Part 32 (1/2)
Bert wrapped one of her own mutilated locks around her finger. ”It'll grow back.”
”It's not so bad, my lady,” Eudo said. ”You've still got lots of hair left.”
Alisoun laughed. Not too loudly, but she laughed.
After a moment, Bert joined her, and then Eudo.
Smiling, David shook his head at his three warriors. ”I've never failed with a squire yet.”
Alisoun laughed again. Giggling, Bert leaned against her for support, and Eudo straightened his face only to have his grave expression crumple beneath a new onslaught of amus.e.m.e.nt.
When Alisoun had gained control, she held out her other braid. ”You might as well cut this off, too.” David took it while she lifted the shortened hair on the other side. The string that held it was gone, cut off by her knife, and the braid unraveled in great, heavy waves.
He measured one side against the other, then evened them up with a clean slice.
She lifted her face to his. The smile still quivered on her lips. ”I apologize for being so difficult a pupil.”
The exertion, the laughter, the companions.h.i.+p had washed the stiffness from her face and left it open to him to read. Or had he just grown skilled at deciphering her thoughts? ”A difficult pupil, aye. And just so you come away with a lesson you can use, let me tell you about the dagger.”
Taking one of the wooden knives-he would take no chance with real steel-he pointed at each part of her body as he spoke. ”If you have need to defend yourself or to attack another, aim for the eyes, the throat, or the gut.”
”Not the heart?”
”The heart is the best place, but you're likely to hit the ribs and I think in your case the less difficulty, the better.”
This time Eudo giggled out loud, and when David looked around he realized the children stood watching them, heads c.o.c.ked, eyes bright with interest.
”Mama, will you come back tomorrow and practice with us again?”
Bert spoke without a shred of self-consciousness, but David wanted to clutch his heart and cheer at the same time. Alisoun has won his daughter over. She hadn't even tried, and he doubted she knew how she'd done it.
But Alisoun did know enough not to show surprise at her new t.i.tle. ”There's much in the keep which requires my attention, and I fear I'll not have the time to practice these skills as much as I obviously require.” She sighed. ”If only I had more help...”
Eudo stepped up. ”A squire should know all manner of things around the keep, and so I would be honored to have you teach me all you know.”
Bert stuck her skinny elbow into Eudo's ribs. ”Hey! I was going to tell her to teach me!”
”You never wanted to work in the keep, and you're just a girl. No girl could learn knightly skills and a lady's skills at the same time. You'd collapse from brain fever.”
”I would not!”
”Would, too.” Eudo carefully inserted the daggers into their sheaths.
”Would not.” She collected the wooden blades.
With his hand on her arm, David moved Alisoun away from the training ground. In a low voice, he explained, ”That's how we got her to read. Bert always faces a challenge head-on.”
”I'll remember.” Alisoun tried to work the guard off of her hand, but her fingers shook and she finally extended her arm in appeal. ”Would you help me with this? I did very little, yet I'm exhausted.”
”Doing it badly is much more difficult than doing it well,” he a.s.sured her, and they stopped before the gate of the herb garden while he worked the leather off her wrist.
”Yet you do it very well, and you must have started out as badly as I did.”
He glanced up at her quizzically.
”Fine. Insinuate I performed more poorly than you.” She tossed her half-braided hair over her shoulders. ”But you must have started out with a little less skill than you have now.”
”A little less.” He freed her from the wrist guard and rubbed the bruised flesh there. ”Your skin's too tender for this.”
She ignored him. ”And you became the best mercenary in England and France. You became the legendary mercenary David of Radcliffe.”
With a wry twist to his mouth, he stripped off her finger guard and stuffed the leather into his pouch. ”Aye, that's who I am. The legendary mercenary who fought a dragon and won.”
”I think you have yourself confused with Saint George,” she answered seriously. ”But truly, with the practice you have performed at George's Cross and your experience, I would wager you are the best mercenary in England this day.”
”Have you seen the herb garden?” He opened the gate and waved his arm inside.
”Aye.” She stepped inside. ”'Tis very well kept.”
He hesitated. He didn't want to go inside with her. Not when her hair hung loose down her back. Not when amus.e.m.e.nt softened the curve of her mouth. But she kept talking, and he dared not cut off this communication. Not after so many days and nights of only polite conversation.
”Don't you think you're the best mercenary?”
He walked in and left the gate gaping behind him. ”I'm not. Not anymore.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head. ”There's more to it than just skill, strength, and experience. I'll never fight like I did before, because I've lost my taste for killing.”
She had leaned over to break off a sprig of mint, but she looked up at his words. ”Really?”
Leaning against the wall, he watched her pluck the leaves and sniff them. ”Battle is a young man's game, and only men who have no respect for death can face it with equanimity.”
She tasted the mint and he could almost taste it with her. ”Now you have respect for death?”
”I've seen the grief it can cause. I've lost dear comrades for no better reason than another knight on the circuit wanted his armor and got too enthusiastic in the melee.”
Her soft whimper of sympathy soothed him, and he moved toward her. ”I have something to lose now. I have a wife and a child-two children!” He corrected himself and she stroked her belly. ”I think there are better ways to retain what I've earned than by battering myself b.l.o.o.d.y.”
”Is that why you wed me?” She moved away as she asked the question, using a careless tone as if she cared nothing for the answer.
He suspected-he hoped-that she did. He should have chosen his words, taking care not to frighten her with undue emotion or anything less than good sense.
Instead he spoke from his heart. ”I felt I owed you protection, but what I owed you and what I wanted to give you were two different things. I owed you security.”
She stopped. He stopped. When he didn't finished, she asked, ”What did you want to give me?”
”Love.”
”Love?” She whirled and stared. ”Love? That's nothing but stupid, romantic nonsense. Love doesn't exist!”
”I never thought so, either.” He took one huge step and stood before her. ”But I never thought someone like you existed, either.”