Heart of a Knight (A Medieval Romance Novella)

by Dana D'Angelo

  Karina pulled back and took in steadying breath.

  “The reason I sought you out was to tell you that you’ll be sleeping in my bedchamber from now on.” When he raised his eyebrow, she flushed. “Alone,” she said quickly. “You’ll be sleeping alone in the chamber. I believe this arrangement is more suitable for a man of your stature.”

  “’Tis not necessary,” he said, raising a hand in protest. “I’m comfortable with the current arrangements.”

  “Please,’ she said. “I’ve given a lot of thought to this. I know how things work in this world, and a man of your rank should not be sleeping among the animals. You will gather your things and sleep in my chamber.” Then, not waiting to hear his response, she walked away, limping slightly.

  With regret, he watched her slender figure disappear from view. He wasn’t certain what he was trying to accomplish by revealing his secret to her the other day. Now she knew who he was, and where he came from. And because of this newfound knowledge, things were changing between them. As to whether this change was for better or for worse, he didn’t know.

  Chapter 8

  “Osbert is dead,” Sewallus said. He held a piece of bread in his hand and was absently shredding it with his fingers.

  Puzzled, Karina glanced over at her friend who sat beside her. But Sewallus seemed preoccupied with his food. Shrugging, she turned back to her own trencher, thinking that she must have misheard him. There were far too many things on her mind.

  Alays brought a bowl of apples and placed it in the middle of the common table. “I just picked these from our tree,” she declared.

  Karina went to grab a fruit at the exact moment that Geoffrey reached for one. Their hands brushed, and at contact, she felt as if she touched a hot kettle.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured, looking at him briefly from under her lashes. She folded her hands on her lap, her hand still burning. But Geoffrey bit into his apple, giving no indication that he felt the jolt of electricity. Unable to stop herself, her eyes wandered down his face, fastening onto his chiseled lips. Almost immediately she recalled how those firm lips had felt against hers. She had melted into his embrace, and would have done a number of embarrassing things, except it was Geoffrey who broke away from the kiss. His message was clear enough: he didn’t want relations with a commoner. Shame and disappointment filled her bosom. Where did these wanton desires come from? Before he came into her life, she was perfectly content to live without a man. But even though she was more than attracted to him, it was obvious that he didn’t share the same sentiments.

  “Did you hear what I said, Karina?” Sewallus asked, reaching for her hand.

  Karina shook her head to clear her mind from her wayward thoughts. “Sorry, Sewallus,” she offered an apologetic smile. “I’m a little preoccupied this morning.”

  She glanced down at the bony hand covering hers. Geoffrey noticed Sewallus’ gesture as well, but he didn’t make any comment. Carefully, she extracted her hand. “I think you said something about your brother, but I wasn’t certain that I heard correctly.”

  For the first time since his arrival, she really looked at Sewallus. He had dark circles under his eyes, making the bones on his gaunt features even more prominent. The candlemaker possessed a demeanor that was certainly different from his sire or his brother Osbert. And even before he married Beatrice, he had a certain nervous quality about him. Today however he seemed especially agitated, though he unsuccessfully tried to hide it.

  “Aye,” he said, “Osbert’s dead.”

  “Dead,” Karina murmured in disbelief. She rested her chin on her palm, studying her friend for a long moment. “How did this happen?”

  “He was heading home after carousing in the tavern, and on his way someone stabbed him in the back. The baker found his body early this morning.” Sewallus gave a hollow laugh. “I’m sure he wasn’t impressed to find a dead man at his doorstep.”

  “But this is horrible, Sewallus. I’ll admit that I dislike your brother, but I have never wished him dead. To be ambushed like this seems like such a horrific way to die.”

  “He had as many enemies as friends,” Sewallus lifted his shoulders to his ears and looked uneasy. “’Twas bound to happen, I think. Perhaps he went too far this time, and got what he deserved.”

