Chapter Six #2
Courtly shook her head. “Not really,” she said. “She was a very kind woman. Having lost my mother at a young age, I appreciated her guidance.”
Jeniver’s smile faded. “Then you and I have a great deal in common,” she said. “I lost my mother at a young age, also.”
It was common ground that immediately bonded them. “Do you remember your mother, my lady?” Courtly asked. “I was fostering when my mother died. My memories of her are distant, almost as if I have dreamt her.”
Jeniver understood. “I have very little memory of my mother,” she said. “I was very young when she passed away. It was only my father and me for many years until I met my husband.”
Courtly was feeling comfortable with the conversation and with Lady de Shera. It was very rare when she had the opportunity to converse with women and, as she’d felt almost immediately upon meeting Lady de Shera, she was drawn to the woman’s warmth and kindness.
“We have more in common than you realize, my lady,” she said. “It has only been my father and my younger sister all of these years.”
Jeniver cocked her head curiously. “What of the woman who offered to tend your sister?” she asked. “Who was that?”
Courtly lifted her eyebrows in an ironic gesture that only she understood. “That is my father’s sister, Lady Ellice,” she said. “My aunt and my father do not get on well. They fight constantly. She did not have a hand in raising me.”
There was something both ironic and bitter in that statement but Jeniver ignored it without making it seem too obvious that she was. “I am sure your father did a fine job on his own,” she said. Then, she shifted the subject a bit. “Your name is very pretty and very unusual. Is it a family name?”
Courtly grinned. “It is not,” she said. “My mother named me Courtly Love because she was a woman who was quite enamored with all things romantic and chivalrous. I cannot tell you how much I detest my own name, however. I had always wished for something elegant and lovely, like Elizabeth or Eleanor.”
Jeniver shook her head. “Pah,” she scoffed softly. “Boring names, both of those. Your name is unique and lovely. It is very regal, I think.”
Courtly shrugged, flattered. “My mother chose the name because she said that every woman should know courtly love and thought that the name would bring me great love in my life.”
Jeniver giggled softly. “Has it?”
Courtly immediately thought of Maximus and her cheeks flushed unexpectedly. Startled at her reaction, she looked at her lap, trying not to appear too embarrassed.
“Not yet,” she admitted. “But I hope it will, my lady.”
Jeniver watched the woman, her head lowered with her pink cheeks, and she could see that perhaps the lady was as taken with Maximus as Maximus was with her. The red cheeks, the sudden inclination to demure… it was just a feeling she had. And it gave her great hope for Maximus’ sake.
“Surely you have more than one prospect, my lady,” she said leading.
Courtly shrugged. “I have had suitors,” she said, fighting off the giddy flush that thoughts of Maximus provoked. “Unfortunately, my father is not keen to me having a suitor. He has chased them all away. But I hope that someday there will be a man he will be unable to chase away.”
Jeniver studied her carefully as she delivered her reply. “Do you have anyone particular in mind?”
“Mayhap.”
“Have you considered Maximus?”
Courtly’s head shot up, her eyes wide. “Why… why would you ask, my lady?” she asked, almost fearfully. “I have never… that is to say, Sir Maximus saved my life yesterday and I have the utmost respect and gratitude towards him. I have never indicated anything else.”
Jeniver could see, quite clearly, that she had struck a nerve. Courtly had the same look that Maximus did when the idea of attraction between the two had been broached. She put up her hand to ease the woman.
“I know you have not been improper with him,” she assured her.
“That is not what I mean. What I meant was… if Maximus were to call upon you, then I doubt your father would be able to chase him away. No one chases Maximus de Shera away, in any case. He is a fine, noble, and compassionate man, and he is the greatest warrior in England. Aside from my husband, that is. Maximus will make some fortunate woman an excellent husband.”
Courtly was back to looking at her lap as Lady de Shera’s words rolled over and over in her mind.
Her fingers were fidgeting but beyond her slender fingers and chapped skin, she could see the dusty, dark green dress that she had been wearing since yesterday.
It didn’t smell too much like smoke any longer but it was still rather dirty and worn.
She sighed faintly, brushing at the dress.
“I am sure he will, my lady,” she said quietly. “But why should he want to call upon me? Did he tell you how we met?”
