The Dragon of Throxenby, Part 14
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Still reeling pleasantly from his interview with the Earl, Guy walked down the corridor towards Quenilda's chamber. The Earl had sent one of his servants to fetch the Countess and Isolda from where they had been together in Quenilda's room, and they had gone past him a moment ago. Although Guy was mentally testing variations of the question "Will you marry me?" he'd still noticed the quizzical looks they had shot in his direction. For a brief moment, he wondered how they would receive the news, then went quickly back to rehearsing. If he didn't do it right, Quenilda might well say no, and they wouldn't be welcoming him into the family after all.
There was a scream from inside Quenilda's chamber that made the hair on the back of Guy's neck stand up in horror. Drawing his sword, Guy rushed to the door and swiftly pushed it open, prepared to defend Quenilda from whatever threat had made her jump up onto the bed and screech hysterically.
"Eva! Eva! Oh, Sir Guy! Kill it, kill it!"
"What?" Guy shouted. From the way Quenilda was clinging to the bedpost and looking frantically down at the floor, he expected to see nothing less than a poisonous snake, a wolf, a bear, or perhaps even Osbert hiding under the bed and waiting for a chance to pounce, but nothing of the sort was visible from where he stood. Cautiously, he moved closer. "Where?"
"There it goes!" Quenilda screeched, squirming in agitation while keeping a firm grip on the post. "There it goes, see? Kill it, oh, kill it, Sir Guy, kill that mouse!"
"Mouse?" Guy glanced down incredulously and saw a tiny brown rodent scuttling towards the open door, then lifted his head again to look at Quenilda. Her face was distorted with a degree of terror that Guy had never seen before, not in the Holy Land, not even during any of his visits to any of Nottingham's outlying villages.
"Don't just stand there, kill it!" Quenilda shrieked. Guy spun around and swung his sword. The tip of it hit the stone floor, a single spark flew up, and the mouse dashed away in the opposite direction, directly towards where Guy stood. Without thinking, he lifted his foot and stomped down.
"Did you get it?" Quenilda cried from behind him. "Is it still alive?"
"What's all the commotion?" Alarmed by the screams, Quenilda's family appeared in the open doorway, and the Earl, the Countess, and Isolda all watched solemnly as Guy lifted up his boot.
"Ugh," said Isolda, wrinkling her nose as Guy scraped the remains of the rodent off the bottom of his boot onto the floor. "Not that mouse thing again, Quenilda!"
The Countess didn't say anything, merely made a motion to step into the room with her arms outstretched, but to Guy's surprise, the Earl caught her and pulled her away. Isolda lingered a moment longer, until a hand gripped her shoulder, and then she disappeared as well. Quenilda didn't seem to have noticed either their presence or their absence, merely kept asking, "Is it dead? Is it dead?"
Realizing that he was the only one left to answer, Guy said, "Yes, it's dead."
If he'd expected Quenilda to calm down at the news, he was disappointed, although her shriek was a little less ear-piercing than before. "Get rid of it! Throw it out the window!"
Guy looked around, hoping that Eva had noticed her mistress' screams, too, and would come running just in time to clean up the mess, but the doorway remained clear. For lack of anything else in the room, and wishing he still had his gloves, he used the blade of his sword to scoop up the mangled corpse, and carried it carefully to the window. He had to open the shutters with one hand, which was awkward, but at last he was able to fling the dead mouse out into the darkness of the courtyard.
"There, it's gone," he announced.
"Check the room, make sure there aren't any more!" Quenilda cried, still gripping the bedpost with white-knuckled hands. "Look under the bed – use your sword just to make certain!"
Guy inspected all the corners of the room and prodded the darkness underneath the bed with his sword. Getting back to his feet again, he sheathed the blade, then held out both arms, inviting Quenilda to let him lift her down. "It's safe. There are no mice or anything else in here."
"You're certain?" she asked breathlessly.
"I'm certain," he replied.
