LITMIR.BIZ

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added her voice to the commotion and ran to the safety of Robbie’s side. He seized her around the waist and almost caused her to drop her skirt full of pears. Laughing riotously, they ran to safety on the common green and hurled themselves down in a heap on the spongy grass and heather.

      When she got her breath back, Rowenna leaned forward and punched Robbie hard on the upper arm.

      ‘Ow! What was that for? I helped you!’

      ‘Eventually!’

      ‘You looked s-so funny, though, huddled in a corner, all wide-eyed and trying not to appear afraid.’

      ‘And I’ve told you not to call me Dumpling.’ She drew her knees up and muttered under her breath, ‘You know I don’t like it.’

      Her father called her solid and her mother said Rowenna would grow more slender as she got older, but that seemed a long way off to the eleven-year-old Rowenna.

      ‘Lady Dumpling!’ Robbie crowed. He pointed a finger at her. ‘You’ve got mud on your face.’

      ‘And you’ve got goose muck on your britches,’ she retorted.

      ‘Well, your hair is like s-straw.’

      ‘And your face is one huge spot.’

      ‘But we’re both still better-looking than the twins or Henry and John.’

      ‘And more clever.’

      They sat back, honour and humour restored by the insults to Rowenna’s two brothers and Robbie’s twin sisters. Henry was seventeen, John was four and the twins were almost seven. Rowenna and Robbie had grown together as the nearest in age with a strong bond.

      ‘Well, fair Lady Rowenna,’ Robbie said when he could catch his breath from laughing, ‘You promised me a reward for my s-service.’

      Rowenna unfolded her skirt to reveal the bounty that lay within in her lap. She found the finest pear and held it out. Robbie leaned forward and took a bite from it while it was still in her hand. She watched the loss of her prize with a little regret. Robbie, who always seemed able to see her secret thoughts, pushed it towards her.

      ‘We’ll share.’

      She took a bite; licking her lips to catch the last of the sweet nectar. Robbie’s eyes followed her movement hungrily and the strangest fluttering sensation filled Rowenna’s belly. He might be suffering the pains of early manhood, but beneath the spots and unsuccessful attempt at growing a beard, Robbie had a nice smile and a good nature. He had been Rowenna’s favourite playmate for as long as she could recall.

      She reached across and rubbed Robbie’s arm where she had punched him and was surprised to feel muscle. She withdrew her hand slowly, letting her fingers trace the unanticipated contours. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him and wished she had suggested that instead of the pear. The thought took her by surprise and she wasn’t sure what was more alarming—that she had thought it at all or that she did not feel the slightest shame at the idea.

      Mother had warned her that marriage wouldn’t be too far away in her future and she would have to become considerably more ladylike. She kept threatening to send Rowenna to live in the town house in York, where she could mix with the daughters and wives of city guild officials rather than the children of villeins and husbandmen in a small moorland village.

      Robbie made her laugh more than any of the other boys she knew. He would be a good choice and their parents would be overjoyed. They could live together in Wharram and she wouldn’t be too far from home. She absent-mindedly handed Robbie the half-eaten pear, her mind full of visions of a future she hadn’t properly considered until now.

      Her daydream was interrupted by the arrival of Rowenna’s mother striding from Robbie’s house. Robbie ran towards her.

      ‘Aunt Joanna, is M-M…?’

      He trailed off, unable to finish the question. Anxiety surged inside Rowenna.

      ‘Your mother is well.’ Joanna hugged Robbie to her own swollen belly. ‘That’s why I’m here. She’s had her baby. Another daughter.’

      Robbie’s eyes shone. After three pregnancies that had ended before their expected time, Lucy Danby’s baby had survived the birth.

      ‘I’ll stay with your mother until your father returns,’ Joanna said. ‘Go share the good news with your grandfather. I’ll follow on with Ro.’

      Robbie ran off, long limbs spinning. Rowenna retrieved the pears and walked beside Joanna, no longer caring about the spoiled fruit, the scuffed hands or torn tunic. There would be work to do and a new baby to take care of. Plenty to keep her busy enough to forget about the odd sensation of need that Robbie’s expression had caused to spring to life inside her.

      Robbie’s grandparents were sitting in the Great Hall, Lady Danby at her embroidery frame and Lord Danby listening to a storyteller. Both started in alarm at Robbie’s hasty entrance.

      Robbie slowed to a walk and halted in the centre of the room. A fire was burning fiercely. It seemed excessive on what was a mild autumn day, but perhaps old people felt the cold more keenly. Even if it had been frosty, Robbie would have chosen a chill over getting too close to the flames. His aversion to fire and his refusal to even step into Uncle Hal’s forge was something his cousins endlessly teased him about.

      ‘You look a state, boy!’ Lady Danby’s voice was sharp. ‘Why are you disturbing us? My husband said your duties were done for today and I thought you were gone to your own home.’

      Lucy had insisted that Robbie start his knight’s training as a page in his grandfather’s house rather than with a stranger she did not know. In truth, Robbie would have preferred to be in the smaller, newer manor house his parents had built at the opposite end of Wharram Danby, but once his mother started screaming with birthing pains, he’d been sent back. He kept the thought to himself, though his eyes fell on the slender cane his grandmother used for walking—and for meting out punishments to her grandchildren and any of the village children who displeased her.

      He delivered his news, breathing slowly in the hope of lessening his stutter. Sometimes his lips felt like a door that would not open, however much he pushed. It was always worse when he was nervous, which he usually was in the presence of his grandmother.

      ‘Another daughter? Lucy must be overjoyed.’ Lord Danby stood and made his way to Robbie, his milk-white eyes crinkling as he tapped his cane across the stone floor.

      ‘A son would have been preferable,’ Lady Danby remarked with a thin-lipped smile. ‘What a pity Roger will return home to another girl.’

      Robbie bit down his retort. There were seven years between him and his twin sisters, and another six between them and the new baby. His mother felt her failure to produce a son, however much his father assured her he was more than content.

      ‘Still, boy, that does not explain your appearance,’ Lady Danby continued.

      Robbie glanced over his clothes. He did indeed have goose crap on his lower legs, as well as grass stains on his knees and fingers that were sticky from pear juice.

      ‘S-s-someone let the geese into the pear orchard and they w-w-were attacking Rowenna.’

      Lady Danby looked down her nose at him. Whatever the reason for his appearance, he suspected she would disapprove. The sight of the twins peeking around the corner of the dais at the end of the hall made him suspect who the culprits were.

      ‘That explains, at least, why my cook has been waiting half the afternoon for the pears. Where is that idle girl now?’

      Robbie was saved from answering by Rowenna and Joanna’s arrival. As soon as Joanna returned to sit with Lucy, leaving instructions for Robbie to remain, Rowenna was summoned to stand before Lady Danby. She recounted her tale in a trembling voice and displayed her fruit,

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