Page 22 of Wed By Proxy

“Don’t forget your mittens and hat,” Mathilde called after him, and started making her way carefully down the garden path. The fresh powdery snow was perfect for walking on, but the churned up snow on the path had frozen hard and was treacherous indeed.

She had only just reached the edge of the wood, when Robin came crunching through the snow after her. “Wait for me!” he puffed, his orange hat slipping down over his eyes. He paused to adjust it to a jaunty angle.

“Which way shall we go? I vote this path.” Mathilde pointed to a thin trail leading in the opposite direction to that from which they had come. Robin nodded in agreement and they set off at once. “How was your bed last night? Did you sleep well?”

“Aye, very well. Yourself?”

“Very comfortably, though my bed is four times as big as the one I am accustomed to.”

“My room is much better than my usual quarters. Old Sir Avery is a penny-pinching old curmudgeon,” Robin grumbled about the knight he served at court.

Mathilde’s footsteps halted. “Robin!” she cried.

“What is it?”

“I never even thought about Sir Avery! Will you not be in very great trouble at abandoning his service?”

Robin shrugged, unconcerned. “Probably.”

“But will not your people be very cross, after he agreed to take you to squire?”

Again Robin showed supreme indifference. “My stepfather will doubtless cut up a bit rough,” he admitted. “But Mother wanted me for the church anyway. She hates knights and combat, ever since my father was killed in battle.”

Mathilde looked at him doubtfully. “Is that something you would be interested in pursuing?”

Robin grinned. “No. My older brother Gregor is more suited, in truth.”

“But—”

“If old Sir Avery throws me off, all the better. I wasn’t learning anything from him anyway, except different ways to tie your garters.” Robin pulled a face. It was true, Mathilde reflected, that Sir Avery was an elderly knight, who spent most of his days attending different ceremonial functions at court. Certainly his jousting days were long since spent. “He only agreed to take me as my father was his godson,” Robin continued, picking up a stick and inspecting it. He started swishing away with it, as if it were a sword.

“I suppose we ought both to write, explaining where we are,” sighed Mathilde guiltily.

“There’s no hurry.” Robin frowned, performing a side-step and kicking some imaginary foe.

“Mind out for that tree root—” Mathilde started, before Robin took a spectacular tumble and slid two feet in the snow. “Rob! Are you alright?”

“Ouch.” He sat up, rubbing his shin. “That’s the trouble with all this snow—” He broke off, staring into the trees. “Did you see that?”

“What?” Mathilde turned to look in the direction he was looking fixedly.

“That old crone?” He pointed. “She was right there!”

“I saw no one.” She turned back to see Robin still sat there staring. “Do get up Robin, the snow will soak through your cloak.”

He clambered to his feet, and started off at a slow jog in the direction he had pointed to.

“Robin!”

He beckoned to her. “Come on!”

“We’ll get lost!” Mathilde warned. “You’re leading us away from the path.”

“We’ll find our way back!”

“Robin!”

He stopped and turned back to look at her. “Mathilde,” he said in the same challenging tone. “Your nurse isn’t here now. This is our chance. One more adventure.” He crooked an eyebrow at her. “Matty would seize the opportunity.”