"Who's Gerald Matheson?" asked Sir Barnsley. "I've never heard of the man."
Beverly stared at the young man for a moment before replying, "He's the princess's closest friend and the man that taught me everything I know about fighting, so don't annoy him."
She waited for further questions but none were forthcoming.
"Oh yes," she pondered, "is anyone here afraid of dogs?"
Sir Howard looked up and down the line and then offered a reply, "No, why?"
"Because you're going to meet the largest hound you've ever seen."
"Meaning?" asked Sir Barnsley.
Beverly smiled, "You'll see, you'll see."
Ten
Across the Border
Summer 960 MC
The river current gently swayed the boat as it made its way upstream. Dame Celia strode across the deck toward Lady Beverly, careful to avoid the crew members as she went. At the sound of her footfalls, the redheaded knight turned.
"Celia," she said, "how are the other knights doing?"
The blond-haired knight stared out over the railing before answering, "Other than Sir Barnsley, they're fine."
"Why, what's wrong with him?"
"His stomach doesn't like the water. Dame Levina's looking after him."
Beverly smiled, Levina was the oldest of the knights, and had quickly become the mother figure. "Are they settling in? I haven't had time to really get to know them yet. What are your first impressions?"
Celia appeared to think for a moment before replying, "They're an interesting group, but I'm not sure where Arnim found them."
"The princess wanted them to all be women, but there's not enough in the kingdom to fill in all the spots. Still, we ended up with seven women and three men, including Arnim. All-in-all, not a bad mix. Have you had a chance to talk to them yet?"
"Yes," Celia replied. "Sir Barnsley is quite a poet when he isn't being seasick. He's rather refined."
"And what of the other man, Sir Howard?"
"Seems solid enough for an old soldier. It'll be interesting to see if he can keep up with the rest of us."
"Don't let age cloud your judgement, Celia. With age comes experience, just look at Gerald. What about the women?"
"Well, Dame Abigail looks competent enough, but I can't understand why she insists on using a mace, it's such a unrefined weapon.
"A mace is a decent weapon, very useful for caving in heads, though I prefer a hammer," provided Beverly.
Celia paused, surprised at Beverly's choice of weapons, then continued, "Dame Juliet tends to be on the quiet side. She's just a little older than you, though not high born."
"Interesting," mused Beverly, "I would have said the opposite. What do you make of Aelwyth?"
"A little rustic for my tastes, but she does have battle experience, even if it's only against Orcs."
"Trust me, I've fought Orc's, they're not easy to kill. It appears that you and Arnim have a lot in common."
"How so?"
"You both see the worst in people, not the possibilities. You have the makings of an outstanding knight, don't let your prejudices ruin that."
Beverly turned away, thinking back to her time in Bodden. She supposed she would have to break them in. Her father, the baron, had always complained about the lack of discipline in knights. Beverly would have to find time to drill them while they were in Westland. No, she corrected herself, she must remember to call it Weldwyn now. She didn't want to insult their hosts.
"Something I might help with?" offered Celia.
Beverly was broken out of her reverie, "Pardon?"
"You appeared deep in thought. I thought it might be something I could assist with."
"I was just thinking that we should arrange some time for training once we disembark. I should like to ensure the knights can work well together; some of them have probably never fought in a group."
"Do you really think that'll be necessary? I'm sure our hosts will be concerned with our safety. After all, the whole reason we are here is to stop a war with Merceria."
Beverly supposed Celia was right, but she remembered the dire warnings that the druid, Albreda, had shared with her; there was a dark presence, a shadow across the land. If the princess were threatened, she would need all the protection they could muster. Realizing she was, again, remaining quiet, she turned back once again to Dame Celia.
"It's our duty to fulfill our obligation to the princess," she stated, "and that means being prepared at all times. I'll work up some drills for us to practice. It'll also be good to establish some discipline and meld the knights into a cohesive unit."
