Chivalrous Read Free Page A

building.
    Gwen had already removed her hilt and sword by the time Rosalind joined her, though she left a small jeweled dagger in her boot.
    â€œNot fair,” declared Rosalind. “Should I not get some sort of head start? You’ve been riding all your life.”
    â€œNow, where would be the fun in that? You must challenge yourself if you wish to be a warrior worth your armor.”
    â€œWho said I wished for that? I’d be happy braiding flowers into your golden hair and fussing over your silken gowns.”
    Although Gwen had managed to woo Rosalind to her warrior ways, the young woman had not adjusted entirely. Rosalind might have spent a boisterous childhood dancing through fields, climbing trees, and tussling with village lads in the dirt, but weapons of steel and giant horses still tested her limits.
    â€œBut admit it.” Gwen grinned impishly. “This is so much better.”
    Rosalind giggled. “I suppose so. I never dreamt of such excitement. If I ever need to look for employment again, I shall have an exhaustive list of skills to my name.”
    â€œYou see. You might guard a threatened princess.”
    â€œOr escort a noblewoman on pilgrimage.”
    Gwen gathered her armor. “Come, time to head home.”
    They hung their swords inside the dim little structure next to lances, shields, chain mail, and even a battle ax. Her brothers had helped her build this hidden structure years ago. Though her mother cared little what Gwen did, if word ever reached her father that she trained at the warrior arts, she dared not imagine the consequences.
    One of the few times he had deigned to visit home, he had thrashed her bottom merely for riding on horseback. According to Father, true ladies rode in traveling wagons, or better yet, were carried in litters, or best still, did not leave home at all.
    Once their weapons were safely stowed, Gwen brushed her mantle of rich burgundy down over her tunic and turned to Rosalind. “How do I look? Ready for inspection?”
    Rosalind pulled a twig from Gwen’s braid and tucked some flyaway strands behind her ear. “That will have to suffice until I can redo your hair for supper. If one does not peer too closely, you might almost pass for a lady.”
    â€œFunny.” Both of them wore thick men’s leggings and leather boots beneath their women’s apparel with slits up the sides for freedom of movement.
    They gathered their horses and led them at a walk down the trail, for they did not wish to startle the villagers by thundering through. Gwen picked a green leaf from a bush jutting into the pathway and crunched it between her fingers for the feel of its lush snap. A rich, herbal fragrance wafted to her nose, and she drank deep the smell of the countryside she loved. She gazedinto the azure sky, which rippled with white clouds like waves in the sea.
    As they reached the village and passed through the huts with their mud-daubed walls and pale thatched roofs, Gwen waved to her father’s serfs. These people had been more a family to her over the years than most of those who dwelt in the cold stone castle, always busy with their own affairs. She surveyed this world of browns and tans, so subdued after her afternoon in the bright field yet brimming with vitality.
    A young girl named Maggie, wearing naught but a plain tunic with tatters about the hem, dashed across the muddy lane and threw her scrawny arms around Gwen’s waist.
    Unable to resist the wave of warmth that filled her, she scooped the girl off the ground, feeling her bones beneath coarse fabric. “Maggie, have you been eating your porridge?”
    Hugging Gwen tight, the girl wrapped her legs around Gwen’s waist and caught her grimy, bare feet together behind her back. “I don’t like it so much as I like them apples you bring me.”
    How Gwen wished she could offer Maggie—not to mention the other village children—trenchers of bread