The Brat(8)
Author: Lynsay Sands

The words had apparently touched Murie, however, for she smiled sweetly upon him and murmured, " ‘Tis very kind of you, my lord. I am sure she appreciates your efforts. I know I should have been grateful to have had an older sibling to take over my care after my parents died."

"Aye," Emilie agreed. Leaning forward to look past the girl, she explained, "Murie was only ten when she was orphaned and brought to court."

Balan nodded, catching Osgoode’s elbow when it jutted toward him again. Aware that the women had noticed it, he merely gave his cousin a warning glare before releasing him, and said,

"Careful, cousin. ‘Tis slippery, and you might lose your footing." Osgoode’s mouth twisted with displeasure. He said to the women, "That must have been difficult for you, Murie. Court is not the most clement of environments."

Murie looked uncomfortable, and it was Emilie who answered.

"It was very difficult for her. The other girls were jealous that the king made so much of her looks, and they were very cruel." Osgoode murmured a sound of sympathy and said, "Balan suffered something similar in his youth. We were sent to Lord Strathcliffe’s to train, and Strathcliffe took a liking to Balan, showing him favor. Though it was no fault of his own, the other boys hated him for it. They were constantly picking fights." Balan scowled. While this was true, it had happened a long time ago, had made him a stronger fighter and better warrior, and was hardly worth mentioning now. Or so he thought until Murie squeezed his arm and gave him a shy, sympathetic smile. Hmmm.

"No doubt you have heard that the king decided it is time for Murie to marry and has given her leave to choose her own husband," Emilie said suddenly, drawing a horrified gasp from her friend. Ignoring Murie, Lady Reynard went on, "It is such a serious and difficult decision to make."

"Aye," Osgoode agreed. "Balan must marry as well, and he is finding it so."

Balan almost groaned aloud. The pair was embarrassingly obvious. He very much feared that, given more time, the two would be proposing for them soon. Fortunately, that didn’t come to pass. Or perhaps unfortunately, he acknowledged as Malculinus and his sister, Lauda, stepped out onto the path. Judging by Lauda’s flushed face and Malculinus’s out-of-breath state, Balan would have guessed that the pair had run to get ahead of them to appear.

"Why, Lady Murie, Lady Emilie," Lauda greeted, smiling widely. "How fortuitous to meet up with the two of you here." Balan didn’t miss the fact that he and Osgoode were completely ignored.

"Aye," Malculinus agreed, still gasping for breath. He really needed to start working out with his men, Balan thought with disgust. Some time working with the quintain or exercising his sword arm would put him in shape. But that wasn’t likely to happen. He happened to know Malculinus’s sire had been paying scutage for years to prevent his having to serve his military time. Which was probably a good thing, Balan decided, as the man caught his breath. In the shape he was in, Malculinus would be dropped in the first battle he dared enter, though it was doubtful he would ever have the courage to bother.

"We were just wondering if you had dreamt of anyone?" Malculinus finally got out. He’d taken a moment to collect himself.

Balan’s mouth tightened at the question and at the way the man was looking at him with slight triumph. He had a feeling the Aldouses had come up with a way to reveal that last night had been no dream, and without revealing their involvement in the matter.

He tensed, prepared to plow his fist into the man’s head again, when Murie said, "Nay, my lord. I fear I did not dream at all." If Malculinus and Lauda appeared shocked by these words, it was no more than he himself felt. Osgoode’s expression also seemed to suggest surprise.

Only Lady Emilie didn’t react to the claim, merely smiled and said, "I fear it was just a silly superstition after all."

"I… You …" Malculinus paused and stared at Murie, seemingly at a loss. It appeared his plan was foiled.

"Are you sure you did not dream of anyone?" Lauda asked with a frown, and Balan felt sure that, if it were acceptable, she would have grabbed Murie by the throat and shaken her until the truth came out. However, they weren’t alone, and she could do nothing when Murie shook her head.

"I am quite positive," she replied, and then asked, "Why, Lauda? Did you dream of someone?"

The woman stiffened, then suddenly looked pleased. "Aye. I did."

