Candace C. Bowen - A Knight Series 01 Page 5

  Assisting her to a seat beside him, he gazed with concern at the wound on her cheek. “Pray what happened to the lass this time?”

  Baldith sadly shook her head. “I implore her not to spend so much time in the woods, Father. She keeps running into tree branches.”

  Sir Everard scowled from beside his wife, yet remained silent.

  Concerned, Father Godfrey turned back to Reina. “You must be more careful around trees in the future, lass. On my last visit, you bore a bruise under your eye from the very same thing.” Patting her hand, he sighed, “I must confess, I had hopes for a brief respite before our long journey. Nevertheless, your dear mother has been telling me how very anxious you are to reach the convent.”

  Reina’s heart pounded in dread as she waited for his next words.

  He smiled, believing she would be pleased. “We shall depart for Rotheram at daybreak. Is that soon enough for you, lass?”

  Glancing at her father, Reina’s heart sank further when he refused to meet her gaze.

  Father Godfrey touched her hand to get her attention. “Fear not. Your father is sending two of his men as escort to see to your safety.” Taking in her stricken expression, he looked puzzled. “You are pleased with this news, are you not, lass?”

  From the corner of her eye, Reina could see Baldith stiffen. Averting her eyes, she nodded.

  Father Godfrey clapped his hands happily. “Then all is settled.”

  Reina took several deep breaths to keep from bursting into tears. In their haste to see her gone, an aging priest would not be permitted to rest after his long journey. Now she would not even have a chance to say goodbye to the villagers.

  Tears blurred her vision as she stepped from the table to drop into a quick curtsey. Skimming her father’s brooding regard as a way of excusing herself, she avoided Baldith’s triumphant gaze entirely.

  * * * *

  Just missing Reina, Fulke entered the hall in the midst of preparations for the evening meal. Serfs hastened about, avoiding the hounds wandering underfoot in the hopes of snatching a morsel from an over-laden tray.

  Intent on finding Reina, he spotted Sir Everard seated at one of the tables with an elder priest. The very last thing he needed was a lengthy conversation with a priest.

  Moving swiftly to the door, his hand closed on the latch.

  “Ah, there you are, Baron Erlegh. I wondered what had become of you,” Sir Everard called out to him.

  Smothering a groan, Fulke dropped his hand.

  Sir Everard gestured to the priest as both men stood. “Baron Erlegh, I would like to introduce you to our priest, Father Godfrey.”

  Before Fulke could respond, Father Godfrey exclaimed, “Your lordship. It is indeed a great pleasure to see you again.”

  “Thank you Father.” He tried to place where he had seen the priest before.

  “I am not sure you remember me, your lordship. We met shortly after the White Ship sinking.”

  Hearing mention of the tragedy, Fulke frowned. “I am sorry Father, I do not recall our meeting.”

  “Oh yes,” Father Godfrey exclaimed. “I happened to be in Normandy at the time. Riders came to the Abbey seeking priests to bless the dead. I arrived at the channel just as the poor souls started washing ashore. It is a shame the prince’s body went unrecovered. It was the darkest of days for our beloved king. Perchance it would have brought him comfort if the prince were properly shriven.”

  Seeing he had a rapt audience in Sir Everard, he rambled on, “Even amidst our somber duty, his lordship’s courageous exploits at the Battle of Bremule were bandied amongst the men. I would wager he saved the king’s life that day. The sinner, William Crispin surely would have succeeded were it not for Baron Erlegh.” He turned back to Fulke. “At least God in his wisdom saw fit to grant us victory over France before the tragedy. King Louis will think twice before engaging King Henry over Normandy again, aye your lordship?”

  Weary of the topic, Fulke abruptly changed the subject. “Do you visit Kenwick long, Father?”

  Resting his pudgy hands on his belly, Father Godfrey laughed. “Not near as long as I would like, your lordship. We depart for the convent in Rotherham at lauds.” Glancing shrewdly at Sir Everard, he murmured, “I do have enough time to hear the Lord and Lady’s confessions before I depart, however.”

