One True Knight (The Knights of Honor Trilogy) (20 page)

Rowena turned away as if she didn’t want him to see the confusion clouding her eyes. Her heart resisted the idea that Jonathan would commit senseless murder. But how much did she really know him? She knew of his legendary feats, and how he had gained favor with King Edward through his skillful fighting abilities. But was it true that he relished killing innocent women as well? Could she be so wrong about him? She needed to think this over.

Unfortunately she didn’t have much time to think right then because moments later, she saw the stable boy burst out of the stable, running toward her at breakneck speed. At the same time she heard the shrill cry of pain emerging from the wooden structure.

The boy stumbled across the courtyard, so breathless that he could barely get the words out. “To the stables, my lady!” he said. “Beauty — she’s about to foal!”

“That’s impossible!” protested Raulf. “Everyone knows that a horse doesn’t foal until nightfall.”

The boy shook his head. “Hurry, my lady!” he said. And then turning, he raced back to the stable.

She didn’t need further prompting. She ran to the wooden structure, all thoughts of the two men fleeing from her mind.

And when Rowena found herself at the stable doors, she realized with some relief that Raulf had not followed her. She entered the dim building, the stiff straw crunching under her feet. She could hear the heavy, labored breathing coming from Beauty’s stall.

A movement at the corner of the room caught her attention and she saw Lorena there. “My lady?” she said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

Lorena got up from her stool, and approached her. “I was out riding this morning when I learned about your palfrey’s condition,” she explained. “I know you have been anticipating the foaling for months now, and I wanted to lend you my support.” She touched her arm. “You do not mind, do you?”

Rowena shook her head. “The stable master called for me earlier, however I was detained from getting here,” she said. Her face went pale when she heard another groan emerging from Beauty.

She approached the stable master with caution. “Is she all right?” Rowena whispered. Beauty stood near the railing, breathing with difficulty, her black coat slick with sweat. “I am told that a horse usually foals after nightfall…”

“It seems that she may be a special case,” he said.

Rowena winced when Beauty cried again as another painful contraction hit her, the sound reverberating throughout the entire building. She put out her hand, wanting to offer comfort and stroke Beauty’s head. But the stable master stayed her hands.

“You may witness the foaling, my lady,” the stable master said. “Everyone may witness it. However we must all stand aside.” He brought his sleeve up to his face, and wiped the sweat away. “Any outside interference will delay the foaling.”

Lorena beckoned for the stable boy to bring another stool over to the wall. She then gently steered Rowena toward the seats. “You are as pale as if you have seen the dead,” she said. She sat Rowena down on the stool and nodded to her palfrey. “All horses are different and it seems that this foal is eager to see the world.”

“It will not be long now,” the stable master said.

Rowena felt grateful that Lorena held her hand. Every time the horse cried out in new pain she squeezed Lorena’s hand. Then after what felt like an eternity, it was over. A new colt was born. He got up with effort and took valiant, unsteady steps toward his mother. And as he began to nurse, Beauty turned her face and proudly licked the top of his head.

“He’s beautiful,” Rowena whispered, getting up. She moved closer to the railing, the desire to stroke the newborn colt became overwhelming.

Lorena seemed to have read her mind because she pulled her back. “The stable master says ‘tis best not to interfere,” she said in a soft voice.

The stable master wiped the sweat from his eyebrow, and grinned at Rowena. “Aye, they need time to get to know each other,” he said. “Go and enjoy the day’s tournament, and when you return, Beauty will have recovered a bit. You still won’t be able to get near her or her babe, but you can at least visit them.”

***

It was just before supper when Rowena had the opportunity to go back to the stables. She begged and pleaded with Ava once more to allow her to visit Beauty. “I shall not be long,” she promised, but her nursemaid only grunted. Ava hated the smell of the stables and avoided it as much as possible.

Rowena cleared the courtyard and was almost at the stable doors when she saw Raulf coming out of one of the wooden shelters, his destrier in tow.

She ducked behind a stack of hay that was left just outside the building.

