by Alexa Aston
“And whether or not Sir Kenric and his fellow knights have a clear head on the morrow, a tournament has been arranged to allow him and the others a chance to demonstrate their knightly skills. So make haste and return to the keep.”
“My lord?” Father Peter interrupted. “A closing prayer?”
Forwin nodded. The priest gave a final blessing and mass ended.
“Go in peace,” he told those assembled.
Many, especially Kenric’s fellow soldiers, came forward to congratulate him. He accepted their well wishes with a huge smile. All the years of hard work as both page and squire had brought him to this moment. He would forevermore be a knight.
Finally, only his family remained behind in the chapel. His mother brushed dry lips against his cheek, showing little emotion. His uncle shook his hand. Kenric decided the person he most wanted to make amends with was his brother.
“Would you care to ride with me after we break our fast?” he asked his twin.
Roland thought a moment and then agreed.
They returned to the great hall for a simple meal. Kenric excused himself after they had eaten in order to change his clothes. He arranged to meet Roland in the stables in a quarter hour.
He arrived first and had both of their horses saddled and led outside the structure. Roland greeted him and they mounted the horses. Kenric led his brother from the bailey and out the gates of Longshire. They rode to the end of the property as he pointed out various things of interest. Roland, however, seemed bored by their conversation.
“We should water our horses since the day grows warm,” Kenric suggested. He led them into the woods and found the nearby stream often used for this purpose. Both horses lapped greedily at the water.
Roland collapsed upon a fallen log. He threw out his legs in front of him and braced himself with his hands.
“So, how is Shadowfaire these days?” Kenric asked. “Do you enjoy being the earl?”
His brother’s sneer showed his disdain. “Every day is the same, which means that I am usually bored. What I long to do is go to court.”
“Why?” If he had been born a minute earlier, he would be earl. Kenric thought owning land and a castle would be immensely satisfying, not parading around the royal palace with other fawning courtiers.
“Who cares about how much wheat is brought in or how many sheep are shorn? Numbers mean nothing to me. Running an estate is not something I wish to occupy my time, much less the rest of my life.”
Kenric could see how his brother’s disinterest would come into play. His short attention span would not suit the job at hand.
Roland waved a hand in the air. “Doran likes those details, so I don’t have to fuss with them.” He grinned. “And that means I have plenty of free time.”
“What do you do with this time? Do you ride? Hunt? Work with the steward to improve the estate?”
Roland laughed. “I spend some hours in the village each week. A recent and very pretty widow has caught my eye.”
His gut clenched. He did not like to hear that Doran had control of the estate and that Roland neglected his duties simply to dip his wick into a new widow. His twin had always fancied himself something of a ladies’ man. Fresh anger at how Roland wasted his life brewed within him.
Kenric took possession of his reins and mounted Firefall, riding off without a word. He supposed Roland would never change. The Earl of Shadowfaire was a man who lived in the moment and shirked responsibility whenever possible. Kenric dug in his newly-won spurs and Firefall raced across the meadow, clearing the wall flawlessly. He had wanted to put things right between him and Roland before his brother’s departure. Instead, bitterness brewed inside him.
If only he could have been firstborn . . .
He pushed the thought aside, knowing it wasn’t right to dwell on jealousy. He needed to focus on his new status as a knight and put aside wishful thinking.
“Kenric! Wait!” Roland called out, riding after him.
Slowing his horse, Kenric brought it around as his brother drew near. Immediately, he saw Roland did not have control of the animal. It worried Kenric that they approached so fast.
Before he could spur Firefall on to meet them and slow the renegade horse, he watched as Roland’s mount cleared the stone wall. Roland, already half out of the saddle, fell to the ground as his horse galloped away. Kenric let the beast fly by as he galloped to where his brother had landed.
Roland lay crumpled on the ground. His arm stuck out at an odd angle and Kenric knew it must be broken. He braced himself for the blame that would be hurled his way.
