this when I'd finished it properly, but you'll have to have it now.'
Will rose from fondling the dog, took it from her and opened it out to reveal a small silk pennant designed to fly from a lance. It bore the Marshal blazon of a red lion snarling on a background half green and half gold.
He swallowed manfully. 'I'll keep it with me always,' he promised.
Mahelt couldn't bear it. It was all ending. Nothing would ever be the same again. What was it going to be like without him? With a small cry, she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely. 'I won't ever let you go!'
He hugged her in return and swung her round. 'I'll never leave in spirit.
You'll always be with me, I swear.'
She felt his skin and his hair and tried to reach inside him because she knew the embrace might be their last one. Whether it was or not, this moment closed the door on her childhood.
He had to use firm pressure to unlock her arms and push her away. 'It'll be all right, Matty.' He smiled, trying to make light of it. 'I think you are just jealous because you want to be a squire in my stead and ride a fine big warhorse.'
The use of her nickname made her want to howl aloud with grief, but she held it in until her stomach ached. 'I would take your place if I could.'
'I believe you would, but I don't think I would have much skill at embroidery and the Bigods would certainly receive a shock.'
Mahelt forced herself to play along, and gave him a watery smile and a nudge of reproof.
'Besides, it's my duty.' He cast a final, lingering look around the room.
Mahelt put her hands behind her back, gripping them together in an effort not to throw herself at him again.
He ushered her ahead of him down the twisting stairs and out to the courtyard. The summer sun blazed upon the saddled horses and sumpters; it glittered on harness and trappings. Will had a new grey stallion for his journey, with Equus as his second string. Her father, who was escorting him, was already astride his horse and wore his customary air of calm. Mahelt wondered how he could be so strong and implacable. She tried to emulate him, but it was impossible. Her mother's complexion was pale and her eyes were full of grief, but she held her head high.
'We'll not be broken,' Mahelt heard her say softly as they watched Will mount up. 'We'll never be broken.' Her voice became no more than a breath. 'But oh my son, oh my child.'
Mahelt's own grief welled up, as did her fury at King John for tearing into her family like this and opening such painful wounds. As the final horse trotted out of the gate, she whirled round and fled to the chamber she shared with her little sisters, threw herself down on her bed, pummelled her pillow and wept.
After a while, her mother came and sat on the bed. Taking Mahelt in her arms, she stroked her hair. 'Courage, daughter,' she said, her own eyes puffy and red-rimmed. 'Weep now, but tomorrow be strong. Remember who we are and that whatever else is taken from us, they will never strip our honour and our pride.'
Watching Ralph wander around the bedchamber with the distracted air of a lovesick swain, Hugh wrestled the urge to grab him by the scruff and shake some sense into him. It was on the tip of his tongue to snap that William Longespee was a mortal man, not a god, but telling him would only result in rolled eyes and hostility. Ralph had to discover such a thing for himself.
Ralph had been in this condition for a week now, ever since Longespee had come to visit, full of ebullience following his successful campaign at La Rochelle, and offered to take him into his household as a squire. Ralph had been ecstatic and desperate to seize the opportunity. Longespee had basked in the adulation and although nothing was said, it was plain he thought he was being gracious and bountiful towards his Bigod kin.
'It's all packed.' Ralph glanced at the two baggage rolls at the side of his bed. He fixed wistful eyes on the pair of wolf pelts spread
Will rose from fondling the dog, took it from her and opened it out to reveal a small silk pennant designed to fly from a lance. It bore the Marshal blazon of a red lion snarling on a background half green and half gold.
He swallowed manfully. 'I'll keep it with me always,' he promised.
Mahelt couldn't bear it. It was all ending. Nothing would ever be the same again. What was it going to be like without him? With a small cry, she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely. 'I won't ever let you go!'
He hugged her in return and swung her round. 'I'll never leave in spirit.
You'll always be with me, I swear.'
She felt his skin and his hair and tried to reach inside him because she knew the embrace might be their last one. Whether it was or not, this moment closed the door on her childhood.
He had to use firm pressure to unlock her arms and push her away. 'It'll be all right, Matty.' He smiled, trying to make light of it. 'I think you are just jealous because you want to be a squire in my stead and ride a fine big warhorse.'
The use of her nickname made her want to howl aloud with grief, but she held it in until her stomach ached. 'I would take your place if I could.'
'I believe you would, but I don't think I would have much skill at embroidery and the Bigods would certainly receive a shock.'
Mahelt forced herself to play along, and gave him a watery smile and a nudge of reproof.
'Besides, it's my duty.' He cast a final, lingering look around the room.
Mahelt put her hands behind her back, gripping them together in an effort not to throw herself at him again.
He ushered her ahead of him down the twisting stairs and out to the courtyard. The summer sun blazed upon the saddled horses and sumpters; it glittered on harness and trappings. Will had a new grey stallion for his journey, with Equus as his second string. Her father, who was escorting him, was already astride his horse and wore his customary air of calm. Mahelt wondered how he could be so strong and implacable. She tried to emulate him, but it was impossible. Her mother's complexion was pale and her eyes were full of grief, but she held her head high.
'We'll not be broken,' Mahelt heard her say softly as they watched Will mount up. 'We'll never be broken.' Her voice became no more than a breath. 'But oh my son, oh my child.'
Mahelt's own grief welled up, as did her fury at King John for tearing into her family like this and opening such painful wounds. As the final horse trotted out of the gate, she whirled round and fled to the chamber she shared with her little sisters, threw herself down on her bed, pummelled her pillow and wept.
After a while, her mother came and sat on the bed. Taking Mahelt in her arms, she stroked her hair. 'Courage, daughter,' she said, her own eyes puffy and red-rimmed. 'Weep now, but tomorrow be strong. Remember who we are and that whatever else is taken from us, they will never strip our honour and our pride.'
Watching Ralph wander around the bedchamber with the distracted air of a lovesick swain, Hugh wrestled the urge to grab him by the scruff and shake some sense into him. It was on the tip of his tongue to snap that William Longespee was a mortal man, not a god, but telling him would only result in rolled eyes and hostility. Ralph had to discover such a thing for himself.
Ralph had been in this condition for a week now, ever since Longespee had come to visit, full of ebullience following his successful campaign at La Rochelle, and offered to take him into his household as a squire. Ralph had been ecstatic and desperate to seize the opportunity. Longespee had basked in the adulation and although nothing was said, it was plain he thought he was being gracious and bountiful towards his Bigod kin.
'It's all packed.' Ralph glanced at the two baggage rolls at the side of his bed. He fixed wistful eyes on the pair of wolf pelts spread
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