“Oh dear, won’t the paint come off?” Eva asked when she saw how Sophia’s fingers were stained with azurite blue.
“I’m sure it will wear off.”
Pocketing the little shell, Eva resumed walking. “Enough about May Day, tell me about any handsome knights you happened to meet.”
“Seeing Beon again might have been the highlight. It has been so long since I’d seen him.”
“He is certainly a handsome young man. Isn’t he a knight?”
“Almost,” she said, knowing he would reach his goal eventually. If she knew anything at all about him, he was too determined not to. “And he’s so much taller than when I last saw him.”
“I’m sure he is.” Eva paused a moment, considering her. “He seems smitten with you.”
“Does he?” Sophia asked, feigning ignorance. For she knew must be ‘smitten’ after what he’d said on the journey north.
“Honestly, I wasn’t paying all that much attention to Beon. Tell me more about Sir Lyndon.”
Sophia smiled. “I’ve never seen him behave that way. It was as if you put him under a spell!”
Eva laughed loudly, and a gull squawked nearby. “I’d happily put him under my spell,” breathed Eva.
Sophia giggled and impulsively checked behind them to make sure there weren’t any nuns within earshot. Eva would have to pay some kind of penance for a statement like that if they had. “My father definitely wanted me there to parade in front of potential suitors, when I wasn’t caring for Marcus, that is.”
“Marcus is the baby?”
Sophia nodded.
“I would imagine he’s taller too.”
“Indeed, tall enough to get into trouble.”
“He must be adorable by now.”
“Oh yes, adorably messy.”
“Any prospects from these ‘suitors’ your father presented you to?” asked Eva, returning the conversation to the topic of men.
Sophia shrugged her shoulders, still unsure of how she felt about the situation, but said, “There was one, yes.”
“If only I could be so lucky,” complained Eva with a sigh.
“What do you mean?” she asked, suddenly worried Eva’s family had decided to leave her at the convent.
Instead of answering her question, Eva asked, “Were there many lords to be met?”
“Lords?” she asked, knowing this excluded Beon but he was the one she really wanted to talk about.
Eva nodded.
“Well, there was one Father introduced me to…Henry de Percy, the Lord of Alnwick.”
“Oh my, I think I’ve heard of him. His family is extremely wealthy, are they not? What was he like?”
He wasn’t like Beon, she wanted to say. “Certainly handsome...and my father adores him,” was all she managed.
Sir Lyndon looked at the knife and then back at him. With a laugh, the knight asked, “Do you have a mind to stab a few monks before we start back?”
Beon laughed. “It’s nothing quite that exciting, I assure you.”
“Is it the nuns you mean attack?” Sir Lyndon asked, obviously joking.
“I won’t be but a moment or two,” Beon said, ignoring Sir Lyndon’s continued jesting as he rushed ahead, being as stealthy as possible.
“I think I need to see this,” said Sir Lyndon, sounding intrigued as he followed.
As dusk began to overtake the island and darkness loomed, Beon made his way to the courtyard, scanning the windows for any possible onlookers, and searched for just the right shrub for what he had in mind.
“What on earth are we looking for?” Sir Lyndon asked quietly.
“A bird.”
“What?”
“Here we are, this one is perfect,” Beon said, putting his hands on his hips and taking in the boxwood hedge that was rather overgrown and wild looking. “Truly, it is a shame they do not have a proper gardener to tend to the shrubbery, don’t you agree?”
Sir Lyndon blinked at him and then asked, “I’m beginning to fear you may have lost your wits, boy? This is a bush, not a bird.”
Beon just laughed and began to slice at the branches and twigs. “Have you forgotten how much I like to carve wood?” he asked Sir Lyndon.
“Oh yes, you have quite a knack for it, as I recall.”
“Well, this is the same concept, only with a bush.”
Sir Lyndon stared at him blankly for a moment before his eyes widened with understanding. “Clever lad. I’ve got to hand it to you; you might know more about charming the ladies than I’d first thought. How can I help?”