Leaping from Firefall and bending low, he helped Roland to his feet. His brother cradled the injured arm as he unleashed a torrent of curses. Kenric let his twin expel his anger before he brought an arm about Roland’s shoulders to steady him.
His brother shrugged it off and let fly a few more choice words. Looking at him with hatred, Roland said, “It’s your fault, this pain I suffer from. You rode off and left me. What if I had been unable to find my way back to the keep?”
Kenric lost his temper. “You know where you are, for you spent a few years here at Longshire—that is, before you ran home to Mother’s protection. So what if I left? We are not far from the castle.” He pointed to it over his shoulder. “You can see it from here. Are you truly so helpless that you cannot return on your own?”
Roland’s eyes widened. “I knew you hated me, Brother. That you have since we fought our way from the womb. I realize you are filled with misery and jealousy simply because I am firstborn and privileged to be called Earl of Shadowfaire. You did everything to undermine me when we were children, but I will have no more of that. I am the earl! You are but a lowly knight and will never amount to anyone of value.” He walked away, holding his arm close against his body to keep from jarring it.
Kenric paused, giving thought to his brother’s words. He had protected Roland from the time he understood that he was the stronger of the two. Yet at every turn, his brother thwarted him. From the time they could walk, Roland was constantly bragging how he would one day become the earl.
Mayhap jealousy still lay in Kenric’s heart, though he knew he was free of hatred. More than anything, he felt sorry for Roland, a man who would never be happy, no matter what he did or how much wealth he accumulated. At least Kenric had a purpose in life.
“Roland. Wait.”
Kenric took Firefall’s reins and hurried toward Roland. Reaching his twin, he saw hatred burning in Roland’s blue eyes. Ignoring it, Kenric said, “Let me help you onto my horse.”
“Nay. I want nothing from you. I wish to be gone from here, a place that only holds miserable memories for me. I never fit in here. The other boys laughed and made fun of me. And you led them in their taunts.”
“I never did such a thing, Roland. I always tried to look out for you, as a brother should.” Kenric kept his voice calm. His anger had died, replaced by pity for the weak man before him.
“I didn’t wish to attend your ceremony,” Roland continued, his voice dripping with venom. “I thought it a waste of time. As did Mother,” he tossed out. “But Uncle insisted we come. Now look where that has gotten me.”
Kenric had no answer. He fell into step with Roland, leading Firefall behind him. They walked in silence until they reached the keep. When they entered, Kenric steered Roland into the great hall. He spied his mother and uncle in conversation with Lady Jannet.
“Call for the healer,” he told them. “My brother has taken a bad spill from his horse.”
His mother rushed to Roland’s side, fussing over him. Lady Jannet motioned for a servant and requested that the healer come at once to Lord Roland’s bedchamber. The two women, one on each side, led the young earl from the room.
Doran gave a weary shrug. “Typical.”
“He blames me, Uncle.”
The older man snorted. “Of course he does, Kenric. He desires to be you. And I wish you had been Walter’s heir. Roland is weak in body, s
pirit, and mind. He has no interest in becoming a good lord to the people of Shadowfaire. He would rather rut and gamble with others like him at the royal court. I have half a mind to send him there to do just that.”
“I have heard that court can be a wild place. ’Twould not do to allow him to go there alone, Uncle. He could land in much trouble.”
His uncle’s brows shot up. “And if I did? Mayhap, he would drink himself to death. Or lapse into another of his many ailments. Mayhap, he might catch a fever—or be challenged and fight a duel where he would lose his life. That boy should never have been named firstborn. Walter should have looked at the both of you and insisted you had arrived first and would be the future earl. He treated you as if you would be. He was hard on you, but he taught you all you needed to know.”
Doran clasped Kenric’s shoulder. “My brother knew that one day you would become the earl.” His fingers dug into Kenric. “Be ready. That day may arrive before you know it.”
