Page 11 of Halloween Knight (A Knights Through Time Romance #17)
Lucy rose to pale sunlight filtering through the window slits into the bedchamber she shared with William.
Although Peter usually woke her at least once during the night, Jason typically slept through until first light.
The nanny slept in the chamber with the boys, which connected to Lucy and William’s chamber in case they needed her.
Allowing the wet nurse and nanny to take care of the boys had been one of the hardest parts of being here in medieval England.
Other nobles and their wives found it odd that Lucy spent time with the children during the day.
They saw their children before bed or when they’d dressed for the day and that was it.
While she didn’t doubt they loved their children, it was very much a hands-off parenting style that Lucy was glad changed as the centuries passed.
She stretched, then bent over to place her palms flat on the stone floor.
Ever since she’d had Jason, Lucy spent a few minutes each morning stretching and ending with planks to keep her core strong.
To prevent the servants from questioning her strange behavior, she always finished the exercises before they arrived in the morning.
The floor was chilly beneath her feet as she padded over to the window seat to peer outside.
“What time is it?” She said to Thor, who cracked one eye open and went back to sleep. She yawned, looking down into the courtyard below, missing William. The castle always seemed empty when he wasn't here, no matter how many people were around.
Hopefully, his trip to York would go quickly, and the king wouldn’t keep him too terribly long at court when William returned with the horses.
Her lady's maid entered with a light knock, bustling around to prepare a basin of water for Lucy to wash.
“Are the boys still sleeping? She hastily washed while Margery laid out her clothes and shoes, keeping up a constant stream of chatter about the pox and the recent sighting of bandits in the countryside.
“Nay, lady. They have eaten and are in the nursery.”
Once she was dry, Lucy turned her back to allow Margery to lace her into her kirtle. Stitched with tiny embroidered leaves in silver along the edges, the gray woolen garment was beautifully crafted.
“Breathe in lady, we must keep your middle tiny.”
As Margery tightened the laces, pulling the garment snug around her waist, Lucy decided she’d take the boys on a walk before dinner.
“Oof, I’m trying.” Tiny waist. It was enough to make her laugh. All her life, Lucy had been trying to lose ten pounds, and here they thought she was thin. It just went to show you were always hardest on yourself .
Before she’d had children, Lucy couldn’t have carried around several bags of flour in her arms all day, but now?
She could easily hold Jason on her hip and Peter in the sling she wore around her chest. It was nice to have upper body strength, thanks to lifting the kids and carrying them around all the time.
Her hair was full of static this morn, so Margery secured it in a braid with a gray ribbon that matched her kirtle. As her fingers worked, Margery sang softly to herself, a song of love lost that made Lucy think about how she’d had to fall through time to find her own love.
Her lady’s maid finished with a flourish, standing back to survey her handiwork. “There you are, my lady. Beautiful.”
Lucy shook her head. “You’re sweet to say so. I have dark circles under my eyes from waking up at least a hundred times last night. You would think by now I’d sleep fine when William is gone, but I do not.”
With Thor at her heels, she made her way down to the kitchens, where she broke her fast, enjoying a bowl of porridge with a bit of honey drizzled on top.
When it turned cold, she loved a hot breakfast. Not to mention, the porridge would keep her full until dinner.
With William and the men gone, they would eat light tonight, most likely stew and bread with spiced wine.
Mabel, the nursemaid, entered the hall, holding Peter, just as Lucy was on her way up to see them.
“He is in a fine temper this day, my lady.”
“What’s the matter, baby boy?” She took her son, rocking him back and forth as his little face turned red, crumpling up in a precursor to a full-blown tantrum.
One of the men striding through the hall stopped next to them as Peter screamed his little head off.
“A good strong voice, he has, my lady. ”
“You can say that again.” Lucy shifted him in her arms as Peter wailed.
The guardsman pulled a dagger from his belt, holding it up for Peter to see, turning it back and forth.
He reached for the blade, making the man grin.
“Nay, little one, no steel for you yet. You have to be able to hold a blade before you can wield it.”
“I want one.” Jason appeared from behind a tapestry, a cobweb stuck to his tunic.
No matter how many times Lucy told them to stay out of the passages, Jason and his friends loved to go exploring.