Jeniver nodded. “He said he saved your life when your hostel burned.”
Courtly rolled her eyes, rather miserably.
The way she and Maximus had met wasn’t something she ever envisioned herself speaking of, but at this moment, it was on the tip of her tongue.
For whatever reason, she felt the need to confide in Lady de Shera, perhaps because she had never really had anyone to confide to in all of her life. This was all very new to her.
“I fell on his head, my lady,” she said, embarrassed and distressed. “I was climbing down a rope I had made of bed linens and the rope gave way, so I crashed down on his head and… and my skirt went over his head, trapping the top-half of him within my skirts when we fell to the ground.”
Jeniver’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to say something, perhaps offer her condolences on such an undignified meeting, but she ended up laughing. She slapped a hand over her mouth.
“It is not true!” she hissed, stifling her giggles.
Seeing that Lady de Shera was laughing should have upset Courtly greatly, but it didn’t.
She, too, saw the humor of the situation, now a day after it happened.
At the time, it was the worst possible thing that could have happened but now, in hindsight, it was rather funny. She struggled not to smile.
“I am afraid that it is,” she said, remembering the entire event with great clarity.
“But… but that was not the worst part. He became entangled in my skirts with his head… where it should not have been, my lady, and I swear I thought he was a beast, a fiend at the very least. As his head remained trapped in my skirts, I… I beat his head through the fabric.”
Jeniver couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing, so much so that Courtly started to chuckle whether or not she wanted to.
Jeniver’s laughter was contagious and, as Courtly thought on the situation, she realized just how funny it really was.
She began to scream with laughter, too. As they rolled along the rocky, hole-prone road towards Oxford, the entire carriage was echoing with laughter.
“God’s Bones,” Jeniver gasped, wiping tears from her eyes. “That is the best thing I have heard in weeks. You say you really beat him around the head?”
Courtly was still snorting. “I did, my lady.”
Jeniver was off in gales of laughter again until she was weak with it.
Struggling to catch her breath, she was leaning back against the cushioned side of the cab when a very big horse and an armored leg appeared near the cab window.
There was a very big hand, too, gloved, and as the horse plodded along, the man astride it bent over so he could look into the cab window.
“What is happening in there?” Maximus asked. “All I hear is screaming.”
Jeniver glanced at Courtly, who had the look of absolute surprise and absolute elation on her face. But Courtly abruptly looked at her, horrified that the woman was going to tell him why they had been laughing and Jeniver subtly shook her head.
“It is not of your affair, Maximus de Shera,” she told the man. “We are speaking of womanly things. You would not be interested.”
Maximus flipped up his three-point visor, of the latest style, and looked between Jeniver and Courtly. Mostly, he was looking at Courtly. His eyes lingered on her, like a gentle caress, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Jeniver. She’d never seen that expression on Maximus’ face, ever.
“I suppose you told her why she is here,” he said to Jeniver.
Jeniver, a sly smile on her face, shook her head. “I have not,” she said. “Now you have ruined the surprise. Go back and ride behind the carriage, Maximus. You are spoiling all of my fun.”
Maximus grinned, flashing those straight white teeth framed by the beard. “Hurry and tell her before we arrive,” he said. “Oxford is up ahead. I can see it now.”
Courtly was looking at Jeniver very curiously at this point. Jeniver, seeing the woman’s expression, sighed dramatically.
“Oh, very well, Maximus,” she said, even though she was looking at Courtly. “It has come to our attention, Lady Courtly, that all of your possessions were burned in the fire yesterday. Is that correct?”
Courtly nodded, although she was somewhat confused by the question. “They were,” she said. “That is why I must apologize for my state of dress. This is all I have to wear and….”
Jeniver cut her off, gently done. “I know,” she said. “Maximus and I discussed your predicament and he would like to take you shopping for a few things to replace what you lost.”
Courtly was hit with a wave of utter delight, of utter shock. “But why?” she asked, to both of them, but ended up looking at Maximus. “Sir Maximus, it was not your fault that my possessions burned. You certainly do not have to replace anything.”
He was bent over his horse, looking at her through the cab window. “I know,” he said. “I want to do it. It would give me great pleasure, my lady. Please do not deny me.”