Chapter Ten #2
Atlas shook his head. “He does not.” He looked between Markus and Cassius, seeing their shock. “We have loved each other since we first met. There has never been anyone else for me. Why is that so wrong?”
Markus shook his head, unwilling to elaborate on anything with regards to Caria. “It is not wrong to love,” he said. “But Caria… I do not think that she is meant for you.”
Atlas lifted his chin. “We shall see.”
Markus wasn’t going to argue with him and neither was Cassius. What had started out as good-natured teasing had turned into something else. Something a bit sad, to be truthful. Atlas had no idea the woman he loved was as rare as a unicorn – a Welsh princess of pure blood.
In fact, it was a little tragic.
Markus changed the subject.
“Mayhap,” he said. “Meanwhile, let us return to the subject at hand – sheep and money. There’s something else to consider – orchards.
Trastamara used to have a great one, hence the name of The Orchard crossing, but your father let those trees go to waste.
Berwick has a small orchard that isn’t half the size of what Trastamara’s used to be and we make a good deal of money from our fruit.
I would suggest you revitalize those pear and apple trees because you are literally sitting on a fortune. ”
Atlas opened his mouth to reply when the door to the solar suddenly creaked, as if someone were leaning against it.
All conversation ceased as they looked to the door, listening to it creak and pop.
Atlas was the closest. Lifting a finger to his lips to beg for silence, he quietly made his way to the door, put his hand on the latch, and yanked it open.
Several little bodies fell forth.
Alfie was on the top of the pile, quickly scrambling to his feet.
Beneath him, his “knights” were all struggling to stand up.
Two out of the three had small wooden swords in their hands, a definite improvement from the sticks they used to wield.
They had Markus to thank for that, who had found the castle’s wheelwright and had the man make small, dull swords from scraps of wood.
But that meant they were properly armed.
And determined.
“We’ve come to take over the solar and claim it for me!” Alfie declared. “My knights have come to fight you!”
Atlas started to laugh but Aldwin used the flat side of his sword to smack him right across the groin. As Atlas doubled over, startled and in pain, Aldwin and Alfie and another boy named Manley charged into the solar, prepared to fight.
Markus and Cassius rose from their seats.
“Surely there must be a peaceful solution to this,” Markus said steadily. “We do not need to fight to the death.”
Alfie had bloodlust in his eyes. He pointed at Markus. “You have made us weapons and now we shall use them against you!” he said imperiously. “Give us this chamber. My horse guard needs a place all their own!”
Markus looked at Cassius for his reaction, only to see that the man was trying very hard not to burst into laughter. Seeing his brother’s struggles only made Markus want to laugh, too. It was a naughty, bold child who would try to usurp his brother’s private chamber.
But it was typical Alfie.
“Your horse guard can have a place of their own, but not this chamber,” Markus said. “Go now in peace and I will forget that you barged into a private meeting. Test my patience and I will take your weapons by force.”
Rather than intimidate Alfie, Markus’ words were a challenge.
Markus and Alfie had become very good friends over the past week, spending a good deal of time together as Markus helped train Alfie’s horse guard.
Not only did they have suitable dull weapons now, but they even had two real helms, both of them having belonged to Roget.
In fact, Alfie had one of those helms on his head at this very moment, which made him feel particularly powerful.
“Atlas has this whole castle,” Alfie said. “I have nothing. I deserve a chamber of my own, too.”
By this time, the sting of being slapped in the groin with a sword had worn off and Atlas came up behind Alfie, grabbing his brother by the neck.
“You little devil,” he scolded. “I am going to tell Mother what you have done and…”
“What has he done, Atlas?”
Amabella was now standing in the doorway, a basket of freshly dried clothing in her arms. She had just come in from the kitchen yard and heard the argument.
For a moment, no one said a word, and certainly not Markus and Cassius, because they didn’t want to get involved in what had simply been a family dust-up.
But Atlas still had Alfie by the neck; his grip tightened and he thrust the child at his mother.
“Take this demon-child away from here,” he said. “He charged in here and demanded we turn over the solar to him or he would fight us. He needs a swift beating.”
