Author’s Note: This is one section of a multi-fic
arc-in-the-making about the post-Squire events of a certain Lord of
Cavall and his hellion squire. In this segment, they discuss matters of the
heart. FYI--the extreme young age of Lady Vivenne upon marriage was derived
from the line in First Test when Wyldon (flatly) declares: "My
experience with females is that they begin early."
Cavall’s
Heart: Love
They rode in silence for
the first few hours of their journey, lost in thought. Owen was certain that,
for Lord Wyldon, it was a chance to reflect upon the war and the movement of
the troops over the last few months, since the killing devices had been
destroyed. There had been a lull in the summer once Blayce the Gallan had been
killed, but before the soldiers could get too complacent, the raiding parties
began again, and in mid-September there had been a full attack from the Scanran
army. His knight-master was loath to leave his troops in the north under a
different commander, but Owen’s Ordeal was coming up, and they had to get back
to Corus before the winter snows prevented travel. The only bright side of
leaving the army and heading to the capital was the four days they had been
able to spend at Fief Cavall on their way.
Owen’s mind, too, was
wrapped up in the Ordeal and everything in store for him. He was afraid. He’d
been scared before, though his friends seemed to believe that he was willing to
take on entire armies alone. But bravery didn’t eliminate fear, it simply
avoided it. He hoped that whatever got him through his first fight as a page
and his first battle as a squire would also be there for his first test as a
knight. He knew what the Chamber held for him. It was a test greater than
anything he’d ever seen in his life, and the last year of his life had shown
him more and more things to fear.
“Do you need to stop any
time soon?” Wyldon asked.
Owen shook his head. “I’m
good for another hour.”
“And your mount?” Wyldon
asked dryly.
“He’s fine.” The new horse
wasn’t Happy, but he was an impressive creature, just the same. And like Happy,
he was straight from the Cavall stables.
They continued riding.
Owen knew his knight-master enjoyed riding in silence, but there was something
eerie about this lack of conversation. Was it not the perfect chance to review all
the things he had learned as a squire? To go over command techniques and supply
distribution? To lecture him on etiquette? Glancing at Lord Wyldon, Owen could
tell that he was simply distracted.
“My lord, can I ask what’s
on your mind?”
Wyldon sighed. “Will you
ever learn to say ‘may I’ rather than ‘can I’? I would have thought that Master
Oakbridge would have at least taught you that much, if you failed to listen to
my own lessons.”
Owen wasn’t sure if it was
a genuine complaint, or a conveniently-timed observation to avoid the subject.
“May I ask what’s on your mind?”
“No.”
As they followed the road,
in silence again, Owen’s mind drifted to other thoughts having to do with the
Ordeal and all that followed. He was pretty certain he wanted to get married,
and he had a general feeling that it would be better sooner than later. It was
the same among other knights. Prince Roald refused to put his marriage off any
longer. Lord Raoul followed suit shortly after, and even Neal was to be married
before too long. They all knew that their lives could be taken at any moment,
and wanted to take advantage of the time they had before a Scanran did them in.
And Owen wanted to do
that, too. But it wasn’t something he could talk about with anyone. At
“And what is on your mind,
Squire Owen?” Wyldon asked with a sigh.
Owen wondered, and not for
the first time, if his knight-master could read his thoughts. Finally he asked,
“How did you know you were in love with Lady Vivenne?”
Lord Wyldon’s eyes widened
in surprise. It was clearly not the question he had been expecting. “Excuse
me?”
“Well, I know some knights
and lords aren’t in love with their wives,” Owen said with a flushed face, “but
I think you and Lady Vivenne really do love each other. And I wondered how you
knew it was really love, and when.”
There was an awkward
pause, and Owen had a fleeting sensation that he had dug his own grave.
“I realized I loved her
after our first daughter was born.”
“So it wasn’t a marriage
of love?”
Wyldon gave him a very dry
look. “It was a marriage to help arrange a peace treaty with Tusaine.” He
fidgeted in his saddle, examining the reigns and wiping invisible dust off the
saddle horn—uncharacteristic things that screamed his discomfort to his squire.
“Most marriages among my peers were arranged. You seem to be living in shifting
circumstances. So long as the Jesslaw clan is financially and socially
invincible, you can likely marry whomever you want among the ladies at court.
My situation was much different in many ways, since my father’s fief was in
disrepair and financial ruin, and I was a second son.”
“So you married for
money?” Owen cut in.
“No. As I said, I marred
to help arrange a peace treaty following the Tusaine War. You noticed
immediately that my wife was not Tortallan. We agreed to a marriage because
King Roald and King Ain both thought mixing blood in the border region would
help to alleviate land disputes. I had no betrothed and I wanted to help my
country. I had met Vivenne during the peace conferences—her father’s estate was
hosting the delegation sent to sort out the treaty. I volunteered to marry a
Tusaini, but requested that it be her.”
