Shadows and Strongholds by Elizabeth Chadwick

Prince Henry's knighting at Carlisle and the household was in a turmoil of preparation. Like everyone else, Brunin was full of tension and excitement, and although it was near the dinner hour, he wasn't in the least hungry. As the youngest squire, he had thought that Joscelin might leave him behind with the women, but Joscelin had said that it would do him good to see the world outside the Marches. The knighting of a prince was not something that happened every day. Brunin's father was attending the muster too and Joscelin said it was an ideal opportunity for him to measure his son's progress.
    Joscelin seemed to think that his father would be pleased. Brunin hoped so too, but was a trifle uncertain. His father was not as tolerant as Lord Joscelin; nevertheless, he was looking forward to seeing him. While Brunin had not been homesick these past seven months, there had been occasions when he felt the lack of FitzWarin's dour, solid presence. He missed his mother too—sometimes. Lady Sybilla was kind and maternal, but she did not have the same way of pushing his hair from his brow as his mother did, nor was she bound to him by the ties of the womb. His grandmother he did not miss at all, except in the way of relief from a pain long endured Nor in truth did he have many regrets about leaving his brothers behind. There had never been any love lost between him and Rail and what nostalgia there was had been overwhelmed by all the new experiences and challenges provided by life at Ludlow.
    After his initial distrust, he had come to enjoy spending time in Hugh and Adam's company. He would sit with them to polish Lord Joscelin's mail and weapons. He joined them on errands into Ludlow town and began to grow familiar with the area and its inhabitants. The youths built on his rudimentary battle skills and he practised for several hours each day. Sometimes Lord Joscelin would be on hand to supervise and give tuition, usually where sword and shield skills were involved. He was taught archery by a one-eyed Breton serjeant named Judhel, who could hit the target more cleanly than any whole-sighted man in the castle. Brunin played vigorous ball games, skinned his elbows and knees, blacked his eyes, bloodied his nose, but accepted all such scrapes and grazes stoically. Indeed, the worst part of being injured was the tending. As the squires had warned him, Sibbi was a zealot with the bandages and unguent and in desperate need of patients on whom to practise. She treated his skinned knees as if they were serious battle wounds and bathed a cut lip with a lotion that was so foul it almost made him vomit… and then, because he was heaving, she said that he ought to stay in bed for the remainder of the day. Fortunately, Lady Sybilla had rescued him and declared him well enough to run errands for her.
    A portion of Brunin's time was spent in the household under Lady Sybilla's tutelage, for there were skills beyond the military ones to be learned and honed: conversing, etiquette, the correct table manners for the court and grand occasions. Usually Marion was his partner at the dining table when such lessons were conducted. She enjoyed the drama of playing the elegant court lady, turning up her nose if she considered that he had served her in a clumsy fashion, thanking him graciously when he succeeded. He rarely shared his trencher with Hawise, for she had a tendency to giggle and not take matters seriously. Once he had dropped a pigeon breast in her lap and, in the end, she had been sent from the room, tears of laughter pouring down her face and a large gravy stain on her dress. Marion had looked utterly horrified and Brunin had had to struggle to master the mirth that had surged through his own chagrin. Sybilla had laughed too, but she had not set Brunin beside Hawise again. However, Hawise partnered him when they went riding, or practised their skills with the hawks in the mews, for Marion had small interest and aptitude in those areas; and it was