Once a Knight (14 page)

Philippa laughed, although whether at her child or her lady, Alisoun did not know. “He certainly enjoyed giving it.”

“He did, didn't he?” The root came out, and Alisoun sat back on her heels and waved it. Bits of dirt flew, but she didn't care; she was triumphant.

Philippa laughed again, and this time Alisoun knew she was laughing at her. “It's not often anyone can tell you anything.”

Throwing the root into the slowly growing pile of weeds, Alisoun bent to her task again. “Am I so intimidating, then?”

“Not to me.
Don't
eat the dirt.”

Surprised at the command, Alisoun looked up in time to see Philippa lunge after her daughter and pry her little fist open until the earth she clutched fell back on the ground. “Uck!” Philippa made a dreadful face at Hazel. “Don't eat that. Nasty.”

Fascinated, Hazel stared at her mother. Then her bottom lip came out and quivered, her big eyes filled with tears, and she sat up and bawled like a calf.

Alisoun couldn't help it; she laughed aloud. It had been a long time since she'd done so, and she laughed again when Philippa gave her a sour look.

Searching through her bag for something to distract Hazel, Philippa said, “Wait until you're a mother.”

“A fearsome thought.” Still grinning, Alisoun bent back to her task.

“I think you've waited almost too long as it is.”

Alisoun looked up sharply. “What do you mean by that?”

Philippa handed Hazel a dried gourd. Hazel rattled it once, then threw it away so vigorously it dug into the loose soil. “You're turning into an old maid with a cat.”

“That's not my cat!” She tried to see the scrap of black fur that had so firmly attached itself to her, but it had disappeared, and she was glad.

Besides, it could scarcely come to harm in a garden surrounded by stone walls.

“Very well,” Philippa said. “You're turning into an old maid.”

Dumbfounded, Alisoun tried to joke. “I
am
the oldest widowed virgin in existence.”

Apparently not even Philippa thought her amusing, for she dangled a string of colorful beads before Hazel's eyes and continued as if Alisoun hadn't spoken. “You're set in your ways. I don't think there's a man
who could change you. I had great hopes for Sir David, but he's failed, so what's left but to hope for a child?”

Straightening, Alisoun rubbed the aching place on her lower spine. “What
are
you talking about?”

“You need to have a child.”

Staring at Philippa, Alisoun tried to decide if this was some kind of new humor—the kind she didn't understand. The saints knew, that was likely. But Philippa stared directly back, as earnest as Alisoun had ever seen her. With impeccable logic, Alisoun prepared her answer. “I'm not married.”

“Marriage isn't what brings the children,” Philippa advised. “Bedding is.”

“I know that.” When Philippa grinned, Alisoun realized that
that
had been humor. “I mean, I'm the lady of George's Cross. I can't just take a lover and—”

“Why not?” Philippa demanded. “What's the use of being the lady of George's Cross if you can't do one wicked thing?” Bored with the beads, Hazel threw them after the gourd and grabbed another handful of dirt. As Philippa wrestled with her, she said, “I suppose I should say—one
more
wicked thing.”

“My conscience is at rest. I confess my sin to the priest every day, and do the penance he assigns.”

“He's deaf,” Philippa said in exasperation. “If he wasn't, the whole village would be excommunicated.”

Alisoun subdued the smile that threatened to break out, and said primly, “God works in mysterious ways.”

“Aye, He sent you Sir David!” Philippa lifted her voice above Hazel's new and loudly expressed indignation. “Give me your keys.”

Alisoun touched the big iron ring of keys at her belt. “Why?”

“Because she's not supposed to have keys, and if she has something forbidden, she'll be happy.”

Alisoun wanted to point out that this was a dangerous precedent to start, that if they rewarded the child for crying by giving her what she should not have, it would become a habit. But it occurred to Alisoun that Philippa had more than she could handle. Without a husband, Philippa had to love the baby, discipline the baby, worry about the baby all alone. Most of all, worry about the baby. Philippa hadn't lost weight as Alisoun did when she worried. She had actually become plumper, but nothing could erase the lines etched on her forehead.