After one such trip, when they’d come across an old leather bag full of roman coins, William told her to let them explore. Who knew what else they might discover?
Jason looked up at the dagger, pure naked desire on his little face. What was it with men and blades?
The man handed it to Jason hilt first.
“Show me what you’ve got, lad.”
Jason held the dagger out, arm trembling as his father and the men had shown him. He made a few thrusts before his arm sagged and he gave the blade back.
“What do you say, Jason?”
He scrunched up his nose. “Merci.”
The man nodded and went on his way.
Lucy ruffled his hair. “You were most fierce. Your father will be proud.”
He wrapped his arms around her skirts and her heart clenched, knowing in six or so years he would leave Blackford to foster with another family.
Mabel clapped her hands together. “Come along now, lads.” She looked at Lucy, waiting.
With a kiss on top of Peter’s head, she handed him over. “I’ll take them for a walk before dinner so I don’t interrupt their afternoon nap.”
“As you say, lady.” Mabel settled Peter in her arms as Jason trailed after them, babbling about daggers and swords.
Lucy was contemplating if she should try working on her embroidery when a servant called her name.
“My lady, Father John has arrived.”
“Thank you. I’ll be there in a moment.” Lucy was more than happy to leave the embroidery for another day.
She strode out into the courtyard, grateful she’d had the hem of her dress raised so it wouldn’t drag the ground.
The man was young, dressed in a simple, ankle-length black robe tied at the waist. Over top of the robe he wore a knee-length black over-tunic with long sleeves.
“Welcome to Blackford Castle, Father John. We have been expecting your arrival.”
The priest had a tonsure, the top of his head shaved in the shape of a ring.
She remembered the steward telling her the tonsure denoted clerical status or something.
She’d been too busy wondering if his head was cold with the bare spot to pay attention.
At least the cloak had a hood so he could cover his head.
He inclined his head. “Thank you, lady. My father sent me after hearing your priest passed. I am the third son of the Earl of Lockwood, John Lockwood, at your service.”
She swallowed a small laugh that threatened to escape as she thought of the movie Robin Hood and wondered if this priest traveled with bees and made his own mead like the one in the movie?
Leaves of amber, orange and red swirled across the stone courtyard in the breeze as Lucy pulled her cloak tight, Father John walking next to her as they strode from the courtyard to the chapel, enjoying the crisp day.
He told her of his upbringing and his studies. The sunlight hit the silver cross he wore around his neck, sending a shimmer across the stones. The priest was clean-shaven with a pleasant face and demeanor, unlike the village priest who couldn’t stand Lucy and her odd ideas.
When Lucy looked down, she frowned, noticing that the black shoes he wore were worn thin and caked with mud. He would be well taken care of here at Blackford, with lodging, meals, and clothing provided for him.
Father John was reserved and quiet, yet she could tell he was excited to be here, to have his own chapel and souls to look after.
They passed through the gardens, turned to the right, and took the path that led to the small stone chapel.
“After you.” Lucy stood back to let him go first. Though modest, the small chapel boasted a heavy wooden door with an iron handle in the shape of a cross, and was beautiful inside with its stone floors, two carved columns, and stone altar.
The single window was a large stained glass panel that painted the floor in a jeweled quilt of light.
He took a breath, admiring the space, then turned to her, spots of color high on his cheeks.
“I do not … that is… I do not mean…”
Honestly, she knew what he was thinking. Lucy rolled her eyes. “Go on then, spit it out.”
“My lady, I do not mean to overstep, but we should invite the villagers so that they may see you attend church.”
If he was going to be the castle priest, no sense beating around the bush. “You mean so they don’t think I’m a witch? I take it you’ve heard the rumors? ”
He blushed a deeper shade of crimson.
“I did not mean to offend, lady.”
Lucy waved a hand around. “I’m not offended. It’s actually a good idea.”
Then she grinned at him.
“I am not a witch, it’s just that I have my own beliefs about how people should prevent illness and other things.”
She told him of how important it was for people to wash their hands and to stay away from the sick. They went back and forth, ending with Father John agreeing with her, and saying he’d do what he could to convince the worshippers to wash their hands.