Amabella’s gaze immediately turned to her youngest son, who was trying to pry his brother’s fingers off his neck.
“Did you do this?” she asked with underlying hazard in her tone.
Alfie was unrepentant. “Atlas has everything and I have nothing,” he said. “I want a chamber for my horse guard. I am the king!”
Atlas let go of his brother and gave him a kick to the buttocks. “You are not the king,” he said. “Get out of here.”
Alfie didn’t take to be kicked kindly. He rubbed his bum before rushing his brother, little fists balled, and Atlas was forced to push him away by his head. Alfie landed on his buttocks, but he didn’t stay there for long. He came up swinging.
“Enough,” Amabella snapped softly, reaching out to grab Alfie by the arm before he could make contact with his brother.
She yanked the boy from the chamber. “You will behave yourself, Alphonse. One more offense against your brother and you will no longer be able to play with your horse guard. I will send them all away.”
That was a serious threat for the king. Alfie looked at his mother, trying very hard not to weep now that he realized that he was thwarted.
“But I need them,” he sniffled.
“Then you will behave yourself,” Amabella said sternly. “Now, take your knights and go back to the kitchen yard. Do as I say.”
Alfie turned to his knights, standing fearfully near the door, and motioned to them. With hung heads, the children followed their king from the chamber, ashamed of their failed coup.
Amabella stood in the doorway, arms folded across her chest, her disapproval evident at the would-be raiders. When Alfie and his cohorts trickled through the entry and out into the bailey, she turned to the men in the chamber.
“My apologies,” she said. “I hope they did not disturb you overly.”
Atlas was standing the closest to his mother and answered her. “We can withstand his invasion attempts,” he said. “But he is very bold, Mama. He is going to get into trouble when he gets older.”
“He will be fostering by then,” Markus said, his gaze on Amabella. “He is young, still, but in another couple of years, he will go off to foster and they will temper that boldness. Let him be young while he still can. He has a fearlessness that few dare.”
Atlas shook his head at his brash, fearless brother, while Amabella smiled.
“I hope that always holds true,” she said. “And thank you for being so understanding of him.”
Markus simply nodded his head while Amabella collected her basket again and headed about her business. But even after she left the chamber, Markus’ thoughts were on her.
And that was the end of his attempts to school Atlas for the afternoon.
These days, Markus could think of little else but Amabella.
The past week at Trastamara had been mostly spent with Atlas, especially since his father departed.
Patrick seemingly had no issue leaving Markus behind for a time to help Atlas acclimate, so Markus had taken command for the most part, helping Atlas most of the time and Alfie some of the time. He genuinely liked the de Sauque lads.
The lasses were another issue altogether.
Aleanor still turned pale with fright when she saw him, but she was getting better about it.
Ambra was nearly as bad as Alfie with her demands for his time, but he didn’t really mind.
When she wasn’t with her nurse, she was with her mother, and sometimes she would slip her little hand into his big one as he went about his duties, following him.
That meant her mother sometimes followed, too.
Even if he was simply around Amabella, he was content.
She was very polite with him, warm most of the time, but she had yet to cross that line that she would consider showing romantic interest in him.
In fact, she treated him pleasantly and respectfully, as one would the son of her liege.
But after a week of being pleasantly, politely, and respectfully treated, he was becoming dissatisfied with it.
It wasn’t as if he weren’t the most handsome, capable knight on the border.
But Amabella wasn’t falling at his feet for some reason.
He was thinking that he wanted to change that.
As Cassius took over the discussion on expanding Trastamara’s agricultural empire with a revitalized orchard near The Orchard crossing, Markus stood by the lancet window overlooking the bailey.
He saw Alfie and his horse guard as they retreated to the kitchen yard and he stood there long enough to see Amabella leave the keep and head towards the great hall.
Tonight, the feast in the hall was going to be the start of something different.
He hadn’t remained at Trastamara out of the goodness of his heart. In the beginning, it had been out of his seeming infatuation with Amabella, but he remained because the infatuation had turned into something else. He wasn’t sure what.
But he was going to summon the courage to find out.
Trastamara had settled into a routine with shocking speed now that Roget was gone.