A Knight's Quest (Falling For A Knight Book 1)

by Lana Williams

  “Aye.” The votes were cast. Even the bishop agreed to the plan.

  “Hail to the Sentinels of Scotland,” the earl declared, raising his cup.

  “Here, here,” the others joined in as they clicked their drinks together before draining their cups.

  “I’ll send a message when the deed is done,” James said as he rose from the table, eager to begin.

  Seeing an end to Sir William Douglas and his family would be partly business but mostly pleasure. What better way to exact his revenge on Sir William than to eliminate all trace of him and his family from the face of the earth? Doing so while ridding Scotland of English ties made it all the sweeter. At last William would pay for murdering James’s son.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Sophia braced herself that evening as her family gathered for their meal. One look at Eleanor’s pinched lips told her they were in for another tirade.

  “I refuse to eat fish again for supper,” Eleanor declared as she shoved away her trencher. “I’m far too weary of it.”

  “Then you will go hungry.” Sophia calmly took another bite. She, too, was tired of fish but would gladly eat it rather than go to bed with hunger pangs cramping her stomach.

  Coira had done her best to cook the trout though cooking was not her best skill. ’Twas a bit mushy and bland this night, but Sophia was grateful for it all the same.

  “Surely we can afford some mutton.” Eleanor waved for Coira to take away her trencher.

  “Why would we waste coins on mutton when fish costs nothing?” Ilisa asked then took a bite and chewed with gusto.

  “You probably had a decent midday meal at St. Mary’s, didn’t you?” Eleanor accused her.

  “The sisters are very kind to allow me to eat with them, and the pottage they served was quite...filling. But this trout is far better.” She turned to Coira and pointed to the trencher she’d removed from the table. “Alec and I will share that if Eleanor doesn’t want it.”

  Coira set it down between them, hiding a smile.

  “Thank you, Alec, for catching the fish for us,” Sophia added with a pointed look at Eleanor. The least the woman could do was be grateful.

  Eleanor only glared at her.

  Sophia decided a change in subject was in order. “I’m pleased to share that I’m meeting with Edgar come the morn.”

  “Why are you so bent on arranging a deal for Edgar?” Ilisa asked.

  Alec paused between bites. “If she can do something for him, he might help free William.”

  “Is that true?” Eleanor asked, her body tense. Before Sophia could answer, she sat back in her chair. “He’s a mere merchant. You need the influence of an earl or at least another lord to help free William. Someone like Sir Gilbert.”

  “Sir Gilbert has no interest in seeing William released,” Ilisa argued. “Why would he?”

  “If Sophia would agree to marry him, he might,” Eleanor said.

  Sophia put down the bite she’d been about to take, her appetite gone. “That is not an option, and you know it. He and William are sworn enemies.”

  “The situation has changed. What was no longer matters. These are desperate times.” Eleanor held her gaze as though daring her to disagree.

  “Sophia will not marry Sir Gilbert,” Ilisa said with such certainty that it almost made Sophia feel better. Almost. “That is a terrible idea. Let us see what Edgar has to say. With his wealth and influence, he could be of great assistance.”

  “I’ll know more after the meeting on the morrow.” Sophia tried to keep her anger at her brother’s wife hidden. No purpose could be served by it. “If he speaks on our behalf to the English lords with whom he does business, he could speed William’s release.”

  Eleanor stared at her in surprise. “Do you truly believe that?”

  “I do. His wealth has grown substantially since the city fell as he suffered few losses to his business. He was free to continue working while others had to focus on rebuilding. His wealth has gained the attention of many lords, English and Scottish alike. With their support, we can once again petition for William’s release. After all, the king can’t hold him forever.”

  “Of course he can. Don’t be naive. He’s the King of England.” Eleanor scowled in displeasure. “I think your tale is farfetched and as unlikely to occur as the moon touching the ocean.”

  “What would you have me do? Sit aside and do nothing?” Sophia drew a breath to calm her roiling emotions but it did little good. “These things take time and patience, and I believe now is the time.”

  “You sound like William,” Ilisa said with a smile.

  Sophia brushed the back of her knuckles along her sister’s cheek, loving the rare smile that graced her mouth. If only she knew how to lighten her sister’s emotions more often. They’d both been so busy of late, they hadn’t spent much time together.

  “What of the knight you spoke with in the square who requested your help?” Alec asked as he took another bite. “Could he be of assistance? He’s English.”

  “Associating with an English knight is the last thing you should do,” Eleanor argued.

  Sophia didn’t miss the concern that crossed Ilisa’s face. Her sister had developed a deep distrust of men in general since the siege, especially English knights.

  Unaware of Ilisa’s unease, Alec continued. “The women in the market were all giggling when those three knights walked past.” He shook his head in disgust.

  “Three?” Ilisa asked.

  “Sir Garrick has his two cousins with him.”

  “According to Coira, they’re all so handsome.” Alec said the words in a sing-song voice, his lashes fluttering.

  “They are handsome,” the maidservant said as she cleared the table. “Ask Lady Sophia. Even she had to notice.”

