One True Knight (The Knights of Honor Trilogy) (2 page)

But now there would be a new lady of the castle. Her stomach churned. She had no idea what the new mistress would be like. For all she knew, the woman could be wretched and make Rowena’s life a living hell.

She sighed, the new reality weighing heavily on her shoulders. She raised herself from the floor, and moved to the small window on the other side of the room, trudging toward it as if her small frame was suddenly burdened with a heavy load. She wanted nothing more than to cast away her worries, to be outside, free from all the pain and loneliness contained in these four walls.

For the second time in her short life, Rowena could sense the winds of change swirling overhead, impatient to land. She could wait for the winds to settle or make her own changes, she decided.

Suddenly a new thought occurred to her. Perhaps all hope was not lost after all. If she made her way to Whitshire, her mother’s birthplace and where her maiden aunt Edith resided, she could at least be temporarily free from the control of her father and his new chatelaine.

Just then, a soft knock sounded and the door to her chamber opened, revealing her nursemaid. “My lady?” Ava asked hesitantly. She took in Rowena’s pale and drawn face. “I wondered if you need anything. If this is a bad time, I can come back later.”

Rowena went to Ava, and pulled her inside. “Actually I need several things,” she said. “And you are just the person to help me get them.”

“Get what?” Ava said uneasily. She allowed herself to be dragged into the room, the reluctant look on her face revealing her sense of dread. “I shall help if I am able,” she said, not even attempting to hide her lack of conviction.

Rowena pretended not to notice her wary tone. Instead she looked at the tapestry as if there was a message encoded into the elaborate artwork.

“I need a cloak,” she said finally, tapping her chin with a slender finger. “And a change of clothes. Perhaps a serviceable woolen tunic — a tunic a servant would wear.” Turning to Ava, she looked at her as eagerly as when she used to beg for sweets before supper. “Can you get those items for me?”

“Child, I —”

Rowena shook her head, interrupting her. “I do not want your opinion, Ava. I want you to get those items for me,” she said, her tone as commanding as any young noblewoman accustomed to getting her own way.

Ava twisted her lips in disapproval but she reluctantly left the chamber and went to see if the laundress had any clothes that could be spared. Rowena paced around the room while she waited for her nursemaid to return.

A few minutes later, Ava came back with a cloak and an ugly rust-colored woolen tunic, the kind that that her father offered to all the servants as a partial payment for their services. She held up the coarse material as if it was covered with fleas.

“Are you certain you want to wear this, child?” she said with a frown. “This gown is not fit for a young noblewoman. The wool is poorly combed and ugly. Wearing it will only make you look like a dirty sheep.”

“Good,” Rowena said with a quiet laugh. “If it makes me look like a dirty sheep, ‘twould serve my purpose even better.”

Ava snorted with derision, and helped unbutton the emerald gown that her charge wore. It had gold trim sewn into the bodice and was made in such a way that it hugged her figure. Like her late mother, Rowena had a body that other women envied. But unlike her mother, Rowena was not interested in clothing or how she looked in them.

She draped the emerald fabric on her arm, and caressed the silky material. “The coarse wool will irritate your soft skin,” she said, her disdain evident. “Why would you want to wear it?”

“Just put it on,” Rowena commanded, her earlier amusement now gone. “I do not hear of the servants complaining about what they wear.”

Ava threw up her hands in defeat, and looked heavenward as if to ask God for more patience. She set the emerald gown aside. “You are not privy to their complaints,” she said. Then making quick work, she threw the serviceable gown over Rowena’s head.

Rowena raised her hands to unloosen her hair, but Ava brushed them away. With none-too-gentle hands, Ava undid Rowena’s hair from its braids, allowing her long black tresses to flow down in a soft mass. She then turned her charge around, and clucked her tongue as if she had never seen anything so horrendous.

“These clothes make you look hideous, child,” she said.

Rowena draped the worn cloak on her shoulders, and pulled the hood over her head, obscuring her long hair. “That my dear Ava,” she said, smiling with satisfaction, “is my intent. Do I look poor enough to pass as a villein?”

