Knight of Her Life

by Marisa Chenery

  “I know that, Mother, but I will still have my revenge.”

  “Just how do you expect to do that? To your father, you are dead and buried.” A look of worry settled on her mother’s face.

  “It is quite simple, Mother. I am going to meet Father in the lists myself.”

  Lady Elizabeth shook her head once more. “It is not possible. How could you survive going against a seasoned knight? You have never jousted with a mounted man. Besides, they would never allow a woman to compete.”

  “Oh, I will compete. From what Beth has said William was still alive when they left Windsor. No one knows of his death yet. So I will become William. As for surviving against a seasoned knight, training for the earl’s next tournament will now be my life. There is nothing else that matters anymore. The earl killed a part of me when he took William’s life. My only reason for living now is making the earl pay for what he has done.”

  Her mother and Beth wore shocked expressions. Jacqueline received no response from either woman. She turned her back on them and headed to the hall. There were plans to be made, and there was no time like the present to begin.

  * * * *

  Two days later, William’s funeral service was held. Only those who dwelled in the castle were in attendance. Jacqueline’s mother and Beth had tried to steer her from her course of revenge, but she had to do this. Standing at the open grave as William’s body was lowered into it firmed her resolve even more.

  The priest said the final words in the service, and those in attendance slowly walked away. Soon, only the three women of them were left as mourners.

  Elizabeth gave her daughter by marriage a hug and motioned for her to head to the keep without her. William’s grave was slowly covered with dirt by two of the castle’s men-at-arms. Jacqueline did not look up as her mother came to stand next to her.

  “Is there nothing I can do or say to make you change your mind? I fear I will lose my daughter. I have just lost my son. Must I go through this pain again?”

  Jacqueline met her lady mother’s gaze and found her eyes red and puffy from crying. Her own showed no marks of mourning. She could not, would not, let such weakness take hold of her. It would assuredly defeat her.

  “You know my answer to those questions. I will not be put off. I would save you from the pain you feel now, Mother. I cannot think of how me taking William’s place might affect you should I fail. Please understand, I will do this.”

  Her mother sighed as if she knew she wasted her breath with Jacqueline. “Fine. I can see there is no changing your mind. If you are set on doing this, I will bother you no further about this matter. You are no longer a child. I have to respect your decision, even though it kills me to think what can happen to you. I will keep William’s death a secret from the mainland, and from your father. I only ask you do not attempt to go against him until you are deemed ready by Sir Guy. He will oversee your training.”

  “I will gladly have Sir Guy train me, but I will decide when I am ready.”

  Her mother’s voice was tinged with anger. “If you do not allow Sir Guy to decide, I will stop you in any way possible. All it will take is a missive sent to your father, informing him of William’s death.”

  “How could you do that knowing how I feel?”

  “Quite easily, my girl. I will not stand by and let my remaining child commit suicide, because that is what it would be. Now, do I have your word?”

  Not liking it one bit, Jacqueline allowed her mother that small victory. It would not change anything. She would go and no one would stop her. “You have my word. Sir Guy will have the final say when I go.”

  * * * *

  The next day found Jacqueline on the castle’s tilting grounds. Once more she donned a man’s clothing. Today was her first day of training with Sir Guy, the castle’s castellan. He had trained William in the knightly arts. He had even trained her in the limited amount she had been allowed to learn.

  Sir Guy was fifty, but was built as sturdy as any oak tree. At just slightly over six feet, he was formidable-looking even without his armor. He possessed piercing hazel eyes, which did not miss very much. His midnight black hair was slightly peppered with gray, making him look distinguished. Not that Jacqueline would ever tell him. He had been more of a father to William and herself than the earl ever would. She loved Sir Guy. His gruff exterior hid a soft-hearted man, one who had taken pity on the fatherless twins and treated them as his own children.