Beon pointed to a section above him to the left. “Cut me a swath from here to there. Then I’ll come along behind you and shape it.”
The men worked like that for a half an hour, all the while listening for anyone who might happen along. As the light continued to diminish, a monk strode past the walkway and they both ducked behind the shrub next to the one they’d been carving.
“I hope he doesn’t look too closely at the unnatural shape of this plant,” remarked Sir Lyndon. “Else you might actually need to stab him.”
Knowing Sir Lyndon was jesting and afraid to respond for fear of being heard, Beon just held his breath as they waited.
When they heard the monk’s footsteps fade away and all was quiet again, they immediately got back to work.
Once he thought it was complete, Beon stood back and surveyed his work.
“It’s incredible,” Sir Lyndon said. “What are you going to do with the mess, though?”
Beon’s eyes dropped to the bits of greenery littering the ground around the shrub. Upon searching the garden, he noticed a pile of baskets beside a small shed. He grabbed up the biggest one, strode back to the bird sculpture, and began stuffing the branches and leaves inside.
“I suppose that will do,” said Sir Lyndon.
Hearing the disappointment in the man’s tone, Beon asked, “Do you have a better idea?”
“A bonfire, perhaps?”
Beon’s head lifted, thinking for a moment Sir Lyndon was serious but then laughed when he took in the amusement on the man’s face.
“I had you for a minute there, didn’t I?”
Choosing not to respond, Beon chuckled and shook his head. Sir Lyndon had such a dry sense of humor, which Beon found difficult at times to determine if he was being serious.
While looking up at the boxwood, Sir Lyndon tipped his head to the side. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I mean I’ve seen shorn hedges and round shaped bushes, but nothing like this. Where in the world did you come up with it?”
With a shrug of his shoulders, Beon said, “I don’t know, honestly.”
“I’d wager a pretty young lady with auburn hair inspired you.”
Beon couldn’t deny it.
“Well, next time we’re carving a sea shell for Lady Eva.”
“Next time?”
Instead of answering, Sir Lyndon clasped onto his shoulders and began guiding him out of the garden. “Whilst this has been fun, we’d best be going before another monk comes along.”
“Is that all you’re worried about?”
“Truth be told, I’d like to see if we can capture ourselves an evil blood-sucker and be back at the castle by dawn.”
Chapter 10
Shadowed Devil
Once back on the south road, Beon and Sir Lyndon drove the horses hard, only slowing down a time or two for spots that were particularly dark or rocky. Otherwise, they trusted their steeds completely. After several hours, the moon was high above their heads. They had covered an impressive distance quickly and were almost to the spot where Beon had seen the peasant taken by the demon.
The sounds of crickets and other nocturnal creatures filled the night as they slowed to a trot. The forest had grown thick in this area, and light from the moon became patchy, making it even harder to see.
“There’s really no logical reason why the creature would return to the same spot in which he killed before,” Sir Lyndon said thou
ghtfully.
“No, but it’s all we have to go on. And it is logical that it would rely upon the road to provide a steady diet of passersby.”
“True.”
Just then a twig cracked to their right. Both men pulled on their reins, stopping the horses, and listened intently. They had strung the garlic around their necks, and each wielded a silver crucifix in one hand and sword in the other. Each had a pouch of holy water tucked into their belts as well as three spikes.
Beon felt extremely prepared, but there was still a great deal of uncertainty involved with this plan, which he didn’t like because uncertainty was something he could not control. Experience had taught him that when a scenario was difficult to control, then it was far more dangerous than a situation one could strategize for properly.
Suddenly, an eerie hush fell over the wood as the crickets stopped chirping, and an unnatural stillness put Beon on edge. The fear he had felt on the night Sophia saved him came rushing back to his throat. It was as if the air had been sucked out of the woods as well as his lungs. Then, after a moment, there was a whooshing sound and the forest breathed again. Crickets began to chirp, and owls began to hoot. Beon took a breath too, loosening his grip on the crucifix.