Alisoun tossed the keys. They landed with a thunk among the lemon balm, uprooting one tall plant. The tart scent only accented Alisoun's horror, and Philippa hastily plucked the broad, broken leaves and replaced the herb. “Maybe Tochi won't notice,” she said, and rattled the keys before Hazel's face. Hazel's eyes grew big and astonished; she reached for the keys eagerly, and Philippa placed the heavy ring in her lap. Satisfied that her child was entertained, she turned back to Alisoun. “Sir David would give you fine, plump babies for you to cradle.”

“Then he'd be on his way.”

“Perhaps. If you sent him. But I doubt he'd refuse you should you propose marriage.”

“Why would I want a man like that? We're nothing alike.”

“I don't know.” A smile played around Philippa's face, and she plucked a weed or two from the ground. “Why
do
you want him?”

“What makes you think I want him?”

“I'm the one who chased the curious from the door of your accounting room.”

Alisoun framed a tart response, then discarded it. This was Philippa, after all. She could tell her the truth.
“He's awful. He laughs at customs, and at protocol that is right and proper.”

“You're still angry because he went out to the kitchen and cajoled the cook into putting those live frogs in the pie shell so when you opened it they all jumped out and you screamed.”

“Nay, that's not the bad thing.” Alisoun wiped her hand on her apron. “I wanted to
laugh
.”

Philippa did laugh. “There's hope for you, Alisoun.”

“He's an evil influence on me.” Philippa just grinned and shook her head, and Alisoun tried to impress the dire results of his personality on her. “One evening I sat and spoke with him for the pleasure of his company, and I didn't even busy myself with needlework.”

“
One
evening,” Philippa mocked.

“But once a person starts the slide down the winding road of sloth, she'll find it hard to claw her way back to the straight and narrow way.”

“Do you have to quote Lady Frances to me always?” Philippa complained.

“She was the lady who fostered us!”

“She was a mean old woman who sucked the joy from life.”

“I didn't know you felt that way. I am shocked.”

Philippa flung her little pile of weeds at Alisoun, scattering them across the herbs. “Nay, you're not. You always thought that, too. You just never dared to admit it.”

Alisoun withered like the uprooted lemon balm. “I
am
wicked. Do you know that when Sir David makes fun of the king for being so pompous, it's as if he saw into my mind and plucked my own thoughts before I had given them birth?”

“It's when he does that imitation of Sir Walter that I can scarcely contain myself.”

“And Sir Walter doesn't even realize it's him.”

The women looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Alisoun grew ashamed, sobered, and bent to her work again. “Do you realize that when he kisses me, I forget my duties?”

Philippa gurgled with what sounded like laughter, but when Alisoun looked at her she bent her head to the ground.

“My organization has suffered since he came, and when he—” The heel of his hand had brought her such strange feelings, but she couldn't bring herself to say that. “When Sir David applied physical manipulations to my skin, I almost lost control.”

“Almost?”

“I did lose control.”

“No wonder he's a legend,” Philippa said reverently.

Shocked, Alisoun said, “Sir David is just as bad an influence on you as he is on me. You've never spoken this way before, and you certainly never suggested I should give birth without benefit of marriage.”

“It's not Sir David who makes me say these things. It's living and thinking and doing everything that was proper and godly all my life, and then finding that my reward is exile and a life of fear.” Philippa crushed some of the marjoram leaves in her hand and lifted them to her nose. “Marjoram for happiness. I want you to be happy.”

In an odd sort of way, Philippa's suggestion began to make sense, and Alisoun feared it was because she, too, had considered bedding Sir David. Still she argued aloud. “He's not as noble as I am, and he's certainly not as rich.”

“All the men who are noble and rich enough for you are old, disgusting creatures.” Philippa plucked a few weeds from amongst the balm.

“Marriage is not for enjoyment.”

“
I
know.”

