Wyldon walked bravely – and casually, making sure he did not strut in the least - forward into the sitting room.
Mithros help him. It wasn't just Lady Alanna. Queenscove was there too, naturally. Why hadn't he considered that she'd bring that annoying, impertinent squire of hers? Damn them both to Carthak.
Worst of all, as his squire, Owen was supposed to stand by his knight master's side or at the very least have been creating some sort of diversion from the matter at hand. But no, not at all. Jesslaw was hugging Nealan of Queenscove. Admittedly, Neal did look uncomfortable and slightly strangled. Good on Jesslaw.
Viven coughed, and Wyldon came to his senses.
"Lady Alanna, how pleasant to see you and your squire."
Alanna, after two weeks of traveling and a half hour of strained conversation (albeit to very nice scones and tea) with the women of Cavall, was in no mood to be falsely pleasant with her pig-headed chauvinist of a nemesis. "Hello Wyldon," she said cheerfully enough. "No need to pretend that you wouldn't rather see a cartload of Scanrans in your home than myself and Nealan."
Wyldon looked pointedly at his wife who returned the stare. She mouthed two words at him. "Guest room."
"So, Lady Alanna," began Wyldon hurriedly as he moved to take a seat. With a grimace, he noticed that Queenscove was sitting in his chair, talking to his daughters. Owen wasn't stopping him either. Traitor. He chose instead an uncomfortable wooden chair, with one leg slightly shorter than the others. "What brings you –" (thunk went the chair as he leant backwards) –"to this corner of Tortall?"
"Actually—" Alanna was cut off by Wyldon's mother.
"Actually Wyldon, she just finished telling us. If you'd bothered to show up on time to meet your guest, you would have known."
"Really Mother!" (thunk).
Neal turned to the five daughters and wagged his index finger. "Now that was a mistake. One does not interrupt Lady Alanna's speech." The girls giggled. Owen pouted. The girls had clearly decided that unlike their father's squire, Nealan of Queenscove was worthy of their attentions. Worthy of being laughed with instead of at. Just because he was older and more Neal.
Sure enough, Alanna's eyes held a murderous glint. "Yes Wyldon, why weren't you here earlier? I managed to make it here on time even after I took care of a number of unexpected bandits on the way over."
Neal laughed in what he thought was a manly way as he spoke to the girls again. "'We' took care of a number of unexpected bandits," he corrected. The younger two girls sighed collectively while Coren, Lara and Orianne leant forward.
Owen rolled his eyes at his fellow squire but perked up nonetheless. "Bandits?" he asked Lady Alanna with a grin.
Alanna grinned back wolfishly.
"And here I was, stuck doing math. How boring." Owen sighed dejectedly and swatted at Neal who was showing the girls his bandaged arm, or as he put it, his battle wounds.
"Neal," hissed Owen. "You and Lady Alanna are both healers."
Neal grinned backed. "Shhh, they don't know that."
"Does it hurt?" asked Teresa.
"Horribly."
Owen rolled his eyes again. "Neal's a girl when it comes to pain."
Twelve eyes stared at him accusingly. "What's that supposed to mean, squire?" asked Coren, the eldest girl. "Bad move," whispered Neal to Owen as he indicated the room full of women.
"Err…"
Neal grinned and sipped his tea (held by his 'good' arm of course).
Meanwhile, Wyldon pounced on his cue. "Yes, math. I had to finish my squire's math lesson. And that is why I was late." Self-satisfied, he crossed his arms and leant back in his chair. Consequently, his statement was punctuated with a resounding thunk. "You know how important it is to teach a squire the fundamentals of math, Lioness, don't you?"
Alanna took this as a personal insult to her less than average skills in math. Neal winced.
"Excuse me but some people value chivalry and honour more than algebra."
"Honour? You, of all people Lady Alanna, wish to discuss honour?"
"Wyldon," hissed Viven as she glared daggers at her husband.
Alanna looked as if she'd been slapped. "By the tongue of the Goddess Cavall, what was that supposed to mean?"
