An hour later, Lord Wyldon of Cavall strode purposefully into his mother's sitting rooms, an annoyed look on his face. His mother, wife and daughters were all present, sewing a dusty rose coloured quilt. Slightly beyond the circle was his squire, absorbed in a book.
No one seemed to notice his arrival let alone his purposeful stride. This irritated Wyldon; his purposeful stride had been used – successfully no less- many a time to catch the eye of an important person.
"Orianne," began Lady Viven, his wife. "Would you pass me the thread?"
"Yes Mama." The thread changed hands.
Wyldon coughed. Viven looked up, appropriately surprised. "Wyldon," she said. "I didn't see you there."
He seized his opportunity. "Oh, no? Well I haven't seen any of you all day." Wyldon smiled wryly, his lips pressed into a thin line. "One would think you've all been avoiding me."
They shifted uncomfortably and avoided his eyes. After an uncomfortable silence, although smug on Wyldon's part, his mother spoke up. "Wyldon, stop being such an insufferable prig." Old Lady Cavall (commonly known as Battle-Axe Cavall) never minced words. She continued, "just because your wife invited—that woman —to tea is no reason to skulk about." She glared significantly at her daughter-in-law.
"I'm not skulking," protested Wyldon. "Furthermore, Mother, I never skulk." Wyldon's gaze fell on Owen. "Jesslaw," he barked.
"Yes my Lord?"
"Tell me, was supervising sewing circles amongst your duties with Sir Myles?"
Owen cringed. "No my Lord."
Lord Wyldon looked suitably satisfied. "Then what, Squire, gave you the idea that you could do such a thing here?"
Owen squirmed. "I'm not… Sir… supervising…"
Battle-Axe Cavall cackled with glee. "That's for sure. The boy couldn't sew to save his life. Be sure to check out his bedroll Wyldon, I've never seen worse sewing in all my long and miserable life."
Wyldon narrowed his eyes. "If I want your opinion on my squire, I'll be sure to ask. In the mean time, please refrain from meddling in what are my affairs, mother."
Battle-Axe let out a loud "harrumph". "Can't an old woman offer her opinion? When I was young, I held my tongue and listened to my elders." Viven nodded sympathetically. The old woman rolled her eyes ("don't agree just to get on my good side dear") and Viven stiffened, offended. Briskly she turned back to her sewing.
Wyldon strode purposefully to the door.
"Wyldon," called his wife.
"Yes Viven?"
She eyed him, her head tilted to one side. "Are your pants too tight?"
"…"
"Excuse me?"
Isadel, the second youngest daughter, spoke up. "What she means, Father, is that you're strutting around in the manner of a rooster."
His wife and daughters tittered. If I'm a rooster, thought Wyldon bitterly, then they're all old biddy hens. And since when, his train of thought switched tracks, have my daughters joined in the female conspiracy against me? His gaze fell upon the other male in the room and coincidentally, the only person present over which he could exercise authority anymore. Apparently.
"Jesslaw," barked Lord Wyldon.
"Sir."
"Report to my office for lessons at once."
"Yes, my Lord." Jesslaw made his way to the door, getting amused looks from the five Cavall sisters.
Lord Wyldon stopped his squire at the door and whispered, "bring a needle and thread."
"Sir?"
"I'm not having it said that my squire can not sew."
Owen stared, bewildered.
"Go on."
Owen hurried off. Wyldon made to follow and was stopped by his wife's voice.
"Remember dear," she said with her eyes still on her sewing. "Lady Alanna should be by this afternoon. Please try to be civil."
Wyldon crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. "I shall be civil if she is." Old Lady Cavall snorted, showing how likely she thought it was that a woman ill-bred enough to be a knight, should also be civil.
"Indeed mother," remarked Wyldon. "Indeed."
Several hundred crooked stitches later, ten razor-edged straight ones (all Lord Wyldon's of course) and four bells later, Owen looked up from his math books. His knight master was staring blankly into space.
"My Lord?"
Wyldon jumped slightly. "Yes, Jesslaw."
"It's two bells past lunch."
Wyldon raised an eyebrow, his composure regained. "Your point is?"
Owen smiled meaningfully. "Shouldn't you go meet Lady Alanna?"
"Is your math done, Squire?"
"No Sir."
"Then think more about what you should be doing, and less about what I should-"
There was a knock on the door and it opened to reveal one of the Cavall servants.
"My Lord, Lady Alanna is here. Your presence is requested in the sitting room."
Wyldon glared at his squire as if to say, "see what you've done? You jinxed it!"
Owen smiled nervously, "I'll just finish my math then."
"Oh no you don't."
"Sir?"
"You, Jesslaw, are coming with me."
"But Sir…"
"You are a Squire. My Squire. I wish you to attend. You will attend. Understood?"
"Perfectly, Sir."
"Good. Let's go."
"Sir?"
"Yes, Jesslaw?"
"You're still sitting at your desk."
"I am, aren't I?"
"Err…" Owen squirmed, uncomfortable under his knight master's gaze.
The servant reappeared. "Lord Wyldon, Lady Viven says that if you stall any further you'll be spending the next month in one of the guest rooms."
Wyldon's eyes widened ever so slightly. He stood up abruptly, and motioned for Owen to do the same. Knight-master and squire followed the servant to the wing reserved for entertaining guests. Having reached the door of the room, Wyldon stopped and put his hand on his squire's shoulder. Owen grinned up at him. Wyldon opened his mouth as if to say something then closed it and mentally shook his head at his own folly.
It was just Lady Alanna. How bad could it be?
Author's Note:
Famous last words, indeed. Well, I'm actually done writing the rest (yes yes, I know, wonder of wonders, I finished a non one-shot fic) and there are two part parts. Alanna and Neal star in the next chapter (it's the longest)and then the fourth part is back to Owen and Teresa. My favourite part is still the beginning which is why I was considering not posting this chapter or the rest.
Anyways, I still don't own anything and am increasinglyin debt to my beta (pst Semolina, I LIKE being wordy. hmph. I cut it out anyways. -pouts- And hyphens are my friends. So there. If I'm hyphen friendly you have a shrine for commas.). So don't sue. You won't get anything.
Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! And in answer to the questions-
Teresa is 16, same age as Owen. If not a teeny bit older.
What /was/ Lady Viven thinking? Whatever goes on in her head is a mystery to all... I mean she married into the Cavalls. We'll blame that on Lord Wyldon's stunning sex-appeal though...cough
ta!
