‘I’m perfectly well. I just had a little surprise.’
‘Well, that is a blessing, but you may want to act a little differently to draw attention away. People are looking.’ Her friend handed her a square linen cloth as she smoothed her grey woollen kirtle. ‘Here, wipe your tears, Gwen.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Who is he anyway?’ Brida muttered from beside her.
Gwen scanned the area until she spotted him. The man who had brought Ralph’s token back to her—a knight from Lord de Clancey’s retinue, judging by the standard he was fighting under. Who was he and what did he know about Ralph’s demise? And why in heaven’s name had he returned the ribbon to her? How would he know to do that?
Gwen would seek this knight and find out everything he knew about what had happened to Ralph. She hoped to God that he would somehow be able to ease her mind about how her betrothed had met his death.
‘I don’t know, but I mean to find out.’
Chapter Two
Ralph threw the blunt weaponry down on the ground of the sparse yet comfortable tent he shared with his friend and groaned in frustration.
‘Don’t say anything.’
The event might simply have been an exercise for knights to exhibit their skill and show their mettle, but it could not have gone any worse for Ralph. In front of the young King Henry and his court no less. Hell’s teeth!
And all because his head was reeling from seeing Gwen again.
Tom loosened the ties on the back some more so that Ralph was able to get out of the hauberk before he helped him out of the constricting neck piece. ‘I wasn’t going to.’
Ralph took the helmet off his head, gingerly touching the scarred side of his face, and winced.
‘Especially since you’re in pain, my friend.’ Tom passed him a linen flannel that he’d drenched in the bowl of scented water, perched on the small coffer.
He rubbed his jaw and patted the angry, gnarled skin that spread down one side of his face, from his forehead through his cheek, stopping short of his neck. Even after two years, it still looked as though a savage animal had clawed his skin, even though Ralph knew it was the work of a madman’s dagger instead. He flexed his right hand and grimaced. More hideous scars were also visible on his right arm and the palm of his right hand, where Ralph had tried to defend himself against his assailant.
It had all been a timely lesson and a reminder of his woeful shortcomings as a knight—and the necessity to leave the pitiful man he once was firmly in the past if he were to succeed in his mission. He’d even gone to extreme lengths of learning to use his left hand, even to wield a sword, after his right hand had been left much weaker following the attack.
At times like this, when the skin was pulled and stretched taut on his face, it still felt raw to the bone. ‘It’s nothing that Lady Isabel’s salve can’t soothe.’
Lady Isabel de Clancey, or Adela Meunier as Ralph had known her in St Jean de Cole, had been his miracle two years ago. When he had been attacked and left for dead in nearby woods, she had tirelessly helped the old woman healer carefully stitch him back together, doing everything she could to help him with her ministrations, coaxing him to live. She had later left St Jean de Cole as Lady Isabel de Clancey, a wealthy heiress in her own right, making her way back to England to be reunited with her mother.
It was through Isabel that Ralph had found the courage to go on and forge his own destiny. And it was through her that he had secured a patron and mentor in her husband—William Geraint, Lord de Clancey.
‘What happened, Ralph?’ Tom asked tentatively.
‘Didn’t we agree not to mention it?’
‘Yes, well, I know someone who’ll want a word or two.’
‘I know.’
Will Geraint...
‘You may as well know that Hugh de Villiers, Lord Tallany, was watching as well.’
Damn. That was all he needed. The two men who had helped, instructed and sponsored him since his arrival in England were going to be heartily disappointed with that abysmal display out there today. Ralph dropped his head and expelled another groan.
‘You know you’re going to have to do better than that in the mêlée, Ralph, otherwise they’ll insist that you’re still not ready.’ Tom frowned.
‘I’ll be ready, trust me.’ Thankfully the tournament, proper with its two main mêlées had yet to commence.
Ralph knew his friend was right, but it wasn’t through any lack of skills that he had performed badly today, rather the shock of Gwenllian ferch Hywel being present at this very tournament. And that shock had induced him to rid himself of the one thing that reminded Ralph of Gwen—her ribbon. It represented every hurt from his past and, try as he might, at present Ralph could not see beyond the events of six years ago and Gwen’s part in them.
Mayhap it had been churlish of him to behave as he had in front of the court, especially as he had then subsequently embarrassed himself with his lacklustre performance. Nevertheless, it had been done and Ralph would think no more about the matter, or of Gwenllian ferch Hywel.
He moved behind a small partitioned screen so that he could strip the rest of his clothing off and have a wash.
Tom took his hooded cloak off and ran his hand through his hair. ‘And just remember it’s my reputation you’re staking.’
‘As if I could forget.’
They might look nothing alike, yet both men were of a similar tall height and frame. For Ralph, this made it easier to pass himself off as his friend, when he was dissembling beneath his armour.
It was imperative that no one knew that Ralph was alive. His enemies would be here at this tournament. Especially his cousin Stephen, who would, no doubt, want to find a way to convince the Crown, which had been reluctant to relinquish its control of Kinnerton Castle during the Barons’ conflict, that he should be Lord of Kinnerton.
But Ralph would not give up his right to the castle and its land. And certainly not without a fight.
