A Knight's Tale: Kenilworth

by Gabriella West

  “You don’t like him?” I asked in a low voice.

  Thomas scoffed, taking a swallow of ale. “Look, Will, you have to understand that we’re squires, in training to be knights. We’re valuable here. We don’t have to answer to that fellow. Stephen does, and the tasks that he does every day are probably harder than what we are expected to do. But don’t worry about it, he won’t interfere with you.”

  Looking up, I saw Stephen’s eyes fixed on me. He lowered his lashes.

  “He seems quite taken with you,” Thomas said.

  I ignored his needling tone. “Well, what of it?” I asked. “He doesn’t seem to have any friends, which is a pity.”

  “There’s Christiana. I’m sure they gossip together,” Thomas said dismissively. He had heaped his trencher with food and was encouraging me to eat more. “Come on, Will, you’ll need to keep up your strength!”

  But I wasn’t really hungry. I pushed a piece of roast beef around my trencher.

  “Eat up! Tomorrow’s Friday and we only get fish,” Thomas muttered. “It’s Lady Eleanor’s decision, that. You know, observing the holy days.”

  I smiled and nodded, though we didn’t observe the custom at home. It seemed ostentatious and strange to me, but then so much did at Kenilworth. It was both showy and spartan here, an odd combination.

  Thomas nudged me. “The de Montfort brothers, you see?” he said, under his breath. The Hall had hushed as three young men took their places at the top table. Their skinny gray dogs had followed them in and were curling up by the fire.

  “That’s Henry, the oldest, he’s twenty-one; Simon, the handsome one; and Amaury, who is bound for the priesthood, they say,” Thomas whispered.

  I saw a stern-looking, bearded young man in his early twenties, a smiling, tanned youth just a little younger, and a slim, dark boy of perhaps eighteen. The servants clustered about them and wine was served to them in goblets. They all drank deeply, flushed and tired.

  “They must have been hunting today. Oh, I wish I could go,” Thomas lamented. “We get venison here quite a lot. The King used to send it as a gift to his sister, but that doesn’t happen any longer since the difficulties with the barons.”

  He was chewing a big mouthful of bread. I knew very little about the difficulties with the barons and decided to ask Stephen about it later.

  Looking up, I watched the chaplain place his hand on Stephen’s arm for a moment. Stephen flushed slightly.

  “Stop watching him.” Thomas nudged me. “Everyone sees everything here. You don’t want to be marked out as...”

  But he didn’t finish, and kept chewing, gulping his beer. I picked at my food distractedly. It tasted strange, the meat highly spiced, the bread light, soft, and airy.

  “It’s just because I’m trying not to think of home,” I said. It wasn’t true—in fact, I hadn’t thought of home for hours—but Thomas accepted it readily. He brightened.

  “Oh yes, no wonder you’re behaving a little oddly. Sorry. Listen, I’ll show you the quintain after dinner. You can have a bash at it with me. That’ll take your mind off things.”

  “Thank you,” I replied. He looked like a pleased puppy.

  “I’m quite good at it,” he added.

  ***

  The quintain stood in an inner castle courtyard, not the main one that I had ridden into with Sir Richard. It was an unusual contrivance, a tall post which held a shield at one end of its moving cross-bar, and a heavy sandbag on the other. Thomas demonstrated. He had picked up a short sword for me and was using his own.

  “They tilt at it on horseback with lances,” he mused. “When we’re older, we will also.”

  He jabbed at the target and swung back, ducking the heavy bag, which flew past his head.

  “You try, Will.”

  Clasping my sword tight, I gave it a go. I was almost immediately hit. Thomas laughed and clapped me on the back.

  “You’re strong,” he said admiringly.

  We were both sweating in the dimming light. It became a competition, both of us unwilling to let go. I took hit after hit, but got a few successful tilts in. That felt good, for a moment.

  “We do this every day,” Thomas said, wiping his brow with a cloth. “When I first came, I was hopeless.”

  We sat on a bench to cool off. “Is it just you and me training here, Thomas?” I asked.

  “I know, seems strange, eh? Yes, they only have the two of us, working under one of the knights every day. Keeps us busy! It’s less mouths to feed, the fewer squires they have.”