"And you've thrown the dead one out of the window?" She looked as though she were relaxing a little, and Guy answered patiently, "Yes."
"And it was really dead? It's not going to come back to life and crawl back up again, is it?" She glanced over to the open window, and Guy went back to pull the shutters tightly closed. When he turned around, Quenilda slowly let go of the bedpost, looking as though she was finally ready to step onto the floor, and Guy strode over to help. But instead of lifting her down and letting go, he gave in to the temptation of wrapping his arms around her and hugging her to his chest.
"It's really dead," he assured the top of her head. "Not even the healing spring could bring that mouse back to life!"
Hugging him back, Quenilda gave a shaky little laugh. Her heart was hammering in her chest and he could feel every frantic heartbeat against his own ribs as she clung tightly to him. At first, Guy thought she had started to laugh for real, but then he realized that she was actually sobbing. He slackened his hold, in case she wanted to let go and whirl away, but she gripped him even tighter. Putting his arm back around her where it belonged, Guy reached up to stroke her hair, and whispered "Sshh, sshhh, it's all right."
Trembling under his embrace, Quenilda buried her face in his chest, and it was not until the fabric of his shirt was quite wet that she finally calmed down somewhat.
"I'm sorry," she finally sniffed.
"For what?" Guy asked.
"Getting your clothes wet … and everything else." Quenilda sniffed again, not looking at him, but not letting go, either. "I'm so embarrassed."
"Don't be," Guy said, stroking her hair again. "It's all right."
"I don't know why I reacted like this," Quenilda murmured. "Albreda would probably say it was delayed shock or something, and I've seen it in other people, but I just couldn't stop myself! You must think I'm very silly."
In an attempt to communicate that he understood, or was at least prepared to try, Guy said, "My sister was afraid of dogs."
"Did she have a bad experience when she was young?" Quenilda asked.
"A very big dog bit her once, at least, that's what she said. It might have been a small one. But after that, she would never go near them, and she used to cry, or run away in a panic whenever they got too close to her." Guy didn't mention that he'd teased her with a canine once, and that she'd reacted very similarly to what he'd just seen with Quenilda. But he had no desire to tease Quenilda that way, not ever, and now he even understood exactly why his father had taken a switch to his backside when he'd caught him.
Quenilda blotted her eyes on the shoulder of her own sleeve. "And did she ever get over it?"
"She died of a fever before she was ten," Guy said, and Quenilda gasped. "I'm sorry."
"It was a long time ago," Guy said. "I haven't thought of her for years now."
"I'm still sorry," Quenilda said. After a moment, she went on. "I had a bad fever once, when I was about five. They cut off my hair to help cool me down. And later, when I'd recovered, but my hair was still short, we had visitors in the keep, and I had to sleep on a pallet on the floor with Isolda. I had a very bad dream that night, that I was very small, the size of a mouse, and there was a huge mouse, bigger than a cat – bigger than a dog, even. It grabbed me by the head and wanted to drag me away – and when I woke up, there really was a mouse there, chewing on my hair! Isolda said it was trying to make a nest and she thought it looked so funny! She was laughing and wouldn't shoo it away. I sat up, but it was still on my head, clinging to my hair, and I had to get it off by myself! Then it bit me in the hand, so I dropped it, and it fell down into my lap. I shook it onto the pallet, but then it ran right up my nightshirt and got as high as my knee!"
Guy tried unsuccessfully to stifle his mirth.
"You can laugh," Quenilda said with a resigned sigh. "Everybody else in the family does, even Grandfather, a little. I would, too, if it were somebody else. But ever since then, I've been terrified of mice, and I get Eva to check my room every night before I lay down to sleep, just in case."
"Does she poke a sword under the bed, too?" Guy asked.
"No, a broom," Quenilda said. "And if she finds any mice, she has to kill them. Once, she dumped a dead one down the privy, and I had a nightmare that night that it came back to life and climbed back up to bite me when I sat down. After that, I made her throw them out the window."
