Once Upon a Knight

by Tanya Anne Crosby

  Malcom smiled thinly, remembering again the chaplain who’d sat before him at Aldergh, his smile cruel. Your father does not want you, dear boy, but your God and your king surely do. He’d shut his mouth after that, and spoke not another word.

  “I don’t know, father. I would suppose God himself would have you sooner forgive—would he not?”

  The man blinked. His face flushed, until it turned purple, and then he recomposed himself. “Well… perhaps. However… according to Holy Scripture, ‘He that spareth the rod hateth the son: but he that loveth the son chasteneth him betimes.’ I consider it my greatest duty to love sinners the same as I do the devout.”

  Equal opportunity punishment, Malcom thought. “Of course,” he said, eager to be away. He stood now, and the chaplain stood after him, looking for the first time ill at ease.

  Malcom said, proffering his hand, “Thank you, good father, for nourishing this sinner at your table. I hope you will pardon my haste.”

  “So soon?” the old man asked. He grasped Malcom’s forefinger, shaking it feebly with trembling hands. “But I hoped you might linger awhile, give news of court?”

  “Another time,” Malcom said as he made for the door. The chaplain followed, his rickety old legs hard-pressed to keep up. He was already out of breath even before they crossed the threshold. Once outside, Malcom bade him, “Would you care to join me, father?”

  The open invitation seemed to put the man completely at ease. “Oh, nay!” he said, waving Malcom on. “I have too much to do today.” He gestured toward the merchants lolling about. “Look at them all! However, you must feel free to wander as you please.”

  “Thank you,” Malcom said, bowing. He started in the direction of the hatchery.

  “Oh, but wait!” said the chaplain, waving after him. He sounded hard of breath now, after only a few steps. “If it may be of any help, and you mean to search the surrounding area as well, you will find the Rhiw Pyscod well enough traveled,” he said quickly, cutting his hand in a straight line, as though to forbid it. “I’d not bother with that route.”

  “Thank you,” Malcom said, and continued on his way.

  “Bless you, son!” exclaimed the chaplain, following part way down the trail, his pristine white silk robe dragging the black dirt behind him. He called out again. “Oh, and when you are done, please, please, be certain to thank His Grace for seeing to the needs of the humblest of his servants.”

  A rueful smile turned one corner of Malcom’s lips. “Don’t worry; I shall,” he said, and with that, Malcom took off down the path, leaving Ersinius to peer after him.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Trying not to think about Malcom—or Rhiannon, for that matter—Elspeth spent the entire afternoon in the garden with Lady Dominique and Alyss.

  Out here, with the sun shining so brightly, it was easier to ignore the dark aura looming overhead. And nevertheless, it wasn’t quite so easy to keep her mind off her sisters, since this was how she and her siblings had spent so much of their day—cultivating plants, harvesting, sharing knowledge and experimenting. Even when they had not dared to practice the Craft, they had reveled in their garden.

  Alas, having been allotted so little space, Amdel’s garden was not so well stocked as their own. In this one thing, Ersinius had been generous—but of course, he’d benefited greatly from their toil. And nevertheless, Alyss appeared to be quite a skilled simpler.

  Using herbs one at a time was the very best way to ascertain what a plant’s optimum use was, and it was only after learning the basics that one might consider how best to combine them. But apothecary magik was not to be practiced lightly. Betimes it could be confusing, and even risky. There were quite a few dangerous plants, including witch’s berry or deadly nightshade. But deadly nightshade was not at all the same as black nightshade, which was edible, so long as it wasn’t raised in certain soil conditions. Deadly nightshade, on the other hand, was so powerfully perilous that it could cause madness even by simply touching it. This was the primary reason to keep a grimoire, and theirs at the priory had been fashioned from scraps of undyed wool and bound with simple thread. Every time they’d added a new page, they’d anchored it to the previous page and eventually meant to bind it.

  Of course, the minute Alyss learned that Elspeth knew her way about a garden, she entreated upon Elspeth to teach her everything she knew. Now, Elspeth poked around the soil, with Alyss hanging over her shoulder, and if perchance the maid seemed reticent before, she blossomed here, like a beautiful flower beguiled by the sun.