  “Do you not grieve his passing?” she asked.

  His face flushed at her direct question, although his expression was a jumble of anguish and guilt. “You know that there’s no love lost between us, Karina. Whether he’s dead or alive, it makes no difference to me.” When she continued to look at him, he hastened to add, “’Tis not a brotherly sentiment, but perhaps I’m bastard-born. ‘Twould explain why neither my sire nor my older brother thinks very highly of me.”

  “’Tis doubtful that you’re bastard-born, Sewallus.” She indicated for Alays to take his trencher away. “You share too many facial features as your father —”

  “’Tis a curse, I assure you,” he said, pushing the hair from his eyes.

  “And,” Karina acknowledged his response with a brief smile before continuing, “Aside from your slim frame, you strongly resemble Osbert. Aldous had always said you had your father’s gift for candlemaking. And even though I detested my late husband, I believe he was correct in the assessment of your abilities.”

  Sewallus’ lips stretched into a tight smile. “Somehow pointing out the resemblances to my family makes me feel worse.”

  “At least we don’t have to worry about him any longer,” the servant said, refilling Karina’s cup with ale. “There is no need to fear that he’ll cause more trouble —”

  A loud knock sounded.

  Everyone jumped and stared over at the door.

  “Who can that be?” Karina asked. “The shop is closed for dinner, and except for you, Sewallus, I’m not expecting anyone.”

  “Perhaps we should ignore the knocking,” Sewallus suggested.

  She didn’t even have a chance to decide what to do when another more insistent knock rattled the wooden door.

  “Open up,” a voice shouted.

  Karina exchanged alarmed looks with the two men at her table. Her stable master seemed unruffled, while her friend had gone as pale as Alays’ apron.

  With her heart pounding in her chest, she moved to get up.

  “Nay, ma dame,” Alays said, stopping her. “I’ll go.”

  The servant rushed to the front of the room before Karina could stop her.

  She could feel her hands trembling and she folded them tightly on her lap to still her nervousness. That voice was unmistakable, and it belonged to only one man. Every time she heard it, she found herself quaking inside. There was no reason to behave this way, she told herself. But it was impossible to stop the cold streaks of dread that rippled down her spine. The chilling fear was similar to what she experienced when Aldous lost his temper.

  “Why is your father here?” Geoffrey asked, gazing curiously at Sewallus.

  “I don’t know,” he said, staring down at his hands. “You would think he’d be grieving his beloved son.”

  Karina took in a shaky breath and got up from the bench. “Regardless of what Master Warin wants, I cannot cower behind Alays’ skirts, and let her take the brunt of his anger.”

  The words she uttered sounded braver than she felt. She turned to the door, her feet moving as if she waded through thick mire. Both Geoffrey and Sewallus got up to follow her.

  Muffled voices sounded just outside the entrance.

  “Master Warin’s loud bellows must have drawn some onlookers,” Eli observed, who also trailed behind them.

  They were almost at the front of the room when Alays said loudly, “Come back later. Ma dame is having her dinner.”

  “I don’t care what ‘tis she’s doing,” Warin shouted furiously. “I demand that she come out, and explain herself.”

  Karina touched Alays on the shoulder. “’Tis all right, Alays. I will speak with him.”

  The servant let out a rush
of air and reluctantly moved aside. “Master Warin refuses to leave, ma dame.” A look of worry marred her haggard features. “He’s accusing our Geoffrey of murder. I don’t believe it one bit.” She opened the door a little wider for her. “Perhaps you can convince Master Warin that he’s after the wrong man.”

  “Aye,” she said. And then she turned to Geoffrey. “I suggest that you stay inside until I resolve this.” Bracing herself, she walked through the threshold. “Master Warin,” she called out, relieved that her voice wasn’t trembling. “What is this ruckus in front of my home?”

  “I want that murderer.” The guild master glared at her. “I want him now.”