  Surprised, Fulke asked, “Are your visits often of such short duration, Father?”

  Before Father Godfrey could answer, Sir Everard gestured to the steps. “In that case, I believe it best we seek out Lady Baldith before supper, Father.”

  Nodding agreeably, Father Godfrey beamed at Fulke. “It has truly been a pleasure, your lordship. Perhaps the next time we meet, you shall recall me.”

  Fulke dipped his head. “You may count on it. I wish you a safe journey on the morrow.”

  With a curt nod at Fulke, Sir Everard led Father Godfrey to the kitchen level.

  Fulke briefly watched them a moment, perplexed, before striding to the door.

  He stood outside on the top step as a cold wind gusted through the courtyard. Staring off towards the village, he wondered what would become of Reina after Warin left. Unable to free his mind from thoughts of her, he cursed aloud for his weakness.

  Envisioning all the harm that could befall her, he convinced himself her sorrowful plight had weakened his rigid control.

  Approaching the chapel in the hopes Reina would be alone at prayer, he mulled over the cause of the broken door resting alongside the small building. Seeing no light coming from within, he contemplated a trip to the village when he heard loud laughter coming from the stables. Following the sound, he found his men lounging on piles of hay.

  Seeing them so at ease with each other, Fulke relaxed. “I warrant Gervase and Guy to be familiar with the stables, having swived their share of maids in the hay. Yet I would have taken wagers against finding you here, Talan.”

  The men laughed, even Talan cracked a smile.

  Osbert scrambled to his feet to fetch him a tankard of ale from the keg propped in the corner.

  Accepting the brew with a nod of thanks, he took a long drink. Lowering his tankard, he spoke into the sudden silence. “Tell me, why have you chosen the reek of the stables over the warmth of the hall this eve? Would it have anything to do with a visiting priest?”

  The men exchanged wary looks before busying themselves with their drinks. Confused by their behavior, Fulke frowned. When they continued to avoid his gaze, he grew impatient. “Zounds, spit it out lads. Since when have we ever stood on ceremony?”

  Glancing briefly at the others, Albin stood. “Might I have a word in private, my liege?”

  Surprised by the formality of the request, Fulke set his tankard aside, leading the way outside.

  Reaching the rail to the lists, he turned to lean upon it. Crossing his arms over his chest, he quirked a brow, waiting.

  Joining him, Albin stood silent, staring at the sun setting beyond the village. With a sigh, he looked at Fulke. “I know the king has commanded you to take a wife. I am also aware that time is running out for you to do so. Yet, I cannot stand by without saying my piece. I believe you would be making a grave mistake if you were to marry the Mistress Sibilla. We all do.”

  When Fulke remained silent, he went on, “I saw you with Mistress Reina, Fulke. Until this day, I have never before seen you laugh like that.”

  Staring into the distance, Fulke swore, “Egad, what have we had to laugh about Albin? We journey from England to Normandy fighting battles with Louis to defend Henry’s Dukedom. In so doing, we are commanded to take prisoners in order to fill his coffers only to finance the next campaign. My intent has always been to find a battle worth fighting. I have yet to do so.”

  Albin gripped Fulke’s shoulder. “There is more to life than battles, drinking and whoring, Fulke. You deny it, yet deep down you know this. What is past cannot be undone. I would be the last to tell you to forget, but for your sake, I am asking you to let it go.” He gripped harder.
“Your attraction to Mistress Reina is obvious to all. I believe you may have a real chance at happiness. Be strong enough to take it, my friend,” he finished softly. Dropping his hand, he stared hard at Fulke, before returning to the stables.

  Stars began to make their appearance as Fulke gazed up at the heavens as if waiting for a sign.

  He remained there long after.

  THREE

  Reina found Warin standing alone on the top of his favorite tower, gazing off towards the village below. She would have come sooner if Hylda had not been so distraught she feared leaving her alone.

  Searching for the words to say goodbye, she crossed to him. By his reddened eyes, she could see he had been crying, yet he smiled as he turned to her.

