“Ranulf was very angry, but Queen Eleanora was pleased that I came and scolded Ranulf for forcing me to go to such extremes to get here.”
They laughed together.
“We are most fortunate in having such a queen. My father still tells horror stories of the last one.”
“This Travers is your husband?”
Berengaria’s face lit at the mention of her husband. “Look you about the hall and see if you can guess which man is my Travers.”
Lyonene guessed several men, all handsome men, and Berengaria snorted at each one, giving some derogatory quip, such as, “Beats his wife,” “Does not like women” or “Greedy,” and wiggling her brows. When Lyonene surrendered, Berengaria pointed.
“He talks now to Lord Dacre,” she said and watched Lyonene with twinkling eyes as she saw the expected reaction on her new friend’s face.
The man talking to Lord Dacre was the ugliest man Lyonene had ever seen. He was of average height and seemed to be built of stone, so square was his form; there was no grace or ease of movement about him—only an unshakable solidity. But his face was what was almost frightening. His ears were huge, his hair a faded mixture of nondescript colors, an unruly, wiry mess. His forehead overhung his eyes by what seemed to be several inches, the brows grown into a single line. Deep creases ran beside his nose to a lipless mouth. His eyes were mere slits.
She tried to compose herself as she turned back to Berengaria. Surely the woman only jested.
Berengaria grinned at her. “Is he not a troll? But I will tell you that I have loved him since I was but three years and I shall continue to do so until I die.”
“Tell me of this, for I sense a good story here.”
“I tell it gladly, though to few people. My family is a large one. I have six brothers and five sisters. My father has always been glad that his daughters are pretty and docile, his sons handsome and independent. But for me. From my birth I seemed to be the wrong sex, for I ever did things a young lady should not.
“One day when I was a little past my third birthday, I walked with my nurse in the fields by our castle. When she looked away for a moment, I hid from her in the tall grasses and watched as she searched and called for me.”
“How can you remember a thing so long ago? I do not recall events of when I was three.”
“I remember no others, but this could have been last week, it is so clear. When my nurse returned to the castle path to search for me, I made my way to the duck pond, a place she ever refused to take me. Silly woman! She constantly feared I would end myself in every conceivable manner, so she kept me from most pleasant things. When I got to the pond, a face peered at me from the reeds. I indeed thought it was a troll at first, but I kept staring at it even when it steppe
d from the reeds and I saw it was but a boy. We stared long at one another and an overpowering feeling came to me that this boy was mine and would always be so. He was twelve years then and near as big as he is now.
“I put my arms up to him and he lifted me. He carried me for hours, talking to me and showing me birds’ nests, little crawly things and sharing his bag of food with me. Neither of us thought of time and so it was late when we returned to the castle.
“Everyone was frantic by then and sure I was dead. My mother came to take me from Travers, but I would not leave and when my father finally pulled me away, I kicked and screamed until Travers came and kissed my forehead and told me to do what was wanted of me.”
“Your parents must have wondered greatly at your behavior.”
Berengaria shrugged. “I have ever demanded my way. All the next day I refused to leave Travers’s side. I rode with him on his horse as his father and mine inspected a piece of land my father wished to sell. On the morn I knew he was to leave, I cried and said I loved him and that he must not grow and instead, wait for me. He kissed my forehead and said that when I was ready for marriage he would come for me.”
“You cannot tell me that that is just what happened!”
“Aye. When I was ten and five my father brought a young man and his father to me and said I was to marry the man. I knew my father thought to have his way so I said before all that I was secretly married already and now carried my husband’s child.”
“You did not! Of course it was not true!”
“No. It could not be, for I had not seen Travers since that one day, and I would allow no other man to touch me.”
“Your father must have been very angry.”
Berengaria rolled her eyes. “That is a mild statement for my father’s temper. He had a midwife examine me and found I lied and then he locked me into a tower room with only bread and water to eat. I pleaded great illness and my old nurse brought me pen and paper to write my will. I wrote Travers that it was time for him to come or else my father would marry me to another. I tossed the letter out the arrowslit with a gold ring to a serf boy.”
Lyonene began to laugh. “I believe my story of dressing as a serf is mild. Tell me the rest of it!”
“Travers came within three days with an army! Over three hundred men approached my father’s gate and my father, to tell the truth, was well pleased by so forceful a son-in-law. He said later he thought it would take such a man to be able to live with me, for he found it an arduous task.”
“But what of you? You had not seen Travers since you were little more than a babe. Did you feel the same about him after all that time?”
“Oh, yes. I ran to him when I was released from the tower and he held me and kissed me, only not on the forehead.” Her eyes twinkled. “Had I any doubts before, that kiss would have dispelled them.”