Celia raised her eyebrows, "I think you're being overly cautious, but I'll let the others know." She left Dame Beverly to her thoughts.
Gerald clutched the railing with a vice-like grip. The ship rolled with alarming regularity, and he prayed to Saxnor that the voyage would end quickly. Water was for bathing, not for sailing, he thought; better to be back on dry land. He felt a hand touch his arm and looked to see Princess Anna beside him.
"Are you all right, Gerald? You look very pale."
"I'm fine," he snapped, then thought of Anna. "Sorry, I'm not comfortable over water, and the damn boat is pitching too much."
Anna smiled, "The boat's hardly moving, Gerald, it's a very smooth sailer. You need to relax a little. What is it about deep water that troubles you so much?"
Gerald gripped the railing even tighter, "I had that bad experience, years ago. It was not at all pleasant."
"The water in the grotto didn't bother you, why does it now?"
"This is different," he said. "In the grotto I could touch the bottom, and there were no currents that could carry me away."
They stood in companionable silence for a few moments as the boat made its progress, and then they rounded a bend in the river, revealing the city of Falford on the distant shore.
"There, you see? We're almost here." She looked to Gerald's face, but his eyes were locked on the distant docks.
"There's our welcoming committee," he said. "I see a Royal Standard, it looks as if they've sent a royal to welcome us."
"King Leofric?" asked Anna.
"I doubt it, there'd be more soldiers. Probably one of his sons."
"I suppose we should put on a good show, then. I'll get Beverly to organize the knights."
Gerald, snapped from his fear, turned to examine the deck of the boat. Beverly was already moving, and even Tempus had awoken from his slumber to trot up to Anna's side.
"How do you want to do this?" he asked.
"Have the knights disembark first. We'll be up against the dock so they can cross as soon as the boarding plank is down. Beverly will form the honour guard on the docks. You and I will disembark together, and then Arnim can bring the rest behind."
"What about Tempus? He didn't like the boarding plank."
"I've thought of that," offered Anna. "I'm going to have Hayley entice him across with some food."
Gerald smiled, "You seem to have thought of everything. What about once we're on the dock?"
"That largely depends on what they have planned for us. King Andred arranged for horses to be waiting for us, and a Royal Carriage was shipped ahead of time. We only have to unload the knight's horses, and we'll be ready to move on, though I suspect we'll be hosted here for a day or two. They'll want to get the measure of us before taking us to the capital."
With the boat tied to the dock, Gerald released his grip on the handrail and started to return to his normal self. His mind was working quickly now that the colour was returning to his face.
"I'm a little nervous about this, Anna. We know very little about these people."
Anna grabbed his hand in hers. "We're on an important mission here, Gerald, but I can't do this without you. You're my father, in everything but name. I need your strength to sustain me."
He looked down at the young woman before him and still saw the young girl he met so long ago. "I'm there for you, Anna, you know that
. No matter what happens, I'll make sure you're safe."
She squeezed his hand gently, "I know. Now let's get moving, we have work to do."
Alric shifted his feet. It was an uncomfortably hot afternoon, and he didn't like waiting. Far better to be in a tavern with a cool glass of ale.
"They're almost ready," said Alstan. "They're tying off the ship now."
It was true, the Mercerian vessel had just sailed up, and even as he spoke, the crew was leaping onto the dock to secure the vessel with ropes.
"How long, do you think, before they come ashore?" asked Alric.
"I don't suppose it'll be long," observed Alstan. Then added, "Now that's a surprise."
Alric tried to follow his elder brother's gaze but failed to discover his observation. "What is?" he said, with some irritation.
"It seems the envoy is of Royal Blood after all."
"How can you tell?"
"Their Royal Standard is flying, see, on the mainmast?"
Alric followed his brothers pointing finger. "I thought they decided against sending Princess Margaret?" he pondered.
"So did I. I suppose we shall have to wait and see who's arrived
"Perhaps their king has sent one of his sons," suggested Alric
Alstan frowned, "He's only got one son left, remember. He's not likely to send the Crown Prince."