Guy truly laughed at that, and Quenilda sighed again. "I thought I was getting over it, now that I'm not a child anymore, and then it had to happen right here, right now, right in front of you! I'm so embarrassed! I wanted you to think that I was strong and brave – I didn't want you to see me like this."
"You saw me cry," Guy reminded her. "And everybody is afraid of something."
Pushing away from his chest so that she could look up into his eyes, Quenilda asked, "What are you afraid of, Sir Guy?"
Guy looked down, and tenderly rearranged a strand of her hair. "I'm afraid that if I ask you to marry me, that you'll say no."
"And now that I've said yes, you're not afraid of anything anymore." Quenilda smiled so broadly up at him that Guy forgot about contradicting her and simply smiled back.
"You said yes?" he asked, just to hear her say it again.
"Yes, I said yes," she repeated. Encouraged, Guy bent his head slowly towards her, to give her a chance to turn away if she wanted, but she didn't, and so he kissed her.
They were still kissing when Guy heard someone else enter the chamber and give a short, sharp cough. When he and Quenilda did not separate immediately, Eva came closer and said, "Forgive me, my lady, but it's time for you to go to bed. We'll be making an early start to-morrow, what with the flogging and all."
"Flogging?" Quenilda tore her lips abruptly away from Guy's and stared at her servant in alarm. "Who? And why?"
"Well, my lady, it's a strange story," Eva began, then stopped.
"What's strange about it?" Quenilda asked, and when Eva glanced quickly in Guy's direction, she urged, "Please tell us!"
"It all started when I was down in the courtyard giving my Richard a little goodnight kiss, to get him through the cold, lonely night of guarding that wagon with Osbert and his men in it," Eva began. "Something hit me on the shoulder, and gave me the fright of my life! One of the Sheriff's guards came over with a torch to see what was going on, and it seemed that somebody had thrown a dead mouse out of an upper window!"
Guy and Quenilda glanced at each other, each trying to hide a smile, and Eva asked, "Was that you, my lady?"
"It was Sir Guy," Quenilda said. Guy thought that Eva looked slightly disappointed, as though having hoped that Quenilda had dealt with the mouse all by herself, but then she went on, "Well, because of that, the guard had his torch there, as I said, and then we all saw that Osbert and his men were trying to escape!"
Eva opened the chest at the end of the bed and took out a nightgown as she spoke. "I have to say, my lady, that I managed to catch Osbert myself, with only a little help from my Richard, and I gave him what he deserved for treating you the way he did!"
From the way she was twisting and even punching the cloth to illustrate her story, Guy wondered if he would recognize Osbert the next time he saw him.
"Eva!" Quenilda exclaimed. Looking down at what her hands were doing, Eva stopped and smoothed the nightgown out on the bed. "Oh, dear. Forgive me, my lady. You know I don't always let my emotions run away with me, but these last few days would have tried the patience of a saint! And you know well that I'm no saint."
"Oh, Eva, I wouldn't have you any other way," Quenilda said lovingly, then asked, "And what about the others? Luke and Hugo?"
"Oh, the guards got those two." Eva returned to the chest and brought out a small jar. After taking the lid off and digging out a fingerful of salve, she took Quenilda by the hand and massaged the salve into the rope burns around her wrist. "Can you imagine, my lady, they'd chewed right through the ropes, with their teeth, like rats! They were planning to run away to join Robin Hood's gang and they wanted to escape the castle by sliding down one of the privies."
"Ugh," Quenilda said, wrinkling her nose, and Eva nodded, then switched hands. "Yes. With a stink like that, they wouldn't have needed dogs to find them – but they didn't get that far. Anyway, my Richard went up to tell the Earl, and he came down, and the Sheriff, too. The Earl said that they could have gone on their way as free men, and been forgiven, if they'd just waited out their punishment, but since they were so eager to become outlaws, he'd have them flogged and sent into the forest in the morning. Then he let the Sheriff lock them up in the dungeon for the night."