Chapter 3
“You should not be miserable at your own feast,” Doran told him before he stabbed a bite of veal with his dagger and popped it into his mouth.
Kenric looked about from where he sat at the great table on the dais. He had never partaken of a meal while seated here since it was reserved for the noble family in residence and guests of distinction. He could see all of the great hall from this perch, people dining upon the wild game, fish, vegetables, and fruits from the six courses which had come from the kitchen.
“Mother refuses to speak to me,” he told his uncle.
Doran glanced over at his sister-in-law and turned back to Kenric.
“Juliana often acts like a petulant child. She is as bad as Roland at times—or worse.” His uncle picked up some of the hare and chewed thoughtfully. “And you cannot tell me you miss having Roland present at this banquet. ’Tis your time to shine, my boy. Your father would have been most proud of you today.”
He looked to the far side of the dais, where his mother sat next to Lady Jannet. The healer had found it necessary to re-break Roland’s arm in order to set it properly. Kenric had listened to his twin’s screams of agony, guilt flooding him as he waited in the corridor. His mother exited the room long enough to scold him as if he were a child before returning to her favorite son’s bedside.
The healer had appeared after that and told Kenric that Roland would be fine. She had given him something to make him sleep and the Earl of Shadowfaire would not awaken until tomorrow morning. But Kenric knew his brother’s wrath would not have cooled by then.
He took a drumstick of roasted chicken and ate it, not tasting the bird.
“You realize nothing you can do or say will ever change Roland’s feelings toward you,” Doran pointed out.
“I know.” Kenric sighed. “I fear I will never see Shadowfaire again, for he would never welcome me within its gates. Besides, I am in service now to Lord Forwin. My home is here at Longshire, along with the rest of his knights and soldiers.”
At that moment, Lord Forwin rose and held out his cup to the assembled crowd. The hall grew quiet.
“I ask you to raise a cup in honor of Longshire’s newest knight.” The nobleman faced Kenric. “To Sir Kenric. May he have good health, a long life, and much happiness.”
“Sir Kenric!” the people echoed, toasting him.
He bowed his head, humbled by their support.
“’Tis time for music and dancing,” announced Forwin. “Musicians, you may begin,” he commanded.
Music filled the air as servants began clearing the dishes and men moved the trestle tables back against the walls to make room for the merriment. Kenric watched his mother draw Lord Forwin aside and excuse herself. She left the room without glancing in her son’s direction.
“Come, Sir Kenric. It’s the round dance.”
A serving wench took his hand, pulling him down to the floor. Though dancing was condemned by the Church, it remained a favorite pastime in England. Even nuns participated in it from time to time.
Kenric stepped to the circle forming and joined hands with those gathering. Soon, he was caught up in the lively music as the group executed the complicated footwork as one. He’d always been skilled at swordplay and found dancing to be much the same. His body moved in time with the music as he tapped and spun. The more he danced, the more he enjoyed himself and put his troubles behind him.
He begged off after finishing four dances in a row in order to grab a tankard of ale. Hudd, his closest friend at Longshire, joined him.
“So how does it feel to be Sir Kenric?” Hudd teased as he tapped his cup against his friend’s.
Kenric took a long swig before answering. “The same—other than my seat at the feast. And that place of honor is only for today. Tomorrow, I will join Lord Forwin’s other knights and eat among the soldiers. Still, I appreciate the expense the baron has gone to in order to provide this feast of celebration.”
“It’s a fine way to celebrate your birthday, my lord,” Hudd said.
His friend’s words, though meant to be kind, deflated Kenric’s high spirits. He might be making merry with food, drink, and dance—but his injured brother, who shared this day with him, was tucked away in pain above stairs.
“I wish to dance, Sir Kenric,” Lady Jannet said.
Hudd rolled his eyes since his back was turned to her and mouthed, “Be careful.” He excused himself and hurried off, taking Kenric’s tankard with him.
