An Uncertain Choice

I didn’t say anything to him, but I hoped he could read my approval for his own kindness. Rather I spoke to Cook. “I thought they would be given extra this morning out of the plenty from the Midsummer’s Eve feast.”


“’Twere all given away last eve, my lady,” Cook replied. “Every last crumb from every last plate.”

“I thought you would save some for the children. You have in the past.” I didn’t mean to rebuke my faithful cook, who always went above and beyond to oblige my grand plans for feeding the masses, but I couldn’t keep the disappointment from my tone.

Cook glanced sideways at Sir Derrick and then lowered his voice. “We didn’t have as much left as we usually do, my lady.” He turned to check on a great kettle of soup.

“I see.” I certainly couldn’t begrudge my honored guests and their servants the feasting they deserved. But I could only imagine how disappointed the children were this noon to come for their usual bread and soup, expecting to also receive out of the bounty of the leftovers from last evening’s feast only to be sent away without any extra.

Sir Derrick gave a thick slice of bread to an urchin with a bare head and feet, whose face was thin and dirty. Then he paused in his work. “My lady, let the children have the food that was intended for my noon meal.”

The wafting scent of onion and garlic rose from the steaming pot as Cook stirred the floating chunks of carrots and turnips and bits of wild goose. My stomach growled in response. After a morning working in the castle gardens, my appetite was hearty. But I was sure it couldn’t compare to the appetite Sir Derrick had gained on his hunting expedition earlier.

“I wouldn’t think of asking you to go without a meal,” I started.

“You’re not asking, my lady,” Sir Derrick interrupted as he placed bread into the hands of the next child. “I’m offering. After last night’s overindulgence, the sacrifice won’t hurt my body in the least. And if it would help these children and make them happy . . .”

For a moment I was at a loss for words.

“I have no doubt the duke and my two companions will willingly sacrifice their portions as well, in order to fill the bellies of these children to overflowing.” His gray eyes held the intensity I was coming to expect from him.

“You’re very kind, and I would indeed be grateful for your sacrifice.”

“Although I would do anything for you, my lady,” he replied softly, “I’m doing this for the children’s sake, not yours.”

I didn’t quite know how to respond. My vanity suggested I should take offense, but the deeper part of me was relieved — relieved that he was noble enough to want to make such a sacrifice from his heart rather than from his desire to impress me.

In the end, I said nothing at all. For some time, I worked with Cook and Sir Derrick to distribute the loaves, pastries, cheese, and cuts of meat Cook had prepared for the noon meal. When the last of the children had skipped away with an extra bundle, I leaned against the cool stone wall near the kitchen door and wiped the perspiration from my forehead.

Sir Derrick had disappeared into the kitchen and now stepped out of the dark interior with a mug in hand. “For you, my lady.” He held it out to me. “A cool drink of ale.”

“Thank you.” I offered him a smile and then took a sip of the spicy drink, letting the coolness of it soothe my parched throat.

He glanced to the high noon sun and then rested his back against the stone wall as well. He soon began watching a few remaining children nearby petting Pup.

In the shade, I took another sip, and peeked at Sir Derrick sideways. In his sun-bronzed face, the scar near his eye stood out starkly white and lent him a ruggedness that his companions lacked. Strands of his hair stuck to his forehead. And he wore his hunting clothes from earlier. But even without clean and fancy apparel, he was still as fine-looking as the other two knights.

I waited for him to start a conversation like his companions had. But he only crossed his arms over his chest. The movement pulled his tunic tight against his muscular arms. From the rippling set of his jaw, I had the feeling he wasn’t planning to be the first to speak.

Very well. Perhaps he wasn’t as outgoing as his friends. “You must be glad to be free of your hot armor and ready to have a break from the fighting.”

The muscles in his jaw flexed before he cast me a sideways glance. “I’m a warrior, my lady. It’s what I’ve been trained to do.”

“Why, sir,” I said with a half laugh, unable to keep from baiting him. “Surely you enjoy other things too?” I waited for his declaration that he was looking forward to spending time with me. But it never came. Instead he pushed away from the wall as if to leave. I held the mug out to him. “You must be thirsty. Would you like a drink?” I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t want to part ways yet.