Knights of Valor

by Denise Domning

  As it was, he glanced up at her window when he walked into the bailey, relieved he didn't see her silhouette, an arrow cocked and ready to pierce through his heart.

  His men had already gathered on the fields, and awaited his instructions. Without more than two barked orders, and a couple points of his fingers, he'd enlisted two men in hand to hand combat. He needed to beat the pulp out of someone—and he needed someone to pummel him, hoping the physical pain would outweigh the pain within his chest and mind. His men sensed his need for a fight, and gave him one. After several rounds, his breathing was labored. Hands on hips, he nodded a couple times.

  "Good work. Now, I need assistance." He jutted his chin toward some of Kent's retainers. "I have need to know where all the tunnels are located in this castle. We will separate into groups of five, you all know the grounds better than my own men. I trust you will do your duty to this castle and to me, in helping to locate and fortify the tunnels."

  The men nodded, and Michael noted, they didn't even look at each other for clarification. He'd finally won them over.

  "Aye, Captain."

  Michael nodded sharply. "We will meet in the great hall for the nooning and discuss what you've found. I want to map out the tunnels, and close off the majority." He planned to keep one or two tunnels open—and well hidden from outside view—in case the inhabitants of the castle had need to escape.

  He beckoned to his own men, and to two of Kent's seasoned knights. The other men dispersed, and although he'd won the battle for all of his men's respect, he still felt defeated.

  He shook his head and led his small group of men into the castle, making his way to the very bowels.

  He turned to them all when they reached the latch that led into the dungeon below. "You are aware of what happened here last night. I intend to catch the murderer. There appears to be no logical reason for him killing the guard. All servants, peasants, and even children were questioned. The guard's family was questioned, as were a couple of men he'd had words with this past week, but all accounts led nowhere." Michael breathed deeply, meeting the eyes of each of the men. "I do believe the guard was merely a ruse—a means to get at me. A threat."

  The men shook their heads and muttered words of disgust.

  "Aye, 'tis a sad thing. But I have suspicions that even the attack on the castle was planned, and that they are somehow connected."

  "Captain, if I may," Bernard, Kent's man said. His eyes shifted to the other knight at his side. "We might be able to shed some light on the circumstances."

  The second retainer, Theodore's throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Aye, Captain, I do believe we have the information you seek."

  Kent paced back and forth in his chamber, the pain in his chest having subsided. The stupid bitch! It was all her fault. She had to get in the way, had to anger him so. He pressed a fist to his chest, recalling the pain. He would be glad when she was gone. Then he could finally kill off the man who dared to cuckold him under his own roof.

  Kent's own attempts to turn his men against the captain and to kill him had failed.

  He could take it no longer. Standing in the shadows outside of his wife's room, he'd watched as the captain exited. He didn't know where the man hid while he'd been in her room, perhaps under the bed or behind the curtains, but Kent knew he was there. Could smell their lovemaking in the air. Wanted to gag from it. Wanted to rip out her heart and burn it in the hearth.

  A thin servant cowered in the corner of Kent's chamber. His eyes wide. His mouth pale white from how hard he pressed his lips together.

  "You will be my eyes and ears, you little rat. Do you agree to do your master this service?" Kent asked, stalking toward the dim-witted youth.

  "Aye, my lord." Arthur's eyes were so large, Kent wanted to laugh out loud. He didn't think he'd seen anyone so fearful of him in quite some time.

  "You must follow Michael everywhere he goes. But do not let him see you. I want to know when he sleeps—and where. I want to know when he slips into my wife's rooms. I want to know when he shits. And if he decides to stroke his own cock you will report it to me."

  Larry, Kent's valet, entered the chamber quietly, shooting his lord a conspiratorial smile before pretending to rummage in Kent's wardrobe. Kent licked his lips in anticipation. He and Larry had an appointment this morning, and he would not miss it.

  "You know your duties, boy. Now get to it!" Kent bellowed.

  The boy scrambled from his spot on the floor and ran from the room.