“Did you feel that?” Beon asked, afraid to make any noise for fear of the devil returning undetected if he did.
“Yes. It’s hard to explain it with words, though.”
They waited, and when the usual nightlife continued to make a ruckus, Beon said, “I don’t think it’s coming back.”
They nudged their horses into a slow trot again, but Beon couldn’t stop from keeping his ears pricked for any little shift of movement within the shadows. When several minutes had passed, Sir Lyndon broke the silence with a question that made Beon jump reflexively. “Aren’t you going to thank me for nudging you and Sophia along?”
“You…wait. What?”
“I don’t think things would have moved along quite so smoothly if I hadn’t given you a little shove in the right direction.”
“You mean…you did all that on purpose?”
“Of course,” Sir Lyndon said, giving Beon an approving smile. “I think you two will make a fine match someday.”
Beon’s face heated and he smiled.
“And, I don’t think our blood-sucker is going to show. We may have prepared too well and frightened the poor thing off,” Sir Lyndon went on.
“‘Poor thing?’” Beon found he was still too spooked to laugh. “Are you serious?”
“Irony, my boy, ‘tis an art.”
Beon honestly had no response for that, wondering how the knight could joke at a time like this, so he changed the subject. “Do you think it was here? When the forest was quiet, I mean.”
“Indeed…it was here. I could feel its eyes on us.”
A chill sliced up Beon’s spine at the image those words conjured within his mind.
Sir Lyndon sat in silence a moment longer as though considering this, before saying, “Come, we have about an hour until daybreak. We’ll be at the castle in no time if we nudge these horses into a gallop.”
Appearing as though it were a mountain rising from the sea, Bamborough Castle slowly became more visible as they drew closer. Once the front gates came into view, they discovered it abuzz with activity, which was rather unusual for the hour. Men were rushing into the gates from all directions, torches ablaze, trumpets sounding. It was obvious Gall was preparing for battle yet again.
As Beon and Sir Lyndon made their way into the courtyard, Lord Gall could be seen on the riser, alongside Henry de Percy, standing over dozens and dozens of men, all armed to the teeth and ready to fight.
“What you’ve heard is true,” Lord Gall was saying, “Sir Percy has confirmed that Hexham has fallen this night at the hands of the Scottish Army and their king, David. We call on all those able to fight to take up arms against this blackguard and his pathetic band of miscreants. It is up to us to squash this rabble once and for all!”
The men raised their weapons and cheered. Beon felt a buzz of excitement at Lord Gall’s words ‘all those able to fight.’ For this included him. Was he about to embark upon his first battle at last? Deep down, he’d wished for a distraction to take his mind off of Sophia, and this would certainly accomplish that task.
Hexham was a day or two due west of Bamborough. Beon wondered which direction the Scots were headed as he followed Sir Lyndon closer to the wooden riser.
Sir Percy stepped forward, and a hush came over the men as he and Sir Lyndon dismounted. “I am rallying all the Lords in the nearby country, that are not away in France with our King, to advance what troops they can muster to Neville’s Cross where we will head off the Scots advancement,” Percy said. “It is up to us, men, to protect what is ours. It is up to us to protect our country. If these Scotsmen think they can take this land simply because our King is abroad then they are sorely mistaken…if they think we are weak because our country’s fighting men are away doing battle in France then they are deadly mistaken…and they will pay with their lives!”
Again, the men erupted in cheers. As the din died down, Beon leaned over to Sir Lyndon and whispered, “Why does Lord Gall refer to him as ‘Sir Percy?’”
“Percy insists upon it. For he is also a highly accomplished knight.”
“Sir Percy has asked for the help of Bamborough, and we will answer the call!” Lord Gall shouted over the men. “Prepare for battle! We ride at dawn!”
With one last ‘hoorah’ the crowd dispersed in a bustle of activity as all began to make their preparations…all but Beon. He stood frozen for a moment before rushing to catch up with Sir Lyndon.
“Sir Lyndon, does Lord Gall mean me as well?”
The knight turned to Beon and smiled.
