turned seven.”
Isabel said proudly, “My brother Edward started lessons with real weapons before he was ten.”
Brianna pointed out, “Ah, but Prince Edward at ten was as physically mature as any sixteen-year-old.”
“Yes,” agreed Isabel, “that’s the Plantagenet blood. My father is the most spectacular warrior in Christendom and Edward is champion of all tournaments at only sixteen.”
“Men think of nothing but honing their fighting skills,” lamented Elizabeth.
“Then it’s up to us to give them something else to think about,” Joan suggested.
Isabel’s mouth went sulky. “Now that Edward has his own army, all the attractive young men are at Berkhamsted. Your brother Edmund is there, I believe.”
Joan jumped on her words immediately. She suspected Isabel had a fancy for her disreputable young brother, the Earl of Kent. “Yes, my brother is with yours. Did you know he is secretly enamored of you, Your Highness? What a pity we cannot visit them.” She sighed with exaggerated resignation.
May God forgive you for the lie
, thought Brianna.
Isabel’s ladies plaited her hair and fashioned a coronet of braids held in place by jeweled hairpins. She eyed Brianna’s embroidered hunting gauntlets and selected an impractical pair for herself that was encrusted with pearls and moonstones.
By the time the ladies arrived in the courtyard, the grooms were standing patiently with their saddled horses. The falconers stood outside the mews, holding the ladies’ birds of prey. Each hawk had jesses attached to its legs with two bells engraved with the owner’s name. Falconry had its own rigid rules of etiquette. Only royalty was permitted to fly falcons, which were considered noble and ranked higher even than eagles.
Brianna owned a merlin, most of the other young ladies flew sparrow hawks, but Joan preferred a tiny kestrel because of her small size. Isabel carried a male falcon, called a tercel, on her wrist only as a status symbol. She was not skilled at the sport.
As the grooms mounted to accompany the princess and her ladies, Isabel said imperiously, “We ride to Berkhamsted!”
The grooms exchanged looks of alarm.
Brianna and Joan exchanged looks of triumph.
Before they had ridden two miles, the princess became angry because her falcon’s talons had torn some of the pearls from her gauntlet. She handed her bird over to a groom and ordered the others do likewise. They would never cover the distance with hawks perched on their wrists.
When the party of ladies arrived at Berkhamsted, the guard on the watchtower signaled the man on the portcullis to raise it immediately. Ten females accompanied by their grooms were no threat to a castle of three hundred men. As they rode across the inner drawbridge into the bailey, the servants, squires, and soldiers around the barracks gaped openly at the fashionable young women.
The Prince of Wales’ castellan approached with an insincere welcome. He wondered what the devil the young princess was thinking of to intrude upon this stronghold of men.
“I’ve come to surprise my brother. Where is he?”
The castellan, being one himself, knew how much men loved surprises. “Prince Edward is training with his men-at-arms, Your Highness. I beg you come to the hall and refresh yourself.”
Isabel looked him up and down. “Yes, we shall certainly avail ourselves of Berkhamsted’s hospitality
after
we’ve surprised Edward.”
As they rode the length of the bailey, Brianna saw that it was almost like a village with hens and dogs. A vast smithy producing lance heads and arrowpoints stood next to a shed where the armorers were repairing weapons and armor. An outdoor cookhouse was roasting ten sheep on its spits. Isabel pinched her nose at the smell of mutton fat. Brianna licked her lips over the delicious aroma.
The ladies rode through the quintain yard, drawing every eye. They laughed with amusement as a young warrior was knocked senseless by the heavy sandbag that
Isabel said proudly, “My brother Edward started lessons with real weapons before he was ten.”
Brianna pointed out, “Ah, but Prince Edward at ten was as physically mature as any sixteen-year-old.”
“Yes,” agreed Isabel, “that’s the Plantagenet blood. My father is the most spectacular warrior in Christendom and Edward is champion of all tournaments at only sixteen.”
“Men think of nothing but honing their fighting skills,” lamented Elizabeth.
“Then it’s up to us to give them something else to think about,” Joan suggested.
Isabel’s mouth went sulky. “Now that Edward has his own army, all the attractive young men are at Berkhamsted. Your brother Edmund is there, I believe.”
Joan jumped on her words immediately. She suspected Isabel had a fancy for her disreputable young brother, the Earl of Kent. “Yes, my brother is with yours. Did you know he is secretly enamored of you, Your Highness? What a pity we cannot visit them.” She sighed with exaggerated resignation.
May God forgive you for the lie
, thought Brianna.
Isabel’s ladies plaited her hair and fashioned a coronet of braids held in place by jeweled hairpins. She eyed Brianna’s embroidered hunting gauntlets and selected an impractical pair for herself that was encrusted with pearls and moonstones.
By the time the ladies arrived in the courtyard, the grooms were standing patiently with their saddled horses. The falconers stood outside the mews, holding the ladies’ birds of prey. Each hawk had jesses attached to its legs with two bells engraved with the owner’s name. Falconry had its own rigid rules of etiquette. Only royalty was permitted to fly falcons, which were considered noble and ranked higher even than eagles.
Brianna owned a merlin, most of the other young ladies flew sparrow hawks, but Joan preferred a tiny kestrel because of her small size. Isabel carried a male falcon, called a tercel, on her wrist only as a status symbol. She was not skilled at the sport.
As the grooms mounted to accompany the princess and her ladies, Isabel said imperiously, “We ride to Berkhamsted!”
The grooms exchanged looks of alarm.
Brianna and Joan exchanged looks of triumph.
Before they had ridden two miles, the princess became angry because her falcon’s talons had torn some of the pearls from her gauntlet. She handed her bird over to a groom and ordered the others do likewise. They would never cover the distance with hawks perched on their wrists.
When the party of ladies arrived at Berkhamsted, the guard on the watchtower signaled the man on the portcullis to raise it immediately. Ten females accompanied by their grooms were no threat to a castle of three hundred men. As they rode across the inner drawbridge into the bailey, the servants, squires, and soldiers around the barracks gaped openly at the fashionable young women.
The Prince of Wales’ castellan approached with an insincere welcome. He wondered what the devil the young princess was thinking of to intrude upon this stronghold of men.
“I’ve come to surprise my brother. Where is he?”
The castellan, being one himself, knew how much men loved surprises. “Prince Edward is training with his men-at-arms, Your Highness. I beg you come to the hall and refresh yourself.”
Isabel looked him up and down. “Yes, we shall certainly avail ourselves of Berkhamsted’s hospitality
after
we’ve surprised Edward.”
As they rode the length of the bailey, Brianna saw that it was almost like a village with hens and dogs. A vast smithy producing lance heads and arrowpoints stood next to a shed where the armorers were repairing weapons and armor. An outdoor cookhouse was roasting ten sheep on its spits. Isabel pinched her nose at the smell of mutton fat. Brianna licked her lips over the delicious aroma.
The ladies rode through the quintain yard, drawing every eye. They laughed with amusement as a young warrior was knocked senseless by the heavy sandbag that
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