  Larry traced a piece of parchment lying on Kent's bed with his finger.

  "Do not dare to touch that." Kent snatched the letter and folded it carefully, snarling when he caught sight of his wife's name, and the promises of one Irish knight to come to her aid.

  The two treacherous lovers had no idea he'd found them out before they'd even been able to set eyes upon each other.

  He shoved the letter into his money pouch at his hip, before grasping Larry by the neck. He applied pressure on the valet's throat until the man sunk to his knees. "You did well last night, worm."

  Larry's eyes rolled back into his head with pleasure.

  Hastily Kent undid the ties at his breeches and ordered, "Do your duty."

  It was with a somewhat heavy heart that Elena prepared to leave Kent. And how ironic, since she wanted to be free of its master. But she feared for Michael, even knowing that with her safe and out of the way, it would be easier for him to weed out the murderer. He hadn't spoken to her since she'd flung her ugly words at him, and she couldn't be sure if he ignored her from anger or because they were both so busy with preparations. She'd tried to single him out to apologize, but both times he'd been called away.

  Her ladies in waiting bustled around her packing sewing supplies and fabrics, gowns, chemises, hoses and slippers. Servants took filled chests from the room, while still others cleaned and set curtains and tapestries to rights, preparing for her long departure.

  Elena made sure barrels full of candles, dried herbs, fruits, vegetables, grains, ale, honeyed wine, woven rushes, butter and cheese were packed and loaded. When several wagons were filled, she sent them along with her steward who held a missive from her own hand and pouch of coins to St. Augustine's to prepare Abbot Thomas Hunsden for their arrival. Her steward would negotiate with Abbott Hunsden for her stay. If the Abbott understood that she would not only pay them coin for letting her stay, but provide them with extra hands for abbey chores, food, and clothing, he would be more likely to let her stay. She'd already selected beyond her ladies and maids, twelve additional staff to accompany them.

  But, despite being extremely busy preparing for departure, Elena still felt the heat of Michael's embrace and even worse the fire of his ire making the most mindless tasks daunting.

  How would she get him to understand where she was coming from? And would it even be worth it, would he understand?

  Her lower lip was raw and cracked from chewing on it nervously, and her hands ached from wringing them.

  "My lady," Raelyn said softly, reaching out to caress her arm with a soothing brush.

  Even with her calm and quiet approach, Elena startled, her hand coming to rest over her heart, her breaths quick and raspy. "Raelyn! I did not hear you approach."

  "Your mind is far off, my lady."

  "Aye," Elena answered, unable to give her more than that.

  "May I inquire as to where you were?"

  Elena gazed into Raelyn's eyes, full of love and compassion.

  "Somewhere I shouldn't be."

  Raelyn nodded, comprehension filling her expression. "Ah, I see. Perhaps we should take a break and go for a walk in the orchards?"

  Elena nodded, just the thought of the flowered fruit trees of the orchard and the soft breeze she'd feel on her cheeks made her somewhat calmer.

  Raelyn beckoned her other ladies in waiting to join them, and then placed Elena's arm around her elbow.

  "I know you are loath to leave this place behind, my lady, but as your friend,
I am greatly concerned for your health here. I think the abbey will prove beneficial to you, and you'll find a center of peace, perhaps meaning while there."

  "'Tis true what you say, Raelyn, this I know, but I cannot help worrying over those who will be left behind."

  A small smile curved Raelyn's lips, and she dipped her head toward Elena. "No other people are as well cared for as those you love, my lady. All will be well here. The men have taken to Captain Devereux, and he will make sure no harm comes to the people." She squeezed Elena's arm affectionately. "Besides, you know that in order to best care for someone else, you must first see to your own well-being."

  "Raelyn, my true and loyal friend, you are so very wise." Elena pressed her hand on top of Raelyn's. "Lord Warwick will be so lucky to have you as his wife. Will you go to him, when I am taken to the abbey?"

  "I wouldn't think of it, not quite yet."