“Most people want to look wealthy, not poor,” Ava said, placing her arms across her chest.

“You know me well, Ava.” She smiled, and shrugged indifferently. “Have you ever known me to be like most people?”

Ava shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “God knows you are a little too different from most people. You used to play sword with the boys rather than focus on your lessons. Even now I suspect that you want to play with weapons, but you are intelligent enough to know that working on softer, more womanly skills is much more desirable.”

“But you have not answered whether I look like a villein, Ava.” Rowena twirled around in the coarse gown and looked at her nursemaid with uncertainty.

Ava let out a weary sigh, and sat down on the bed. “Aye, child. You could easily pass as a country maiden, albeit a comely one. However, if someone were to take a closer look at you, they will know that you are not a peasant. You have an unconscious bearing, a bearing that is inborn and that no commoner can emulate.”

Rowena nodded. “I shall remember that and will be more conscious on how I carry myself.” She frowned. “What do you suppose I should do? Should I hunch my back? Perhaps I should limp a little?”

“A change of clothes or a physical affliction cannot hide who you are inside, child,” Ava said, rolling her eyes.

Rowena paid no attention to Ava but stared at the tapestry instead, her eyebrows knitted in thought. Ava put a gentle hand on her arm, reminding her of her presence.

“Need I remind you that the gates are locked at dusk?” she said. “‘Tis already dark outside, and the porter will not allow you to pass through the gates without good reason.”

“The porter will not even know whether anyone passes through the gates, seeing that he is likely bloated with drink and probably asleep,” Rowena said.

“Be that it may be true, however ‘tis still dangerous for a woman to be out wandering outside the castle walls without a chaperone. The outlaws prey on those who are without protection. ‘Tis not safe and I cannot allow you to go alone.”

Rowena’s eyes flickered with anger. “I did not say that I am leaving the castle walls this night,” she said.

“You do not have to, child,” Ava said, looking pointedly at the worn tunic on her person. “Your father will more than harm me if I allow you to step out of the protection of this castle.”

Rowena compressed her lips into a thin angry line, her eyes flashing. Although she didn’t like to admit it, her temper was nearly as great as her father’s. “You need not fear for my safety,” she said. “I can handle a dagger as well as any man.”

“‘Tis not only your safety that I fear,” Ava said, twisting her white apron. “If your father discovers that I have helped you leave the castle without his consent, he will be furious. I have tried his patience one too many times.”

“Then do not tell my father anything,” Rowena said sharply. “If he does not know that you have helped me, you can claim innocence and be spared his anger.”

Ava shook her head as if the suggestion was just too ridiculous to even consider. “‘Tis not as easy as you say,” she said. “I have protected you many times in your young life, too many times to count. But your father has always seen through my lies. He is a very perceptive man.”

Letting out a sigh of frustration, Rowena sat heavily at the edge of her bed. They both knew Ava was right. Rowena did many rash things during her youth. And while Ava tied to protect her with lies, to spare her from her father’s wrath, her father always uncovered the truth and her nursemaid unfortunately ended up feeling the full brunt of his anger.

Rowena stared at her lap. Her plan seemed so simple a moment ago. She smoothed the rough fabric over her legs as if she was trying to brush away the truth of what Ava said.

She sensed her nursemaid watching her carefully, and when she heard Ava take a deep breath, she glanced up.

“If you decide to leave the castle, take me with you,” Ava said, her tone full of resignation. “‘Tis best that we leave in the morning. Or better yet, we should leave during mid-day, when the sun is high.”

Rowena raised an eyebrow at her, and watched as Ava flushed a deep crimson. She clasped her hands as if she was praying for God’s forgiveness and unsure she would get it after what she said next:

“Tis May Day, as you know, and there will be many who will be going into town,” she said in a rush. “With so much activity during mid-day, with people coming and going about their business, we will have a much better chance of getting into town without being questioned.”

Rowena stood up to her full height, and narrowed her eyes at Ava. “And so now you are helping me and you approve of me going into town without my father’s consent?”

