Page 12 of An Ill-Made Match

“Oswald’s standing stock still,” thundered Mason. “What ails him?”

“He’ll be right as rain this time tomorrow,” Oswald replied soothingly. “There, there.” Roland found himself bolstered on one side by a firm shoulder.

“Is he still sotted?” piped up a curious voice.

Roland groaned, recognizing his plaguey squire was now making an appearance.

“Ah Cuthbert,” said Oswald sounding relieved. “I need you to go and pack up your master Roland’s things…”

“Already done it, milord,” said Cuthbert, kicking a pack he’d dropped at his feet. “His and mine. Could see the way the wind was blowing, couldn’t I?”

“Well done, lad,” said Mason, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Cuthbert, if you would only remain down here with Roland whilst Mason and I collect our own belongings and then we can be on our merry way.”

“Will he be able to ride?” asked Cuthbert.

“I am here,” repeated Roland wearily, raising his head from Oswald’s shoulder. He hadn’t even realized it, but he must have been dozing off. He felt terrible.

Cuthbert’s arm threaded around his waist. Lucky the boy had put on some muscle this last six months or he would never have been able to support him.

Oswald extricated himself. “We won’t be long. Now Cuthbert, you proceed slowly with your master to the stables and ask the groom to saddle our horses.”

“Aye milord.”

“Now, what else?” mused Oswald, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “I have a feeling we have forgotten something…”

A discreet cough sounded nearby, and Roland blinked blearily to find Eden Montmayne hovering nearby. She was white as chalk and wearing the most uncertain expression he had ever seen on her face. Usually she wore a look of irritating superiority. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about this mortified look. It didn’t suit her.

“Ah yes, of course,” beamed Oswald. “Our party of Vawdreys would not be complete, without its newest member! Come join us, Eden. We are rounding up our numbers.”

Now, Roland did feel a certain malicious satisfaction when Eden blanched at this. After all, why should he be the only one feeling like death warmed up?

The next thing Roland knew, he was being jolted out of a stupor by his brother Mason. “Wha-?”

“Up with you,” his brother grunted, hauling him off a hay bale. “We’re ready to depart.” Before he could respond, a bowl of water was thrown in his face, making him gasp. “Look lively, lad,” his brother recommended.

“You bastard!”

“Up you get,” Mason said, pushing him toward his horse. “You’re to have your lady up before you.”

Roland glanced round at that and found Eden looking almost as exhausted as he felt. She was leaning against one of the horse’s stalls, looking fit to drop. “Where’s her cloak?” he asked with a frown, as he swung himself up into the saddle. His head spun, but he managed it. Just.

“Her uncle has declared, in time-honored fashion, that you’re to take her with the clothes on her back, and nothing else,” responded Oswald drolly.

“Has he, by the gods,” muttered Roland without much heat.

“She’ll have to share yours,” Oswald told him cheerfully and lifted Eden up in his arms. She made no protest, and Roland felt a prickle of annoyance at that. Before he could voice it, Oswald was approaching him with her. “Here you go,” he said. “Your lawfully-wedded wife,” and hefted her up onto the horse before Roland. He closed his arms around her at once. To Roland’s surprise, she melted right into him without even a murmur. Hers was the slender and lithe body of a dancer. He felt a flicker of recognition that had him cursing his faulty memory anew. That she should remember something of their tryst, and he not at all, struck him as extremely unjust.

“Think you can manage not to drop her?” asked Mason, leading his own horse out of the stall. “Maybe she should go up before me?” he said turning to Oswald.

“No,” Roland found himself saying, with more force than he’d expected. “She sits up before me.”

“Very proper,” said Oswald. “You see, Roland? You’re acting like a husband already!”

**

It was a two-day journey from the Montmayne seat to Caer-Lyoness, the King’s summer palace, but they had not ridden for much more than a couple of hours before Roland realized he was not fit for the journey. And he was not the only one. At one point they had stopped so their party could relieve themselves. Eden had disappeared scarlet-faced behind a mulberry bush. Five minutes later she had still not reappeared.