Read Online Shadows and Strongholds by Elizabeth Chadwick - Free Book Online
Authors: Elizabeth Chadwick
Tags: Fiction, Historical
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returned Mellette's smile. He could play the courtier's game when called upon to do so and he had encountered women of her ilk before, the Empress Matilda being one of them. 'Perhaps I could request the services of my newest squire in helping me to remove my mail?' His glance flickered briefly to the line of boys waiting with their mother and descending in increments from Brunin to the toddler who was holding his nurse's hand and sucking his thumb.
She looked taken aback, but almost immediately rallied. Like an experienced swordsman, he thought with grim humour. 'As you wish, my lord, although how much help he will be, I do not know.'
Joscelin leaned a little closer to her than was polite, but it meant that his words did not carry beyond his lips and her left ear. 'It does not matter how much help he is or isn't at this stage,' he said with emphasis. 'Only that I should speak to him and put him at his ease, and that he should speak to me.'
Mellette took a step back. 'You will be fortunate to get him to speak at all. my lord, but if you desire him to attend you, then by all means take him.'
He inclined his head because, courtier or not, he could not bring himself to thank her, and moved to stand before Eve FitzWarin and the children.
'My lady,' he said.
She dipped him a curtsey and murmured obligatory words of welcome. Joscelin felt as if he were standing before a house with a light in the window but the occupant long gone.
'My wife sends her greetings,' he replied, 'and says to tell you that she will look after your son as if he were her own. You know that you are welcome to visit Ludlow whenever you choose.'
Eve raised her eyes to his. They were smudged as if with exhaustion or tears, but nothing could detract from their wide beauty. The warm hazel tints put him in mind of the autumn forest beyond the keep. 'Thank you, my lord, that is kind.'
She spoke the words as if there were not much of that kindness in her life. Joscelin turned to the boys. Brunin was staring straight ahead like a well-drilled serjeant under the inspection of his lord. In the stiff breeze his heavy raven hair fluttered like the wings of a bird. His cloak was pinned high at his throat and showed a lining that matched his tunic.
'So, Brunin.' Joscelin laid a firm hand to the boy's shoulder. 'If you are to be my squire, we might as well begin. I want you to help me unarm.'
'Yes, my lord.' A tinge of colour flushed the boy's olive complexion. Joscelin's grip had flattened the lie of the cloak and what he saw on the boy's throat gave him pause for thought. He said nothing though, merely stored the sight in his mind for further investigation.
Feeling as if he might burst with the emotions roiling through him, Brunin led Joscelin de Dinan to the guest chamber. In anticipation of Joscelin's arrival, the room had been swept out and aired. An embroidered frieze depicting a hunting scene had been hung at eye level along the back wall and the bed was spread with his mother's best coverlet of Flemish wool lined with coney fur. A ewer of water and a deep brass bowl had been set out, on a coffer in case Joscelin should desire to wash, and beside it stood a flagon and cups.
Brunin stood waiting, trying not to breathe hard. The climb up the stairs had not winded him, but he was feeling sick with apprehension. What if he did something stupid and shamed himself and his family at the first test? What if Lord Joscelin said that he was useless and he did not want him in his household? What if he asked to take Ralf instead?
Lord Joscelin stood with his hands on his hips gazing around the room, a half-smile on his lips, his expression one of amiable curiosity. He didn't look as if he was about to be angry, but Brunin had learned never to take anything or anyone at face value.
Joscelin reached to his scabbard and unfastened the thongs binding it to his swordbelt. 'Here,' he said to Brunin, 'lay this carefully on that bench, and don't put your fingers on the
She looked taken aback, but almost immediately rallied. Like an experienced swordsman, he thought with grim humour. 'As you wish, my lord, although how much help he will be, I do not know.'
Joscelin leaned a little closer to her than was polite, but it meant that his words did not carry beyond his lips and her left ear. 'It does not matter how much help he is or isn't at this stage,' he said with emphasis. 'Only that I should speak to him and put him at his ease, and that he should speak to me.'
Mellette took a step back. 'You will be fortunate to get him to speak at all. my lord, but if you desire him to attend you, then by all means take him.'
He inclined his head because, courtier or not, he could not bring himself to thank her, and moved to stand before Eve FitzWarin and the children.
'My lady,' he said.
She dipped him a curtsey and murmured obligatory words of welcome. Joscelin felt as if he were standing before a house with a light in the window but the occupant long gone.
'My wife sends her greetings,' he replied, 'and says to tell you that she will look after your son as if he were her own. You know that you are welcome to visit Ludlow whenever you choose.'
Eve raised her eyes to his. They were smudged as if with exhaustion or tears, but nothing could detract from their wide beauty. The warm hazel tints put him in mind of the autumn forest beyond the keep. 'Thank you, my lord, that is kind.'
She spoke the words as if there were not much of that kindness in her life. Joscelin turned to the boys. Brunin was staring straight ahead like a well-drilled serjeant under the inspection of his lord. In the stiff breeze his heavy raven hair fluttered like the wings of a bird. His cloak was pinned high at his throat and showed a lining that matched his tunic.
'So, Brunin.' Joscelin laid a firm hand to the boy's shoulder. 'If you are to be my squire, we might as well begin. I want you to help me unarm.'
'Yes, my lord.' A tinge of colour flushed the boy's olive complexion. Joscelin's grip had flattened the lie of the cloak and what he saw on the boy's throat gave him pause for thought. He said nothing though, merely stored the sight in his mind for further investigation.
Feeling as if he might burst with the emotions roiling through him, Brunin led Joscelin de Dinan to the guest chamber. In anticipation of Joscelin's arrival, the room had been swept out and aired. An embroidered frieze depicting a hunting scene had been hung at eye level along the back wall and the bed was spread with his mother's best coverlet of Flemish wool lined with coney fur. A ewer of water and a deep brass bowl had been set out, on a coffer in case Joscelin should desire to wash, and beside it stood a flagon and cups.
Brunin stood waiting, trying not to breathe hard. The climb up the stairs had not winded him, but he was feeling sick with apprehension. What if he did something stupid and shamed himself and his family at the first test? What if Lord Joscelin said that he was useless and he did not want him in his household? What if he asked to take Ralf instead?
Lord Joscelin stood with his hands on his hips gazing around the room, a half-smile on his lips, his expression one of amiable curiosity. He didn't look as if he was about to be angry, but Brunin had learned never to take anything or anyone at face value.
Joscelin reached to his scabbard and unfastened the thongs binding it to his swordbelt. 'Here,' he said to Brunin, 'lay this carefully on that bench, and don't put your fingers on the
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