well as ugly!”
“No more brute than you, my lord,” Alyson flashed at him,
an answer that had several of the nearby men-at-arms who
were still riding round the manor yard, cooling their foamspeckled horses, glance at her with some astonishment. Fulk
even scowled but not Thomas.
“Excellent indeed!” He clasped her hand in his left and
stamped his peg leg in sheer good humor. “She is a match for
you, Guido, and more! Welcome to my home, my lady!”
“Thank you, sir,” Alyson responded, wondering afresh if
Guillelm really did consider her his equal, given the difference of their lands and titles. But she had no time to consider
the question before she was swept off her mount by Guillelm and set down beside Thomas with the growled warning
from her lord dragon, “There shall be a reckoning later for
that pert answer, mistress. Now go in with Tom and try to be
good, eh?” He sent her on her way with a teasing pat and
turned to bellow instructions to his men.
Staying at the manor of Thomas of Beresford was a bittersweet occasion for Alyson. Still grieving after the painful encounter with her sister, she found the manor contained many
echoes of her old home at Olverton. It was the same kind of
house, with a great hall and solar, a small pantry and buttery,
a staircase to a series of small upper rooms and the kitchens
and bakehouse across the yard. The furnishings were those that
reminded her of her childhood: sturdy oak tables and trestles,
earthenware crocks, a few faded wall hangings. She missed the
flowers that she had spread about Olverton hall, and the scents
of her old still room, but otherwise she could have wandered
through this place blindfolded and known where she was.
In one way, however, it was strange-very strange. There
were no womenfolk, no maids, no lady of the manor, no laundresses or spinsters.
Her host remarked on it as he showed her to the narrow
chamber that would be hers for the night. “I had my steward
put you in here, my lady, you being a lone lass among men. It
was my mother’s sewing room”
“Thank you, sir.” Alyson glanced about, taking in the fresh
thatch over the window shutters, the recently redaubed wall
by the bed, the stout bar to place across the door. There was even a candle for her and a small brazier, in case the summer
night turned cold. “You have made me most welcome.”
“No, ‘tis nothing for the woman who can look at me without
flinching. That is a rare skill, and one none of the village maids
have mastered” He scratched uneasily at his patchy beard,
ducking his head under the low roof beams. “I would have
women here, but they do not stay. The last washerwoman to
work here told me straight out before she left that I had the evil
eye and would sour milk.”
“
“How cruel!” Indignant on his behalf, Alyson crossed the
floor in two steps to lay a hand on his arm. “That is folly, utter
superstition. You must never think it true”
“I am used to it. Do not let it trouble you” Thomas
grinned, the scars on his forehead seeming to crack open
afresh once more. “But you are as fiery as the dragon himself! Tell me, are you the wee maid who gave him that title?”
Startled, Alyson dropped her cloak on the bed. “I did not
realize he had mentioned it.”
“Once only, my lady, in Outremer, when he was a lad of
twenty and we were making camp before our first siege. The
talk round the fire fell to those remaining at home. The other
men spoke half in jest as they bragged of women bedded and
left, but not Guillelm. `If I could have the girl of my liking, she
would be a small, dark elf, a clever girl, with eyes the color of
a rising storm. She knew and recognized me before any other,’
he told us then, and he tapped the dragon on his shield.” Thomas
of Beresford regarded her closely, his battered head on one side.
“I thought then Guillelm spoke of his ideal, but here you are, in
the flesh”
“Please,
“No more brute than you, my lord,” Alyson flashed at him,
an answer that had several of the nearby men-at-arms who
were still riding round the manor yard, cooling their foamspeckled horses, glance at her with some astonishment. Fulk
even scowled but not Thomas.
“Excellent indeed!” He clasped her hand in his left and
stamped his peg leg in sheer good humor. “She is a match for
you, Guido, and more! Welcome to my home, my lady!”
“Thank you, sir,” Alyson responded, wondering afresh if
Guillelm really did consider her his equal, given the difference of their lands and titles. But she had no time to consider
the question before she was swept off her mount by Guillelm and set down beside Thomas with the growled warning
from her lord dragon, “There shall be a reckoning later for
that pert answer, mistress. Now go in with Tom and try to be
good, eh?” He sent her on her way with a teasing pat and
turned to bellow instructions to his men.
Staying at the manor of Thomas of Beresford was a bittersweet occasion for Alyson. Still grieving after the painful encounter with her sister, she found the manor contained many
echoes of her old home at Olverton. It was the same kind of
house, with a great hall and solar, a small pantry and buttery,
a staircase to a series of small upper rooms and the kitchens
and bakehouse across the yard. The furnishings were those that
reminded her of her childhood: sturdy oak tables and trestles,
earthenware crocks, a few faded wall hangings. She missed the
flowers that she had spread about Olverton hall, and the scents
of her old still room, but otherwise she could have wandered
through this place blindfolded and known where she was.
In one way, however, it was strange-very strange. There
were no womenfolk, no maids, no lady of the manor, no laundresses or spinsters.
Her host remarked on it as he showed her to the narrow
chamber that would be hers for the night. “I had my steward
put you in here, my lady, you being a lone lass among men. It
was my mother’s sewing room”
“Thank you, sir.” Alyson glanced about, taking in the fresh
thatch over the window shutters, the recently redaubed wall
by the bed, the stout bar to place across the door. There was even a candle for her and a small brazier, in case the summer
night turned cold. “You have made me most welcome.”
“No, ‘tis nothing for the woman who can look at me without
flinching. That is a rare skill, and one none of the village maids
have mastered” He scratched uneasily at his patchy beard,
ducking his head under the low roof beams. “I would have
women here, but they do not stay. The last washerwoman to
work here told me straight out before she left that I had the evil
eye and would sour milk.”
“
“How cruel!” Indignant on his behalf, Alyson crossed the
floor in two steps to lay a hand on his arm. “That is folly, utter
superstition. You must never think it true”
“I am used to it. Do not let it trouble you” Thomas
grinned, the scars on his forehead seeming to crack open
afresh once more. “But you are as fiery as the dragon himself! Tell me, are you the wee maid who gave him that title?”
Startled, Alyson dropped her cloak on the bed. “I did not
realize he had mentioned it.”
“Once only, my lady, in Outremer, when he was a lad of
twenty and we were making camp before our first siege. The
talk round the fire fell to those remaining at home. The other
men spoke half in jest as they bragged of women bedded and
left, but not Guillelm. `If I could have the girl of my liking, she
would be a small, dark elf, a clever girl, with eyes the color of
a rising storm. She knew and recognized me before any other,’
he told us then, and he tapped the dragon on his shield.” Thomas
of Beresford regarded her closely, his battered head on one side.
“I thought then Guillelm spoke of his ideal, but here you are, in
the flesh”
“Please,
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