  “But I thought they were very rich...”

  He looked at me shrewdly. “My father is a good friend of Earl Simon’s. Hugh is his name, my dad. He told me a few things. One of the things he said was, Simon and Lady Eleanor spend a lot of money. They always have done. When Lady Eleanor was a young widow, she even had to go to Jewish moneylenders for a few years!”

  He had a loose tongue, Thomas did. I sat and reflected. Jewish moneylenders. The King’s sister? It didn’t seem to add up, but what did I know?

  “It’s called usury, isn’t it?”

  “The very thing,” Thomas said. His freckled face lit up with excitement. “It’s not as if they like the Jews! There are no Jews here at the castle, in case you’re worried about that.”

  “No, I didn’t think about it.”

  “I heard tell Lord Simon persecuted the Jews in France, on orders of the King. Drove them out of Gascony. But he would have anyway. His wife, well... perhaps ladies don’t care as much about these things.”

  “I see,” I said. These tales didn’t thrill me. Perhaps there was something wrong with me, I thought. I ought to be proud of what Earl Simon had done; he was my father’s liege lord, after all. My father had sworn an oath of loyalty to him. But I felt unsure of the Montforts, unsure of my place in the household, unsure of many things. When I thought back to what my father had said about Earl Simon, I never noticed affection in his tone, just respect.

  “Oh, Will, cheer up, you’ll come to like it here,” Thomas said softly. “And I’m glad you’re here, God knows. The two younger Montfort boys, Guy and Richard, are gone, being schooled by the priests in Coventry. Though Guy will be back soon. It’s been dull, training all by myself.”

  “But you like Christiana,” I murmured.

  “Oh, Christiana, well...” His face reddened. “Yes, she sees me as a younger brother now, but in a few years, I reckon...”

  I punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Is she the first girl you’ve had an interest in?”

  He nodded. “And...don’t tell anybody this, but she has a crush on Simon. All the womenfolk here do. It’s ridiculous!”

  I thought of Simon’s merry face and strong body. “Do we serve the brothers?”

  He nodded. “All the time. I hope to be Simon’s squire. Amaury, as you can guess, doesn’t require one. He’s not a fighter.”

  His tone was neutral. Amaury, a noble, got to be whoever he wanted; it was only Stephen, a commoner, who bore the brunt of his scorn.

  “It’s peaceful now,” Thomas said idly, breathing the cooling evening air. “Thing is, it might not be in a few years. My father told me to prepare for anything. Earl Simon likes a fight, and a fight might be coming with the King.”

  My mouth dropped open. “With King Henry?”

  “Yes, the King. We all know it up here, we know what’s been going on in London. The barons want more power, and to pay less taxes. The King doesn’t want to give it to them. Earl Simon’s right in the middle of it, being one of the most powerful nobles in the kingdom.”

  “My father said nothing about this...” I mused.

  “But two years ago, when they held the reform parliament at Oxford, you would only have been twelve,” Thomas said practically. “You never heard of that, did you?”

  I shook my head.

  “Well, we aren’t expected to know the ins and outs of it. My father is. He’s one of Earl Simon’s most trusted companions, and serves on the council
.”

  Thomas spoke out proudly, without fear. Perhaps he didn’t see a bad end to all this, I thought. I wondered why.

  “But it’s not a question of... Earl Simon ever taking up arms against the King, is it?” I asked.

  Thomas punched me on the arm. He smiled but did not reply.

  “You’re a clever lad, Will,” he said. “I like you.”

  “Who do you share a chamber with, Thomas?” I asked, partly to get him off the topic. I was a little embarrassed by his outburst. And curious, too. I was curious why we hadn’t been put together.

  He sighed. “Oh, some snoring fool, a tutor to the younger children. When I came, almost two years now, there wasn’t another boy here of my age and rank. They didn’t put me with Stephen, clearly.” He paused, considering his words. “Don’t feel badly that they put you in with Stephen. There just isn’t a lot of space.”

  “No, I don’t feel badly.” The dark hid my face now.

  “We’d better go in.” He sprang up, grabbed my sword, and disappeared into the cellar that served as an armory. I heard the clanging of weapons.