  At that precise moment, he was very much playing the role of father figure, pacing back and forth before Jacqueline, a deep scowl upon his face. He made her edgy, and well he knew it.

  “Stop looking at me like that. You can give me menacing looks all day if you wish, but I am not going away.”

  Sir Guy stopped his pacing, and clasping his hands behind his back, he rocked up and down on his toes. “I am just trying to see if you are as mad as I think you are. Planning to pull this stunt would qualify you as exactly that.”

  Jacqueline could not help but roll her eyes. “I am not mad. You of all people should know what I am capable of.”

  “I will give you that. You do excel at riding at the rings, but catching a suspended ring on the tip of your lance is nowhere the same as hitting a fully armored and mounted knight.”

  “I am not exactly some weak, pathetic female.”

  “No, you are not, Jacqueline.” Sir Guy’s words were spoken with affection.

  He had been proud of what she had accomplished in the previous training sessions. If she had been born a man, he had said he could have easily completed her training. He would have arranged for her to be knighted when she had reached the age of twenty.

  Sir Guy fell silent once more and intently studied Jacqueline. “Come, I have your armor for you. Some is from what we used in the past and some pieces were William’s.” He turned on his heels and headed to the quintain. Under it sat a pile of armor.

  Jacqueline cleared her throat, pushing back her emotions. Raw pain shot through her with the knowledge she would be using parts of William’s armor. She swallowed back the lump in her throat as she ran to catch up to Sir Guy. How could she possibly fail now? She would have something of William with her when she faced her father. Hopefully, William would be with her in spirit.

  Chapter Two

  Every bone in his body ached. He felt as if there was no part of him not bruised and battered. Sir Terric Aubrey felt older than his six and twenty years. What else did he expect with the type of life he had chosen? As a landless knight who made his living following and competing in the tournament circuit, he had picked a hard road. At times, a painful one.

  Terric released a groan as his squire, Edwin, rubbed his bruised left shoulder. As Edwin attacked the area in earnest, Terric groaned in protest. “Easy, boy. Are you trying to maim me?”

  The squire relented and stepped away. They were in Terric’s pavilion, the only home both had known for the last three years, the length of time Terric had been on the road.

  “You need to get off the circuit for a while before you kill yourself. Today was too close for my liking.”

  Edwin was correct. Today had been a very close call. During his last run in the list, his competitor’s lance hit him in the helm, missing blinding him by a scant half-inch. The mark of the blow was still on his helm, making it easy to see how close it had come.

  Standing, Terric stretched his six foot four inch frame. He rolled his left shoulder a few times, then heard it pop as it settled into place. A dislocated shoulder was quite common on the circuit. He had firsthand experience on how painful one could be. As a result, his shoulder popped and cracked after each tournament.

  “Do not remind me how close I came to ending my career as a tournament knight. Luck was on my side today.”

  Edwin scoffed. “I should say it was more your great skill than luck.”

  Terric smiled. “Well, thank you, squire. I gladly accept your compliment.”

  A wet cloth hit Terric squarely in the f
ace. Edwin laughed. “There will be no more compliments from me. I would not want you to get a big head. We would never be able to get your helm on.”

  Wisely, Edwin ducked out of the pavilion after issuing those words, leaving Terric alone. He shook his head in amusement with a chuckle. Edwin was always good for such comments.

  Their relationship was not solely based on that of a knight and his squire. Edwin was his companion as well. At aged eight and ten, Edwin had seen, and done, more than he should have at his young age. Being a child alone on London’s streets had a tendency to do that. To this day, Edwin still claimed a guardian angel had been watching over him when he had encountered Terric.

  It could have been an angel who led Terric to him, or he had just been in the right place at the right time. No matter how he had happened to stumble across the badly beaten ten-and-two-year-old Edwin, he was thankful he had been the one to be there when the boy had needed help.

  After Edwin had been dumped into an alleyway behind the alehouse Terric was about to enter, the commotion had drawn his attention. If he hadn’t been found, Edwin would have surely died in the filth. He still had no memory of who had beaten him or why.