  “See this,” Elspeth prompted, pointing to a bed of sprouts.

  “Lady’s bedstraw?”

  “Aye,” said Elspeth, nodding. “The roots will make a lovely dye—red, though not so rich as your scarlet. ’Tis much too small to pull right now, or I would show you the roots.” She looked up at Alyss. “It seems as though you’ve recently harvested these, so give them a chance to proliferate—and, then, when you harvest them next time, examine the roots. You will see they are quite dark. I have seen many tints made from these, including one very, very close to the color of a daylily.”

  “Oh!” said Dominique. “We must try that! We pulled them recently to fill the guest-room mattress, and I would say ’tis a very good thing, considering your glad occasion. Does the bed sleep well?” she asked, smiling, perhaps much as her own sisters might have done were they fishing for information.

  But, of course, Elspeth had nothing to disclose.

  She had no proper knowledge of the marriage bed—none at all. And even if she did have some inkling, it would not be appropriate to share with two young ladies. Over the course of their conversation, she’d learned both Alyss and Dominique were merely seventeen—a full seven years younger than Elspeth and two years younger than her sisters Arwyn and Rose. “The bed slept quite well,” she said, blushing. “The scent is lovely.” It was a cross between vanilla and freshly cut hay. But that was all she had to say, and she didn’t wish to linger on the topic, lest their conversation invite more inquiry.

  “We were told that lady’s bedstraw repels fleas,” explained Dominique.

  Elspeth pulled a few odd weeds that were in danger of strangling the sprouts. “It does,” she said, “and did you know… it was used by druids to line their graves near Glastonbury?”

  Alyss giggled. “I wonder if they worried their dead would suffer fleas?”

  “Perhaps,” said Elspeth, smiling, glad to hear the maid laughing. “And here’s another use: The milk helps to curdle cheese. We raised goats at—home—and often used it instead of rennet.”

  “Truly?”

  “What a marvelous herb,” said Dominique, clapping her hands. “We shall have to plant more.”

  “Alas, be careful if you’re foraging,” advised Elspeth. “Do not mistake it for goosegrass, or you’ll never grow anything else in these beds. My sister used to use it to stop a blooded nose.” She made a face. “Don’t ask me how I know such a thing.”

  “Goosegrass or Lady’s Bedstraw?”

  Elspeth smiled. “Lady’s Bedstraw.”

  Rhiannon had endured a phase as a toddler where she used to smack her head on door frames—not a happy memory for any of them. On top of her crossed eyes, she’d run about black and blue, looking like a walking bruise.

  “And this,” she said, tugging on a sprig of meadowsweet.

  “Mead wort?”

  Elspeth snipped a piece and brought the cutting to her nose to smell. “Some would call it by that name. It works wonderfully for pain.”

  “We use it to flavor our wine,” explained Alyss.

  Elspeth smiled, enlightened now as to how and why she’d slept so heavily after she and Malcom traded vows. They’d left a full flagon of the flavored wine in their room.

  Where was he now? she wondered.

  Wistfully, she peered down at the ribbon that was tied about her wrist. The white cloth was dragging in the dirt, so she plucked up the ends, and tucked them quickly into the band ben
eath her sleeve.

  Thankfully, if either of the ladies wondered over the ribbon, or recognized what it was, neither asked. Just for good measure, she slid a small sprig of meadowsweet into the band, and said with a smile, “An old Welsh legend claims that all women are divined by druid wizards from these blossoms, so, betimes they are placed in garlands for brides, to ensure peace and harmony in the home.”

  “Oh! I will be sure to do that for mine,” said Lady Dominique. “Your wedding must have been so lovely. Will you tell us about it?”

  “It was beautiful,” Elspeth said, averting her gaze. She pulled another small weed, tossing it aside, uncomfortable with the topic. And yet, in fact, for all that it had been a simple affair, she thought it was beautiful even so—that Malcom would sacrifice so much, just for her.

  Thankfully, Dominique’s girlish buoyance saved her from having to say aught more. She gushed, “You’ll be a wonderful lady mother. I can see you with wee ones running about your skirts whilst you tend your beautiful garden.”