He had devised a plan with Tom and Will Geraint whereby Ralph would fight under the guise of his friend, hoping to win the champion’s silver at the gruelling back-to-back double combat, or mêlées à pied et cheval, fought on consecutive days. Only then would he reveal his identity. Until Ralph had the silver needed to pay the tax hanging over Kinnerton and press his claim on the castle and his ancestral lands, hoping to thwart Stephen’s ambitions, it would not do to arouse his cousin’s suspicions. The man was a proven liar, adept at deception. Indeed, Stephen was capable of all manner of insidious, devious behaviour and it was far better to keep the truth from him for now.
They had all agreed that this plan would be an advantage over his cousin and the powerful men who backed him and could work in Ralph’s favour. Let them all, especially Stephen, believe that Ralph was still dead.
Tom was watching him. ‘It was the woman, wasn’t it?’
Ralph snapped his head up. ‘What?’
‘That’s why you couldn’t fight as well you usually do. The woman you gave something to.’ Tom crossed his arms over his chest and raised his brows.
Damn, but the man was still talking. ‘She’d have to be someone of great importance for you to risk everything you’ve worked so hard for.’
Ignoring Tom, he strode to the coffer and sloshed ale into a mug, throwing it back in one big gulp before slamming the mug down.
‘Oh, no.’ Tom’s eyes widened knowingly before he shook his head. ‘No, no, no! Do not tell me. She’s the woman, isn’t she? Lady Gwenllian ferch Hywel. Christ, Ralph, why didn’t you say anything?’
‘Forget it, Tom. It was a lapsed moment, that’s all.’
‘You know that it’s a lot more than just a lapsed moment.’
‘Think no more about it.’
‘What if she finds out about all of this?’ His friend swept his arms dramatically around in every d
irection. ‘What if she finds out that you’re still alive? That you... What was that?’
They both froze upon hearing female voices near the tent. Ralph had a very bad feeling about whom one of those voices might belong to.
One of the ladies spoke just outside the opening of the tent. ‘Apologies, sires, but we were informed that Sir Thomas Lovent is here? If so, my Lady Gwenllian ferch Hywel of Clwyd would like a moment with you, Sir Thomas, if we may be so bold to solicit your company.’
Tom was shaking his head and mouthing something about this not being part of their bargain before Ralph practically pushed him out of the tent.
Thank goodness he had gathered his wits in time.
‘Ah, Lady Gwenllian, how well you look,’ he heard Tom’s greeting.
Ralph stood inside the tent, trying to settle his erratic breathing, knowing how much was at stake. Knowing that Gwen stood just outside the tent, mere inches away...
‘I am not Lady Gwenllian, sir. This is my mistress,’ the unknown woman exclaimed from the other side of the tent.
‘Of course, how remiss of me. But then when one is in the presence of two beauties, it is easy to do so.’
Of all the asinine things to say. The fact that the silence stretched for a painfully long time confirmed that the women had similar reflections.
A throat was cleared delicately. ‘I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir Thomas. I had to see you after you gave this back to me.’
God’s breath. It had been a long time since he had heard Gwen’s quiet, melodic voice that it sent his heart racing.
‘Am I right in assuming that you knew Sir Ralph de Kinnerton?’
‘Yes, my lady.’
‘And he...he gave you the ribbon?’
Ralph’s heart thumped wildly in his chest.
‘Yes, that is...he did.’
‘I see.’ Her voice was almost a whisper.
‘What is it that you would like to know, Lady Gwenllian?’
‘Everything.’
‘Everything?’
‘Yes. Anything that you can remember about how...? About the circumstances in which...what happened when Ralph...?’
Tom’s voice gentled. ‘All I can say is that my friend is...was as noble and honourable as you last remembered him to be.’
Gwen hesitated before continuing. ‘That is the issue, sir. We did not part on good terms.’
‘Well, that is a surprise for he spoke warmly about you. I should say excessively warmly.’
Ralph’s jaw clenched. Yes, he was definitely going to kill him.
‘I am glad, Sir Thomas, as there were things said that should never have been said.’
There was something in Gwen’s voice that caught. Could it be regret at how things had been left between them? Ralph was not certain, but there was a melancholy in Gwen, that he could not comprehend. Mayhap in the confusion in the aftermath of his father’s death and the grab for Kinnerton, all might not have been as it seemed. But how this could be? After all, it was she who had insisted on staying behind six years ago, when he had been forced to flee Kinnerton.
‘My lady, please do not distress yourself.’
‘I am not, sir. I just need to know, whether...had Ralph...had he asked you to return the ribbon to me, before he...he...?’
‘Yes, Lady Gwenllian, he had.’
‘But why, Sir Thomas?’
That was a fair question and one that Ralph felt reluctant to examine. Even now, he could recall how her eyes had lit up when she had described the process in creating such a small, yet thoughtful token. How she had dyed the wool and woven the yarn before embroidering their entwined initials. Mayhap it was that—knowing the ribbon had been made and given with a love that no longer existed, that he wasn’t sure ever existed—that prompted him to accept the blatant truth. That he no longer wanted it.