  Terric rubbed the wet cloth across his chest. He had to make himself presentable for the feasting, which would begin shortly. It could be a hard, lonely life, but the meals sometimes helped to make up for a few shortcomings. In particular, the ladies who would be in attendance. A little flirtation with the ones who tried to gain his attention was one of his favorite ways to unwind after a battering in the list. He was not ugly, far from it. Knowing what his face did to the ladies, he used it to his advantage.

  His eyes were an unusual violet color. Hair the color of wheat worn shoulder-length, a strong chin, straight nose, and sculpted lips were what drew women to him. Edwin took full advantage of Terric’s luck with the fairer sex. He had no problem finding a woman for himself amongst his master’s admirers. The boy was no slouch himself in the looks department with his shaggy dark blond hair and green eyes.

  Though women flocked to Terric, he did not take up what they offered most times. He did not want or need a woman to be a part of his life. Not while he was in the circuit. Spending just one night with one was not something he made a habit of doing. Flirting was more his forte.

  Once dressed in a tight-fitting, mid-thigh, dark blue tunic and black hose, he pulled on his boots and exited his pavilion. The feast was being held at the castle. To be perfectly honest, Terric could not remember the name of the castle or the lord’s name, for that matter, only that they were in Devon. After attending so many tournaments, they tended to blur one into another, especially smaller ones like this. Though it was small, he had managed to take enough ransoms to make it profitable. That was all that really mattered at the end of the day.

  * * * *

  “Come on, girl, give me your hand. Let’s give it another go.”

  Jacqueline reached up and clasped Sir Guy by the hand, allowing him to pull her up onto her feet. Landing flat on her back and not being able to get up she found to be a humiliating experience. Being encased in full armor, helm and all, she was too weighted down to gain her feet on her own.

  The quintain proved harder than it looked. After a week’s worth of training behind her, Jacqueline was still being knocked off her steed, but she refused to give up. She would not allow a damn sandbag to get the better of her.

  “Up you go.” Sir Guy cupped his hand for Jacqueline to step into so he could help her back into the saddle. “Remember to get your lance aimed for the center of the quintain. Any deviation from that point and the sandbag will get you.”

  “Thanks for the reminder, but I have found that out myself already, a number of times.” Jacqueline accepted her lance once more, set it in place, then prepared to run at the quintain one last time before ending the training session.

  She took a couple of deep breaths to help clear her mind, then focused all her attention on the quintain. Satisfied with her grip on the lance, she shoved her heels into her horse’s sides and barreled toward her target.

  As her lance hit the quintain, Jacqueline braced for the inevitable feel of the sandbag whacking her from behind. It never came. She looked over her shoulder and found herself now past it, and miraculously, she was still in her saddle. With a loud whoop, she turned her steed around and headed to where Sir Guy watched.

  She yanked off her helm and waited for him to speak. She dismounted and stood before him. “Well, are you at least going to say something?”

  To her complete surprise, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her in a bear hug. Sir Guy lifted her off her feet. Once he set her down, there was a large grin upon his face.

  “Well done, my girl, well done. I knew you had it in you.”

  Jacqueline basked in the older man’s approval and quickly kissed his cheek. “I had a good teacher, don’t you know.”

  Feeling light of heart, more than she had for the last few days, she spun on her heels and walked in the direction of the hall. Now that she had managed to best the quintain her mother could finally stop worrying about her so much.

  Chapter Three

  Having completed six months of intense training, Jacqueline was now ready to test her newfound skills. With winter drawing to a close, the tournament circuit would resume the following month. A smaller tournament would be the ideal opportunity to test herself in the list. The only foreseeable problem would be her mother.

  Lady Elizabeth had been supportive of her during her training, but it was not hard to see she did not totally approve, either. Jacqueline would have a small battle on her hands. Not so much because her mother did not think she would do well, but that she would be taking the final step in assuming William’s identity.