"Really?" Emilie asked with interest. "And who did you dream of?"

"I… he was a stranger. Tall, fair and handsome," Lauda remarked, then eyed Murie. "I felt sure you would have dreamed, too."

It was obvious the woman was hoping that by claiming she’d dreamed, she would encourage Murie to admit as much herself, but Murie merely shook her head apologetically. "I am sorry, Lauda. Mayhap I did not have enough of the rotten meat." Lauda let her breath out on a sigh, scowled and then said,

"Mayhap."

"Well," Emilie said brightly. "We were enjoying a nice walk on this rare sunny day. I suppose we should continue."

"We will join you," Lauda suggested, an obviously forced smile on her face.

Emilie’s smile became decidedly annoyed, but there was little she could do without appearing rude. Unable to dissuade the Aldouses from joining them, she did the next best thing and latched on to Malculinus’s arm. "How lovely! I can ask Malculinus about something I have been wondering for quite a while. How do you feel about… the French?" she ended at last, drawing the man determinedly forward and away from Murie and Balan.

Lauda scowled and opened her mouth to speak, only to snap it closed again in surprise as Osgoode took her arm and began to urge her forward. "I shall escort you then, Lady Lauda. How fortunate I am –  getting to walk with three such lovely women in one day." Balan bit his lip to keep from laughing as she found herself led firmly away.

"Well," he said, turning back to Murie. "Shall we?" Murie nodded silently, and allowed Balan to draw her hand through his arm to continue their walk. Her mind was in an uproar. It had been Emilie who suggested that she not admit she’d dreamt of anyone last night. She’d made the comment right after hearing the details of the dream. Murie had been grateful for the suggestion. While she hadn’t minded telling Emilie about it, she hadn’t felt at all comfortable sharing the dream with Cecily and wasn’t happy with the idea of having to share it with anyone else, either. She felt sure this was the best way to deal with the matter, and had found it surprisingly easy to lie to Lauda and Malculinus when the question came up. Not that she would have admitted to it in front of Balan, anyway. It was one thing for Emilie to know about it; quite another for the man who had kissed and caressed her so sweetly in her dreams.

Besides, this seemed to her to be a good test of the superstition. She knew about the dream, but Balan did not; and so, if they ended up together anyway, then surely it was fated.

Forcing a smile, she glanced toward Balan, wishing he would say something to break the silence that had swallowed them now that Emilie and Osgoode were no longer doing the talking. She tried thinking of something to say herself, but had spent the past several years trying to avoid conversation with everyone but Emilie, leaving the queen’s solar and roaming the garden and castle on her own. She’d been too successful. It seemed she now had no idea how to carry on a normal conversation. At least, she hadn’t yet come up with anything to say. And he was equally silent. It was difficult for her to get to know him and figure out if he would suit her as a mate should they not speak.

Finally Murie said, "Emilie says you and Reginald are friends?"

"Aye."

She waited for him to expound on that, but he didn’t. Frowning, she asked, "Have you known him long?"

"Aye."

Again she waited for him to expound, and again he didn’t. Murie bit her lip. He wasn’t being very helpful. "Emilie says you have gone to battle for the king?"

"Aye."

"In France?" she prodded.

"Aye."

"Crecy? Calais?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"Aye."

Murie finally turned on him with irritation. "Do you actually speak, my lord? If so, I would consider it rather kind of you to help out with this conversation, rather than leaving me to carry it on my own."

"Aye. I speak," he answered. Then he fell silent. Murie thought she might swoon. The man had issued three whole words! Dear Lord, be still my beating heart, she thought, frustration clawing at her stomach. The man was –

"However, I am more comfortable speaking to men than women. I have spent more time around men," he explained. Murie was just softening at this explanation, thinking it was admirable of him to say it when so many men seemed to dislike admitting a failure – at least the king did – when he added, "I often find it more trouble than it is worth. Women are such emotional creatures and often seem to lack in the basic sense that God gave men. It is difficult not to offend them."

"What?" She gasped in dismay.

"See? I have offended you."

"Aye, of course I am offended, my lord," she said with exasperation. "You have just claimed that women are too stupid to bother talking to."

