Free The Champion by Elizabeth Chadwick Page A

beloved, I have it, I have it!’ he cried, his face alight as he took her hands in his and raised them to his lips.
    ‘Have what?’ Clemence asked.
    ‘Our winter quarters!’
    ‘You do?’
    ‘A place in the retinue of Bertran de Lavoux, a permanent place.’ Arnaud grinned from ear to ear. ‘As one of his household knights with a daily wage and lodging for yourself and Monday. I’m to be hired as from Lammastide!’ He glanced at Monday, sharing the news with her too.
    Clemence stared at him, her eyes slowly clearing. ‘A permanent place,’ she repeated, as if to give the fact more texture.
    Monday flung herself upon her father, squeezing her arms around his neck in a ferocious hug. She knew how important this offer was to them. The security of a place in the world, a chance to settle down.
    His body shaking with laughter, Arnaud strove to prise her off. ‘Give me room to breathe, child!’ he declared. ‘Else I’ll not be fit to take up the position!’
    Monday released her stranglehold and hugged herself instead.
    ‘Hervi’s to be hired too if he so wishes,’ Arnaud added. ‘I’ll talk to him as soon as I see him.’
    ‘Never mind Hervi, what about this position of yours?’ Clemence demanded. ‘Who is Bertran of Lavoux?’ She was less ecstatic than her husband and daughter. In the past, Arnaud had been known to purchase a pig in a poke.
    ‘Scold,’ he said, his eyes dancing, then kissed her on the lips. ‘He’s a Norman border baron who has recently come into his inheritance. Apparently the former lord died of old age, and the household knights are mostly his contemporaries. Bertran is hiring new blood – experienced knights, but not in their dotage.’
    ‘And he is to pay you a wage?’ Clemence repeated, wariness and wonderment competing for a place in her expression.
    ‘Twenty marks a year, plus board and lodging for all of us and my horses. I told him that both of you were skilled sempstresses and that pleased him greatly. We won’t want for anything and there will be a secure roof over our heads – a castle roof. I know how much you miss that kind of security.’
    Clemence shook her head, utterly bemused. ‘It is too good to be true,’ she said, and then suddenly she laughed, and her mood changed. Rising to her feet, she pirouetted around the tent, graceful despite her burgeoning body. Enchanted, Monday watched her mother, seeing a side of her that was very rarely exposed. Her father’s expression was one of pure adoration, all the harsh lines of his face melted and tender. Monday felt a warm rush of love for both of them.
    ‘Bertran also said that he was looking for a scribe, and I told him I knew of one,’ Arnaud continued as he caught his swirling wife in his arms, kissed her and set her down on a stool. ‘I’ll have a word with Alexander when I see Hervi.’
    Her eyes sparkling, Clemence clung to her husband. ‘I haven’t felt this giddy since the day we eloped!’
    Arnaud chuckled, the sound pleasant and deep. ‘Neither have I.’
    ‘Can I be the one to tell Alex?’ Monday asked. ‘I’ve got to give him his cloak anyway.’ She folded the garment over her arm. Her parents would probably relish a moment alone, and besides, the tent was not big enough to contain her own delight. She needed to let the fields and sky absorb the emotion fizzing through her veins, and she was bursting to share her news, as her father had shared his.
    ‘Yes, go.’ Her father’s eyes never left his wife’s.
    ‘Do not take too long,’ Clemence added for good measure, but the smile remained on her face.
    ‘No, Mama, I won’t.’ The cloak draped over her arm, Monday left their tent and walked through the sprawl of the camp. The air was filled with dust, with the smell of singed horn and hot iron from the farrier’s booth where the destriers were being shod. The more tantalising aroma of meat and onions from a cook stall flooded her nostrils. Sounds of the tourney life filled her ears, the