Page 13 of Picking Up the Gauntlet

“You’re the first man I’ve ever heard defend my sister. I’ll admit, it’s not always an easy thing to do. I’m afraid I’ve been caught up in the gossip for so long that I’ve been pulled into the abyss along with them, without even realizing it. Thank you for subtly pointing this out to me. It is admirable that you defend her, if only with your words.”

“It’s my job to protect her now. In every way,” said Jonathon.

“I want you to take this.” He tossed the pouch to Jonathon who caught it.

“Nay.” Jonathon’s eyes focused on the pouch of coins. It was enough to feed his family for months. Still, it felt rather like blood money. “I’d rather not, my lord.”

“I insist. It’s not for keeping quiet, if that’s what you’re thinking,” said Rook. “It’s to keep others in their place if you hear them speaking badly about my sister again. Like you did just now.”

“Me?” This caused him more alarm than hearing knights slander a lady. There was no way he wanted to be put in this position. “Nay, I’m afraid I can’t. I have no right to tell a noble anything, my lord. I’m only a commoner, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I haven’t forgotten. But yes, you’re right, that wouldn’t be appropriate, I suppose. Instead, you will report illicit behavior of the knights and soldiers directly to me or to my father. In private, of course.”

“Of course,” he said, not liking that idea either. Most of the nobles were his customers, and some of them even his friends. “Is that everything, my lord?” Jonathon was eager to get out of here and into the fresh air. It didn’t feel good being confined, and he was extremely uncomfortable wearing these clothes.

“That’s it,” Rook answered. “However, I will say, Jonathon Armstrong, that it’s a damned shame you are just a commoner. Because, if you were a nobleman, I think you’d make a good husband for my sister.”

* * *

Raven had just entered the kitchen with Lark when she saw her brother and a guard enter the room and head over toward them.

“Raven,” called out Rook, with his hand raised in the air. “I need to talk to you, anon.”

“Whatever for?” Raven snatched a hunk of bread off a platter that her handmaid held out to her. “I don’t have anything to say to you, Rook, so please leave me alone.” She ripped off some bread with her teeth and chewed.

“Raven, I—” Rook stopped in front of her, looking her up and down. “What in bloody hell are you wearing?”

“Clothes, Brother. Why?” She smiled and continued to chew.

Lark watched silently while Emma put the tray down on a table and poured wine into goblets.

“Hello, Lark,” said Rook with a nod, as he acknowledged his Scottish cousin. “I saw your father earlier and he told me you are here to help Raven prepare for her wedding. That is nice of you to do so.”

“I’m not getting married,” interrupted Raven before Lark could even respond. She reached over and snatched up a goblet, downing all the wine at once. Over the rim of her cup she noticed the guard watching her intently. She didn’t recognize him, nor did she like him staring at her that way.

“Hello, Rook,” said Lark, moving closer. “Yes, I am here to assist Raven.”

“Then why in God’s name did you let her leave her chamber looking like a scullery boy?” growled Rook.

“Don’t blame Lark, it’s not her fault.” Raven slammed down the empty goblet and plucked a sweetmeat off the tray next. She held it pinched in her fingers as she spoke. “Lark wanted me to wear one of my best gowns, but I didn’t see the need for it.”

“Didn’t see the need?” asked Rook. He turned to the guard and spoke under his breath. “She didn’t see the need to look like a lady instead of a beggar? And on the day when Father is introducing potential suitors to her. See what I mean?”

Raven glared at her brother, shocked he’d be consulting with a mere guard about her behavior. She didn’t like it at all.

“My lord, forgive me for speaking so freely, but I don’t think Lady Raven looks at all like a beggar,” said the guard. Raven popped the whole sweetmeat into her mouth, wondering if the guard was only saying this because he feared her wrath. “Perhaps she has something else to do that requires more... conventional clothing than a cumbersome gown,” suggested the man, seeming to be defending her choice of apparel for some odd reason. While she appreciated the man sticking out his neck for her, it was really not the proper way to be talking to a lord. Even if it was just her brother.

“Who are you? You’re not one of the castle guards,” said Raven, swallowing down the food and licking her lips. She noticed the guard’s eyes flick down to her mouth. He shifted from foot to foot, while his hand played with his weapon belt.

“I-I’m Jonathon. Jonathon Armstrong, my lady,” he answered. He looked away as soon as he’d told her his name, almost as if he wasn’t proud of it.

“Armstrong, Armstrong,” she repeated, thinking about it for a moment. Where had she heard that name before? “Oh, now I remember you,” said Raven. “You’re that armorer from town. Don’t you sometimes hire out your sword to my father?”

He looked directly at her this time. “Aye, my lady. That’s me,” he said softly.

“You’re a damn mercenary! You would sell your own mother for money, or slit anyone’s throat if you were paid enough. Why are you dressed in the clothes of a castle guard and wearing my family’s crest? You’re not allowed to wear those things, so take them off. You are naught but a fake, a phony. A simple-minded commoner.”

Jonathon’s jaw dropped. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that! He saw now what Rook was talking about, and already regretted defending the shrew earlier. He’d never had anyone say such horrible things about him, and even talking about his mother. Plus, she called him a fake and a phony. Even if he had been called a simple commoner by the nobles more times than he could count, none of them had ever referred to him as simple-minded. Jonathon was ready to turn around and leave. He didn’t ask to be here, and it wasn’t his idea to dress this way. He might just be a commoner dressed like a castle guard, but she had no right degrading him like this in front of everyone.