“Why did you choose her?”
“She loved horses and her
father’s kennels bred the best hounds.”
Owen couldn’t help but
laugh aloud, but stopped when he saw his knight-master’s stern glare. He
coughed uncomfortably. “So, er, it was mutual interests that drew you to one
another?”
“Yes.” Wyldon was silent
for a moment, and looked as though he were debating whether or not to continue
the conversation. “She was very young at the time. Barely fourteen. I was seven
years older, and had no interest in her--or anyone--romantically. So I thought
finding someone who would not demand love and who would share my interest in
breeding animals would be a sensible thing. But sensibility has little to do
with love, and the two don’t often work together.”
“Why did it take so long
to realize you loved her?” Owen asked. His mind was trying to wrap around the
notion of having children without being in love, but he imagined for Lord
Wyldon and Lady Vivenne, having children was simply their duty.
“We did not know each
other very well. Even when we lived in the same home, it was difficult to know
one another. I had knightly duties to attend to while she had to learn how to
care for the fief in my absence. It was a trying time, but somehow we learned
to be more comfortable with each other. While I thought she wouldn’t be
interested in falling in love, being only fourteen, she made it clear that it
was her very intention to do so.” Wyldon smiled, a faraway expression changing
his face.
Owen didn’t want to
interrupt his knight-master’s apparent reverie, but he had to know. “How did
you know it was love, then?” He looked down at his saddle horn, avoiding Lord
Wyldon’s eyes. “I’ve read it over and over in books. But life isn’t like books.
I’ve never felt any of the things I’ve read, but I’ve felt something and I want
to know if it’s something I should pursue or not. Neal gets almost swoony when
he talks about love. Kel doesn’t talk about it at all--you wouldn’t even know
if she felt anything for anyone. I know I’m somewhere in between those
extremes, and I still can’t tell if it’s infatuation or the love-of-my-life.”
His voice grew higher in pitch as his frustration grew.
“It’s different for
everyone, Owen.” Wyldon’s voice was unusually kind.
For a few minutes they
heard only the sounds of the wind and their horses’ hooves. Even the wildlife
seemed silent. Lord Wyldon halted and dismounted when they approached a stream,
in order to water his horse. Owen did them same, filling his waterskin as well.
“I’ve actually been
meaning to talk to you about this sort of thing,” Wyldon said, refilling his
own container. “I know young people these days like to choose their spouses for
themselves, and my own daughter seems to be one of them.”
Owen nearly dropped his
waterskin in the stream, but caught the strap at the last minute. “Y-your
daughter, sir? Daisy?”
“Yes. Margarry.” Owen
could have sworn he heard amusement in Lord Wyldon’s voice. “She approached me
before we left, insisting that she wanted to marry you.”
Owen’s fingers shook as he
corked the bottle. “Me,” he whispered.
Wyldon sat on a fallen
tree trunk and pulled out several pieces of dried meat and bread. He offered
some to Owen. “You know I try not to spoil her, but if I see no reason to deny
her what she wants, I have to do as she asks. How would you feel about a
potential Jesslaw-Cavall marriage?”
Owen finally looked up at
his knight-master, shocked not only by the news, but by the amusement with
which it was given. “You’ve known this whole time!” he accused. Had he been in
his right mind he would’ve known better than to challenge Lord
Wyldon--especially when he was offering the thing Owen wanted most in the
world.
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve known all the time
we were talking about marriage and love that I was thinking of your daughter.
And you didn’t bring it up until now?”
Wyldon half-smiled.
“Jesslaw, I know I’m not the easiest of knight-masters—especially since I’ve
been training you for eight years instead of the usual four. And I know that
I’m not an easy person for you to talk to casually, either. But I wanted to see
if you would tell me who it was you fancied yourself in love with. No matter, I
want you to know that I approve of Margarry’s choice. And if you want to marry
her, you have my blessing.”
Owen swallowed the piece
of bread he had been chewing. Here he was, telling Lord Wyldon that he wasn’t
sure what love was or how to know if he was feeling it, and Lord Wyldon was
offering his daughter to him in marriage? But then he thought of Lord Wyldon’s
own past, and how love had come slowly. Did he think that Owen and Margarry
would fall in love if they weren’t already?
“I do want to marry her,”
Owen said in a small voice. “I just want to make sure that she’s the one.”
Wyldon examined him with
narrowed eyes. “I’ve never known you to be so cautious.”
Owen shrugged, knowing
Lord Wyldon hated that kind of response. “It’s confusing, my lord.”
“Yes, it can be. But you
have your Ordeal to think about first. Vivenne and Margarry will be coming to
Corus for Midwinter, and you can talk to them after your Ordeal, if it’s
something you decide you must do.” He stood and approached his horse. “I would
be honored to have you as a son-in-law, Squire Owen. Now, mount up.”
The End