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feared.

Five
    “Fetch her down
here, Jhone, and see that she is dressed properly for once.”
    That was the order Nigel had given his daughter, the daughter Wulfric had mistakenly thought was to be his—several hours ago. ’Twas obvious that Milisant Crispin was not going to come down to the hall, dressed properly or not. For once?
Jesu,
did that mean the wench never dressed or behaved like the lady she was supposed to be?
    Wulfric was holding his tongue so as not to insult his father’s dearest friend, but it was not easy to keep quiet when he was furious that the woman he was being forced to wed was anything but womanly.
How
could this man have let his oldest daughter, his heir no less, run wild like this—and get away with it?
    Nigel had tried to entertain him while they waited, with stories of King Richard, whom he had much admired, and many of the wars he had participated in. He was a much-scarred old knight who had seen many a battle. He wasyounger than Wulfric’s father by some five years, had been young when they went on Crusade together. Guy had already married off two daughters before he went to the Holy Land, but Nigel had left only a wife behind. He had sired no children until he returned to England.
    Wulfric vaguely recalled now that there was one other daughter. ’Twas not something he had paid much attention to when mentioned, his having no interest in Nigel’s other children. He had also known that Nigel’s wife had died not many years after Milisant was born, but just because the girl had had no mother to teach her the ways of a lady was no excuse for the way she had turned out. Many other ladies died in childbirth, yet their daughters were still reared properly.
    They fell into an uncomfortable silence as they continued to wait. Servants came and went. The tressel tables were being set up as the dinner hour approached—and still the two women did not return to the hall.
    Nigel at last sighed and said, albeit with an embarrassed smile, “Mayhap I should explain to you about my eldest daughter, Milisant. She is not what you would expect a young woman her age to be.”
    That was an understatement, but Wulfric said merely, “This I did notice.”
    Yet even that reply had Nigel wincing. “I have never understood why, but she has always wished she were my son, rather than my daughter. It makes no difference, she is still my heir, but she does not see it that way. She would pick up a sword and be a knight, if she could manageto wield one. It infuriates her that she lacks the strength to be as she would like. So she does other manly things instead that she can manage.”
    Wulfric was almost afraid to ask, but had to know. “Other things?”
    “She hunts, not as a lady might, but as a hunter would. She has mastered the use of the bow. Verily, I know of no man more accurate with one. She had figured out for herself how to defend Dunburh, if it was ever required of her to do so. Though it will never be required, she still prides herself that she could do it. She befriends certain animals that she considers unhuntable—actually, she has an uncanny way with animals, always has been able to easily tame wild things since she was a small child.”
    Wulfric felt himself flushing, hearing that last. ’Twas possible, he had to admit now, that the young Milisant
had
owned the falcon as she had claimed all those years ago, that she’d done the taming of it herself.
    “So she prefers manly endeavors. Does this mean she scoffs at womanly pursuits?”
    “Not just scoffs, but refuses to have aught to do with,” Nigel said with another sigh. “I am sure you noticed her attire. ’Tis not through lack of trying that I have been unable to get her to wear the clothes she was born to wear. I give her no coin to buy her own clothes, have them made for her instead. She trades them with the villeins for the clothes she prefers. I take those away, she barters fresh meat for more. I take those away as well—
Jesu,
my