"I don't like floggings," Quenilda said, looking unhappy. "I wish they hadn't tried to run away, so I wouldn't have to watch."
"You're much too tender-hearted, my lady," Eva said. Quenilda lowered her gaze and murmured, "I know. I just can't stand seeing anyone in pain."
"Well, if you need to, my lady, you can hold my hand," Eva offered, and Quenilda nodded. Eva smiled quickly, then went back to the chest to put the pot away again.
"My lady," Guy said, "I could ask your father if you truly have to attend."
Eagerness shone through the glum expression on Quenilda's face for just a moment before disappearing again. "The Earl has always insisted that we attend public punishments, Sir Guy, but I do thank you for your concern." Then, shyly, she asked, "Perhaps I could hold your hand, too?"
"Of course, my lady," Guy said, wishing he'd thought to offer before she'd had to ask.
Approaching with a comb, Eva said, "Well, even if there weren't a flogging, you'd still have to get up early to-morrow, my lady. Now say goodnight to Sir Guy and let's get you ready for bed."
"Good night, Sir Guy," Quenilda said. Her voice sounded obedient, but her eyes stared longingly at him.
Guy took her face gently in both hands, bent close so that their noses were almost touching, and said in a low voice, "My lady, I love your tender heart. I wouldn't have you any other way."
The light returned to Quenilda's face as she smiled, and threw her arms around his neck. "Oh, Guy, I love your dragonslayer heart and your mousekiller heart and the heart inside you that cries for mistakes, and –"
They started kissing before she had finished speaking, and Guy was only vaguely aware that she was still trying to say something. The fractured, muffled words could have been "I wouldn't have you any other way," but he wasn't completely certain. Giving up her attempt at verbal communcation, Quenilda concentrated solely on the kissing, and if Guy was afraid of anything at that moment, it was only that she might stop.
The End
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Still reeling pleasantly from his interview with the Earl, Guy walked down the corridor towards Quenilda's chamber. The Earl had sent one of his servants to fetch the Countess and Isolda from where they had been together in Quenilda's room, and they had gone past him a moment ago. Although Guy was mentally testing variations of the question "Will you marry me?" he'd still noticed the quizzical looks they had shot in his direction. For a brief moment, he wondered how they would receive the news, then went quickly back to rehearsing. If he didn't do it right, Quenilda might well say no, and they wouldn't be welcoming him into the family after all.
There was a scream from inside Quenilda's chamber that made the hair on the back of Guy's neck stand up in horror. Drawing his sword, Guy rushed to the door and swiftly pushed it open, prepared to defend Quenilda from whatever threat had made her jump up onto the bed and screech hysterically.
"Eva! Eva! Oh, Sir Guy! Kill it, kill it!"
"What?" Guy shouted. From the way Quenilda was clinging to the bedpost and looking frantically down at the floor, he expected to see nothing less than a poisonous snake, a wolf, a bear, or perhaps even Osbert hiding under the bed and waiting for a chance to pounce, but nothing of the sort was visible from where he stood. Cautiously, he moved closer. "Where?"
"There it goes!" Quenilda screeched, squirming in agitation while keeping a firm grip on the post. "There it goes, see? Kill it, oh, kill it, Sir Guy, kill that mouse!"
"Mouse?" Guy glanced down incredulously and saw a tiny brown rodent scuttling towards the open door, then lifted his head again to look at Quenilda. Her face was distorted with a degree of terror that Guy had never seen before, not in the Holy Land, not even during any of his visits to any of Nottingham's outlying villages.
"Don't just stand there, kill it!" Quenilda shrieked. Guy spun around and swung his sword. The tip of it hit the stone floor, a single spark flew up, and the mouse dashed away in the opposite direction, directly towards where Guy stood. Without thinking, he lifted his foot and stomped down.