Kenric reached out and took the girl’s hand, placing it atop his forearm. “Let us go enjoy the music, my lady.”
He led her to the center of the great hall. The song had changed to a rotundellus and couples now paired off from the large circles.
As they danced, Kenric became increasingly uncomfortable as Jannet gazed up at him in rapt adoration. He looked out across the floor, not wanting to meet her eye.
“My lord, look at me,” she demanded.
He lowered his eyes to hers. “Aye, my lady?” he said, keeping his voice neutral. He didn’t want to encourage attention from her in any way that might be misconstrued.
“I love you,” she stated bluntly. “Now that you are a knight, we must marry.”
Kenric surprised himself by keeping his feet moving. He said, “I shared my views with you earlier, my lady. I have no intention of marrying now or at any other time. My brother holds the family lands and title. I have committed to being a knight. I will not pursue a home with a wife and a family. Instead, I want to remain in service to your father.”
A blush crept up her neck and stained her cheeks. “Am I not pretty enough?” she asked. “Is my bosom not large enough? Do I—”
“Nay, my lady. You are perfect as you are,” he reassured her. “I am merely stating facts to you. I have not even been a knight a single day. I want to dedicate myself to service. I am not interested in women.”
Her eyes narrowed. “But you go with the other soldiers to the village. I know ’tis there you find women to pleasure you.”
He shrugged. “I do not deny it. That’s the way of men, but it doesn’t mean I plan to marry any of them.”
“Kiss me,” she commanded.
“Nay, I cannot.” He halted his steps. “You will make some man a good wife one day, my lady. But ’twill not be me.”
She glared daggers at him and flounced off. Kenric could feel the eyes of others upon him as he moved from the center of the room. He spied Jannet marching toward her father. They conversed less than a minute before she nodded and left the great hall. Lord Forwin scanned the room and motioned Kenric over. He quickly responded, his step confident, but his heart hammered in his chest. What if the baron dismissed him? Or worse—what if the nobleman demanded that Kenric enter into marriage with his daughter?
When he reached his liege lord, the man said, “We should adjourn to a quieter place, Sir Kenric.”
“Of course, my lord.”
The two men left the great hall. Forwin led him toward the steps that went up to the bedchambers
on the floor above and to where Kenric believed they would speak—the solar.
As the noise and music began to fade behind them, the nobleman said, “My daughter tells me that she has feelings for you. Are they returned?”
Kenric tread lightly as he replied, “Lady Jannet is a fine girl and you have much to be proud of, my lord. Although I am flattered by her attention, I have no plans of settling down and offering marriage to any woman. I am committed in mind, body, and spirit to my knightly oath and your service.”
Forwin’s fingers laced behind his back as they reached the upper corridor and started down it. “I thought as much. You are a soldier at heart, Kenric, with a good head on your shoulders.” He gave Kenric a wry smile. “But you are a second son. I must confess that I want a title for my girl. As a matter of fact, I have been in negotiations recently for that very event to occur. Just today, I received a missive that an agreement of terms has been struck with an earl of my acquaintance who is connected to the royal family. I believe he and Jannet will suit admirably.”
Relief poured through Kenric as the tension left his body. “Then congratulations are in order. I think that would be for the best, my lord. Lady Jannet will have an esteemed place in the kingdom as a countess.”
“In a different household where you will not be,” Forwin pointed out. “I know that she’s headstrong. I have let her have her way far too often, but what was I to do? She was a motherless child and I did what I could to make it up to her.”
“You have been a wonderful father to your daughter. I know she will appreciate the match you’ve made for her.”
They arrived at the solar. Forwin invited him inside, ushering him through the door.
Kenric saw that Jannet awaited them, seated in a chair by the fire, her finger lazily circling the rim of a wine goblet. She stood eagerly, a smile on her face, believing she had gotten her way again and that her father had brought Kenric to the family’s private quarters to discuss their upcoming vows.
