The Innocent

in archery. 'Fulk,' he said, drawing the grizzled soldier aside.

'My lord?'

'I am going to need a squire to serve me. Have you among your men one who is suitable for such a position? You know the duties required of a squire. Is there a lad here worthy of advancement?'

'My nephew, my lord. He is nineteen years of age and very strong. I have taught him myself how to use a sword, a lan:e, and a battle-ax. When I was a young man, I squired Lord Robert. I will teach the lad how to care for your armor and your horse. His name is Pax, and he will be loyal to you, I vow it, my lord.'

'I thought you meant your nephew for your place one day,' Ranulf noted.

'There is time for that, my lord,' Fulk replied, 'and there are others, like Sim, who might replace me one day. Pax will need the experience only being squire to the lord can give him. I have taught him everything I could, my lord. He needs the kind of seasoning that he can only gain being by your side now.'

'Which one is he?' Ranulf asked the sergeant at arms.

'Pax, come forward,' Fulk called, and a young man stepped from among the cluster of men on the archery green.

'Yes, Uncle?' He was of medium height and stockily built. He had a round head and face, brown hair, brown eyes, and an earnest-looking expression. He bowed nervously to Ranulf. 'My lord.'

'Fulk says you have the capability to be a squire. Do you want to be one? You know the duties involved, but you will also have to go with me whenever I depart Ashlin. Are you willing?'

Pax smiled a smile that rendered his face almost handsome. 'Aye, my lord!' he said enthusiastically.

'You have a month to learn your duties well,' Ranulf said. 'We leave on a journey for Normandy then.'

'I will be ready!' the young man said.

'Can you speak any tongue but your own?' Ranulf asked, and was very surprised by the answer.

'I can speak the Norman tongue some, my lord. Enough to get about, and be of use to you. Actually, I understand it far better than I speak it,' Pax answered. 'My uncle taught me,' he said, replying to the unasked questions he saw on his master’s lips.

Ranulf smiled a slow smile. 'Understanding it better than you speak it will be of great use to me, Pax,' he told his new squire. 'You will, of course, gain a facility for the language when you must speak it daily, but no one need know that.'

'Aye, my lord.'

'You will serve me in the hall tonight,' Ranulf said, then turned and walked away.

'Be loyal and suit him well, and your fortune is made, lad!' the sergeant at arms said, well pleased. 'He’s a fair master.'

'What am I to do in the hall to serve him?' Pax asked.

'You'll stand behind his chair, see that his cup and the cup of his lady is kept filled. In large households a page would do such work, but we are a small manor,' Fulk said. 'You'll have to eat early. Go to the kitchens, and the cook will feed you when you explain. Ah, lad, Ashlin is becoming a fine place. We'll be a castle someday. I hope I live to see it.'

'Ashlin, a castle?' Pax was astounded. 'How do you know such a thing, Uncle? Ashlin is just a little place.'

'The lord was summoned to Worcester, lad,' Fulk began. 'He returns, decides he needs a squire, and says he’s going to Normandy in a month’s time. The lord does not need to go to Normandy on Ashlin’s business. He goes on the business of some great lord, and he goes very discreetly, for our master is certainly of no importance. If he is successful, he will be rewarded. If it were I, I would ask permission from the king to build a castl here at Ashlin to help defend the border. Now remember, Pax, I know none of this to be fact; but certain things happen in a certain order. You have but to keep your eyes and your ears wide open, boy, and your mouth shut. Do you understand?'

'Aye, Uncle. I'll not gossip.'

'Not even to impress those wenches you're always chasing,' Fulk warned him. 'Your bright smile and your strong cock will keep the lasses content enough.'

'Aye, Uncle,' Pax said. His brown eyes twinkled, and Fulk laughed.

Pax served his master and mistress in the hall that night for the first time. His big hands were damp with his nervousness, but Ranulf praised him, and the lady Eleanore looked upon him favorably.

'Send your mother to me tomorrow,' she told the young man. 'You will need more clothing than I'll warrant you now possess. I will see she has what she needs to fashion what you will need.'

'Thank you, lady,' Pax replied.

'Serve my husband well,' Elf told him, 'and I will see your serfdom is lifted from you, Pax.'

He knelt and kissed the hem of her gown. 'Thank you, lady!'

'He is a good lad, I can see,' Elf told her husband as they at last lay in their bed that night. 'Fulk dotes on him, for he has no children of his own. He has seen that Pax and his other nephew, Sim, have been raised well.'

'I'll want to see an example of his skills,' Ranulf replied, nuzzling her neck. She smelled so sweet. It was a pity they could not cohabit until he was almost ready to leave for Normandy, but old Sister Winifred had come to him just before they departed the convent, and told him that Eleanore must have time to heal from the birth.

'Certain men, I am told, do not care if they harm their wives, poor ladies,' the gentle nun said. 'If you would have Eleanore healthy for many years, my lord, you will temper your lustful appetites.' She looked at him with a stern eye, and he had actually felt himself blush. The elderly nun chuckled. 'For just three more weeks,' she amended.

His wife turned in his arms and kissed him slowly, pressing her body, more lush now than ever, against him. 'My dear lord,' she murmured in his ear.

'We cannot,' he replied.

'Why not?' Elf demanded, quite outraged. She had been longing for his passion for several months now, and was eager.

'Sister Winifred says you must heal from the birth,' he told her firmly. 'I would take her advice and not injure you, petite.'

'By the rood!' Elf swore, surprising him. 'I am not in the convent any longer!'

He chuckled wickedly. 'Do you want me as much as I want you, petite? It is torture knowing I must wait.' He caressed her hair.

'But you will be gone in a month’s time!' Elf wailed.

'We may cohabit the week before I go.'

'And then you will ride off to Normandy, my lord, and I am left behind longing for you,' Elf said half angry. 'You cannot even say how long you will be gone!'

'Would you rather we did not-'

'Nay!' she said furiously.