  “I have something for you.” She held out a slim wool wrapped package.

  Untying the twine, he slowly withdrew her silver dinner knife. Her most valuable possession, it once belonged to her mother.

  Tears filled his eyes. “I cannot accept this, Reina. It means too much to you.”

  She gently closed his hands around the bundle he tried to give back. “Not as much as you do. I want you to have something to remember me by.”

  Pulling her into a fierce hug, she bit hard on her lip to keep from sobbing.

  * * * *

  After joining the men in prayer, Fulke trailed behind as they entered the hall. Disappointed he could not find Reina, he reluctantly took his seat.

  Noting Warin’s absence, he turned to his mother. “It is well past vespers. Is not my page joining us this evening, Lady Baldith?”

  “He is unwell this eve, your lordship,” she replied, passing him the jug of ale.

  “I am sorry to hear it.” If Warin fell ill, it would explain Reina’s absence. “Is he being cared for?”

  “He needs rest, your lordship. Come the morrow, all will be set aright.”

  “Your lordship, is it true that the king has run to fat?” Sibilla rudely interjected.

  “I do not believe that to be a fitting conversation for the table, Mistress Sibilla.”

  “Perhaps we may discuss it later this eve,” she responded coyly.

  Staring morosely at his plank of food, Fulke dreaded the long evening ahead.

  In no mood to listen to the women’s chatter, he excused himself as soon as he finished eating. Averting his eyes, he avoided the pitying looks of his men as he slowly climbed the steps.

  He passed his chamber to stop before Reina’s door. Bracing his fisted hands on either side of the doorframe, he stood there a moment staring at the door shut against him. Even if she were able to hear his knock, he would never dishonor her in such a way.

  Returning to his chamber, he bolted the door.

  * * * *

  Long after everyone had retired for the night, Reina slipped from her chamber. Descending the steps, she crossed the empty hall. Used to her nocturnal wandering, the resting hounds tracked her progress to the door without lifting their heads.

  The cold wind whipping through the courtyard lifted her cloak to float about her as she descended the steps on her way to the Chapel yard.

  She drew back in fear when she noticed a dark figure standing before her intended destination. About to retrace her steps, she hesitated when the figure whirled around as if startled.

  For a moment, the figure stood in the shadows of the giant yew tree, before staggering towards her with outstretched arms. Crossing into a patch of moonlight, she recognized her father, his eyes blazing with a light she had never seen before.

  He was almost upon her when recognition finally dawned on him. The light in his eyes fading to become dark once again.

  Her heart breaking for him, she realized for a moment, he believed her to be the spirit of her departed mother.

  Dropping his arms, he acknowledged her with a curt nod before slowly making his way back inside.

  Tears blurred Reina’s vision as she stared after his retreating figure. With a sad sigh, she followed the well-worn path her father had just taken.

  Curling up on the grave, she bid farewell to her mother.

  * * * *

  The next morning dawned overcast as Reina prepared to leave Kenwick for the first and last time.

  Glancing around her small chamber, she did not feel the sense of loss she thought she would. Her home had always been with Warin and Hylda and she would be taking them with her in her heart.

  Pulling her door closed, she made her way down the darkened passage. Pausing by Fulke’s chamber, she splayed her hand on the closed door. She stood there a moment, giving into her tears.

  For the first time in her life, she wished she were sound. Taking a deep breath, she dried her eyes with her sleeve.

  Knowing Warin would keep his word to stay away as she bade him, she descended the steps with her head held high. She would not give Baldith the pleasure of seeing her weep.

  Passing through the Great Hall without pause, she stepped outside to find Hylda waiting on the top step. Finding herself gathered in the small woman’s fierce embrace, her resolve not to cry failed her.

  Easing herself from Hylda’s grip, she forced a smile. “You shall be in my prayers every day, Hylda.”

  Raising tear-swollen eyes, Hylda handed her a wrapped bundle. “God keep you, my Reina.” Wringing her hands, she rushed back into the hall.