Ava shook her head vigorously. “Nay, you know better than I that I cannot force you to stay, nor do I approve of you going into town alone. All I am saying is that if you go now you will make your disappearance that much more obvious.” She unclasped her hands, and began twisting the folds of her apron again. “If your father realizes that you are gone, you will only invoke his ire, and I know how deeply his anger affects you.”

Rowena turned her head away from Ava. She had no choice but to leave Ravenhearth. Her future and her happiness depended on it.

“Father will discover that ‘tis a boon to be rid of me,” she said, her voice turning as cool as the evening air. “However you are right, ‘twould be best to leave at mid-day. I thank you for your words of advice.”

Ava gave her a tight smile. “Sir Philip will not be thanking me. For that I am certain.”

CHAPTER 2

Sir Jonathan d’Abelard led his horse into the bailey, seven of his men following close behind. They had ridden for many hours, stopping only for food and rest.

There was no talking among his men as they rode silently behind him, putting on the same cloak of watchfulness that their leader bore.

The clatter of the horses’ hooves hitting the cobblestones in the inner courtyard drew the attention of dozens of curious servants who were going about their duties. He was used to people whispering his name after recognizing his standard, a fierce hawk with its beak wide open, its talons drawn and poised for attack.

The reputation of the Iron Hawk preceded him wherever he went, invoking fear in the hearts of his enemies. But there was one enemy that didn’t fear him enough. And the fact that this enemy was out there, taunting him, made him grit his teeth in frustration. And after more than ten long years searching for the man, he had finally tracked him down to the one place that he swore that he would never go back to — the shire of his birth.

His gaze swept past the uneasy faces as if he was searching for the unknown figure that haunted his dreams. They looked apprehensively at him and his men, a mixture of fear and awe on their upturned faces.

“Cousin!” A woman’s voice cried out. As if a spell were broken, the eerie silence that followed the riders shattered and the servants scurried back to their work.

Jonathan turned and the grave expression on his face disappeared as if it had never existed. He slid off his horse, and approached Lady Lorena du Veaux of Airndale. Before he could take two steps, the small woman ran and threw her arms around him in a warm embrace.

“You have come,” she said, unable to hide the surprise and joy in her face. “I sent you the message but I was not sure if you received it, or if you would come.”

Jonathan grinned, and returned the embrace. “Aye, I received it. And upon hearing about your upcoming nuptials, I rushed over here to visit you.”

She swatted him on the arm. “You lie as badly as my minstrel,” she said, affectionately. “I recall you swearing that you would never return here.”

Lorena signaled for the stable boy to take the horses. She then slipped one arm around his and led him through the courtyard.

The stable boy glanced back at them before leading the horses away.

“A white lie then,” Jonathan said in an indifferent tone. “I have business in this region, so it is fortuitous that I’m able to attend your wedding as well.”

“What business do you have in these parts?” she asked, watching his face carefully as if she could discover a clue as to his real purpose.

“‘Tis nothing that would interest a lady,” he said, his eyes not quite meeting hers.

He sensed her studying him at length. “That is yet another lie,” she stated. “‘Tis the Grey Knight that brought you here, is it not? You would not be in this region if it were not for him. I cannot begin to flatter myself that my upcoming marriage would be a draw for you. I did not think you were joking when you swore to never set foot in this vicinity again. ‘Twould seem something serious must be afoot to bring you back here.”

Jonathan laughed grimly. “I can never hide anything from you, cousin. You are too perceptive.”

“I am rather observant,” she said, smiling pleasantly, although the light of determination reflected in her eyes. “However you have not answered my question — is it the Grey Knight that you are seeking?”

Jonathan let out a weary sigh. She would keep asking questions until she was satisfied with an answer. “Aye, ‘tis he. It has been over ten years and the madman still eludes me. He’s like a phantom that appears, causes as much damage as he can, and then disappears back into the shadows. I’m growing tired of chasing him across the country, finding nothing. But when I have almost given up all hope, the madman resurfaces again and taunts me from another direction.” He took off his helm, and handed it to his squire. “The people who we’ve asked have been reluctant to speak, although his trail seems to end here.”