  Sophia felt her cheeks heat as all eyes turned to her. How could she not have noticed? Sir Garrick was a sight to behold. But he was English, and that put him on the wrong side of the border as far as she was concerned. Aligning with the English would reflect poorly on them to the Scottish lords who already doubted William’s allegiance.

  No purpose could be served in lying though. “Handsome, for certain,” she said. “And big. Very big.”

  Alec shook his head. “You, too, Sophia?”

  “I’m not dead, am I? Don’t try to tell me that if the weaver’s daughter walked by, you wouldn’t stop and stare.” She couldn’t resist the chance to tease her brother.

  He grinned. “I’m not dead either.”

  “How you can all laugh and carry on as if all is well is beyond my ken,” Eleanor scolded. “William and my son are imprisoned. Frivolity has no place in our home until they’ve returned.” She rose and retreated to a chair near the fire, stealing their smiles as she went.

  Sophia wished they lived in a large house. Then Eleanor could flounce off to her chamber, and the rest of the family wouldn’t have to put up with her foul moods. Sophia had liked William’s first wife much better than she liked Eleanor, but the woman had died soon after their marriage.

  While Sophia missed her brother and her nephew dearly and was doing all in her power to bring them back, life went on. No purpose would be served by all of them remaining somber and grief-stricken.

  As Alec and Ilisa continued to converse, Sophia’s thoughts returned to her meeting with Edgar. With luck, her efforts would soon result in her brother being released. She prayed it would be so. Then their lives could truly move on.

  ~*~

  The next morn, Sophia entered Edgar’s large house located on one of the more prosperous streets of Berwick. While he also did business in a building off the market square, most of his time was spent working in his home.

  Sophia looked about in wonder at the workroom on the ground floor where an apprentice sorted through huge stacks of silk. Stacks of furs, skins, wool, boxes of utensils, parchment, and other goods filled the room. The apprentice paid her no mind as a servant led her through the narrow aisle between the piles of goods that l
ed to the counting room in the rear.

  The servant knocked then opened the door to allow her entrance into the dimly lit room.

  Edgar sat at a table, a wax tablet at one elbow along with a counting board holding small pieces of bones that could be manipulated for various needs.

  His oldest son, now two and twenty, sat at another table and nodded briefly at Sophia before returning his attention to the parchment on which he wrote. Additional parchment, quills, and ink were nearby. How he could see by the light of the few candles in the room, she had no idea.

  “Lady Sophia,” Edgar greeted her but did not bother to rise. Considering his substantial girth, that was not a complete surprise, but she well knew he did so purposely. A subtle slight, but a slight nonetheless.

  “I hope this day finds you well.”

  She glanced again at his son, amazed at how little he resembled his father. His other children varied greatly in age, and only one resembled Edgar. The loss of his wife in the siege who’d been pregnant with their sixth child had been a terrible tragedy, especially since he’d been forced to watch their murder.

  “It does indeed. What brings you to my humble home?”

  Though he hadn’t invited her to, she sat in the chair before his desk. If he wanted to play games, she’d be happy to comply. “I think you have an idea of why I’m here.”

  His beady blue eyes glittered in the dim light. “Why don’t you tell me so there are no misunderstandings between us?”

  She knew Edgar’s business had increased significantly in the past two years. She could only imagine what the strongbox with a large iron lock that sat on the floor behind the two men held. His business reached far and wide. He sold cloth to the Germans, bought spices from the Far East as well as wine from Burgundy. She couldn’t help but doubt that he had any need of her services, but she had to try. Much depended on this meeting going well.

  “I wanted to see if there was anything with which I might aid you. Perhaps you are in need of something you’ve been unable to find? I know of a ship recently arrived with articles from the Holy Land. I’d be pleased to make an introduction for you.” She did her best to keep her tone relaxed as though her question was of no more importance than what she’d had to break her fast.

  Edgar sucked his teeth as he considered her question, a habit she found most annoying. “If I were in need of your help, what would you seek in exchange?”

  She hesitated for only a moment before deciding she would be best served by honesty. After all, this was no game, not when her brother’s freedom was at stake.

  “I would ask that you consider whispering in a few ears to speed the release of my brother.”

  He scoffed. “You ask much.”

  She didn’t agree or disagree with his comment. In truth, she had no idea how difficult what she wanted was.

  “You would have to provide significant value for me to consider such a thing,” Edgar said at last.

  “I would expect nothing less. What might I help you with?” Though the merchant was successful enough on his own, everyone needed help at times. She could only hope this was one of those times.

  “Not so quickly. I’m still not certain I am willing to comply with your request.” He glanced at his son, who seemed to sense his gaze and looked up. “What think you, Alan? Are we in need of anything you have yet to obtain?”

  “Wool.” The young man didn’t hesitate. “We need far more to implement your plan.”

  Sir Garrick immediately came to Sophia’s mind. Surely it couldn’t be so simple as to introduce the English knight to Edgar. Nothing was ever that easy.

  Edgar turned back to her. “We do need more wool. The sheep we had contracted for caught murrain.”

  Sophia had no idea what that was. She knew little about sheep or their wool or the process of making it into cloth.