"Did you get it?" Quenilda cried from behind him. "Is it still alive?"
"What's all the commotion?" Alarmed by the screams, Quenilda's family appeared in the open doorway, and the Earl, the Countess, and Isolda all watched solemnly as Guy lifted up his boot.
"Ugh," said Isolda, wrinkling her nose as Guy scraped the remains of the rodent off the bottom of his boot onto the floor. "Not that mouse thing again, Quenilda!"
The Countess didn't say anything, merely made a motion to step into the room with her arms outstretched, but to Guy's surprise, the Earl caught her and pulled her away. Isolda lingered a moment longer, until a hand gripped her shoulder, and then she disappeared as well. Quenilda didn't seem to have noticed either their presence or their absence, merely kept asking, "Is it dead? Is it dead?"
Realizing that he was the only one left to answer, Guy said, "Yes, it's dead."
If he'd expected Quenilda to calm down at the news, he was disappointed, although her shriek was a little less ear-piercing than before. "Get rid of it! Throw it out the window!"
Guy looked around, hoping that Eva had noticed her mistress' screams, too, and would come running just in time to clean up the mess, but the doorway remained clear. For lack of anything else in the room, and wishing he still had his gloves, he used the blade of his sword to scoop up the mangled corpse, and carried it carefully to the window. He had to open the shutters with one hand, which was awkward, but at last he was able to fling the dead mouse out into the darkness of the courtyard.
"There, it's gone," he announced.
"Check the room, make sure there aren't any more!" Quenilda cried, still gripping the bedpost with white-knuckled hands. "Look under the bed – use your sword just to make certain!"
Guy inspected all the corners of the room and prodded the darkness underneath the bed with his sword. Getting back to his feet again, he sheathed the blade, then held out both arms, inviting Quenilda to let him lift her down. "It's safe. There are no mice or anything else in here."
"You're certain?" she asked breathlessly.
"I'm certain," he replied.
"And you've thrown the dead one out of the window?" She looked as though she were relaxing a little, and Guy answered patiently, "Yes."
"And it was really dead? It's not going to come back to life and crawl back up again, is it?" She glanced over to the open window, and Guy went back to pull the shutters tightly closed. When he turned around, Quenilda slowly let go of the bedpost, looking as though she was finally ready to step onto the floor, and Guy strode over to help. But instead of lifting her down and letting go, he gave in to the temptation of wrapping his arms around her and hugging her to his chest.
"It's really dead," he assured the top of her head. "Not even the healing spring could bring that mouse back to life!"
Hugging him back, Quenilda gave a shaky little laugh. Her heart was hammering in her chest and he could feel every frantic heartbeat against his own ribs as she clung tightly to him. At first, Guy thought she had started to laugh for real, but then he realized that she was actually sobbing. He slackened his hold, in case she wanted to let go and whirl away, but she gripped him even tighter. Putting his arm back around her where it belonged, Guy reached up to stroke her hair, and whispered "Sshh, sshhh, it's all right."
Trembling under his embrace, Quenilda buried her face in his chest, and it was not until the fabric of his shirt was quite wet that she finally calmed down somewhat.
"I'm sorry," she finally sniffed.
"For what?" Guy asked.
"Getting your clothes wet … and everything else." Quenilda sniffed again, not looking at him, but not letting go, either. "I'm so embarrassed."
"Don't be," Guy said, stroking her hair again. "It's all right."
"I don't know why I reacted like this," Quenilda murmured. "Albreda would probably say it was delayed shock or something, and I've seen it in other people, but I just couldn't stop myself! You must think I'm very silly."
In an attempt to communicate that he understood, or was at least prepared to try, Guy said, "My sister was afraid of dogs."
"Did she have a bad experience when she was young?" Quenilda asked.
