Lady Of Lyonsbridge

“I shall be offended if you don’t agree,” she told Kenton with a smile that she was only beginning to understand could turn a fierce knight into a veritable puppy dog.

His reaction did not disappoint her. His eyes wide, he rushed to assure her. “I’d not offend you for the world, milady. The problem is—”

“Then ’tis settled,” she interrupted gaily. And so it was decided. She sent Alfred’s grandson, Fredrick, to the village for Quentin, the brewer, who was to bring some of his finest ale, as well as the tambour he often used to entertain at fairs.

“On the way back, you can pay old Maeve a visit,” she told the young villein. “If she’s in her right head today, invite her as well. She can entertain us with her fortune-telling.”

Happier than she had been since the death of her father, Alyce spent the day busy with preparations, seeing to it that fresh rushes were strewn in the great hall, and putting Lettie to oversee the cooks. “Have them fix their finest dishes,” she told her, then added, “with nothing but freshly caught game. Bring in the stable boys to help with the skinning, if you need extra help.”

“’Tis a wonder Sir Thomas did not skin ye, Allie,” Lettie answered with a shake of her head, but as usual she went along with her young mistress’s plans.

By sundown the meal was ready and the brewer had arrived from the village, with a great cask of ale. He’d brought along his cousin, a huge bear of a man adept at picking out melodies on a ridiculously tiny harp.

Alyce was nearly giddy with excitement. Her mother had always been one to make a festive occasion with the slightest excuse. After her death, Sherborne parties were more subdued, and usually attended only by the castle residents themselves, since her father had wanted little contact with the outside world. Nevertheless, Alyce had many fond memories of warm evenings in the great hall. It was almost like having both her parents back to see the room filled with happy people enjoying merry company and good food.

Thomas sat by her side at the head table. His gaze was often on her, warm and admiring, but his manner was much more formal than it had been when he’d thought her a servant. Though it was what she should have expected, it made her a little sad. The smile she’d been wearing all evening dimmed briefly.

He seemed to notice the change at once. Leaning toward her, he observed in a conspiratorial whisper, “Was the stew left over from St. Swithin’s Day or were you able to obtain an even older vintage?”

His teasing voice and wink took the sting from the words. She gave a rueful laugh. “These rabbits were hopping around the meadow this very morning.”

Thomas looked at the trencher with a look of mock sorrow. “Ah, noble creatures. They sacrificed themselves to fill the bellies of a band of wandering knights.”

“I doubt they were given a choice in the matter,” Alyce replied. As she said the words, her smile faded.

Thomas lowered his head to peer into her eyes. “We all must eat, milady. ’Tis the lot of animals to be sacrificed.”

“Of animals, aye, and of some females as well.” She was silent a long moment, her thoughts suddenly sober. A night of merriment did not change her situation. Soon the real emissaries from Prince John would appear at her gates, and from then on she would have no more control over her life than the rabbits that Thomas’s men were devouring.

“Forgive me if I seem to be meddling in your affairs, milady,” Thomas said. “But Prince John should have no authority over you. Your liege lord is King Richard.”

“Most say that Richard will die of his wounds before the ransom is raised to free him. Then John will be king in his own right.”

“There are good people hard at work trying to avoid that calamity, milady,” Thomas told her.

The vehemence of his words made her curious. “You sound as if King Richard’s welfare is important to you, Sir Thomas. Is it because of your dislike for Prince John?”

She could tell at once that he did not want to discuss the matter. “’Tis you who concerns me, not John. Your father should have seen to it before his death that you were affianced to someone acceptable. Even the king could not have overturned a legal betrothal.”

Alyce laid down her knife, her appetite gone. She had no reason to tell this stranger her story, but the words tumbled out. “My mother died ten years ago trying to give my father a son, who died with her. After that, Father seemed to lose interest in everything but taking care of Sherborne Castle. He never looked at another woman, and he had no desire to talk about any kind of a match for me, either.”