"Perhaps a cousin, then, like we did?"
"I really have no idea. I suppose we will know soon enough."
They watched in silence as the boarding ramp was lowered, and then a group of warriors began making their way to the dock.
"Here come the knights," observed Alstan.
"Knights? I've heard of them. Aren't they considered minor nobility?"
"Yes, so we treat them as we would a baronet. Most of their attitudes towards nobility should mirror ours. I don't suppose it'll be much of an adjustment."
Alric stared at the warriors, rubbing his eyes to make sure they didn't betray him. "Am I seeing things or is that a woman wearing armour?"
Alstan chuckled, "Oh yes, didn't I mention it? They have women warriors in Merceria."
"These foreigners are full of surprises. Anything else I should know about?"
"Ever seen a Mercerian Charger?"
"No, but I've heard of them, why do you ask?"
"I heard their knights would be bringing them. They're the largest breed of horses in the land."
"I doubt they'd stack up well to ours. We have some of the finest steeds in the three kingdoms."
Alstan looked at his younger brother. "You need to get out more, Alric. The Mercerian Chargers are bred to carry heavily armoured knights while wearing barding themselves. They wear much more armour than our cavalry. It would take a beast of a creature to carry the weight."
"I don't see anything all that exciting so far," Alric stated, "apart from female warriors, that is."
"They'll doubtless unload the horses later. It'll be interesting to see them, I've heard the stories."
They observed a commotion on the boat. The Mercerian warriors stood on the dock in line with a redheaded knight drawing her sword. With a yell of command, the visiting knights drew their weapons, holding them in front with both hands. A small golden-haired female began walking across the ramp, with an older man in a chainmail shirt holding her hand.
"What's this?" asked Alric. "Are we to nursemaid a child?"
"It appears that King Andred of Merceria has sent his youngest daughter to us."
"I thought Princess Margaret was the youngest child?"
"You need to pay more attention to the goings-on at court, Alric. The king has a second daughter; her," he said, pointing at the dock. "And now it's up to us to make sure she's kept safe."
"I suppose," grumbled Alric, "that'll mean endless dances and social events."
Alstan lightly punched his brother on the shoulder. "Aren't you lucky, your favourite things!"
The girl finished crossing the ramp, and the knights scabbarded their weapons, all save the redheaded woman, who turned to face the princes with their welcoming committee. She marched up to them, stopping some five paces from them, safely out of weapon reach.
"I am Dame Beverly Fitzwilliam," she said, "daughter to the Baron of Bodden, and I have the honour to present to you the Princess Anna of Merceria. Long may she live."
Alstan nodded his head in reply, then nudged Alric to follow suit. "I am Crown Prince Alstan of Weldwyn," he announced, "and this is my brother, Prince Alric. On behalf of our father, King Leofric, we welcome Her Highness to our kingdom."
The lady knight bowed, and then turned, walking back to the princess. After exchanging some brief words, she scabbarded her sword, taking up a position behind. The princess advanced, the old man beside her. Alric noted the young girl's demeanour and almost laughed. It was as if one of his younger sisters was play-acting; it was such a ludicrous sight.
Princess Anna strode forward till she was standing only a pace or two away from them.
"It is my pleasure to be received by such distinguished hosts," she said. The man beside her was looking directly at Alric, and it made him feel uncomfortable. Could this man read minds?
Alstan interrupted his thoughts with his next words, "If Your Highness permits, we have arranged a feast in your honour. We would be delighted to escort you there."
"By all means, Your Highness," she replied, "though I suspect between the three of us, all this 'Highness' nonsense will get a little tedious. Since we are all royals, perhaps we should just use our given names."
"Very well, Anna, if you'd come this way?"
Alstan held out his arm for her to hold but Alric noticed a look of confusion on the girl's face. It appeared this was likely not the custom in Merceria. The princess merely stood beside him, indicating with a sweep of her arm to proceed. The small group departed the wharf, heading toward the banquet that awaited them. The old man and the redheaded woman fell in behind the royals. Alric felt as though he was being watched the whole time.
