Elisabeth Hobbes - A Midsummer Knight's Kiss

‘Are you having trouble, D-Dumpling?’

‘You can s-s-s-see I am having t-t-t-trouble, you lumbering oaf!’ she retorted, mimicking his hesitant speech. The description wasn’t strictly accurate, but his nickname always made her blood boil. He didn’t lumber and he wasn’t an oaf, but Robbie was going through the awkward stage that afflicted most thirteen-year-olds where his limbs were too long. He moved gracefully, but with maddening slowness. Now he began ambling away from her.

‘Where are you going?’ she asked in alarm.

He scowled, looking hurt.

‘If you’re going to insult me, I’ll leave you to fend for yourself.’

Guilt prickled Rowenna’s neck. Robbie hated the fact that he struggled over some sounds. He would often go for hours without speaking if he was in company with people he didn’t know. Robbie had reason enough to be worried today, without Rowenna taunting him.

‘I’m sorry, Robbie. Truly, I am. You know I don’t think you’re an oaf. Please, don’t stand there laughing.’

Robbie strolled over, taking his time in retaliation for her meanness. He gave her another slow grin. Uncle Roger often said Rowenna was the only one who made Robbie smile, but now she would happily slap the smile from his face.

‘You do look stuck, Dumpling. Lady Stick isn’t going to be pleased when she sees what you’ve done to your skirts.’

Tears filled Rowenna’s eyes. The private nickname she and Robbie had for his grandmother reminded her of what was certain to happen when Lady Danby discovered what she had done to her dress and to the fruit.

‘Stop jesting! A fine knight you’ll make, leaving a woman in distress.’

Robbie frowned and Rowenna knew her arrow had hit the target. He was determined to be a knight like his father and grandfather before him.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Well then, Lady Rowenna, if I’m going to be a knight, you must give me a favour.’

‘You can have a pear. Not one of the windfalls. I picked a good one from the high branch.’

Rowenna gave him a smile she hoped looked suitably ladylike. One of the few areas her mother and Lady Danby agreed on was that Rowenna should grow up with the accomplishments expected of a guildsman’s daughter. She knew by now how to dip a curtsy and show a man how wonderful she thought he was.

Robbie folded his arms and rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner. She wondered if she had gone too far in her flattery. He was more used to Rowenna beating him at scoring points with the lance and rings or kicking his ankles as they sped round the field after a ball. While the village boys drew back instinctively when tackling her, Rowenna showed no such hesitation and most of them surrendered the ball voluntarily rather than risk being on the end of her solid boots. She vowed to try being a little more gentle in future games, at least towards Robbie.

‘Please,’ she begged. ‘I don’t want to get into trouble. It’s a very nice pear.’

She cocked her head to her skirts, indicating the fruit. Robbie rolled his eyes again, but he grinned.

‘You’re behaving more like Eve, tempting me into sin with forbidden fruit, than a lady at court, only I bet Eve d-didn’t have such a foolish smile. I s-suppose I can’t leave you there, though.’ He flourished an imaginary sword. ‘Fear not, fair Lady Rowenna, Sir Robert Danby will save you from these knavish creatures!’

He ran towards Rowenna, circling his arms and yelling at the top of his voice. The geese scattered, their wings brushing Rowenna’s skirts as some hurtled past her. Robbie danced out of their way to avoid a couple of sharp beaks that stabbed towards him. He cried out as one scored a hit on his thigh. Emboldened, Rowenna 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.