  Much to Lady Elizabeth’s chagrin, Jacqueline had already taken to wearing a man’s short tunic and hose all the time. She had put aside her gowns when she had started her training, not once donning one since. She had yet to take the final step—cutting her hair. To participate in a tournament, it was what she must do.

  She headed to her mother’s solar and hoped to convince Lady Elizabeth to allow her to go. Sir Guy seemed to think she was ready, though he had not said as much, but he would stand by her. He had given his word. He could not back out, not when she had mastered the quintain. She could beat it now with every run she made.

  Lady Elizabeth’s solar was full of bright sunlight, which shone through the large windows running the length of the chamber. The windows overlooked her mother’s walled garden. Beth and her mother were sewing. Beth sat before a tapestry frame, stitching while her mother worked on a tunic. Clearing her throat, Jacqueline announced her presence.

  Her mother looked up and smiled. “Have you come to join us, Jacqueline?”

  Jacqueline shook her head. “Nay, Mother. You know I prefer the lance to a needle these days.”

  Frowning, her mother sniffed, and said, “It did not hurt to ask. I have missed your company these past months.”

  Jacqueline groaned to herself and pushed on. This was not a good sign. Getting her mother to agree to her wishes would not go without a fight it seemed. “You know why I have not had the time to sit with you like this.”

  Her lady mother sighed. “Aye, I do. I am reminded of it every day seeing you dressed like that.”

  Jacqueline self-consciously pulled on the hem of her tunic, then abruptly stopped herself. She had nothing to be ashamed of. “Be that as it may, I need to discuss something with you. Something of importance.”

  Her mother put aside the tunic and motioned her to sit in the empty chair next to her. “Sit. Tell me what is on your mind.”

  Jacqueline took a deep, cleansing breath, deciding it was best to get right down to the point and not drag it out any longer than it had to be. “The tournament circuit starts soon. I want to attend one of the smaller tournaments, one in which the earl will not participate.”

  “You mean to observe it only, am I correct?”

 
“Nay, Mother. I mean to participate. It is time I see how I handle myself in the list.”

  Her mother quickly glanced at William’s young widow. “Did you know about this?”

  Beth guiltily looked down at her tapestry. “Jacqueline has hinted such to me.”

  “You did not think to mention it?”

  “I had no idea she wanted to go so soon.”

  “Do not worry, Beth. I will not hold this against you. You are not responsible for Jacqueline’s ideas.” Once more focusing her full attention back on Jacqueline, she spoke again. “I do not think you are ready. You have only been training for six months.”

  “Ask Sir Guy. He thinks I am. I think it is you who are not ready, Mother.”

  Elizabeth gave her a frosty glare. “Forgive me if I’m not ready to take the chance of losing my last child. Why must you persist in this? It is a mad scheme, which will only end badly.”

  Jacqueline cringed at her mother’s words. She had known her lady mother was not a great supporter of what she did. “Try to understand. I will not be put off. I am going to this tournament with or without your consent.”

  Lady Elizabeth picked up the tunic she had been stitching, letting her know she would not speak further. Eyes downcast, her needle flashed in and out of the material she worked.

  Jacqueline turned to Beth and beseechingly looked at her. “Do you feel the same? If I am to really do this properly, I need you by my side. As William’s wife, you will make it more believable.”

  The younger woman took a quick look at her mother-in-law as if to mentally apologize for what she was about to say. “I will help you, Jacqueline. A part of me wants to see William revenged as much as you do.”

  * * * *

  The tournament chosen to be Jacqueline’s final test before facing the earl was being held at Portchester Castle on the mainland. The castle was situated near Portsmouth’s harbor, one of the more used landing spots when leaving the isle. It was a royal castle, but neither King Richard nor his queen would be in attendance. The constable would be presiding over the tournament.