  Taking several deep breaths, Reina looked up to find her father’s gaze resting on her. For one heartbreaking moment, a glimmer of hope flared within her, before being extinguished as he turned to rejoin the conversation with Father Godfrey and Baldith.

  By the time she felt composed enough to descend the steps, the men riding guard were mounted.

  She clasped her trembling hands around the bundle Hylda had given her as she approached the group. Dipping her head to Father Godfrey, she briefly glanced at her father’s unreadable visage, ignoring Baldith altogether.

  Reaching to climb into the high seat of the wagon, she was surprised when her father stepped forward to assist her. Searching his face for some sign of warmth, she observed the pain of loss in his eyes.

  Briefly meeting her own anguished gaze, he stepped back.

  She kept her eyes averted from the heat of Baldith’s gaze as she situated herself.

  Her hand stilled in the process of raising her hood to glance up at the top of the tower. His face solemn, Warin stood with his arm held high in a solitary salute. She briefly raised a trembling hand to him before pulling her hood low over her face.

  Father Godfrey climbed up to settle himself beside her as she clutched Hylda’s bundle to her chest. She felt his gaze as he picked up the reins to set the mules in motion.

  As they slowly wound their way down the slope leading to the village, she knew Warin would still be on the tower, yet could not bring herself to look back.

  Father Godfrey patted her hand to get her attention as they reached the rutted road at the base of the hill. She glanced up only to choke back a sob by the sight before her. The villagers were all standing alongside the road with their heads bowed in silent tribute to her.

  She spotted Rolfe standing proudly beside his mother with tears tracking down his rosy little cheeks and gave in to her sorrow.

  * * * *

  Fulke woke at dawn with his heart racing. Recalling the dream that had woken him, a fleeting vision of Reina in anguish entered his mind. Lying back on the pillows, he stared at the faded linen canopy above him.

  At some point during the long fitful night, he resigned himself to what he already knew to be true. He could not marry Sibilla, any more than he could willingly stay away from Reina. For as long as he remained at Kendrick, Reina would be a temptation to him.

  Resigned to the unpleasant task of imparting the news to Sir Everard, he made plans to depart for Castell Maen. After meeting with his castellan, he would journey to Rochester to view the tower’s progress, before riding to London. When he reported his marriage-less state, he could only hope Henry would be in one of his more benevolent moo
ds.

  Satisfied with his course of action, he closed his eyes where he found Reina waiting.

  The sun was well up by the time he stirred to the sound of laughter coming from the practice yard below. Striding naked to the window, he threw open the shutters to find his men training with the quintain.

  Gervase sat sprawled in the dust after his lance struck the edge of the shield. Before he could dodge, the weighted bag swung around to sweep him from his horse.

  “That is the third time in a row Gervase, I believe you are losing your touch,” Guy called.

  “Not where it counts,” Gervase quipped.

  Shaking his head in exasperation at his youngest knight, Fulke hastened to dress. A bout of physical exertion was just what he needed before his meeting with Sir Everard.

  With a will of its own, his mind wandered to more pleasurable activities as the glimpse he had of Reina’s perfect body flashed through his mind. Recalling himself, he stormed from the chamber. It was past time for him to leave Kendrick Keep.

  Except for a pair of young boys cleaning the hearth, the Great Hall stood empty.

  Stepping into the brisk autumn air he gazed up at the cloud-laden sky. Winter was fast approaching. It made travel of any duration all the more difficult.

  He spotted Warin standing alone by the rail to the lists watching the men practice as he stepped through the gate. After their attempts to befriend the lad, he would not take it lightly if they chose to shut him out.

  Intent on bringing the matter up with Albin, he called, “Fetch my horse, lad.” Watching with satisfaction as Warin jumped to the task.

  So long as he gave a clean shave, he no doubt would be a fitting replacement for Osbert. Recalling the many nicks he endured during Osbert’s first attempts with a sharp blade, he winced.

  Long considered to be the mark of a knight’s virility, he could never stand the feel of the coarse whiskers covering his face. Refusing to pay heed to such nonsense, only Albin dared to bring it up on occasion.