  There would be long swords, there, and helmets, I supposed. Chain mail. Breastplates. Deadly things like maces. I was mildly interested in all that, but it could wait till the morrow.

  Thomas handed me a lantern once we got back into the Great Hall. We exchanged a quick goodnight. I wondered as I made my way to my chamber whether I would find Stephen asleep. Whether the room would be pitch dark. I missed my own comfortable canopied bed already, and rising in the morning to the sound of my mother’s singing down below, and the sheep bleating far off in the fields.

  ***

  A flaring torch lit the walls of our chamber. I was quite surprised to see Stephen up still, sitting against the wall propped on his bolster. I set the lantern down.

  “Will. You came back,” he said, putting down the roll of parchment he’d been looking at. Had he been reading a letter? It seemed unlikely, so I didn’t stare.

  “Yes, I was practicing outside with Thomas. I’m glad there’s light in here. Wasn’t sure,” I muttered, exhausted suddenly, starting to throw off my clothes.

  “You can put them in the chest, if you like. Or if they’re dirty, throw them on the floor and a chamber maid will take care of them for you.”

  “You keep it very neat,” I said, pulling a nightshirt out of my bag. It was made of cambric, a soft material, and I was glad that there was something to protect me from the scratchy straw poking out of the mattress. I sent silent thanks to my mother for the shirt, for caring about my comforts, as it fell to my knees.

  “I don’t have much,” he answered.

  Clothed again now, I looked up to meet his intent gaze.

  “I’m sorry I was staring just now,” he said quickly. “I wanted to see if you were bruised.”

  I felt my left bicep. Tender. “I think I am.”

  Stephen rose gracefully and went to the cedar chest. “I have just the thing.”

  He handed me a vial with a stopper. It smelt of herbs, rosemary perhaps.

  “Just rub on some of this oil. It has arnica montana in it.”

  I did. It was cool and soothing, and the pain almost immediately subsided. I handed it back to him. “What do you use it for?” I asked, throwing myself down on the low bed and unexpectedly groaning. “Oh, this is going to take some getting used to...”

  He didn’t answer my question for a bit and then just murmured, “Things...” I was too tired to enquire further. He doused the light, leaving us in complete darkness.

  It was strange to be in a small chamber with another person. I’d never shared a room. That made me unusual, I knew. With him, though, it was as if I was alone. He seemed hardly there, for a moment or two.

  “I saw you at dinner,” I blurted out. It was easier to talk in the dark.

  “Yes...”

  “Thomas told me the chaplain is called Brother Michael. Does he treat you well?”

  There was a long silence, broken only by what sounded like him tossing and turning in the bed.

  “He’s a learned man,” he answered finally.

  “That must be why you seem to know so much,” I ventured.

  He chuckled dryly but said nothing. Then he asked, “Did Thomas tell you anything about me?”

  “No,” I answered. “Not at all.”

  “He doesn’t like me much.”

  “It’s not unusual to have enemies.” I was trying to be tactful. I heard him chuckle again.

  “I suppose I alienated him when we first met. I was foolish, I told him I could see things. I’m surprised he didn’t pass that on.”

  “He only said you were odd, and foreign.” I yawned. “That doesn’t seem a hanging offense to me. What do you mean, see things?”

  “I can see the future sometimes.” He said it reluctantly, yet with an edge to his voice. “It’s a gift, but... almost no one here believes it. Brother Michael says I could be considered a heretic if I tell the wrong person. Burned at the stake.”

  “That’s terrible,” I murmured. I thought of our county stocks, the only public punishment I had ever seen. It was hard to imagine him there. “Do you believe that?”

  “I don’t know. I think most people don’t believe me.”

  “You see images?” I asked after a while. “Tell me something you see about me, then. If you do. Maybe there’s nothing.”

  He was silent for a while, and I wondered if he would speak again. “I see a tall lady, fair-haired,” he said quietly. “It’s high summer. She’s upstairs in a country house. She’s weeping, standing at the window. She can see sheep grazing in the fields. Her belly is swollen with child. Sometimes I catch names too. Is your mother’s name Alice?”

  I gasped. I knew I had not told him that, or any of it, except the color of her hair.

  “She misses you. She fears for her life, for her babe’s life. She fears her husband’s temper. He drinks too much. She misses her former husband, your father, as well. She regrets remarrying.”