"Nay, you misunderstood me," he said quickly.

"It must be because I am so lacking in the sense God gave men," she snapped. Turning on him she added, "I shall have you know, women have just as much sense as men. More, even."

"Oh, now – ," he began, but she interrupted again.

"Aye, they do. I assure you, I am every bit as intelligent as a man."

"I am sure you are," he murmured soothingly, but it was too late.

"Do not patronize me, my lord," she snapped. "I am as intelligent as a man, and I shall prove it. In fact, we shall have a duel of intelligence to prove women are just as smart as men."

"A duel of intelligence?" he echoed with surprise. "What exactly is that?"

Murie bit her lip, then admitted, "I am not sure. However, despite my lack of intelligence, I will endeavor to think of something and let you know."

With nothing else to say to the man, she turned on her heel and hurried to Emilie’s side.

"I am finding it a bit inclement out here, Emilie," she said when her friend saw her. "I think I shall return inside."

"I shall join you," Emilie agreed.

"As will we," Lauda announced, pulling free of Osgoode. She gestured for her brother to join them, and followed the two women starting back toward the castle.

"Is Lord Gaynor not coming as well?" Malculinus asked with interest, moving up on Murie’s side.

"I have no idea," she answered honestly.

"I see," Lauda said slowly, then commented, "Are you sure you did not have a dream?"

"I have answered that question several times now, Lauda," Murie pointed out with irritation. "I am quite sure."

"Aye, I am sorry I keep asking. It is just that I feel so bad. We both ate that rotten meat, and yet I am the only one who had a dream. I feel guilty that I talked you into it at all," she continued.

"Especially now that there is some question as to whether the rotten meat part actually works."

Murie stopped and turned sharply. "What do you mean? What question?"

Lauda bit her lip and admitted, "Well, one of the ladies heard what we were doing last night, and she told me it only works if you fast all day. Only then shall you dream of the man meant to be your husband. If you eat rotten meat, you shall dream of the man you should not marry."

"What?" Murie stared at Lauda with horror.

"Aye." Lauda nodded. "So, I suppose it does not really matter that you dreamed of no one. But eating that rotten meat was a waste, I guess."

"I do not recall that being part of the legend," Emilie spoke up, scowling. "I do not recall there being anything at all about someone you not marry."

"Aye, well, neither do I," Lauda agreed earnestly. "But then, I did not recall the mention of rotten meat at all yesterday, and you said you had some vague recollection of it. This lady seemed to know the belief well and seemed firm on that point. Anyway," she decided, waving the matter away, "it matters little, as Murie was not made ill, nor did she dream of anyone."

"Aye," Emilie said heavily, casting an anxious glance at Murie as they entered the castle. Then, with feigned cheer she said,

"Oh, look, here we are back inside. You must come up to my room with me, Murie. I have a gift I meant to give you."

"Of course," Murie agreed, despite the fact that her friend had already given her a gift; it was obvious she wished them to speak alone. Either way, Murie was glad for the excuse to get away from Lauda and Malculinus Aldous. She needed to think about things. She was very confused. She’d dreamt of Balan and his passionate kiss and assumed the man was to be her husband, but then he’d made that comment about women being emotional and lacking sense.

Murmuring good-day to the brother and sister, Emilie drew Murie’s arm through her own and led her toward the stairs. They ascended in silence, but Murie was aware of the concerned and curious glances Emilie kept casting her way. Finally, the woman said, "I gather the walk did not go well. Was the conversation stilted?"

"Would that it were," Murie muttered. "At first he would not speak at all. The man was silent as a stone. And when I confronted him on the matter, he explained that he did not often take the trouble to talk to women, as he found more often than not it was not worth his trouble. Women, it seems, are emotional creatures who are not gifted with the same strength and intelligence as men."

"What?" Emilie asked in amazement. "But we talked when he visited Reginald."

"Aye, well, mayhap you are the exception to the rule, then," Murie muttered.

They were both silent for a bit, and then Emilie said, "Nay. I do not believe it. You must have misunderstood him, Murie."