Elizabeth Chadwick Read Online Free PDF Page A

welcome you for the cheer and entertainment it brings to their hearths. Folk will pay you with your supper; strangers will more readily accept you. And sometimes women will let you enter their sanctuaries.” His eyebrows flashed with innuendo.
    Fulke reddened. Women and their sanctuaries were of tremendous interest to his rapidly developing body, but they were a mystery too. The high-born ones were guarded by chaperones and kept at home until they married. Girls of lower degree kept their distance if they were decent. Those who weren’t had designs on a royal bed, not the lowly pallet of a squire. The court whores preferred clients with a ready source of income. Other than what fitted where, Fulke had little notion of what to do, and no intention of exposing his ignorance.
    Jean leaned over the lute, his fingers plucking a melody to pay for the supper they had just enjoyed. His voice was clear and true, pitched high, but strong as a bell and it chimed above the mélange of kitchen sounds, telling the story of Melusine. Fulke listened in rapt and slightly jealous admiration. It was truly a gift and he found himself wishing that he had it. As his mind absorbed the notes and the words, he studied the reverence with which Jean treated his lute. The sight of the squire’s lean fingers on the strings brought to mind another image: his own hands working with an equal reverence to smooth the scars from the surface of his shield.
    Suddenly all pleasure and gathering lassitude were gone. As Jean’s voice lingered to accompany the lute on the final note of the song, Fulke jerked to his feet and headed for the doorway.
    Ignoring the loud applause and demands for more, Jean swept a hasty bow and ran after his charge. “Where are you going?” He snatched Fulke’s sleeve.
    “My shield. I left it in John’s chamber.”
    “You can’t go there now.” Jean’s voice rose in disbelief. “The kitchens are one matter, but my lord would certainly have us flayed for doing that!”
    “It’s new,” Fulke said stubbornly. “My father sent it as a gift to mark my year day.”
    “Christ’s wounds, are you a little child that you must have it now?” For the first time irritation flashed across Jean’s amiable features. “Leave it until the morrow.”
    “You don’t understand. It’s a matter of honor.”
    “Don’t be such a fool. I—”
    “Come or go as you please,” Fulke interrupted passionlessly, “you will not stop me.” He stepped out into the wild night. The sleet had turned to snow as the temperature dropped and they were surrounded by a living, whirling whiteness.
    Muttering imprecations, Jean ducked his head into the wind and hurried along beside him.
    ***
    The door to the royal apartments was closed and a soldier stood guard outside. Flickering light from a wall sconce played over his mail, turning the iron rivets to gold. It also caught the wicked edge of his spear tip.
    He fixed the youths with a stern eye. “What are you doing here, lads?”
    Fulke had a retentive memory and knew all the guards who did chamber duty. Roger’s bark was worse than his bite. “I left my shield earlier,” he said. “I’d like to fetch it, sir.”
    “I heard all about ‘earlier.’” The guard scrutinized Fulke’s injuries. “Good thing I wasn’t on duty then,” he said sourly. “The man who was is to be whipped for not investigating the commotion.”
    “He wouldn’t have heard; we weren’t near the door,” Fulke said. “Besides, there had been a commotion all afternoon.”
    “Well, someone has to take the blame, don’t they?” He gestured with the spear. “Go on, get you gone before there’s more trouble.”
    Fulke drew himself up. At fifteen, he stood almost two yards high, and he matched the guard easily. “I have come for my shield,” he repeated. “Once I have it, I will leave.”
    “Now listen here, I don’t take orders from a shaveling like—”
    “My lord Walter sent us to fetch it,” Jean