  Elspeth smiled, though, in truth, she couldn’t envision any such a thing. She herself had never been much of a child to run about skirts, laughing or carrying on. Per force, she had been the one to care for all four of her sisters, and more than likely, it was her skirts they’d carried on about. And yet, she hadn’t any regrets—not about that.

  “You must be so pleased to be breeding so soon. Quite certainly, ’tis a sign that God himself has blessed your union.”

  “Aye,” said Elspeth, smiling. But the quickening in her belly wasn’t a babe; it was only the consequence of yet another lie.

  “I am so pleased to meet you, Elspeth. If I had a sister I would wish her to be you.”

  “Thank you,” Elspeth said, smiling, missing her own sisters so much. Would Malcom reach them in time? She prayed it would be so. “I would have been blessed to have you as a sister,” Elspeth told her. She peered up at Alyss, smiling. “In truth, we are all sisters in the eyes of God.”

  “Oh! I think so too.” Dominique reached out to grasp Alyss by the hand. “My dear Alyss is as close to a sister as I will ever know and now I have two.”

  Elspeth smiled again. And despite that the compliments left her ill at ease, she realized Dominique meant them sincerely. There was no guile in her words—no trace of malice in her aura. In fact, both girls had such a bright air about them that Elspeth sensed the pall cast over them even before the sun revealed the incoming shadow.

  “Demoiselles,” said Beauchamp.

  Elspeth gasped aloud as the lord of Amdel appeared. Wearing black from head to toe, it was difficult to say where his shadow ended and the man himself began.

  It took a long moment to grow accustomed to the glint of sun in her eyes, in order for Elspeth to see that he was wearing the vestments of a falconer, with a falconer’s gauntlet on his right hand and a white-necked raven perched upon his glove, and seeing that bird, Elspeth swallowed convulsively, for these were not common, and she knew them only too well. They were precisely the sort of birds they raised at Llanthony —suited to only one purpose, to convey messages to her mother. The realization sent a cold shiver down her spine, even despite the heat of the sun.

  “My lord,” she said, forcing a smile. But her gaze settled on the bird and did not leave it.

  “I trust you are enjoying the day.” Giving lie to his aura, his tone was ebullient—not the least bit ominous. “I myself could not bring myself to remain indoors when the sun shines so beauteously.”

  With great effort, Elspeth shifted her gaze to Beauchamp’s face, only to find that, once again, he was staring at her bosom—or perhaps the necklace she’d fashioned for her ring. “I… am…” Instinctively, she adjusted the braid and tugged on her décolletage, lifting it to hide her natural gifts from prying eyes. Seeing that she had nothing else, Dominque had very generously loaned her a simple, pale-blue woolen dress so she wouldn’t soil her new finery whilst toiling in the garden, but perhaps it revealed more than Elspeth would have liked.

  Dominique’s voice was full of delight. “Elspeth is teaching us about simples!”

  “Is she now?”

  “Aye,” Elspeth said, without looking at the man.

  “Are you so well versed, Lady Aldergh?”

  “Oh, yes, she is!” answered Dominque. And then she turned to Elspeth. “William has the most wonderful aviary—later, I will show you. He has quite the way with birds, and they are such good hunters. I am quite certain there is not another aviary in all of England to match it.”

  Try as she might, Elspeth couldn’t take her eyes off the bird. But, indeed, there was. There was at least one more that she knew of, and probably more. Thanks to her mother’s efforts, those babbling birds were housed in every loyal house across Britain.

  Beauchamp must have mistaken Elspeth’s interest in the bird, for he extended his hand to her, and he asked, “Would you care to hold him?”

  “Hold him!” squealed the raven, and Elspeth gasped.

  Dominique laughed. “He won’t harm you, I promise.” Dominique seemed genuinely amused by her reaction, laughing so hard that Elspeth felt resentment for the first time since meeting the girl.

  Elspeth’s hand splayed across her breast. “Just the same, no thank you,” she said.

  “All his ravens talk,” said Dominique. And then she blushed. “You should hear them when they’re hungry. They curse like pagans, don’t they, Alyss?”

