Light suddenly sliced through the tent’s space. “Sir!” a young voice cried.
“Welcome, Harold. Good of you to visit.”
“I came as fast as I could, sir.”
“Well, it is a long way from those little tents near the river.”
Elinor looked over her shoulder to see a youth of perhaps six and ten blushing beneath his sandy hair.
Zander did not look in that direction at all. “Leave us, Harold. Find Angus and see if he needs help washing those cloths.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Harold—Don’t go catching the pox with one of those whores. I don’t want your mother complaining to my lord that I did not guard your soul sufficiently.”
“Yes, sir.”
The light disappeared, leaving them in the shadows again.
“Perhaps you should guard his soul better,” she said. “You all but gave him permission.”
He shrugged. “Squires practice at many things.”
“Did you? When you left Sir Morris’s hall, is that where you went?”
“Never. I was as chaste as the castle priest.”
They both laughed since the castle priest had been most unchaste.
He cocked a small grin at her. “Don’t you need to return to your father?”
“He is at the tavern and said he would not return until supper. However, you should rest, and I should buy some bread to go with our soup.”
He shifted his body over. “Lie beside me until I sleep so I don’t dwell on my arm. Before you go, take some of the ham and cheese Angus bought this morning, so you and your father eat more than soup. It is over there somewhere.” He gestured vaguely to the other side of the tent.
“Your arm still pains you, I know, but rest will help.” She had burned herself on hot pots and knew that flesh rebelled a long while after. He had suffered much more than a brief singe, too.
She settled next to him on the pallet. “I expect you will have to decline future challenges now.”
His eyes had closed. “It was not my sword arm. Tomorrow it will bother me some, but less so the next day.”
It had been foolish to hope he would say he was too wounded to compete.
She waited until his breathing told her he slept. She rose to go. Before she left she gazed down at him for a long time. Right now, with slumber softening his face, he looked very much like the squire she had once known.
CHAPTER SIX
“I think Sir Hugo and his daughter might enjoy a good meal,” Zander mentioned it as casually as he could as if a passing thought had come to him.
Lord Yves glanced over from where he broke his fast. He had sat with Zander in order to inquire after his wound. Zander had made light of it and turned the conversation to the other combats, those past and future. Eventually he had slid over to that encampment near the river and mentioned that yesterday Sir Lionel had been the first challenge he met.
Lord Yves had listened to it all with little reaction, but now he showed interest in this meal Zander tried to procure for father and daughter.
“Odd that you are more interested in feeding them than in learning about the Scots sent by King William. Or are you unaware of them?”
“I am aware of them.” He was at least aware of two of them. His opponent yesterday had not been one of them, though.
“I would think Fitzwarryn would want you watching them closely.”
“It involves a problem in Northumberland, not near us.”
“On the border, all areas are near each other when trouble brews. Now, about your unsubtle attempt to encourage another invitation for Sir Hugo—The man called you a coward twice at the last meal. I do not tolerate fighting in my hall, or within the castle walls, among men in their cups. I am not inclined to invite him again.”
Zander had not held out much hope, so he accepted that decision.
“The daughter, however—Ah, I see that is the true guest you want at my board from the look in your eyes. Her father hates you. Better to turn your attention to Lady Judith. She has notable wealth, thanks to a husband who never failed to bleed every war for all it was worth.”
“One of your widows, however. I would never be so discourteous to my host.”
“She has a taste for young knights. Furthermore, I don’t like her nose.” Lord Yves stood to go. “There is a tin mine on her land that I would not mind having, but I don’t think I can face that nose the rest of my life.”
Zander laughed. “It is dark at night, so you wouldn’t see it.”
“Wives have a habit of putting their noses in your face during the day. I will invite Hugo again, but warn him that another outburst like the last and he will be thrown off my land in the morning.”
Zander aimed for the hall’s entrance. Outside rain poured down, so he procured an oiled cloth before calling for his palfrey and riding to his camp. He had competitions all day long, and from the looks of it, he would be fighting in mud for hours.
Elinor’s father returned to their tent at midday. He looked dirty and tired. He sank heavily onto a stool inside. Elinor was busy stacking some sand sacks at the entrance, to hold out the rivulets of water gathering in puddles on the field. It surprised her when her father called her name.
She went to him, carrying a pail and some rags so he could wash himself. Then she dug in one of her baskets and brought out some of the cheese she had received from Zander the night before. She set it down on a cloth near him. “How did you get like this?”
He washed his hands, then took the cheese and bit. “How do you think?”
“I don’t think anything. You leave. You return. I
