Knowing Yourself - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 1)
Page 1
Table of Contents
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Finding Peace Chapter 1
Medieval Dialogue
About Medieval Life
Glossary
Parts of a Sword
Medieval Clothing
Women’s Clothing
Dedication
About the Author
23 Free Ebooks
Namaste Aloha Servus
Knowing Yourself
A Medieval Romance
The Sword of Glastonbury Series
Book 1
Lisa Shea
Copyright © 2011
by Lisa Shea / Minerva Webworks LLC
All rights reserved.
Cover design by Lisa Shea
Book design by Lisa Shea
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Visit my website at LisaShea.com
First Printing: December 2011
16
Print ISBN-13 978-0-9798377-6-0
Kindle ASIN B006JDEK0I
Lulu 978-1-312-46592-3
SmashWords 9781310392207
Follow your heart.
Let your actions speak louder than words.
Every day,
Express your love for those you care for.
Knowing Yourself
Table of Contents
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Finding Peace Chapter 1
Medieval Dialogue
About Medieval Life
Glossary
Parts of a Sword
Medieval Clothing
Women’s Clothing
Dedication
About the Author
23 Free Ebooks
Namaste Aloha Servus
Preface
Welcome to my Sword of Glastonbury series. I’m thrilled you’ve joined me in this adventure! These full-length novels share my adoration for all things medieval. I’ve belonged to the Society for Creative Anachronisms for many years and delved fully into my medieval personae. I’ve researched the language, clothing, education, and outlook of medieval women. I’ve practiced swordfighting for years, too. I’m joyful to be able to share the fruits of this research with you!
Each of the novels in this series is fully standalone. While there is a sword passed from heroine to heroine to flow the stories together, each book can be read on its own and involves its own set of characters.
Did you know that many words like “wow” that we think of as modern are actually quite old? And that words like “hug” that we consider timeless are actually fairly recent? You can learn more about medieval language, clothing, and other related topics in my appendices in the back. Medieval people loved slang words, traded in goods from the far reaches of the Earth, and had some fairly “modern” views about what women could or could not do.
Especially during these Crusades years, when countless men were off at war, large numbers of public offices were held by women. Many keeps were ruled by women. Women fought with blades to defend their homes and keeps; some even went on the road to fight in the Crusades. Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine was a powerhouse of strength and a model for all women of these years. During this time it was wholly expected that women should be respected in positions of power and were wholly capable of actively defending their lands.
It’s only later, when peace moved in, the Church solidified power, and courtly love traditions developed, that women were demoted to restrictively passive roles.
It’s good to shake off some of the misconceptions created by everyone from Errol Flynn to Game of Thrones and examine what our real-life history has to offer.
Knowing Yourself is wholly clean – there is no mention of sex. The few swears are period-appropriate such as “God’s Teeth” or “God’s Blood.” There is swordfighting but no explicit violence. As such, it is suitable for teens and up.
If you ever have any questions or comments for me, I would love to chat! You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Google+, Pinterest, Wattpad, and most other social networks. Just check the ‘about the Author’ section or do a search for Lisa Shea in your system of choice.
So sit back, relax, and enjoy a virtual vacation in the entrancing world of medieval England!
All proceeds from this series benefit battered women’s shelters. Be the change you wish to see in the world.
Chapter 1
England, 1174
If you cannot find the truth right where you are,
where else do you expect to find it?
~Dogen
Kay’s mouth fell open at the deliciously sinful display of stunning male physiques, her eyes thoroughly examining each man in turn, admiring the thick, corded muscles of their arms; the finely chiseled lines of their jaws; the finger-twiningly-dense hair dancing in the autumn wind - red, blond, brunette, black, tawny gold. A sensual thrill coursed through her, flushing her with tingling warmth. She could choose any man in that group to be her husband and he would instantly, willingly, loyally come to her side. The awesome power intoxicated her to her very core.
She turned to Em, nudging her blonde sister with playful delight as they peered through the thick tapestry curtains of the coach window. “Are you sure I can only keep one of them?” Kay joked in a low voice. “It might be useful to have a spare husband around, in case of trouble.” Her eyes were drawn to the tawny mane of hair a second time, her gaze sliding down from his shoulders; her breath caught as she sized up the thickness of his biceps.