  "Why is that? I thought you'd told him you would only marry him once my safety was secured and surely you cannot fear for me now? Not when I will be behind God's walls."

  "I know what I said, my lady. And 'tis true you will be safer there, but your husband yet lives—" Raelyn sucked in her breath as if she hadn't meant to utter those words.

  Elena patted her hand reassuringly as they walked down the steps of the keep into the courtyard. The sun was high in the sky, and the sounds of those busily working on castle upkeep rang out loudly. "Do not worry so on your words, I think them often. But I insist your service to me comes to an end when we reach St. Augustine's. I will have a messenger sent to Lord Warwick so he may come and collect you."

  Raelyn started to protest, but Elena hushed her. "Do not argue this with me, Raelyn. I would see you happily wed. My situation may not change for years to come, and I would not have you spend your best loving and childbearing years with me when you could be starting a family of your own."

  Elena's own empty womb contracted at the thought. How she wished she could have a family of her own—however, she was glad God had not blessed her with a fruitful marriage with Kent. She was not sure if her children would have survived his rough handling—indeed if they would have even made it from her body, since he was so prone to beat her. She was destined to live her life alone, however much she was surrounded by others. She would not damn her friend to the same fate.

  Raelyn inclined her head, and blushed. Her eyes filled with tears and a giddy laugh escaped her. Elena broke out into a smile, the first real smile she'd had since that morning when she lay beside Michael. Raelyn's happiness was contagious, and she could see the spark of excitement, of new adventure, lighting her friend's eyes. The sounds from the courtyard and bailey quieted as they walked through her gardens. A few birds sang sweet songs, and ducks floated lazily in her pond.

  They entered the orchard with trees in full bloom, her ladies chattering away behind her excitedly about the trip they were going to take. She had not realized before today how much her women wished to escape. She had been selfish, and she saw that now. Going to the abbey was as much an escape for them as it was for her. Strolling along, slippers pressed into the soft grassy path, Elena closed her eyes, lifted her head to the sky and breathed in the delicious scents of new growth. Although she was leaving here, perhaps she should envision her escape to the abbey as the trees embraced each new spring and summer.

  Michael followed the two retainers past the dungeon to a solid rock wall. Theodore pressed two stones at the same time—the stones sunk into the wall with a solid click. Bernard reached into one of the sunken stones and, seemingly finding a handle, pulled. The entire wall slid into the adjoining space revealing a darkened stairwell.

  "This leads to several tunnels, Captain." Theodore lifted a lit torch from the wall and entered the space, while Bernard waited for them all to cross the threshold before closing the wall behind them.

  But just as the wall closed, Michael glimpsed a shadow skulking in the darkness in the corridor they'd just vacated.

  "Wait!" he shouted.

  Bernard pressed the door back open, and with the speed of which only a seasoned knight could muster, the man gripped the shadow by its neck and hauled him into the secreted space. Michael frowned, a growl escaping his throat.

  "What are you doing lurking about in the shadows, boy?"

  The peasant boy, Arthur, peered up at him, fear in his eyes. But he didn't speak.

  Michael curled his fingers, wanting more than anything to pummel the truth from Arthur.

  "Answer me," he said with deadly calm. The young peasant's eyes widened further as he took in Michael's countenance. Evidently he saw enough there to make his tongue move.

  "Captain, I was ordered, honest, I wouldna followed ye otherwise." He spoke so fast Michael had to strain to hear.

  "By who?" Bernard growled, shaking Arthur who he still held by the scruff.

  Arthur gulped so loud they all heard, and shook his head. Michael met Fletch's gaze, who remembered the boy from the tournament.

  "Ye are a spy, little weasel," Fletch said, his voice heavily accented with his Irish brogue because of his frustration. "Ye know what the captain likes to do with weasels?"

  "No!" Arthur shook his head emphatically. "Please! Don't hurt me!"

  "Why shouldn't we? Maybe you were the one who killed my cousin, Roger!" bellowed Theodore. He pushed the oil-wicked torch within an inch of Arthur's face. "Maybe I ought to burn your mouth for the lies you weave."

