“Lenora, are you in here?”
She turned to see her cousin enter the shaded stable. After the bright light of the noonday sun, it took a moment for Beatrice to spy her in the stall. Her cousin’s face drew up in mock surprise. “The stable is the last place I would think to look for you.”
Lenora squeezed through the slats of wood and the hem of her dress snagged on a splinter. The gown tugged her back and she reached to yank it free.
“That is your best kirtle.” Beatrice threw up her arms in annoyance. “Mother will have your hide if you show up at the meal with another ripped hem.” Her patient fingers extricated the cloth from the jagged piece of wood.
“See. No damage.” Lenora pushed the edge of her dress under the younger woman’s nose. “Your mother will have nothing to complain of, though ‘tis little reason she needs to complain.”
“She needs not little reasons when you are so adept at providing big ones.” Her cousin shook her head and her blond curls bobbed.
Lenora drew a piece of straw from the fresh bale and chewed on the end. After a moment of reflective munching, she announced the result of her contemplation. “Life is not fair, Beatrice. I work long hours to train and plan the breeding of Woodshadow horses, yet I cannot take credit for my work.”
Her cousin gave her a sympathetic nod. “’Twould be a surprise indeed for all the mighty lords who clamor for a Woodshadow mount to discover their perfect animal was bred and trained by a woman.”
“Aye, but I do not fear that day will ever come. Nor is it likely those men will discover ‘twas I that divided our fields into threes and planted the fallow field with grain. ‘Twill not happen because no man would believe it. Every success is attributed to my father. ‘Tis not fair.”
No offer of solution came from the petite young woman. “’Tis a woman’s lot, cousin. There is naught we can do.” Beatrice shrugged her shoulders.
“The queen would not say so.”
“The queen has land to back her up and a husband who awaits us now,” her cousin reasoned.
“Aye, yet I will seek out the owner of this destrier. Perhaps, in Father’s name, I can contract his loan as a stud. The horse will suffer none for it.” She gave the animal one last perusal. “Come, we must find Geoffrey and lay out a plan.”
The idea caused Beatrice’s eyes to sparkle. Lenora surveyed the deep azure tunic and kirtle that matched the wide blue eyes. A delicate gold-link girdle accentuated her cousin’s tiny waist. “He’s sure to fall in love with you all over again.”
“Enough to speak to my mother and your father?” She lowered her head and spoke in a tight voice. “I don’t care if I’m a lady of a great castle. All I want is to be safe.”
The statement made Lenora uneasy. Too often when her cousin spoke of her feelings for her suitor she expressed them in terms of safety instead of love. But she had informed Geoffrey of the deep-seated fears the girl suffered. He accepted them as part of loving Beatrice.
She started to speak but a page barreled past her. He ran to the war-horse’s stall and began to scoop grain into the empty food bag. “Boy, to whom does this animal belong?”
“Why, milady? Is he ill?” The boy’s voice cracked with worry. “I forgot to feed him this morn but rushed here as soon as I remembered. The knight will beat me sure if he finds I’ve not taken good care of him.”
“Nay, he is fine.”
The lad gave her a doubtful look.
“Believe me, I know the beasts. He is none the worse for a late meal, though do not make a habit of it,” Lenora reassured the page.
His eyes showed the first signs of tears and his young body trembled. A flare of hot temper blazed through her. What knight would so threaten the lad? He could only be eight or nine.
“Are you sure, my lady? Sir Roen de Galliard is not a knight I wish to cross.” The boy looked hopeful. “I think I will check on the animal myself.”’ He ducked into the stall and began to inspect the horse.
Lenora shook her head in disapproval. So the great warrior scared children as well as barons. The code of chivalry demanded a knight protect women and children, not frighten innocent boys. In her eyes, Galliard fell far short of that code.
“Lenora?” Beatrice’s voice intruded into her thoughts. “What will we do about him?” Her cousin dropped her shoulders in defeat.
“You’re not to worry about Galliard. Geoffrey and I will think of a way to keep you from him.” She gave her cousin a confident wink. “Come, we need to return to the hall for the midday meal.”
During the short trip back, Lenora racked her brains for some plan to help her cousin. She entered Tintagel’s great hall and joined the assembly of people. Entertainers, nobility and servants wove through the hall. Voices chattered and dogs barked. The melodic sounds of the musicians could barely be heard above the din.
Beatrice poked her in the back. “There’s Mother.”
Across the hall, Matilda maneuvered between the gaily dressed aristocrats. The elder woman’s gaze swept from side to side, searching. Lenora pulled her cousin back. A hand settled on her shoulder, and Geoffrey squeezed his body between two heavy-set warriors.
“Come with me.” He motioned toward the wall. The noise in the hall drowned out most of his words. Lenora followed with Beatrice in tow. He led them to an indentation in the thick castle wall. An arched window allowed in midday light.
“We must plan.” Geoffrey’s sienna gaze darted about the room. “Our fears are more than warranted. The rumor is the king intends to repay Galliard with a wife.”
Beatrice’s back stiffened, color drained from her face. Her voice wooden, she stated, “If you know this, my mother is sure to, also.”
“Aye,” Lenora theorized, “but from what I hear, Galliard strikes me as a man who would want more than Father has set aside for you. Pray the man is as greedy as I believe him to be.”
“Can we take that risk?” Geoffrey held up a hand to silence her protest. His voice sounded bleak. “There is always the chance Galliard could be turned by Beatrice’s face.”
Lenora crossed her arms and began to pace back and forth in the small area. Three steps forward, a sharp pivot and then three steps back. The answer came to her on the fourth trip.
“We must make sure he does not see her.” She pointed her finger at the young couple. “There is naught we can do till after the meal. When the trenchers are cleared for the poor, that will be the time Matilda will try to introduce Beatrice to Galliard. Geoffrey, you must see that your lady removes herself from the hall.” Lenora squeezed her alarmed cousin. “The gardens will be populated but do not strike me as a site where Galliard is likely to spend time.”
“What of Matilda?” There was a critical tone to Geoffrey’s voice.
“Ah, my dear aunt.” She snapped her fingers. “Lady Marguerite is here. Matilda will jump at the chance to be introduced to one of Queen Eleanor’s ladies-in-waiting.”
“Will that delay her long enough for me to spirit Beatrice away?”
“Lady Marguerite was one of the castle’s biggest gossips. I trust she has not changed. She will hold my aunt’s interest.”
Geoffrey patted Beatrice’s hand and gave her a wink. “Do not worry, my love. We need only hide you till Galliard chooses a bride. He is sure to arrange a betrothal soon.”
And I will hasten that along, Lenora vowed to herself. Before this night is over, Galliard will be betrothed to some unlucky girl. A trumpet blast intruded into her promise.