Perhaps it was how he carried his body, which was taut, or the way he curled his lips as if he had eaten a piece of rotten meat. Whatever it was, she didn’t call out to him. Instead, she let him pass and when he was out of sight, she slipped into the dimly lit structure.

The main stable was strangely empty, and this suited Rowena well. She moved toward Beauty’s stall, expecting to witness the special bonding between mother and colt, but the scene before her caused her heart to stop. And then she burst into a scream.

She rushed closer to the stall, wanting to help her beloved palfrey but uncertain how she would do it.

Gone was the glowing mother and in her place was a horse that could no longer support herself. She seemed confused, and bumped hard up against the wall again and again as if she didn’t know it was there. Her breathing was labored and shallow, and her entire body was sweating and shaking.

The colt stood in the corner, watching his mother fearfully.

Beauty fell once more against the wall and then collapsed into a heap on the ground, staying there as if she neither had the will nor the strength to get up. She was panting hard, and Rowena discovered with growing horror that her beloved palfrey’s gums and tongue were as white as snow.

Rowena gripped the wooden railing that separated her and her horse, wanting desperately to go to Beauty. But even she knew that in Beauty’s unstable condition, her behavior was unpredictable. That was something that the stable master drilled into her head long ago, before she was even allowed to ride a horse.

Behind her, she could hear the sound of running footsteps.

As Rowena turned her head at the noise, she saw Jonathan. He stopped at her side, breathing deeply as he tried to take in the scene before him. “What happened?” he said. “I heard you scream.”

At the same moment the stable master rushed into the stall and then stood still when he saw the horse.

Not trusting her voice to speak, she gestured toward Beauty. Her palfrey lay convulsing and foaming at the mouth just as her eyes started to roll into the back of her head. And then all movements stopped.

Rowena’s grip on the rail tightened and she let out a cry of dismay.

The stable master shook his head, a baffled look fixed on his face. And then as if he remembered his duty, he rushed into the pen and examined Beauty, checking for any life signs.

The stable master got up and was about to walk past her when she stopped him. “Is Beauty…?”

The small man shook his head, his face grave. “I’m sorry, my lady.” he said, answering the question that she was afraid to ask. “There is nothing we can do for her now.” He then made his way toward the frightened colt.

A strangled cry emerged from deep within Rowena’s throat. Then a ball of despair rolled over her as hot tears streamed down her face. Beauty was the only friend she had. And now she was gone!

“I do not understand what happened,” she said, the bewilderment and pain echoing in her voice. “When I left her this morning, with her newborn colt, she was fine, she was healthy.”

Jonathan reached over and put a strong, comforting arm around her shoulder, drawing her close.

She closed her eyes as if the terrible scene in front of her was too great for her to bear. A deep, unsteady breath erupted from her depths, and she allowed her head to rest on Jonathan’s chest.

The startled cry of the colt forced her eyes open again. The young horse was backing into a corner as the stable master and his assistant advanced toward him.

They watched as the stable hands captured the colt and led him out of the stall. “What caused the death?” Jonathan asked the stable master.

“I don’t know, sire,” the older man said, his face lined with confusion. “For some reason she had gone mad. ‘Tis not usual for mares to lose their minds after giving birth.”

Rowena suddenly remembered Raulf coming out of the stable before she stumbled upon Beauty. He was the only person around. “Do you think someone caused her harm?” she asked, afraid to hear the answer.

As if in a daze, she withdrew from Jonathan’s warm embrace, crouched beside her beloved palfrey, and gently stroked her sleek, damp coat.

“There is no other explanation,” the stable master said. He shook his head again. “If I didn’t know better I would think she was poisoned.”

“Poisoned?” Rowena gasped.

The stable master nodded. “I don’t know who would do such a thing to an innocent animal. ‘Tis beyond cruel.” The colt began pulling away from the stable boy. “We best take this young colt to another nursing mare before he starves to death,” he said. He beckoned for another hand to come forward. “Clean up this mess,” he ordered.

Rowena looked down at the palfrey. “I know who did this and he will pay for what he did to you,” she whispered. “I promise.”