Alisoun wished she hadn't said that. Now Philippa pulled weeds with a vengeance, and a frown puckered her brow. But the words couldn't be called back, so Alisoun added, “And the king would be angry.”

“Once the deed is done, he'd resign himself, wouldn't he? It wouldn't be the first time. Anyway, if it's not marriage you want, then fine. I understand that. But you need a babe.”

“Why?” The kitten stalked through the row of parsley to pounce on one sprig which apparently taunted it.

“To inherit your lands.”

Alisoun lifted the kitten free of the green forest before it ruined Tochi's best plants. “That's why
you
think I need a babe?”

A ghost smile touched Philippa's lips. “I think you just need a babe to love.”

“I have this stupid, skinny, sharp-toothed kitten.” Who clung like a burr as it climbed her bosom to stand on her shoulder, and who purred in her ear and rubbed its face against her cheek.

“That cat's not going to do it. Nothing makes you a real person like your own infant to care for, plan for. All the thinking in the world doesn't replace the excitement of holding your child for the first time, and when I look at Hazel—” Philippa stroked the baby's bald head, then wiped at the dirty streaks with her sleeve, “—it makes my insides squeeze all funny.”

“That's attractive.”

“I don't know how to describe it. You were always the clever one. All I know is if someone hurt Hazel—” Philippa's face lost expression and her eyes grew cold, “—I would kill him.”

Startled, Alisoun stared at her gentle friend. She
didn't know Philippa as well as she thought. Or else what Philippa said was true. Having a child changed a woman in some basic way. “Do you think I'd be a good mother?”

“If you're going to embark on this course, I would advise planning on more than one child. You'd be obsessive about a single babe, I think, and smother it with care. Two children would distract you and you'd not ruin the one.”

“You know this, do you? You with the one?”

“I'd have ten if I could. You know that.”

Alisoun laughed lightly, trying to pretend she'd been joking, when in fact the plan sounded more and more reasonable. “This is a ridiculous conversation. Advising me to have a bastard is a stupid idea. I don't know why I listen to you.”

“Why did you?” Philippa said shrewdly.

Something lit inside Alisoun, something she didn't recognize until it spilled out as a flash of anger and spite. “You've got no father for that child, and you're frightened and miserable. Do you want me to be like you?”

Philippa snatched Hazel up and hugged her against her chest while the baby struggled to get down.

Aghast at herself at once, Alisoun stammered, “I don't know why I said that. It's just—I always thought if I lived my life logically and organized well, I would have the life that I wanted. But I couldn't have planned for what happened to you, and it's made me examine myself and realize—” she plucked the cat off her shoulder and hugged it much as Philippa hugged her daughter, “—what I have are just things, and there's no reason to care for them when there's no one to enjoy the fruits.”

“Don't cry!”

Alisoun hadn't realized she was, but tears were dropping onto Tochi's plants.

“Oh, Alisoun.” Holding Hazel, Philippa walked over on her knees and embraced her lady. “I wasn't trying to upset you. It's just that—”

“Well, I can't. I can't have a child. That's unacceptable. But when I think about it, it just seems that…”

“I know.” Philippa wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I feel like that, too.”

Hazel squirmed between them and Alisoun gave her a tentative peck. The baby didn't cry, so she gave her another one, then laid her head against the child's sparse hair. The thin strands felt like silk beneath her cheek as Hazel leaned into her, and just for a moment she conjured up seditious thoughts. Thoughts of holding her own child and having it love her.

So foolish. So seductive. She mourned. “All our bright plans, all of our youth, gone already, wasted—”

The gate swung open and the women sprang apart. Sir Walter walked in, a definite swagger to his step, and stopped at the sight of their tearstained faces. “Lady Alisoun?”

“We're just helping Tochi with the weeding,” Alisoun said.

He surveyed the damage and politely said, “Of course.”

Alisoun looked around her and saw what he saw, but she made no apology. “Was there something you wanted?”

He didn't smile, but something about the way he stood indicated his smug superiority. “I think there is something you should see.”