“Yes, Master Everard. Your first battle is now imminent.”
Sophia awakened to the sound of waves. Warm sunlight spilled in through the windowpane, heating her legs where it fell across the foot of her bed.
Stretching, she covered a yawn with her hand and then rolled to her side to get up. A part of her was eager to check in on all the birds and other animals in her care, but another part of her wanted to leave all of this behind and return to Bamborough, even if Father meant to use her as a nursemaid to little Marcus. But if she returned sooner rather than later, she might have to face a decision between Beon and Sir Percy. If Father even allowed her to have a choice, she reminded herself.
After a good night’s sleep, Sophia hoped she would settle into the same comfortable routine she’d had before Beon appeared to escort her home, but that didn’t seem to be happening. She still felt so very conflicted about what she wanted and where she wanted to be.
Reaching over, she picked up the wooden bird off her side table and stroked it. “Good morning, mama,” she said, before tucking it into her pocket so that she would have it with her all day…just as she did every day.
Sophia rose and went to the bowl at her window, leaned over and splashed cool water on her face. After gathering up the linen to dry off, she peered out the window, blinked at what she saw in the courtyard, and then gasped. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, because she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, she looked again.
Could it be? she asked herself. Reaching into her pocket, she retrieved the little bird Beon had given her and then turned back to the shrubs running along the garden path, a smile spreading across her face. One of the large hedges had indeed been carved into the shape of a giant bird…just like the one Beon had given her all those years ago. She lifted the wooden one up to compare, marveling at how accurately he’d managed to recreate it.
She just stood there, staring at it for a time, marveling at what a sweet thing Beon had done for her. It was such a beautiful sculpture. A lump of emotion developed in her throat because his thoughtfulness made her feel extremely homesick for him...and less conflicted about what she wanted.
Victorious shouts of ‘the king has been captured’ and ‘Scotland is defe
ated’ could be heard throughout the dark encampment as Beon returned with the other knights, squires, and pages.
Lord Gall burst out of his tent at the noise. The baron gawked like a fish when he saw the detachment of men comprised of several different houses in the region along with David the Second, King of Scotland, as their prisoner. When his eyes landed on Beon, he frowned as fiercely as ever. The proud smile Beon had been wearing immediately vanished.
As usual, Lord Gall seemed displeased by the very sight of Beon, but he prayed that would change once the Baron learned he’d helped capture the king. Beon was startled when Sir Lyndon came up behind him and said, “Are you going to help me out of my armor or not, Master Everard?”
“Of course, my lord!” he said, jumping into action.
Beon worked the laces loose that kept the backplate in place for Sir Lyndon.
“I’m immensely proud of you, Master Everard.” Sir Lyndon chuckled and shook his head. “To think, all this time King David was hiding under a bridge. How did you spot him?”
“Sir Coupland dropped his shield while we crossed, I went to fetch it for him, and I noticed the king’s reflection in the water.” To Beon, this didn’t seem like a noble victory. It wasn’t as though he’d gone into battle and defeated the king singlehandedly with the skillful use of his sword. Beon had been excited to finally join his first real battle, but he found he kept wishing he was on his own warhorse with his own squire to aid him. How would he ever convince Lord Gall he was up to the task?
It’s true Beon had been able to show his skill with a sword during the attack, but while Sir Lyndon acknowledged his efforts, Lord Gall hadn’t been anywhere in sight. Apparently, the man had been here at camp, in his tent, doing who knows what while the rest of them fought bravely on the field.
“You’re too hard on yourself,” Sir Lyndon said once he was free of the many plates of armor. The knight patted his shoulder and then left. “Rest well, Beon.”
Taking inventory of the damaged pieces of Sir Lyndon’s armor, Beon gathered them up and took them to the blacksmith for repair. As he passed by Lord Gall’s tent, hushed but angry voices drew his attention. Beon meant to continue on his way, knowing it was improper to listen in on conversations that were none of his business, but he couldn’t resist.
Myths & Magic: A Science Fiction and Fantasy Collection Page 203
