Percival's Angel by Anne Eliot Crompton Read Free Book Online Page B

blood!
    Percy was the biggest, strongest babe she had ever borne. He had cost her more pain and weakness than even her first; here he was a week old, and still she could hardly sit on the bench without cushions and folded cloaks beneath her.
    Now, of twenty-five years’ pains and loves, Percy was all she had left.
    One by one, her little sons had grown into fighting men—Knights. What else could they be? Cabbage seeds grow to be cabbages, and Knights’ sons, like dragon’s teeth, grow to be Knights. But he that lives by the sword dies by the sword, and they all had died, not all directly by the sword, but all in the midst of knightly pursuits.
    And now this sorry story will tell itself again. Another soft, sweet child will cut himself a sapling sword and duel with peasant boys till he gets his sword of steel…
    If I could take Percy away to some far land! A land where men are content to spend their strength on field and farm, and are honored for it! But that land is farther off than I can think.
    In the gathering shadows behind Alanna floor rushes rustled. Someone came softly, slowly, dragging a graceful hem.
    Ivie.
    Sir Ogden’s ward, daughter of his murdered brother, Ivie was nearly fifteen. For ten years now, she has been as my daughter. For God gave me none of my own. I have trained and taught, nursed and comforted like a mother. And now she learns her final fate. Now I must comfort again, biting my own grief back.
    Ivie came gently into the arrow-slit light. She dropped her small curtsy and folded competent, square hands at plump waist. Only the long, fiery red braid looped down her shoulder warned of possible fire within.
    When grief-heavy Alanna did not speak, Ivie murmured, “You sent for me, Lady.”
    Alanna shifted Percy to her other breast and heaved a releasing sigh.
    â€œYou have heard the news.”
    â€œOf Sir Ogden. The hall below buzzes with it. My Lady, I am sorry!”
    Alanna glanced up sharply. Ivie’s young face, smooth with innocence, looked back calmly.
    Naturally. Ivie never spent any time with Sir Ogden. To her, he was ever only a strong, always busy figure striding past. She grieves not for him, nor, yet, for herself.
    â€œHave you thought what this means to you, yourself?”
    â€œAh…?” She’s had little time to think.
    â€œIvie, fetch a stool. Sit here by me…There. You are well set?”
    â€œAye, Lady.” Still the soft, docile voice! She has yet caught no clue, no thread to this tapestry.
    â€œYou will not fall off the stool.”
    â€œWhy, no, lady!”
    â€œIvie. The King’s messenger told me of my Lord’s death.” Ivie nodded, slow and sad. “He also told me that this hall will now belong to Sir Ryan Ironside.”
    What! A glint of surprise? Maybe curiosity?
    â€œYou remember Sir Ryan?”
    â€œAh, yes. Somewhat.” She has seen him stride past her with Sir Ogden, rumbling oaths and threats to unknown enemies. She has seen him dine with Sir Ogden, fast and furious. She had to lean over his massive shoulder to refill his goblet. Once, I remember, seven times in a row!
    â€œYou are to wed him.”
    No response.
    There. Percy is satisfied. His sweet eyes close…
    Slowly, Ivie’s smooth face froze.
    â€œWhat think you, Ivie?”
    Ivie licked lips, bowed head, looked up again.
    â€œSpeak.”
    Ivie managed it. “I? I wed Sir Ryan Ironside?…I mean…why not you, Lady?”
    Alanna shuddered so hard, Percy’s blue eyes drifted open.
    She counseled herself, It is but a natural thought. Given Ivie’s age, and my own…
    She explained. “Ogden Hall remains with Sir Ogden’s blood, Ivie. I am to wed, also; wherever the King decides.” When does a woman rest?
    â€œI…Ah…Oh!” Pure crystal welled in Ivie’s blue eyes and rolled down paled cheeks.
    â€œIt may not be so bad, Ivie.”
    â€œSir…Sir Ryan! Holy blessed