  Whatever blossoming Alyss had done over the morning, her demeanor now wilted before Elspeth’s eyes. “Yes, m’lady.”

  And when she lifted her gaze to William, he said. “When you have a moment, Alyss, I would have a word with you. Alone.”

  “Yes, m’lord.”

  He inclined his head toward the donjon, urging her to leave.

  “Now, m’lord?”

  “Aye,” he said gruffly. And then to Dominque and Elspeth he said, “You ladies must stay and enjoy the garden. Alyss will rejoin you anon.” But then he stood for a moment longer, scrutinizing Elspeth one last time, as poor Alyss hurried ahead. “Tis a pity you’ll be so paunchy soon though I expect you’ll regain your form in no time once the babe is born. You are young yet,” he said.

  Elspeth’s cheeks burned hot.

  And he persisted. “How old?”

  Elspeth averted her gaze. “Four and twenty, my lord.”

  “Not so young as my sister, but I do understand why your lord husband espoused you so quickly.”

  Elspeth’s cheeks burned hotter. Her throat felt too thick to speak—and that bird. She felt it staring at her… as though it knew.

  “William,” protested Dominique, and for the first time since meeting her, the girl’s voice sounded dispirited. “Elspeth, what my brother means to say is that we are both quite pleased for you and my Lord Aldergh.”

  Elspeth had the sense that she’d cast her brother a rebuke, because he left without another word, and walked away, with his snorting bird in hand.

  “Don’t mind him,” Dominque said once he was gone. “He means well, though betimes he can be so rude.”

  “I understand.”

  “Oh, but, nay, you do not,” Lady Dominque persisted. “I am beyond pleased for you, and so is William. He tells me now that he anticipates a wonderful, new match for me—one that should please him immensely. But, of course, you know how men can be. Betimes they are sore to lose.”

  “I am sorry,” Elspeth felt compelled to say again.

  “Oh, nay! Do not be.” Dominique fluttered her fingers, dismissing her brother once and for all. “He will be in a much better mood tonight,” she said, casting a glance after her brother and Alyss. And then she beamed. “Those two are meant to be wed someday, did you know?”

  “William and Alyss?”

  Dominique nodded. “Tis why she’s here, after all. As much as I would like to say otherwise, we are not a great house. Her lord father would never have sent her but for the promise of an alliance.”

  “I see,” said El
speth, and she cast another glance at the donjon door, through which Alyss disappeared, and where William now stood, handing over his raven to the master falconer. With some trepidation, Elspeth watched the falconer take the black bird, and then observed as William Beauchamp climbed the steps into his keep.

  She wasn’t at all sure which gave her the most dread.

  There was only one reason he would keep those birds… and only one reason Alyss should shrivel in his presence. Both portended something vile.

  Malcom searched the entire grounds.

  He didn’t happen upon Elspeth’s sisters, but he did discover a well-tended garden, settled inside a stone-walled courtyard, complete with a gardener’s hut. But the hut itself was vacant, save for a few necessities: a bed—perhaps large enough to sleep five girls; a table; four crude chairs; one broken—as though it had been smashed for tinder; a box full of gardening tools; and a small cauldron nestled in the stone and mortar hearth.

  Stooping to examine the ashes, he found them cold now. He also discovered a half-burnt chair leg in the pit. But when he set a hand to the iron cauldron, he found a bit of lingering heat, so he plucked up the chair leg from the ashes and stirred the coals.

  Beneath the white ash glowed red.

  Whoever was here couldn’t have been gone long, he surmised. And nevertheless, they were gone, and he wished he’d come sooner—although, in truth, he couldn’t have done so without raising suspicions. As it was, Rufford, Beauchamp’s longtime steward, had looked him askance and would have shot back a dozen inquiries but for the simple fact that he must have sensed Malcom would never welcome the intrusion.

  Malcom didn’t answer in such a fashion to his own steward; he would never tolerate it from Beauchamp’s. He was an Earl of the realm, a respected member of the King’s Guard and the Rex Militum. There was no one in Beauchamp’s demesne he should be answering to. Not today. Not any day.

  He stood now, studying the room a long while, then walked out of the cottage, and stood looking over the garden before shifting his focus over the Vale of Ewyas…