Britamund proposes her lady's opinion

Dunstan came charging through the door in his eagerness to be off and away from the hall-​running, bed-​jumping, arm-​pulling, ear-​shouting annoyance that was the Old Man. He would leave Eadwyn to deal with him, or to take him to play with Haakon if he could not be borne. Dunstan and Bertie had a pleasant ride ahead of them, and the opportunity to do very little at all and call it business.

He came through the door in such a hurry that he did not have time to stop or turn around when the door at the opposite end of the corridor opened and he saw who was coming towards him, doubtlessly in search of him.

It was the Princess Britamund—and future Duchess of Nothelm.

“Good morning, Dunstan!” she beamed. “And Bertie.” At least she noticed Bertie.

Dunstan supposed Bertie bowed to her behind him, but he could hear that Bertie was definitely chortling to himself.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” Dunstan said and kissed her hand. “What a pleasant surprise to find you here!”

The Princess had recently discovered that she was not, in fact, a boy, and was instead most definitely, most certainly a girl. Moreover, she had come to the conclusion that Dunstan himself was most definitely, most certainly a young man, and in particular her betrothed.

Dunstan had known since he was a small boy that he would marry Britamund someday. He had at times despaired of ever being able to fall in love with her, but at least the tomboyish princess had been easy to get along with—at least insofar as shy, sensitive Dunstan was able to get along with anyone as talkative and busy as Britamund.

But Dunstan did not know how to take this new, feminine creature who giggled and batted her eyelashes at him, and who had suddenly stopped complaining about the awkwardness of gowns and instead begun lacing them up tightly beneath the beginnings of her bust.

Bertie, on the other hand, took her as a fine joke on Dunstan.

“I came with my father,” she chirped. “Are you boys going out?”

Bertie giggled, and Dunstan wished he could groan. Britamund had not lost her love for riding, and he knew she would want to accompany them.

“We’re only going to Dunellen,” he said. “I want to take care of some bothersome business so my father doesn’t have to.”

“That’s sweet of you!” she smiled. “What sort of business?”

“His Grace wants Dunstan to decorate the entry and the hall,” Bertie supplied eagerly.

Dunstan clenched his teeth.

“But that doesn’t sound bothersome at all!” Britamund cried. “At least not to a lady. I’m certain you men find it quite tedious, thinking about draperies and paneling.”

Dunstan cringed at the knowing way she had said “you men.”

“Rather,” he muttered.

“But why?” she asked. “Is Yware coming home?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Dunstan said. “Anyway, he’s only thirteen. He’s too young to be living out in that castle by himself.”

“So why then?”

“I don’t know,” Dunstan sighed. “Perhaps my father wants to pretend he is Holy Roman Emperor, with a summer palace and a winter palace.”

“Does he mean to go live there in the summer?”

“Not to my knowledge. I think he simply wants to have it decorated at long last. It’s a rather desolate place for such a new castle.”

“I know.”

“He simply wants me to look at the place and think about what can be done in terms of paneling, and furniture, and tiles for the floor, and so forth.”

“That sounds like fun, Dunstan. And do you know what I think? I think your father has other plans for that castle.”

“Do you?”

“My father thinks he means to send you to live there when you are sixteen, and give you some experience managing the lands.”

“That is the first I have heard of it.”

“Of course. Your father likes to keep you guessing. He thinks it makes you clever trying to figure out what will happen. And I think he’s right.”

It was an interesting idea, this keeping him guessing, and it had not occurred to Dunstan before. He sometimes thought his father cruelly capricious. But he would consider the idea later.

“As far as I know,” he said, “he means that castle for Yware.”

“But Yware isn’t even here. And my father thinks he will stay with Godwine and Magnus when he is grown. If he does, and one of them becomes king, he is sure to be a very powerful man.”

“Even if they do not, he is sure to have something better than Dunellen. But I shall do as my father asks, and if he wants me to choose tiles for my brother’s castle floor, then so shall I.”

“And if he wants you to go live at Dunellen and manage the land?”

“Then so shall I,” he sighed.

But Dunstan was clever enough, though she was of the strange species known as Girl, to know what she was thinking: she was thinking that if he were living at Dunellen castle, he could be permitted to and would be expected to marry earlier than if he stayed in his father’s shadow at Nothelm keep.

“May I come with you?” she asked eagerly. “Perhaps it will help you to have a lady’s opinion.”

She was thinking that this was her opportunity to oversee the decoration of her future first home.

“I am certain that it will be more tedious than you expect.”

“And I am certain that between the two of you, you will come up with something dreadful, like that hideous catastrophe of a tiled entry they have at Bernwald. Especially if you ask Bertie’s opinion!” she laughed and winked at the squire.

“I don’t know but I guess that the two of us, that would be a hideous catastrophe waiting to happen,” Bertie said solemnly.

Dunstan told himself that he would assign Bertie some wholly undesirable task upon their return—perhaps helping the Old Man with his Latin. But meanwhile he would have to consent to the Princesses’s request. He knew that a gentleman did not refuse a lady’s desire unless it were a grave matter of safety or honor. And Britamund was not just any lady, but his lady.

“You may come if you like,” he shrugged. “Don’t blame us if you find it tedious.”

“I am certain it will be fun!” she grinned.