  “I am building a water wheel,” Edgar added.

  “Oh?” Her mind drew a blank. What did a water wheel have to do with wool?

  With a sigh of exasperation, he explained. “No more will I need fullers to trample the rough wool fabric. The water wheel will drive a set of beaters to take the place of the fullers’ feet.”

  She nodded as though that made sense to her, but it didn’t. While she knew that a fuller or a walker trampled wool in a trough of water to help clean it, that was about the extent of her knowledge. Rather than allow him to add any additional information that she wouldn’t understand, she said, “I happen to know of someone with wool for sale.”

  “From where?” Edgar asked, his beady eyes barely visible as he lowered his brows.

  “England.”

  His brows rose considerably, and he shared a look with his son who nodded.

  Apparently wool from England was a good thing, she decided.

  “Where in England?” he asked.

  “I don’t know but could easily discover the location.”

  “What of the shearing sheds?”

  “What of them?” she asked with a frown.

  He shook his head. “You have no knowledge of wool. What good are you to me?”

  She sat forward on the edge of her chair, determined to make this work. “I may not know wool, but I am a quick learner, and I know someone interested in selling a significant quantity.” That was a guess, but if Sir Garrick had traveled all the way to Berwick to sell wool, surely he had much.

  Edgar scowled at her as he sucked his teeth again. After a long moment, he said, “If you wish to gain assistance from me, you will need to provide more than an introduction.”

  Sophia’s heart sank. What else could she offer? She didn’t know anything about the trading of wool or any other part of processing it. But Edgar had connections among the men who could aid her brother. As he’d said, she needed to bring value to this potential contract. If she brought Sir Garrick here, and he didn’t have any of the right answers, Edgar would be angry with her for wasting his time. She couldn’t risk that either. “May I return on the morrow with further details?”

  He shook his head and glanced at his son. She held her breath. Did that mean no? Alan looked up from the parchment and raised a brow at his father. She couldn’t interpret the silent message between the two so she waited, trying to keep her expression free of the desperation she felt.

  “Only if the information you bring tells me of exceptional quality. Now I’ll bid you good day.”

  Relief weakened her knees as she rose from the chair. “Many thanks for your time.” She let herself out of the house and hurried toward the market square.

  She could only hope Sir Garrick had not yet found a buyer and would consider sharing some of what he knew about wool.

  ~*~

  Garrick sighed with frustration as he walked away from yet another uninterested merchant. Either no one needed wool, else no one wanted to do business with an Englishman. The reason almost didn’t matter as the result was the same—he had no contract.

  He’d underestimated the difficulty of finding a buyer. Unfortunately he hadn’t made any progress on his other quest either. He, Braden, and Chanse had made a few acquaintances at some of the shops as well as the tavern, but no rumors of disgruntled people had reached their ears.

  Rylan had warned him this would take patience. Garrick hadn’t realized how much.

  A relentless drizzle had fallen since early morn and showed no sign of stopping. That didn’t improve his foul mood. He located Braden and Chanse where they waited under an eave out of the rain.

  He shook his head at their expectant expressions. “No offers from him.” He cast a glance at the sky. “I am weary of the rain.”

  “At least it’s not snow,” Braden offered.

  “Feels like it could be.” Chanse tightened his cloak. “’Tis nearly cold enough.”

  “This waiting is unproductive no matter the weather, that’s for certain. Mayhap we should return to the inn.” Garrick stared across the square but did not see Lady Sophia among the few who braved the weather to come to the ma
rket.

  There were other things they could be doing, he told himself, though he couldn’t quite think what that might be at the moment. In two days time, he’d meet the man who was his contact to pass any information they discovered about the unrest. Not that he had anything interesting to share, but mayhap the man could provide them with some direction as to where to dig deeper.

  Yet Garrick waited, watching the square for Lady Sophia. With a sigh, he admitted it wasn’t merely hope of her help that had him standing here, looking for her.

  He was attracted to her. There was no denying it.

  Whether that damned vision he’d had of her had caused this or simply meeting her, he dwelled on things he shouldn’t when he was with her. And when he wasn’t. She was one of the suspects in his mission, yet he longed to discover how her lips might taste. It would complicate the situation beyond measure if he were to dally with her in any way. Why wasn’t that enough to keep his interest at bay?

  “Here comes someone,” Braden muttered.

  As the hooded form entering the square paused to look at him, Garrick realized it was her. His heartbeat sped a little faster as she continued directly toward him. “Why don’t the two of you find another place to linger,” he suggested.

  “Come along, Braden. We’re obviously not wanted here,” Chanse said. “We’ll meet you at the inn later.”

  Sophia drew nearer, focused on dodging the worst of the rapidly growing mud puddles. She looked quite graceful, taking leaps here and there. She paused for a moment to glance up again. Those large, dark eyes caught his, causing his skin to heat. Her long dark hair was loosely plaited, lending a softness to the way it framed her face along with the hood of her cloak. With her smooth skin, dark eyes, and a slight bloom in her cheeks, she was a sight to behold.

  When her gaze caught his yet again, his chest gave an odd lurch.