Seeing her again after all this time reminded him that he should no longer hang on to her gift. It reminded him that he could no longer claim such sentiments...or claim her love. Not that her love had been what he’d believed it to be, since her friendship to him had been borne out of a deep sense of duty. Nothing more.
It mattered not, after all this time. But it could explain why he had acted so recklessly on this day.
‘Tell me, Sir Thomas. Please.’ Her voice sounded so small that he almost reached for her. Instead, he fought the innate need to comfort this woman as he once had. That would be a very bad idea. She meant nothing to him now.
He’d already compromised himself when he had given back the ribbon and look where that had got him. She had come here...asking questions about a past that should be long buried.
‘What message had Ralph wanted to convey to me? Was he despondent, sad, reconciled to his circumstance or...or still angry?’
Yes... Ralph was still so angry and he’d die a thousand times before being reconciled to anything that happened six years ago. The pain was as palpable now as it had been back then, when he had been betrayed by everyone in Kinnerton, including the woman on the other side of the tent. And hers was the betrayal that had hurt the most.
‘My lady, this area is reserved for soldiers, knights and their squires—men engaged in this tournament. It is not a place for a lady and certainly not for us to engage in such a conversation.’
‘He must have said something to you?’
‘Ralph said many things.’
‘Be assured, sir, that whatever that may be, I am well versed in receiving unpleasant revelations.’
‘Then allow me to say that I have no desire to deliver any such unpleasantness, my lady. And nor do I have to, thankfully. But this is not, however, the place for these discussions. You should not be here.’
‘That is what I keep saying to Gwenllian,’ the other woman said.
‘Then you give good counsel, mistress. We can continue with these discussions later when I hope to satisfy your curiosity, Lady Gwenllian.’
There was a moment of silence before Ralph heard Gwen’s response.
‘Very well then, I hope to see you in the hall later for the evening meal, after Vespers.’
‘I cannot promise anything, my lady, but I shall try to meet you then.’
‘Then that’s the best I can hope for, sir.’
Ralph could not hear Tom answer, but heard Gwen’s voice again. ‘But before I go, how did you know it was me?’
‘My lady?’
‘How did you know to give the ribbon to me, Sir Thomas.’
‘Ah, well...that would be from Ralph’s vivid descriptions. And I was not mistaken, Lady Gwenllian. I...er...knew it was you.’
‘I see. Until later, Sir Thomas.’
Ralph expelled a breath he had been holding before pulling a hood over his head and waited for a long moment, making sure the women had taken their leave before he ventured out of the tent to stand beside his friend. ‘My thanks, I’m indebted to you.’
Tom shook his head as they both watched the retreating figures of the two women. ‘Yes, but never fear, I’ll be tallying everything you owe me.’
‘Good to know.’
They both stood silently before Tom nodded in the direction of Gwen and her companion. ‘You made a mistake there, Ralph.’
‘So it would seem.’
‘A mistake that might prove to have much wider implications. What if she realises that you’re still alive?’
‘I know. I should have thought before I acted.’
‘You should have. She might be married. What if her husband hears of this?’
Ralph still wasn’t certain what he had been thinking when he had approached Gwen. Not with everything at stake. He could not afford to dwell on Gwenllian ferch Hywel of Clwyd. Had he not welcomed the cold nothingness that had lodged itself in his heart since she had told him to leave without her six years ago? Yes, and
it would do him no good to reopen up those old wounds.
He gave his head a shake. ‘Come, I can see Will Geraint heading this way, no doubt to reprimand me for my other mistakes.’
He absently rubbed the rough distorted skin of his jaw, trying to relieve the tight tension. This day was going from bad to worse.
* * *
Later, as the day came to a close, Ralph stayed back in the open fields, relentlessly practising the techniques that had earlier deserted him during the opening exhibition in front of the young King and the Marcher Earls. He lifted his sword in different directions, tilting it in various angles and swiping it around his body as he circled a non-existent opponent. Over and over again.
Ralph could not lose sight of everything he had worked so hard for, all because he had set eyes on a woman who had once meant a great deal to him.
Not only had he made himself look bad in front of the men who had helped and believed in his mission, but Ralph had left himself exposed to Gwen’s curiosity after he’d given the ribbon back to her. Tom had been right—she was probably married after all this time and was not worth these reflections.
Ralph wasn’t even sure why it had been so imperative to give that blasted ribbon back. Only it had.
Seeing Gwen again had brought everything to the fore—the loss of his father who had always been critical of him, the betrayal of his obsequious cousin, who’d turned on him so swiftly that it had made his head spin. And finally, Gwen herself, who had made it clear that she was staying behind.
She had always been so sensible, prudent and practical. Even that last time they had spoken in the woods. Gwen had explained her duty—to be the next Lady of Kinnerton, no matter who its lord might be. She had urged Ralph to run away and save himself. And like a coward he eventually gave in and left without her, hurt and confused that she would choose her obligation over him. That she had closed herself off to the love they’d shared. It had been like a dagger struck into his heart, a final blow following the madness in the aftermath of his father’s death, leaving just a dark, hollow emptiness in his heart.
The Return of Her Lost Knight Page 2
