Page 4 of The Champion

Druce meanwhile prattled on about the woman he’d been listening to. “Have you ever heard of the Lady of Love, milord?”

Stryder scowled. “Nay.”

“I have.” Christian took a seat at the desk and poured himself a cup of ale. “She’s just your type of lady, Stryder. A troubadour of great renown, she despises knights and writes only of courtly love and how needed it is in this day and age of great violence.”

Stryder curled his lips at that. If there was one thing he hated above all, it was those who purveyed the virtues of courtly love. That so-called noble sentiment had cost more lives and strife than any sword ever had. “A pox to all of her ilk.”

“Nay, milord,” Druce said, his face dreamy. “She is more beautiful than Venus and holds the voice of the sweetest lark. Surely the lady has no equal. You should listen to her as she tells how the world could be, if only we strove for peace with the same passion we use to pursue war.”

Stryder exchanged a knowing look with Christian. “You are young, Druce. One day you will realize that the majority of women want only one thing from a man.”

“And that is, milord?” Druce asked.

Christian’s eyes danced with merriment. “That you will soon discover on your own, boy. But, for now, you are too young for it.”

Druce’s mouth formed a small O that said the boy already had an inkling of it as he gathered Stryder’s mail pieces.

Stryder tossed his squire a bag of coins. “Drop the armor off with the armorer to be polished, and then take the spare coin and the rest of the day and enjoy it. Go on and listen to your Venus, if you must.”

Druce beamed. Thanking him, he dashed off with the armor draped over his shoulder and the money cradled carefully in his hand.

“You spoil him,” Christian said.

Stryder shrugged. “Children should be spoiled. Would that we had known such at his age.”

Christian’s gaze turned haunted at that and Stryder wondered if his own eyes showed the scars of his past so plainly.

Like him, Christian had been raised with the single principle of, “spare the rod, spoil the child.”

Stryder could fell a full-grown man with a single blow. The idea of striking someone so much smaller than him sat ill in his gullet. With one reckless strike, he could kill the boy. Indeed, Stryder’s own lord had broken his jaw when he was Druce’s age for nothing more than dropping the man’s sword.

It was a chance he’d never take. He’d sooner cut off his arm than ever prey on someone weaker than him.

Stryder reached for a towel at the same time his tent flap was slung backward. He half expected to see a maid coming through it, to offer herself to him, and was a bit surprised to find his younger brother there, since Kit held no love of battle and often refused to come near Stryder’s tent.

Like Druce before him, Kit paid no heed to Christian in the corner.

Dressed in a garish red and orange combination, Kit held a large basket in his hands that was overfilled with letters and various pieces of ladies’ garb.

“What is this?” Stryder asked as Kit set the whole of it at his feet.

Kit swept his orange hat from his head and wiped his sweaty brow with his arm. “Tokens from your admirers. I have been instructed to give you all of these personally and to make sure no other living human touches them.”

Christian laughed.

Kit snapped around to see Christian leaning back in the chair with a stein of ale braced on his stomach, while his long legs were stretched out before him and crossed at the ankles.

Kit’s blue eyes widened considerably. “You’re entertaining priests now?”

Stryder snorted at that. “Nay, Kit. Meet an old friend of mine, Christian. Christian, meet my younger brother Kit.”

Christian inclined his head to his brother.

Kit’s gaze never wavered from Christian, and it turned speculative the instant he noticed Christian’s spurs and mail-covered boots peeking out from the hem of his black robes.

Stryder cleared his throat to draw Kit’s notice back toward him. Once he had his brother’s attention, Stryder very subtly shook his head nay and passed a censoring gaze toward Christian.

Kit immediately took the hint to ask no questions and turned his back to Christian. He leaned over and pulled a bright red ribbon from the bunch that had a key attached to it. “This one in particular said that I was to make sure you received her gift or else she would poison me while I sup. So, in lieu of hiring a taster for my meals, I wanted to make sure it reached you.”