Part 30 (1/2)
Folding her hands, she waited for him to offer a solution, but he busied himself with Hazel. He laid her on the table and unwound the cloth, making faces to keep her entertained. He said, ”Right from the beginning, Bert kicked and fought every time I changed her. This babe laughs and coos. Hazel behaves like I thought a girl child would behave. But Bert wants to be moving and doing, and she was like that from birth.” Hazel stuck her foot in her mouth and chewed on it while watching him thoughtfully. He could have sworn she understood every word. ”I can't imagine Bert sitting and sewing, but she's good with swordwork. As good as any seven-year-old, lad or la.s.s, could be.”
”What good will such knightly arts do her?” Alisoun asked. ”It's not as if I have ever had use for them.”
”I don't know,” he replied. ”If you knew how to stick a knife in a man's ribs, I wouldn't have to interrogate every stranger who wanders through my village.” He bared the babe's rump and pa.s.sed the wet cloth to the hovering Philippa, then took the dry one and slipped it under Hazel. ”If you knew how to stick a man with a knife...” he repeated. An idea sprang full-blown into his brain. Placing one hand on Hazel's belly to keep her from rolling off the table, he turned to Alisoun. ”That's it!”
”What?”
”That's what you can do with Bert. Take a lesson with her.”
”What?”
”On the morrow, come and take a lesson in fighting with Bert.”
”Are you mad?”
”On the contrary, I'm brilliant. If she could see you learning something she already knows, it'll make her realize you have to go through the same process everyone does to achieve competence. She'll no longer think you're a...well!” He leaned over the babe once more. ”Still, I suppose a woman in your condition should not attempt something so new.”
”There's nothing wrong with my condition.” She spoke through her teeth. ”But I am not a young girl trying to escape my fate. I am a woman who uses already learned skills and I refuse-”
He turned the baby's behind into the light.
”-to put myself on display simply to make contact with a la.s.s who should have more respect-”
”What's this on Hazel's rear?” He touched the red mark with his finger. ”She looks as if she's been burned.”
Silence filled the room. No one said a word. He looked up into Alisoun's face as he stroked the rippled skin, and she stared at his finger with a fascination akin to horror. He glanced at Philippa. She had paled. Only Lady Edlyn seemed able to move, and she walked rapidly to his side. Cranking her head around, she observed the spot and in a casual, too-loud tone said, ”Oh, that. It's a birthmark.”
”A birthmark? It looks like a brand.” He rubbed the red spot again. ”Feels like one, too.”
He looked again at Alisoun, but she was staring at Lady Edlyn with something akin to awe.
Meanwhile, Philippa jerked into motion. ”Just a birthmark.”
He could scarcely believe that. ”It's a perfect shape.”
”I have one, too.” Philippa touched the back of her shoulder.
”A birthmark that looks like a-” he stared at the baby's behind, ”-ram?” Incredulous, he lifted his eyebrows at Alisoun. ”Have you seen this?”
”I'll do it,” she said.
He didn't understand. ”What?”
”I'll learn to handle a sword, or whatever it is you want me to do.” Alisoun pushed at him until he moved aside, to finish diapering Hazel.
He watched as Alisoun quickly wound the baby in her dry cloth. But he could see that it drooped, and would fall right off as soon as someone picked Hazel up. This was, he would wager, the first diaper Alisoun had ever replaced. But she wanted to distract him, and he supposed he would allow her to do so. After all, he was getting his way. That mark would be there on the morrow, should he want to question it again. ”You'll come and train with Bert?” he asked.
”So I said.” She lifted the baby and handed her to Philippa.
As David thought, the wrapping clothes slipped and Philippa caught them before they could slide off entirely. ”Thank you, my lady.” Her grat.i.tude seemed excessive for one badly done diaper.
But Alisoun caught his arm before he could wonder more. Decisively, she said, ”I'll be there in the morning.”
20.
Bert scuffled her feet in the dirt of the training ground and wailed, ”Daddy, I don't want her here.”
”She has to learn how to protect herself, just like you have. You don't want her to be hurt because she doesn't know how to use a sword, do you?” David observed his daughter as she struggled with her answer. She didn't care whether Alisoun learned to use a sword; as he'd told Guy, he believed his daughter dreamed of using her own prowess against Alisoun. But Bert's fierce heart hid wells of tenderness, and David thought he could plumb those wells. ”Your new mama has been threatened by someone.”
”By who?” Bert demanded.
”I don't know, but that's how we met. She hired me because someone tried to shoot an arrow at her.”
”She tried to give someone a bath,” Bert muttered.
David ignored that. ”Someone took her cat and hurt it until it died.”
”Nay, they didn't!” Bert rolled up her sleeves as if something-her anger, David guessed-made her hot. ”That lady has a kitty. See?” She pointed to some long red marks on her arm. ”It scratches.”
”I gave her the new kitty because she was crying over her old one.”
”Did you see her tears?” Bert asked suspiciously.
”Nay, it was worse than that.” Glancing at the sky, David observed the solid gray overcast of clouds that hid the sun. A good day to train squires; not hot, not bright, not likely to rain. ”See those clouds?” He pointed, and his daughter nodded. ”They have rain in them, but they won't let it go. They hold it in, aching, wanting to cry out all their water, but they can't. For some reason, they hold it in. Your new mama's like that. Her tears are the kind of tears she keeps inside, and you know how much those hurt.”
”Like when you left me here and I knew I had to be brave but I wanted you really, really bad?”
”Like that.”
Scratching her chin, Bert thought, then said, ”She doesn't like the kitty you gave her. She never pets it or anything. She never talks to it.” Her mouth drooped. ”She never gives it a good-night kiss.”
Bert didn't speak of the kitten, David realized. She didn't care whether that cat got a good-night kiss, but the child's fragile ego couldn't comprehend Alisoun's hesitant affection. Bert's bold emotions demanded a mother who would hug her and kiss her and tuck her into bed, not speak to her of propriety and spinning and baths. Kneeling beside his daughter, David framed his words carefully. ”She's afraid to like the kitty. She liked her other one so much, and she's afraid if she likes this one it'll die, too.”
”That's stupid. You're not going to let someone take her kitty and hurt it again.”
No one matched Bert's implicit faith in him-especially not Alisoun. ”But she doesn't trust me.”
She wrapped her grubby arms around his neck. ”But you're my daddy!”
Hugging her against him, David explained, ”She doesn't understand what that means. She doesn't understand that I would do anything to protect you and her. You're my daughter. She's my wife. We're a family, and our family is the most important thing in the world to me.”
”You gotta tell her!”
”I'm showing her. I'm letting her come and learn with you and Eudo how to be a warrior.”
He'd left Bert with nothing to say, and that unusual experience heartened him. Perhaps he was doing the right thing. ”Come,” he said. ”Help me get the weapons out of the storage shed.”