  “I’m afraid that I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Osbert was killed last night.” Warin said slowly as if he was talking to a child. “Your stable master was the last man to be seen with my son.”

  A low rumble echoed amongst the onlookers, their faces a mix of horror and outrage. No one wanted a murderer in their midst.

  “I refuse to believe that my stable master would slaughter anyone,” she said loudly so she could be heard over the din. “Your informant must have been mistaken.”

  Warin pounded his walking stick on the ground and stared at her. His eyes were red and swollen, as if he spent the last several hours crying. But when he spoke, there was no trace of sorrow.

  “Good people,” he said, addressing the crowd in a clear, strong voice. “Bear witness to this: the Widow Karina defends a murderer.” He swiveled around, jabbing his stick at her direction. “That makes you just as culpable as the murderer.” Then inhaling sharply, he placed a plump hand on his chest, as if something awful had just occurred to him. His voice dropped. “’Twas you who ordered Osbert’s murder, wasn’t it?”

  The crowd gave a collective gasp. A child cried out, but the mother didn’t hear him as her horrified regard fixed on Karina’s face. The child tugged at her mother’s sleeve. She then slowly bent down to pick him up, and hold him protectively in her arms.

  Karina leaned one hand on the wooden doorframe. It was happening all over again; she was taking the blame for something that she didn’t do. She tasted a bitterness at the back of her throat as she thought about the labor that she had put into her business. And with one false accusation from Warin, everything could be destroyed. Yet that was the least of her concerns. If the royal warden decided that she and Geoffrey were guilty, they would both face the gallows. She knew she was innocent of the crime. But was Geoffrey? An inner voice berated her for being too trusting. After all, she didn’t know much about the man she hired. He kept to himself and spoke only when spoken to. But even with the accusations flying all around her, she realized that she still cared for him. The thought of falling for a cold-blooded murderer ate a hole in her stomach.

  Still, there was that kiss that they shared…would a heartless killer really be so tender or passionate? Geoffrey couldn’t have committed the murder, her heart cried out. There had to be a reasonable explanation for all this.

  Sewallus came up from behind and pushed past Karina. “Now see here, Father. Karina didn’t —”

  “What the hell are you doing at the widow’s house, Sewallus?” Warin roared. His pupils narrowed into pin pricks. A red splotch rose from his neck, spreading rapidly over his plump cheeks. As well, the veins in his neck began to bulge as if his boiling blood was ready to burst. “Did you help her plot your brother’s murder?”

  “N — Nay, Father,” Sewallus squeaked. He brought his hands up as if to ward off the force of his father’s words. “I — I had nothing to do with Osbert’s death. Why would I kill my own —?”

  “You come here. Now.”

  Karina reached over and squeezed Sewallus’ icy hand, although her effort to comfort him failed. And she couldn’t blame him for his fear, for even from this distance, Karina could feel Warin’s wrath.

  Sewallus stepped away from Karina, breaking their contact. “I have to go,” he said before he sent her a quick apologetic glance and scurried over to his father.

  Once Sewallus was at his side, Warin ignored his youngest son. Instead, he turned his hard, red-rimmed gaze over at Karina. “Now confess, mistress — did you commission my son’s death?” He took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. “And did you use that brute of yours to carry out the murder?”

  “This is the most absurd thing that I’ve ever heard,” Karina said, taking another involuntary step back. “I go to mass regularly, and —”

  “I don’t care whether you go to mass,” Warin interrupted, his voice rigid. He paused to take in a big gulp of air. “You may not have committed the murder, but your stable master did. Now bring him out here.”

  “We want justice,” someone in the group cried. “The king’s justice!”

  Then another voice called out, “Murderer!”

  Then like a wildfire that swept across the crowd, screams of “Murderer! Murderer!” filled the morning air. With each passing second, the noise became louder, frantic and furious.

  Karina pressed her hands to her ears, wanting to block out the noise and hatred that surrounded her. She backed up and bumped against a hard chest.