Her voice grew hoarse. “I am sure I could find all sorts of uses for a back-up knight with that kind of build.”
Em put a hand over her mouth to muffle the flurry of giggles that began to erupt. She adjusted her position slightly to account for her large, round abdomen, visible evidence of the child she had been carrying for the past six months. “It took our father long enough to convince you to use this process in the first place,” she chuckled in merriment. “If he realized you were now enjoying it, I am sure it would put his mind at ease.”
Kay shook her
head. “I still do not agree with the principle of it,” she commented more quietly. Her eyes drew slowly along each man who stood on the keep steps, the group being presented with a final set of instructions by an elderly man with sparse grey hair, his elegant brown cloak concealing a frail frame. She knew her father, Lord Weston, was doing his best to present a strong front to his future sons-in-law.
Kay kept her eyes on his slowly moving figure. “I turned down the previous suitors because I found them sadly lacking. For father to force me to choose from one of these five men seems outrageous. What if none of them end up being what we need to defend Serenor Keep?”
Em’s mouth grew into a wide smile. “Surely, my dear sister, you have to believe one of those men would be suitable to stand by your side?”
Kay had to admit that the group had far exceeded her expectations. Her father had sent word the length and breadth of England in his search, bringing in five worthy, eligible bachelors who were interested in control of the seaside tower. All five men had agreed up front to put themselves in the hands of this selection process – to vie against each other for Kay’s hand in marriage. Now they were being told the particular rules of the game.
Suddenly all five men’s heads turned sharply to stare at the coach, and both women instantly pulled back into the dark interior, their hearts pounding, looking at each other before bursting into a fresh round of laughter. Kay had to take several deep breaths before she could bring herself to speak again.
“I think they have just been told they cannot see what I look like until I have made my final decision,” she chortled merrily. “By their reactions, they were none too pleased at that little tidbit!”
Em’s shoulders were shaking with mirth as she leant back against the embroidered seat. “Still, you have to admit Father hit on a stroke of genius there,” she countered. “By having me play at the shy target of their attentions, you can roam free as my maid servant, watching the men close up. You can observe how they talk about the keep and each other behind my back.”
Kay’s voice became more somber “Are you sure you are ready for this, to be sequestered in the top level of the keep for perhaps several weeks? If none of the men can see you, but they need to occasionally speak with you, it is the only way to maintain the charade.” She took her sister’s hand. “Surely you will get claustrophobic after a few days in that tiny apartment.”
Em shook her head. “I am looking forward to it,” she confided to her younger sister. “Between Eric’s whirlwind courtship, and our wedding, I have not had five minutes by myself. I am about to become a mother - a full time task if ever there was one.” She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “This may be the only quiet time I get for decades; the only time to be by myself, to luxuriate in quiet, to sit, to read, to just think. I am going to enjoy every second of it.”
“Will you miss Eric?” asked Kay, pressing.
A wistful look came over Em’s face. She looked toward the thick, dark curtains which shaded the window, laying a hand against them for a moment. “Yes,” she admitted quietly. “He has been my rock, been by my side for so long now that it was extremely hard to part from him.” A faint smile lit her face. “Still, it is only for a few weeks, and as they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. I will keep a journal for him, and he is doing the same for me. It will be interesting to share those once we are reunited.”
She drew her gaze tenderly to her sister. “Besides, this looks to be our final outing as siblings. I will have my home here, with Eric, and you will have yours out at Serenor. I am going to enjoy spending time with you for these next few weeks and will find it hard to be separated when the time comes.”
Kay gave her a nudge. “I am sure we can visit, once we are both old, married women, but I agree completely. This will be our chance to play at dice, to share confidences, and to have one last gasp of freedom before we are both chasing after children.”
Em offered a wink, then reached beneath her seat, drawing out a stoppered, blue glass bottle. “Then, I think it is time for us to celebrate,” she chuckled, pulling out the cork and handing it over to her sister. “A toast to our futures!”
Kay took a long pull, and suddenly the coach gave a gentle jerk as it moved into a quiet rhythm. The sound of numerous men on horseback swelled around them.
A tremor of nervousness shot through her. It was all in motion now. There was no turning back; no second thoughts. By nightfall they would be at the keep, and the games would begin. She would have to give herself over to one of these men.