The room was silent. Alanna and Wyldon stared each other down, neither giving an inch.
"Language, my Lady," said Neal finally. "Not in front of the childr—"
The two knights broke eye contact and turned on Neal. "Queenscove," they began simultaneously.
"Stay out of this-"
"Or you will regret it-"
"For the rest of your life."
"And I promise, the rest of your life will last-"
"Oh, sixteen seconds."
"Seventeen if you're lucky." And then they turned back to each other.
"I don't have any Honour Cavall? Because I'm not a rigid stump who can't bend without breaking?"
"She got him there," murmured Neal to Owen, not mollified in the least. The five daughters glared daggers at Neal. "That's our father, Squire Nealan," hissed Coren. Neal paled. "Oh, right. Heh heh."
"Rigid? Stump?" Shouted Wyldon. "I respect the traditions of our forefathers—"
"Exactly. Forefathers. Because chauvinists like you are too damn stupid to listen to anything a woman has to say. Even if it screams truth. And if we do something unexpected, or have an opinion that differs from that of a wall hanging" she broke off here to breathe.
Battle-Axe Cavall broke into a grin. "Here here, my dear. Well said."
Alanna glanced over in surprise. "Thank you, my Lady Cavall"
The old woman shook her head, "oh no, my dear, call me Isavere."
Alanna smile tightly. "Yes Lady Isavere."
Owen stared. Lady Viven looked faint. Who knew the old bat actually had a first name? Even Lady Viven called her "Lady Cavall". Owen had assumed that she was so old that everyone, herself included, had forgotten if she had ever had a first name, and if so, what it had been.
"Isavere, dear. No Lady."
"Isavere."
Battle-Axe Cavall smiled, for the second time in the day. For all that Wyldon resented his mother's constant meddling in his life, he did want to see her happy. And it had been many a long year since she had smiled twice in the same day, let alone conversation! Wyldon silently acknowledged the fact that if he weren't so mad and she weren't so Lady Alanna, he'd probably be worshiping the ground on which the Lioness walked.
"I do appreciate a woman who knows her mind," admitted the old woman. "One doesn't see that often enough around here," she added with a pointed look to her daughter-in-law.
Viven bristled. "I do have opinions, all the time."
"Of course, dear, of course," soothed the elder Lady of Cavall. "I remember just the other day, you were saying how we ought to paint the guest rooms green. We all have to start somewhere."
Viven rubbed her temples and Wyldon glowered at his mother. "Really mother, that's no way to speak to Viven."
His mother was every inch the picture of innocence. "Can't I give a compliment Wyldon?"
"You are well aware that was an insult."
Battle-Axe sniffed in a hurt manner.
Alanna sipped her tea, somewhat pacified and amused as she watched Isavere best her son. Besides, Alanna liked Lady Viven, really. And she liked the scones that Lady Viven served. It wasn't her fault the woman had horrible taste in husbands.
An uncomfortable silence ensued and naturally, Neal was the one to break it.
"Lady Cavall, have I mentioned how good this tea is?"
"Thank…" Lady Viven and Lady Isavere both began to answer and broke off to glare at each other.
Lara glared at Neal. "Good going, squire Nealan. Obviously intelligence nor tact is required to whack at things with a stick." Her sisters nodded agreeably as Owen and Neal looked suitably insulted.
"Honestly Viven, I think the boy was referring to me."
Viven raised an eyebrow at her mother in law, "Well, I would agree with the sole exception that the squire was referring to the tea. And everyone knows that you've lifted not a single finger to help with anything - let alone a pot of tea - in the past thirty years."
The old lady gasped, offended.
"And if that wasn't enough," snapped Lady Viven, all pretences of being the humouring hostess abandoned. "You sit there and criticize everything I do. How I run my home…"
Wyldon, Alanna, Neal, Owen and the Cavall girls all attempted to shrink visibly, and pretend they weren't listening.
"My home too," sniffed Lady Isavere. "I'm not dead yet."
"… how I raise my children…"
"Well I did have eight of them."