  “’Tis all right, ma dame,” Geoffrey said. Karina turned her head, and a combination of relief and fear washed over her. Although they accused him of a horrendous crime, he appeared strong and unfazed. For some reason, she wanted and needed to feel the warmth of his protective embrace, and forget the nightmare that was unfolding in front of her. But she held herself still.

  “They’re demanding that you go to them,” she said, trying to choke back the lump of fear in her throat. “They say that you killed Osbert.” She paused. Warin was so adamant that he slaughtered one of his sons. Was Geoffrey really guilty of the crime? Somehow she needed to know, to hear it from his own lips.

  “Did you do it, Geoffrey?” She held her breath.

  “Nay, ma dame.”

  Karina searched his eyes. He was telling the truth.

  “I don’t believe he did it,” Eli interjected. Maneuvering quickly around them, he planted himself in front of the mob. A handful of people began to jeer at him. But he stood firm, his hands on his hips, fearlessly flinging the obscenities and taunts back at the townspeople. The boy only fed the anger of the crowd, Karina knew, but she was helpless to stop him.

  “There he is!” a voice cried out. A squat, balding man who was neatly dressed came out from the throng, pointing at the door.

  Karina clutched at the wooden doorframe, watching them as bewilderment choked her. So absorbed by the activity in front of her house, she didn’t notice Geoffrey emerging out from behind her.

  “I told you to stay in the house, Geoffrey,” she said, reaching out and grabbing his thick forearm. “They’ll tear you apart if you go outside.”

  He met her eyes. “Neither you nor I are involved in this crime. But if I don’t go now, these wolves will tear you asunder.”

  Chapter 9

  “Please, Geoffrey,” Karina said. “If you go out there, they’ll believe that you killed Osbert!”

  “’Tis all for the best,” he said, gently prying her hands from his arm. “They already believe that I’m guilty.”

  She looked helplessly at him as he pulled away to confront the crowd. And as soon as they saw him, two men approached, each taking him by his arms. They pulled roughly at him, causing him to stumble.

  Geoffrey turned his head and looked straight at her. All Karina could do was to stare back, powerless to help him. He was innocent! she wanted to scream to the crowd. There was nothing in his character that suggested that he would ambush and stab a man in the back. But her shoulders slumped, knowing that the townspeople would never believe her. She had no influence in the community. And if Warin had his way, Geoffrey was as good as dead.

  The mob trailed behind them until only Sewallus and her servants remained.

  “’Tis best that he’s taken away,” her friend said. “You don’t want a murderer living under
your roof.”

  “But he denies doing it,” Karina said, clasping her hands in front of her.

  “It doesn’t matter whether he denies it,” he said shrugging. “My father is convinced of his guilt.” He looked nervously at the disappearing crowd. “I better go before he notices that I’m missing.”

  And with that, he ran to catch up with the riotous mob.

  “Where are they taking Geoffrey?” Eli demanded as he came to stand beside her, an angry glint appearing in his eyes.

  “They’ll likely take him to the town square,” Karina said, closing the door firmly.

  “And while there, Geoffrey will no doubt be whipped and shamed.” Alays added, her tone sad. “That was what happened to the last person who committed murder in this town. As a newcomer, the townspeople will show no mercy to our stable master.”

  “He’s going to die, isn’t he?” Eli asked, his voice dropping.

  Letting out a long sigh, Alays nodded her head. “Aye, he’ll die, but it won’t be in Treville. First, he’ll be taken to Baltroham. He’ll go through a trial, and then they’ll hang him.”

  “But we have to do something.” He looked at Karina, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “We can’t allow them to kill an innocent man!”

  “We are only subjects of the kingdom, Eli,” Karina said kindly, placing a hand on the boy’s thin shoulder. “We have no power or influence.”

  “I don’t care,” he said, a sudden defiance entering his young voice. “Geoffrey saved my life, and I owe it to him to save his.”