  He said all this in a slow, sorrowful voice. I gasped again. I could not stand it. “Stop!” I cried out. He’d confirmed my worst fears.

  “I’m sorry, Will.”

  I could hear him step out of bed. I suddenly felt his arms around me, a kiss pressed to my cheek.

  “I don’t ever want to hurt you,” he murmured. “Please, forgive me.”

  Then he was back to his bed. I lay there, stunned, heart pounding, staring at the ceiling, or where I thought the ceiling would be. His breathing slowly evened out. He was asleep. I had missed the chance to ask if my mother would have a successful childbirth. I found I did not want to know, in case the news was bad.

  I thought of Brother Michael then, for some reason, his hand resting on Stephen’s arm. Perhaps Stephen was used to such touching. I wasn’t, not at all. In fact, I’d never been touched like that by anyone except my parents.

  But this was different. And it frightened me. Six months ago, I’d been so innocent, but the sounds of the bed creaking in the chamber next door, and Sir Guy’s grunts and oaths as he took his pleasure, had tormented me for months. It was one reason I’d been glad to leave.

  It’s going to be difficult here, I thought. Rough and tumble. But the pains and bruises of jousting, or of harsh words, were simple and easily forgotten compared to the pain Stephen’s words had evoked in me, and then the unwanted stirring and warmth in my loins as he had touched me.

  You don’t want to be marked out, Thomas had warned at dinner. The truth was, I wanted to be painfully normal, like him, but I knew I wasn’t. I could fool him, perhaps, but the sinful thoughts were in my mind. Even as I’d undressed, I’d wondered if Stephen was looking at me. Yet I hadn’t looked at him while I was naked, because that would have been too... forward. Too obvious an invitation.

  It was so confusing.

  I heard him sighing in his sleep. It was like a whimper. Perhaps he had nightmares because his parents had been killed in battle in front
of him. I wasn’t sure how I knew that, I just did. Thomas’s words came back to me. Could Stephen’s family possibly have been Jewish? The coloring was all wrong, though. Something had happened abroad, something bad, and Earl Simon had brought back this young boy, perhaps out of guilt.

  I vowed that I would school myself to become a serious, disciplined fighter in Earl Simon’s service here at Kenilworth. It was what my father would have wanted. He surely wouldn’t have wanted me to fall in love...

  But my mind simply refused to go any further down that road. I knew myself, though. I wouldn’t be cruel to Stephen, going forward. No, I could not do that. Perhaps I could stay very busy, so busy that we never, ever... crossed the line.

  The lumpy mattress was as bad as I’d feared. An owl screeched outside. I closed my eyes. I was too tired to see to the end of it, our story. Stephen had strange powers. But I trusted him. There would be no way he could charm me, coerce me into anything unnatural. In the end, it would be my choice.

  Chapter 3

  Perhaps luckily, it turned out as time went on that Stephen and I were apart for most of each day. My mornings started early, and he was still abed when I dressed quietly and left. I was outside for most of it, while Stephen, I assumed, remained inside. I did not ask him where he went, and he did not volunteer any details, as if he wanted to keep up the illusion that his time was his own during the day, that he was writing quietly in a chamber somewhere. I liked to think of him with a quill in his hand, scratching on parchment.

  And he did not ask me about my own progress in squire-ly training. Sometimes I blurted out tales if I was particularly happy or excited about some achievement or word of praise. We talked mostly in the dark at the end of the day, lying on our separate mattresses. It was warm in our little chamber, and those were times I like to remember.

  After a month or two, I had got used to my duties. I liked serving the knights, though they were ill tempered if they were drunk, or if they had taken a fall or an injury that day. Mostly Thomas and I felt excited to be near the Montfort sons, especially Simon. Henry was more distant, and I hardly ever felt he noticed my presence. But Simon jested with us, called me “Will” and Thomas “Tom.” Although we greeted him deferentially and stayed formal and proper, it was easy to believe that he liked us, that he was grateful for our attentiveness. And so we outdid each other in rushing to impress Simon. I smile at it now and think that Simon well knew the effect he had on us, as he charmed both us and the servants equally; Christiana most of all, I suspected.