"… how I'm not an appropriate wife…"
"I never said-"
"You hint," accused Lady Viven, darkly. "Although I don't see how anyone could live up to your standards. Not even you."
"Are you calling me a hypocrite, girl?"
Viven nodded. "Maybe Lady Alanna would be more to your liking."
"Maybe she would."
The said Lady stared at Lord Wyldon, who's face showed every inch the horror that she felt.
"I am married," ventured Alanna, who felt quite out of her depth. But added for good measure, "happily."
Wyldon nodded as his hand reached for Viven's. "She's married. Happily."
"Well," drawled Neal. "Send an envoy to check if Carthak's frozen over - the Lioness and the Stump just agreed."
"Nealan, show some respect; that's no way to address your training master." Alanna conveniently forgot that she had called Wyldon a "stump" minutes before.
Neal's eyebrows rose. "And now she's defending him. When's the date my Lady? Don't forget your squire's invitation."
Teresa tapped Owen – who was staring at Neal with an open mouth - on the shoulder and spoke. "Is he -" she gestured at Neal "- actually this dense? I mean he's baiting the Lioness on purpose."
Owen closed his mouth and swallowed before nodding.
"Ah," remarked Teresa and turned back to watch the spectacle with interest. "Then the fact that he's dashingly handsome is clearly compensation."
"For his lack of intelligence, or …" the question died on Owen's lips.
"Or what, squire?" asked Coren. Lara, Orianne and Isadel gave their eldest sister suitably shocked and appalled looks. Teresa, however, caught Owen's eye and grinned wickedly. "What do you think I meant, Squire Owen?"
Owen gulped and turned his attention back to the adults (and Neal). Nothing good would come of that conversation, he was sure.
"The only invitation you'll be getting," Alanna was telling Neal, "is to your own funeral."
"Quite right," snapped Isavere. "There will be no wedding. She," the old lady pointed a gnarled old finger at the King's Champion, "is in no way going to marry my Wyldon. A female knight. A disgrace, that's what. Who knows what went on in the squire's wing while she was there? The girl probably seduced the prince, that's what."
Alanna picked up another scone and for once in her life let the insult slide. Normally quick to anger with insults about her integrity, the knight was just plain relieved that her name was no longer being connected with "Cavall" and "marriage". Besides, she thought with a smirk, it was hardly as if she had been the one to do the seducing.
"Viven here," the old lady waved a regal hand at her daughter-in-law, "is a much better choice. A fine up-standing woman."
Viven glanced wearily at Isavere and gave her a tight smile.
"No offense meant dear," added Isavere belatedly to Alanna.
Alanna was about to mention that none was taken when she saw her golden ticket (out of the mad-house these people called Cavall) sprout wings and begin to fly away. Mentally grabbing it out of the air she stood up and spoke in what she hoped was a suitably affronted tone of voice. "No offense was meant? My Lady, may I remind you that you finished calling me a slut?" She took a bite out of her scone for emphasis. "If that's the way that guests are treated in Cavall, it will be a cold day in Carthak -" Here she winced as she remembered Neal's words, but continued anyways. "- before I so much as set foot in this fief again. Squire?" She motioned for Neal to follow her.
"We'll show ourselves out," she added, ignoring the fact that no one had stood up to escort her out. Alanna sent an apologetic look to Viven (it was stupid at best to offend someone who was in possession of what could possibly be the best recipe for scones in all of Tortall) and stormed out. Neal followed, close behind.
Author's Note:
Heh. Right. Well, there it is. One more chapter left.
Now I'm hungry for Aunt Elly's tea biscuits. Look what you've done, Sally. And yes, I left Alanna's speech patterns suffering. And yes, I still took the cheap way out. So sue me. All you'll get is my shrine to Indy. ha.
It sucks posting this after Bookends, it feels like I'm going downhill. Eugh.
Muchos gracias to all who reviewed! I love you all! The next – and last – scene features Owen and Teresa again. Aw.
ta. from the cluttered desk of Fen.