CHAPTER 19

Rowena slept very little during the night, so overcome with emotion. She replayed in her mind the suffering that she witnessed in her poor palfrey. Jonathan had asked at breakfast if she was all right, but all she could do was shake her head in misery.

She racked her brain, trying to figure out a way to bring Beauty’s killer to justice. But sadly, she couldn’t come up with any plan. So until she could figure out how to avenge Beauty, there wasn’t much she could do. The only good that came from all this was that Beauty’s young colt was healthy and thriving, even though he no longer had a mother.

Lorena offered her a sympathetic smile when she found her seat in the grandstand. By now everyone knew what had happened in the stables.

Rowena responded with a weak smile before sitting down. She forced herself to think of things other than the horrors that she had witnessed. Luckily the dizzying array of activity on the green field proved to be a good distraction.

Peasants, beggars, wealthy merchants, and noblemen and women in their bright colors and patterns dotted the grounds just outside the castle walls. Somewhere someone was playing a fiddle, its cheery sounds filling the air with life, mingling joyfully with the shouts and laughter of eager spectators. This was what she needed, she decided as she breathed in the heady scent of sweet cakes.

The busy sweet cake merchant sold his wares while keeping a watchful eye on a group of young children gathered around his stall. The children meanwhile were oblivious to his suspicious glare, smacking their lips in envy as one customer after another left the stand with cakes covered in dripping syrup.

Moments later a trumpet sounded, causing all heads to swivel in that direction. The sounds of pounding hooves rumbled across the earth. The children who congregated at the sweet stall rushed toward the action, fighting their way to the front to get a glimpse of the procession of knights who suddenly emerged from behind the grandstand.

“They look marvelous,” Ava said to Rowena, her voice filled with awe as she scanned the dozens of knights who were to compete in the tournament.

And they did. It was impossible not to be impressed by the contestants. The knights, large and imposing, paraded with their chests thrust out, their shields poised in front of them in proud display of their bright and vibrant coat-of-arms.

“I see Sir Philip!” Ava exclaimed. “And there is Sir Jonathan!”

Out of their own accord, Rowena’s eyes looked in the direction that Ava pointed. At first she saw her father. Then a few paces away from him sat Jonathan astride his powerful destrier. At the sight of the dark haired knight, she felt her heart beat a little faster, a little louder. What was that all about? Jonathan stared straight ahead, appearing unconcerned with the attention that he garnered. But then, as if he sensed her eyes on him, he turned his head to where she sat. Their gazes met.

There was something reflected in his eyes which she couldn’t quite read, but it was gone the moment the herald began speaking.

Everyone’s attention settled on the man decked in Ravenhearth’s black and silver. The horse he sat on seemed to dwarf him, but even though he was small, his booming voice reached all corners of the field as he ceremoniously declared the matches for the day. When he called out Jonathan’s contest against an anonymous challenger, a puzzled look crossed over Jonathan’s face. He scanned the knights in his midst as if to search for his opponent. Then the trumpet blasted again. The knights marched past the grandstand and then dispersed into the crowd, leaving the first set of knights to joust one another.

***

For some reason Rowena lost interest in the jousting match, and she found herself watching the crowd in hopes of catching a glimpse of the dark haired knight. A couple of times she thought she saw him and a flush of heat rushed through her body, but when the knight turned, she discovered it was someone else. The disappointment she felt afterward was almost overwhelming. Where did Jonathan go?

The entire field echoed with loud, enthusiastic cheers, and the winning knight bowed his head to the crowd.

“That was a terrific win,” Ava said with enthusiasm. She put both hands on her flushed cheeks. “I thought for sure that the younger knight would win the joust. But it seems that age and skill can sometimes triumph over youth and inexperience. I wonder how Sir Philip will fare in his match. I think he is up next.”

“Where is Sir Philip by the way? I cannot find him anywhere,” Lorena said, concern and worry creeping into her voice. “Do you see him, Lady Rowena?” She craned her neck trying to locate Rowena’s father among the crush of color beneath the grandstand.