  Arthur sucked his lips into his mouth and shook his head.

  "Out with it then," Michael ordered, his voice strained from the need to shout at the irritating whelp.

  "It was his lordship! He made me do it! He told me to follow ye everywhere. He knows all about ye and the lady. He has a letter to prove it and he wants ye dead. I's seen ye too and he knows it."

  Bernard and Theodore turned from Arthur, their accusing gazes narrowing on Michael.

  "What is he talking about, Captain?" Theodore asked.

  Michael shook his head and looked at the ground. Just when he'd gained the trust of Kent's retainers, this imbecile of a boy had to take it upon himself to become a nosy little snitch. Now the men would think he'd compromised their lady—they wouldn't see it for the love that it was. Wouldn't believe him if he said he and Elena were handfasted before Kent stole her away.

  "He thinks he's seen something he hasn't," Michael started.

  "And what would that be? What about rule fifteen, captain, respecting the honor of women?" Bernard let his grip on Arthur loosen.

  Michael gritted his teeth. "I am your captain, rein yourselves in or you shall be punished for your insolence."

  Bernard's face softened. "With all due respect, Captain, I merely want to be sure my lady is safe."

  "She is."

  The men stared hard at him. Michael had come so far, he supposed he could trust these men, and he wanted them to trust him too. He took a deep breath and made a confession. "'Tis not as you think. Elena and I have known each other since childhood. We handfasted…vowed to marry one another. That same day, Kent stole her from my arms. I love her, I respect her and I came here to protect her, to protect her honor."

  "Is that why ye were rubbing yer hands all over her?" Arthur squeaked.

  The boys eyes flashed with fear, but beneath that fear was something strong, instinctual, and Michael had seen it many a time in battle—the need for self-preservation. The boy was forging ahead with what he'd wanted to do when first Michael had encountered him at the tournament. He was securing his way, even if it meant possible pain and the wrath of his master.

  A slow smile crept over Michael's lips as his eyes locked with Arthur's, completely understanding his need, but at the same time, he would not let the boy have the upper hand.

  "You must learn to hold your tongue, boy, else you will make a very poor spy, for whomever it is you serve."

  The knobby ball of cartilage in Arthur's throat bobbed furiously as he swallowed again and again—perhaps to hold back the bile that no doubt r
ose up with his fear.

  "Does he speak the truth?" Bernard asked, his eyes narrowed, his jaw ticking.

  Michael tilted his head to examine the man. When he'd first arrived at Kent, it appeared that most of the men disrespected their mistress and her ladies as much as Lord Kent did, but it now seemed that perhaps he'd misjudged these two. Both Bernard and Theodore looked ready to tear him limb from limb should he say he'd abused her.

  "We'd know the truth, Captain," Theodore said, his voice holding a notable edge.

  "I merely embraced her in comfort. As I said before, Elena and I were handfasted, sworn to marry before God." He didn't feel the need to tell them he'd lain with her. "I received a missive from her, begging assistance.. She claimed her husband was most cruel to her, and knowing she would not be able to escape, wished to at least have me here as a measure of comfort. I doubted her until I received a missive from another—her father convinced me she was a timid bride, that I should let her live her life without me if I loved her at all. But I would do anything for her, and so I am here."

  Bernard's shoulders relaxed. "And you've done a mighty job of taming the master's beasts, Captain. And soon the lady shall be more than safe behind the abbey walls."

  Theodore bobbed his head in a nod. "I'd thought you a man of honor, Captain, glad to see my instincts were not wrong."

  Michael was pleased he'd returned to favor in the men's eyes. "It appears, from what Arthur has said though, Lord Kent believes I am here for more devious reasons." He glanced at Arthur. "What is he paying you to sneak about and follow me?"

  Arthur licked his parched lips. "No—nothing. I retain my life."

  "But your lord has not protected you from me," Michael drawled.

  The boy shuffled on his feet, his eyes darting from one man to the other. "Wh—what do ye mean, Cap'n?"