She thought back to the line of strong shoulders she had examined. Perhaps things were not so bad. She took another swig and smiled. Not so bad at all.
*
The hours drifted by in a lethargic haze of merry expectations and teasing. By the time the coach pulled in for an afternoon stop, the women were flushed with laughter. A familiar low growl sounded by their window.
“Ladies, it is Leland,” he called through the curtain. “I have sent my lad, Eli, to escort the five gentlemen over the ridge and a ways up the road. He will ensure they stay there until we catch up with them. You will have a chance to stretch your legs unseen.”
Before he had finished speaking, Em was up and moving, throwing open the door of the coach. She took his proffered hand and stepped out into the sunlight. Kay was only a moment behind her, and they stretched with relish, gazing around them at the rolling meadows with the blue-grey mountains in the distance.
Kay smiled in amusement as she turned and looked over Leland. He was wearing a priest’s restrained habit – a long, black, simple tunic without any adornments. His ever-present sword was nowhere to be seen. She shook her head in merriment.
“How are you going to survive the weeks up at that small chapel, Leland?” she asked, her eyes sparkling. “This is quite a demotion from captain of the guard!”
Leland’s thick brown brows came together over a well-weathered face. “I consider it a duty of the highest order to look after you two,” he responded, his eyes moving between the two women. “Serenor will have only a skeleton staff on hand. Your father wants the potential lords to be able to settle in without having many there to contest their orders and ways. We need to see how they will act when they feel like the man in charge.” He smiled fondly at the two women. “Still, I will be glad to be watching from the hill, keeping an eye on things.”
Kay found her eyes scanning forward, over the rise to where the men were waiting. “They will be like five stallions, fighting for control of the herd,” she mused with a chuckle. “It will certainly be something to see.”
The women spent another few minutes stretching and enjoying the fresh air, then Em gave a long, loud yawn. “I think I am about ready for an afternoon nap,” she admitted. “How are you feeling?”
Kay rolled her shoulders. “Like I want to meet these men for myself,” she grinned. She moved to the back of the coach, unhitched her horse, and threw the reins over his head. She mounted smoothly, tucking her loose skirts around her with well-practiced ease. She then drew up alongside the vehicle. “Rest well.”
“You behave yourself,” smiled Em back at her. “Remember, you are a maid servant now. None of that sassy backtalk, or I shall have to punish you.”
Kay grinned widely. “I will be the epitome of quiet grace,” she promised serenely. Both sisters burst into peals of laughter, and then Em climbed into the coach, drawing the small wooden door shut with a solid thunk. Leland pulled up alongside Kay, and with a nod the coachman shook out the reins, getting the horses into motion again. The group slowly made its way along the peaceful dirt road, the hoofbeat keeping time with the warbling of birds and the gentle whisper of the autumn breeze.
Kay found herself unconsciously smoothing down her simple burgundy over-dress, and she wondered if the dark braids of her hair were still neatly in place. She grinned wryly as they crested the hill. It did not matter, of course. To the five men waiting down in the valley she was naught but a serving girl. Th
ey were anxiously awaiting the woman in the coach, not this slender horsewoman who rode with the middle-aged priest. Still, she had her pride, and she wanted to make a good impression. It would serve her best if the men tolerated her presence so that she could overhear their conversations and learn more about them in their unguarded moments.
The men had remained mounted and were lined up along the side of the road, watching her approach with interest. She nudged her horse with her calves, moving into a trot, and Leland matched her action, staying at her side until they reached the quintet.
Leland nodded to the group. “Gentlemen,” he rumbled, “This is Kay, the lady-in-waiting to Keren-happuch. As Lord Weston has indicated, Kay here will be your main means of contact with Keren-happuch other than your allotted daily half-hour of conversation with his daughter through a curtain.”
Leland turned to face the woman at his side. “Kay, let me introduce you to the men vying for your lady’s hand.”
The redhead spoke up immediately. “I am Uther,” he announced, sweeping himself down into a flourishing bow. He wore a flamboyant turquoise tunic with yellow piping along its edges, and his emerald cloak was pinned at his massive neck with a broach with five different colors of gems. His eyes slid down her form with interest, and his grin had widened by the time he met her gaze again. “I am looking forward to spending time with you.”