"A very big dog bit her once, at least, that's what she said. It might have been a small one. But after that, she would never go near them, and she used to cry, or run away in a panic whenever they got too close to her." Guy didn't mention that he'd teased her with a canine once, and that she'd reacted very similarly to what he'd just seen with Quenilda. But he had no desire to tease Quenilda that way, not ever, and now he even understood exactly why his father had taken a switch to his backside when he'd caught him.
Quenilda blotted her eyes on the shoulder of her own sleeve. "And did she ever get over it?"
"She died of a fever before she was ten," Guy said, and Quenilda gasped. "I'm sorry."
"It was a long time ago," Guy said. "I haven't thought of her for years now."
"I'm still sorry," Quenilda said. After a moment, she went on. "I had a bad fever once, when I was about five. They cut off my hair to help cool me down. And later, when I'd recovered, but my hair was still short, we had visitors in the keep, and I had to sleep on a pallet on the floor with Isolda. I had a very bad dream that night, that I was very small, the size of a mouse, and there was a huge mouse, bigger than a cat – bigger than a dog, even. It grabbed me by the head and wanted to drag me away – and when I woke up, there really was a mouse there, chewing on my hair! Isolda said it was trying to make a nest and she thought it looked so funny! She was laughing and wouldn't shoo it away. I sat up, but it was still on my head, clinging to my hair, and I had to get it off by myself! Then it bit me in the hand, so I dropped it, and it fell down into my lap. I shook it onto the pallet, but then it ran right up my nightshirt and got as high as my knee!"
Guy tried unsuccessfully to stifle his mirth.
"You can laugh," Quenilda said with a resigned sigh. "Everybody else in the family does, even Grandfather, a little. I would, too, if it were somebody else. But ever since then, I've been terrified of mice, and I get Eva to check my room every night before I lay down to sleep, just in case."
"Does she poke a sword under the bed, too?" Guy asked.
"No, a broom," Quenilda said. "And if she finds any mice, she has to kill them. Once, she dumped a dead one down the privy, and I had a nightmare that night that it came back to life and climbed back up to bite me when I sat down. After that, I made her throw them out the window."
Guy truly laughed at that, and Quenilda sighed again. "I thought I was getting over it, now that I'm not a child anymore, and then it had to happen right here, right now, right in front of you! I'm so embarrassed! I wanted you to think that I was strong and brave – I didn't want you to see me like this."
"You saw me cry," Guy reminded her. "And everybody is afraid of something."
Pushing away from his chest so that she could look up into his eyes, Quenilda asked, "What are you afraid of, Sir Guy?"
Guy looked down, and tenderly rearranged a strand of her hair. "I'm afraid that if I ask you to marry me, that you'll say no."
"And now that I've said yes, you're not afraid of anything anymore." Quenilda smiled so broadly up at him that Guy forgot about contradicting her and simply smiled back.
"You said yes?" he asked, just to hear her say it again.
"Yes, I said yes," she repeated. Encouraged, Guy bent his head slowly towards her, to give her a chance to turn away if she wanted, but she didn't, and so he kissed her.
They were still kissing when Guy heard someone else enter the chamber and give a short, sharp cough. When he and Quenilda did not separate immediately, Eva came closer and said, "Forgive me, my lady, but it's time for you to go to bed. We'll be making an early start to-morrow, what with the flogging and all."
"Flogging?" Quenilda tore her lips abruptly away from Guy's and stared at her servant in alarm. "Who? And why?"
"Well, my lady, it's a strange story," Eva began, then stopped.
"What's strange about it?" Quenilda asked, and when Eva glanced quickly in Guy's direction, she urged, "Please tell us!"
"It all started when I was down in the courtyard giving my Richard a little goodnight kiss, to get him through the cold, lonely night of guarding that wagon with Osbert and his men in it," Eva began. "Something hit me on the shoulder, and gave me the fright of my life! One of the Sheriff's guards came over with a torch to see what was going on, and it seemed that somebody had thrown a dead mouse out of an upper window!"