There was a flicker of sympathy in Thomas’s eyes. “If he wanted to devote his life to mourning, that was his choice, but he should not have inflicted his grief on his daughter.”

“I think he had convinced himself he was doing what was best for me. He felt that any man who came to sue for my hand was only interested in Sherborne.”

Thomas’s mouth dropped open in amazement. “Was your father a blind man?”

His remark elicited a small smile. “’Twas not my attractiveness he was doubting, it was the nature of his fellow men.”

“I’m sorry. He was wrong to be so cynical. There are many honorable men who would make his daughter a good husband.”

Alyce sighed. “I don’t believe he was always so bitter. As I say, he never really recovered from my mother’s death.”

“’Twas a true love match, then, and he is now where he no doubt wishes to be, which is with your mother.”

“Aye, and their daughter is alone.”

He smiled gently. “From what I hear, milady, you are hardly alone. You appear to have a castle full of people who love you. I’ve heard that your retainers will do anything to protect you, even poison your visitors.”

Alyce glanced around the table to be sure his remark hadn’t been overheard. “I take the blame for that misadventure, Sir Thomas. Please put no fault on my household.”

“You gave the orders, but your people carried them out with a vengeance. That Alfred of yours did not so much as twitch a hair on his face as he served us the fatal dinner. And the old woman who was in your chamber the other night appeared capable of bashing me in the head if I tried to come closer to you in your supposed sickbed.”

Alyce chuckled. “Alfred and Lettie are true friends. You’re right, I have many here.”

Thomas looked around the full hall. Unlike the people in some parts of England, the residents of Sherborne looked happy. Happy and prosperous. “Might your tenants be able to help you raise the tax to pay off Prince John?” he asked.

She shook her head. “They’ve already paid too much. First there were the exorbitant taxes for King Richard to mount his Crusade, then for John to line his pockets.”

Thomas frowned. “Those are dangerous words in today’s England, milady. I trust you don’t speak so freely to all your visitors.”

Alyce shrugged, unconcerned. “You made no secret about your lack of love for Prince John. I doubt you’ll head to Westminster to denounce me as a traitor.”

“But I may be Richard’s man and take offense at your words.”

“I care little for politics. Like war, ’tis another male invention designed to convince women that we need men to handle our lives.”

“When in reality the fairer sex could do just fine without us?” Thomas asked, amused.

“Without war and without politics? Aye, I trow the world would be a better place. And we women would be free to run our households and raise our families in peace.”

He leaned close again to whisper, “Just how would you have those families, milady, without the, er, cooperation of men?”

Embarrassed, she blurted out, “I do know where babies come from, Sir Thomas. But I’ve never heard that a man needs to be a warrior to produce one, nor a politician.”

He leaned back with a hearty laugh. The sound of it made Kenton, who was sitting at a table just below them, turn his head and ask, “Will you not share the joke, Thomas?”

“Please,” Alyce begged in a low voice. “’Twas a foolish and brazen remark.”

Thomas grinned at her, then answered his lieutenant, “We were talking of rabbits, Kent, and how easily their futures can go awry.”

Kenton looked confused at the reply, but smiled and nodded. “Just mind that you don’t monopolize all of the lady Alyce’s conversation. You’re not the only one who’s been longing for the sound of a sweet English voice.”

Under his breath, Thomas said to Alyce, “You see, I’ve not revealed your misdeed. My men still think you sweet.”

Alyce stood, grateful both for Thomas’s discretion and for the interruption in a conversation that would surely have shocked her sainted mother to the core. She smiled down at Kenton. “’Tis Sir Thomas’s voice we should be hearing now that the meal’s done. Perhaps he’d favor us with a song.”

“Your musicians are doing fine.” Kenton waved his hand toward the end of the hall, where the brewer and his cousin had been picking out stately melodies that could barely be heard over the noise of the crowd. “Our men have heard enough of Thomas’s lovesick ditties.”