almost too excited to sleep.

  If I were married to Earl William, she thought, perhaps I could keep Isabel with me, as a companion. And she fell asleep dreaming she would be her sister’s salvation.

  When they arrived in Langknowes, Jenny saw everything with new eyes. The town was just a collection of ill-made wattle huts. Even her father’s hall seemed small and poor.

  Isabel was waiting for them by the stable.

  “What word do you bring me from Eudo?” she asked.

  “Why, he sends you love, of course,” Jenny said, kissing her sister to avoid meeting her eyes. She did not want Isabel to know she had not even thought to ask Eudo for a message for their sister.

  But it was not in Isabel’s nature to focus on herself. “And Jenny, what of you? How did you fare with Earl William?”

  “Our father knows better than I,” Jenny said, glancing over her shoulder. “But I suppose we must wait until he has spoken with the men to hear what he has to say.”

  Walking to the bower, Jenny told Isabel, “I sat by Earl William’s side at the banquet. I ate from his dish and everyone smiled at me.” Jenny knew she was changing the story in the telling, making things sound better than they had been. She found she could not tell Isabel how Earl William had ignored her, or how the servant girl had outshone her at the dance. She had already learned never to think about the way Earl William had looked at Mary. If I am to be a great lady, she told herself, such thoughts will be beneath me.

  When their father finally joined them, Jenny grabbed his hand. “Now tell me Papa, for I have been good and waited until we could speak alone.”

  Her father smiled. “You were a lady in all things, Jeanette, once we got you off that horse. Earl William said he likes a lass with spirit. He bids you come see him next week at Roxburg where he will ride in a tournament.”

  “Next week! Why so soon?”

  “Afterward, he says, he will be away to his sister’s wedding.”

  Jenny stamped her foot. “But I have no time to prepare. I should at least have another new dress.” Too late, she realized she had yelled the words. Half the bailey must have heard her. Isabel and her father stared. Jenny looked at the floor, but did not apologize. Someone of my standing should get out of the habit of offering apologies, she told herself. “Did he say nothing of marriage, Papa?” She could not keep the disappointment from her voice.

  Her father seemed willing to forgive her. He shook his head. “No, but we may hope.”

  Jenny wrung her hands. “How can I prepare myself? Do you know anything about the tournaments?”

  Her father shook his head. “They have changed greatly since I was young. King Malcolm and his brother learned the new ways in France when they rode with the king of England to Toulouse to defend Queen Eleanor’s claim to lands there.”

  Jenny sighed. “If only Eudo were here to teach me what I should know.” Her father and Isabel suddenly seemed useless. And she could not bring herself to be schooled by her father’s knights.

  “Come now, Jenny, smile,” Isabel said. “You will travel all the way to Roxburg.”

  “Yes,” her father said, “and you may ride.”

  Jenny lifted her chin. “Aye, and Earl William shall wait for me.”

  But in bed that night, Jenny fretted. How would she know how to behave at Roxburg? She was drifting off to sleep when her eyes suddenly opened wide. Of course! Tam Lin knew about tournaments, and Roxburg as well. The promise she had made to herself never to visit Carter Hall again seemed silly now. Tam Lin could be useful to her. But she would need an excuse to visit the forest. She remembered what her father had said about the young falcons. Tomorrow, she would see Ranulf in the mews.

  Jenny did not manage to escape from Galiene and Isabel until the afternoon. The mews was dark, to keep the hawks calm, but clean and airy. Unlike the sheds that housed the other animals, it was not smelly. Her father’s hunting hawks rustled quietly on their perches at the back of the shed.

  Ranulf sat on a bench in a shaft of sunlight, tying small bells onto strips of leather. When he saw her, his disfigured face creased into a smile. “I will need new bells and a hood and leather to make new jesses for that young falcon, my lady.”

  Jenny smiled. “Could you find what you need in Roxburg?”

  “Yes, certainly. The royal burghs have all manner of goods.”

  “We are going there next week, my father and I. Ask him if you may come too. Now, I would like to see the eyrie. Take me there, please.”

  “Yes, indeed, if you could just wait until—”

  “No, now,” Jenny said. She tried to make her voice sound commanding. If she waited, someone might see her and stop them.

  “Yes, my lady, if you wish.” Ranulf was not pleased.

  Jenny felt badly for treating him so, but quickly pushed her feelings aside. My father is entirely too soft with his servants, she thought, which was fine, perhaps, for a man of his rank, but not for her.

  Ranulf said nothing while the horses were saddled, but Jenny pretended not to care. If sullen silence went with obeying commands, she would have to get used to that as well. She did not ride La Rose as hard as she would have before her trip to Lilliesleaf. Instead, she tried to imagine herself riding by Earl William’s side. The little mare would have preferred a gallop and was restive, but Jenny ignored her. Surely the wishes of a servant or a horse should mean nothing to me, she told herself.

  “How do you view the eyrie without disturbing the birds?” Jenny asked when they reached the foot of the knowe.

  “I found a ridge below the eyrie at a distance from it. It gives a good view, but they seem to know I cannot harm them from there,” he said as he tethered his horse. “We will have to be quiet, of course, my lady, or they might take fright.” He turned his back and started up the hill without waiting. “The birds recognize no rank.”

  Jenny could only dismount and follow as quickly as she could. He had said nothing that might allow her to accuse him of insolence, yet she felt the rebuke in his words. As the climb grew steeper, Ranulf did not slacken his pace for her. Jenny bit her lip, remembering how friendly he had been in the spring.

  She crested a ridge to find Ranulf waiting at the edge of a sudden precipice. He motioned for her to crouch near him, their backs to a ridge of stone. Without speaking, he pointed across the chasm and up to a crag. There, at the base of a stunted rowan, was the eyrie. Jenny would not have found it without his direction.

  The two birds on the ledge beneath the rowan looked so big that Jenny wondered if the eyases had already fledged. But then a falcon arrived with a limp swallow in its talons, half the feathers already plucked from the body. The two birds in the eyrie began bobbing and screeching, jostling each other in their efforts to attract the bits of meat their mother was stripping from the swallow’s body. Although they were already the size of fully grown birds, the
se were indeed the eyases. The falcon looked across the chasm directly at Jenny and Ranulf just once, as if to show she knew she was being watched. She did nothing else to acknowledge their presence, but did not leave the eyrie when her young finished their meal.

  Ranulf finally motioned, Jenny to follow him down the knowe. She left the birds reluctantly. The path was steep and difficult, and Jenny did not try to speak at first.

  “They are wonderful,” she finally said when they were near the horses. “I could have stayed there all day.”

  Her enthusiasm seemed to thaw him a little. He grinned. “I come here whenever I can. They scarcely take note of me now, as you saw. One of those eyases is a falcon, I am certain.”

  “When will you take her?”

  “Not until after they fledge. We call them ‘branchers’ then because of the way they fly from branch to branch in the forest, still uncertain of their wings. The dame and sire fly about with prey in their talons, teaching the branchers to hunt. That is the time to take them, when they have learned much, but are not yet ready to hunt alone. Those eyases will take to the sky any day now, but it will be weeks before the young falcon is ready for the mews.”

  “You must train her well, Ranulf. She may fly with the king of Scotland himself one day,” Jenny said.

  As they reached the horses, Jenny remembered the real reason she had come to the forest. “You have been good to bring me here. Now, I would like some time in the forest alone.” She turned her face to La Rose as she spoke so it would not betray her. Once, she had promised him she would not go to Carter Hall.

  “My lady, your father would not wish you alone in the woods, I am sure.”