Alstan and the princess were chatting as they walked, but Alric paid them no mind. He wondered about the woman in armour. She had said she was the daughter of a baron; did nobles in Merceria send their women to fight? It seemed barbaric. He would have to learn more.
They soon entered the hall, decorated for the occasion with the flags of Weldwyn and Merceria. They were led to a large table set up at one end of the hall where seats had been arranged. A servant dutifully pulled out a chair for the princess, while Alstan and Alric took their seats.
"I shall require another chair," she stated.
"Is this one not suitable, Your Highness?" asked the servant.
"This chair is fine," she replied, "but I shall require a second."
Alric, stunned by the exchange, could only stare, open-mouthed. He suddenly realized this and closed it. Was this girl completely untrained in etiquette?
"Might I enquire for what purpose?" asked Alstan.
"For Gerald, here," she said, indicating the old man. "He is to sit to my right."
The servant looked to Alstan for confirmation, who nodded. "Of course, Princess, we'll see to it immediately."
To Alric's mind, this was ridiculous. They had gone to considerable lengths to arrange the tables, and now she was throwing things into disarray. Was this a deliberate tactic or the whims of a spoilt child? It took only a moment to bring a chair, and the seating was soon settled. Alstan, as the king's representative, sat in the centre of the table with Anna beside him, to his right. Alric, on his brother's advice, was shifted over one place, now sitting beside the old man instead.
They were all seated, along with their guests when the servants began bringing in the food and wine. Alstan engaged the princess in light conversation as Alric looked around at the newcomers. One of the lady knights had taken up a position behind the princess and stood alert, though what she was looking for was beyond Alric's comprehension. Now that he was closer, he saw she was armoured in chainmail but with metal plates on t
op, a type of armour not seen in Weldwyn before. It was quite remarkable, and he resolved to find out more. He was, perhaps, staring at her a little too long when her eyes met his. He blushed, changing his focus to the old man beside him. The warrior's armour looked old, with patches where links had been replaced over the years. This man had seen combat, Alric thought, and likely lots of it.
"Gerald, isn't it?" he said, not sure what title he should use.
"Yes, Gerald Matheson, Your Highness," his dinner guest replied.
Alric had expected a more eloquent reply and found himself at a momentary loss for words. "And what, if I may ask," he finally said, "is your precise relationship to the princess?" He tried to sound polite, but the irritation in his voice must have been obvious for the man turned to face him.
"I'm her friend," he said. "I've known her for years."
Alric found himself intimidated by the man's stare. He abruptly turned to the food placed in front of him. "I see." He quickly added, "Hope you like the food." He dug into his meal, hoping that his seating companion would find distraction elsewhere.
A moment later there was a bark from the far end of the hall. A brunette woman in armour had entered, though rather than the chainmail worn by the other warriors, she was wearing a leather jerkin. Her hand was on the back of a gigantic dog, and Alric suddenly stood, reaching for his sword. A Kurathian Mastiff! It must be a trap!
He heard the rasp of steel throughout the room as guards also drew their blades. Dame Beverly drew her sword, glaring at the guards.
"Please," begged the princess, "put your blades down. It's just my dog."
"'Tis a Kurathian hound," yelled one of the guards. "The weapon of our enemy!"
Alric was looking around nervously, but his elder brother appeared calm.
"Put the weapons away," commanded Alstan. "It means us no harm."
Weapons were scabbarded as the woman led the mighty beast to the head of the table. The creature ignored all those around him save for the princess. He trundled up to her, squeezing between her and Gerald to take up a position underneath the table. Alric was amazed the creature could even fit under the table and peered beneath to see the creature lying on his side, the princess's feet rubbing his belly. The old man beside him seemed unfazed by the commotion around him.
Heart of the Crown Page 7