Guy and Quenilda glanced at each other, each trying to hide a smile, and Eva asked, "Was that you, my lady?"
"It was Sir Guy," Quenilda said. Guy thought that Eva looked slightly disappointed, as though having hoped that Quenilda had dealt with the mouse all by herself, but then she went on, "Well, because of that, the guard had his torch there, as I said, and then we all saw that Osbert and his men were trying to escape!"
Eva opened the chest at the end of the bed and took out a nightgown as she spoke. "I have to say, my lady, that I managed to catch Osbert myself, with only a little help from my Richard, and I gave him what he deserved for treating you the way he did!"
From the way she was twisting and even punching the cloth to illustrate her story, Guy wondered if he would recognize Osbert the next time he saw him.
"Eva!" Quenilda exclaimed. Looking down at what her hands were doing, Eva stopped and smoothed the nightgown out on the bed. "Oh, dear. Forgive me, my lady. You know I don't always let my emotions run away with me, but these last few days would have tried the patience of a saint! And you know well that I'm no saint."
"Oh, Eva, I wouldn't have you any other way," Quenilda said lovingly, then asked, "And what about the others? Luke and Hugo?"
"Oh, the guards got those two." Eva returned to the chest and brought out a small jar. After taking the lid off and digging out a fingerful of salve, she took Quenilda by the hand and massaged the salve into the rope burns around her wrist. "Can you imagine, my lady, they'd chewed right through the ropes, with their teeth, like rats! They were planning to run away to join Robin Hood's gang and they wanted to escape the castle by sliding down one of the privies."
"Ugh," Quenilda said, wrinkling her nose, and Eva nodded, then switched hands. "Yes. With a stink like that, they wouldn't have needed dogs to find them – but they didn't get that far. Anyway, my Richard went up to tell the Earl, and he came down, and the Sheriff, too. The Earl said that they could have gone on their way as free men, and been forgiven, if they'd just waited out their punishment, but since they were so eager to become outlaws, he'd have them flogged and sent into the forest in the morning. Then he let the Sheriff lock them up in the dungeon for the night."
"I don't like floggings," Quenilda said, looking unhappy. "I wish they hadn't tried to run away, so I wouldn't have to watch."
"You're much too tender-hearted, my lady," Eva said. Quenilda lowered her gaze and murmured, "I know. I just can't stand seeing anyone in pain."
"Well, if you need to, my lady, you can hold my hand," Eva offered, and Quenilda nodded. Eva smiled quickly, then went back to the chest to put the pot away again.
"My lady," Guy said, "I could ask your father if you truly have to attend."
Eagerness shone through the glum expression on Quenilda's face for just a moment before disappearing again. "The Earl has always insisted that we attend public punishments, Sir Guy, but I do thank you for your concern." Then, shyly, she asked, "Perhaps I could hold your hand, too?"
"Of course, my lady," Guy said, wishing he'd thought to offer before she'd had to ask.
Approaching with a comb, Eva said, "Well, even if there weren't a flogging, you'd still have to get up early to-morrow, my lady. Now say goodnight to Sir Guy and let's get you ready for bed."
"Good night, Sir Guy," Quenilda said. Her voice sounded obedient, but her eyes stared longingly at him.
Guy took her face gently in both hands, bent close so that their noses were almost touching, and said in a low voice, "My lady, I love your tender heart. I wouldn't have you any other way."
The light returned to Quenilda's face as she smiled, and threw her arms around his neck. "Oh, Guy, I love your dragonslayer heart and your mousekiller heart and the heart inside you that cries for mistakes, and –"
They started kissing before she had finished speaking, and Guy was only vaguely aware that she was still trying to say something. The fractured, muffled words could have been "I wouldn't have you any other way," but he wasn't completely certain. Giving up her attempt at verbal communcation, Quenilda concentrated solely on the kissing, and if Guy was afraid of anything at that moment, it was only that she might stop.
The End
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