Page 18 of Lord of the Forest

Comparing him to the other men, she noticed the strange way Lancelot walked, with his body bent and craning forward, staring about him all the while. To an ordinary person, he looked furtive, dangerous. But she knew his stance to be that of the hunter—and despite his peculiar method of walking, it was clear that in his forest home, he would be a king among both beasts and men.

Suddenly, she felt embarrassed for him, being marched up the road in his tattered clothes, his feet bare, looking like the veriest pauper. Even though he was lord of the forest, here, he was an object of ridicule, to be mocked, questioned, and scorned.

It was wrong. He must be restored to his former glory. He must have his beard trimmed, wear fresh clothing—she’d get busy with her needle—and be encouraged to straighten his back and make the most of his magnificent figure and stature. He’d already started talking more conventionally—ere long she could have him speaking like the nobleman she believed him to be.

And she’d find out who he was. She’d have to break her promise not to reveal what she’d already surmised. But if it meant he could come into his own, he’d be delighted, surely?

What harm could uncovering Lancelot’s true identity possibly do?

Chapter Eight

Stepping into the darkness of Clairbourne Manor was like walking into a tomb. Some of Lancelot’s memories were returning now, and he knew full well what a tomb was, and that he didn’t want to be in one. The walls of the building gave the impression of crowding in on him and leaning over, so that he wanted for air. As soon as everyone was inside, he took up a position by the open door.

“If you don’t mind, I’m not used to houses.”

Sir Kester and Fitzpayne exchanged glances. They’d be doing a lot of that while in his company, he predicted. But it mattered not to him—he was what he was, and had every intention of staying that way. As soon as he felt the threat of discovery or arrest had passed, he’d be out of here. Even if it did mean leaving the charming Clemence Fitzpayne to the will of her father and the wiles of her suitor.

“Husband. Ah! You’ve found her!”

Lancelot looked on as Clemence was smothered in the embrace of an older woman, dignified in black, and wearing an intricate lace cap over her hair.

“Dear child, you are well? Unhurt? Did you get lost? I’ve slept not a wink since yester eve. Have I, William? Neither has your father—he was out with the dogs all night. Was it Elf who found you? I knew he would. ‘Leave the others at home and take Elf,’ I told your father. ‘Your hounds are used to hunting game, but Elf is a house dog, and he’ll sniff Clemence out from a whole crowd of people.’ So, early this morning, he set out again, with Elf among the rest and behold! Here you are. Ah, Jesu! Who is that?”

Clemence’s mother stared at Lancelot, aghast. He knew he ought to be doing something, but had forgotten how one must greet people. Taking his cue from the way she’d welcomed Clemence, he strode across, took her in his arms, and embraced her. The shocked silence that greeted this gesture informed him instantly that he’d made a mistake, but he resisted the urge to retreat to the door. What he couldn’t remember, he could learn, and a man learned from his errors, did he not?

Master Fitzpayne cleared his throat. “A simple bow would suffice, sir.”

“Oh, Lancelot, you idiotic man!” Clemence was laughing at him, and he felt the color flow into his cheeks. Curse it. He should never have come.

Dame Fitzpayne dipped him a curtsey, her eyes—so like her daughter’s—twinkling. “Will no one answer my question?” She glanced around the room.

“Lancelot, at your service.” There, he’d remembered what one was meant to say.

“Lancelot rescued me.” Clemence was by his side, her hand resting lightly on his arm, but he felt her presence like a solid rock, bearing him up, supporting him in this ocean of uncertainty.

“I was set upon by two rogues on the road. At least two—I’m not certain. They threw a noisome old cloak over me and bundled me into a cart. They were making off with me, but Lancelot here heard my screams, stopped the cart, laid them both out cold, and saved me.”

“And from whence did your extraordinary rescuer spring? Did you steal your attire from one of the miscreants, sir?”

Clemence waved a hand at her mother. “You mustn’t ask him. Pray, accept what you see, and question not. And you must tell no one he’s been here, or even that you’ve met him.”

The lady straightened. “Am I not to converse with our intriguing guest, Daughter? I believe I have a right to know who I must thank for your safe delivery.”

Lancelot pressed a hand to his breast. “I am no one. Unworthy of your—” He struggled to find the word. “Notice.”

“So, Master Lancelot No One, am I to ask no questions at all? Can you not tell me why it took so long for my daughter to be returned? Why she was attacked in the first place? Why you are so improperly dressed?”

The lady’s questioning felt like a skirmish with a patch of nettles. She was as hard to appease as her daughter had been—and the urge to flee became stronger.

Clemence came to his rescue. “We can soon remedy his appearance, Mother. Pray, don’t judge him on what you see. Lancelot wishes to keep himself to himself, and since I owe him so much, I’m anxious we should all respect his privacy.”

“I consider it most odd. But if your father is content that we should have a mysterious stranger in our midst, who am I to gainsay it?” Clemence’s mother glared at her husband, but he merely shrugged his shoulders.

Sighing, the lady turned to Sir Kester. “Kester! How splendid it is to see you. It has been too long. Mayhap you can tell me more about this peculiar happenstance, being a gentleman of sound judgment.”

“I believe we are all forbidden to know more, Madam, and in deference to Clemence’s rescuer, I have decided to bide my time. I’m certain once the man is used to us, he’ll be forthcoming.”

Dame Fitzpayne leaned close to Sir Kester’s ear. “Ah, he’s shy, is he? And feeling out of place in a gentleman’s house. Humble folk have no idea how to behave in polite society and make up for it by bold behavior.”